It’s not a lot at all, is the thing.
Other people, their friends and family, don’t even really notice it, both because it really isn’t that much weight, and because of the loose, comfy grandpa aesthetic Harry has taken on since his tour ended. Louis wouldn’t notice it if it wasn’t the love of his life, the man who he’s come to terms with being entirely gone for, who’s mind and heart he adores as much as his body.
His perfect little body.
And, Louis isn’t much one to pay mind to beauty standards or lose his head over perceived imperfections, his own or anyone else's, likes to be realistic and appreciate everything for what it is. He likes to stay objective, has enough experience with his horde of younger sisters to understand the importance of not falling into the mind set of worshipping and striving to emulate those who appear to be flawless.
It’s a bit difficult to stay objective when his husband is just so beautiful, though. Louis likes to let Harry know just how beautiful he is, teases him about his likeness to a Disney prince and gives him lots of kisses on a regular basis just because he’s so handsome. It still makes Harry go all pink and smiley, and Louis is still in awe that he gets to be the person to love Harry, to make him happy every day.
Which is why this shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s known that Harry is the most enticing person he has ever and will ever set eyes on since he was 18 years old. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he makes a little bit of extra weight look so good.
When Harry had come home following the last show of his tour, Louis had been curious to know what he had planned next. He knew that vaguely there were plans to write another record, but he also knew that Harry liked to save jumping into hard plans until whatever he was already in the middle of was finished. They’d been cuddled up in their bed, just chilling out together for the first time in far too long when Harry had taken Louis’ hands and asked for his advice.
“I feel like I’ve just been in motion for so long, y’know?” He had this cute little furrow between his eyebrows, and Louis smoothed it out as he met those lovely green eyes, waited for his boy to continue speaking.
“And it’s like, it’s been good, and it felt right to just keep going after the band, but now it’s really hitting me that I don’t have to keep that schedule?” Harry seems unsure at this, pausing to bite his lip and search for reassurance in Louis’ eyes.
Louis’ brows knit. “Of course, love, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He isn’t fully sure where Harry is going with this, has been under the impression that Harry was still as into the music as he’s always been. There’d been a lot of things they had to do in One Direction, images and messages they had to perpetuate that had taken a toll on them both. Being in control of what he put into the world with his solo career was a huge part of the healing process for Harry, Louis had thought.
He continues, “you know I’ve been taking it slow since we stopped. I thought you felt good about doing your music, darling?” He hates to think of Harry on the road, feeling alone, going through the motions. He has to stop his thoughts from spiralling down into a painful jumble of everything that went wrong with Zayn, all the signs they ignored and the way they’d left things as a result. It had been a hurt like no other to realize what One Direction had done to Zayn, once his anger had faded away. To see Harry in that position would obliterate him.
Watching the flitter of emotions over his face, Harry is quick to shake his head, kissing Louis’ palm before nuzzling into his bare chest.
“S’not what I mean. M’ happy doing music, happy with where I am, with work, us, life.”
They share a sad smile, a moment to acknowledge the changes they’ve endured together. “Still love it. Still love you, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Louis replies, eyes sparkling.
“It’s just, the constant touring and recording,” Harry continues, “I’ve loved it, I’ll always love it, I just think I’m ready to do it without such a- a schedule, y’know?” He sighs, pleased, as Louis scratches gently at his scalp. “I want to do another album, I still want to work, but I think I’d like to hang around instead of planning out where I’m going to be the next couple months, just live and let the music come to me here, maybe. What do you think of that?”
He looks up again, pretty green eyes all shy as he waits.
Louis’ hand stills as he realizes what Harry is asking, what Harry wants his approval for.
“Are you asking me if I want you here with me indefinitely, H?” It strikes him as a bit ridiculous that Harry is asking permission to properly live in his own home, at first. When he thinks about it, though, he supposes that he’s spent double the amount of time in the house as Harry has, with the album and the tour. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is their process, that they’re still working on the settling down part of their happily ever after.
Harry blushes lightly, shrugging a little, and Louis doesn’t hesitate to roll on top of him in order to pin him down and kiss him proper.
“Always want you here with me, silly,” he whispers as he pulls back, soaking in Harry’s smile, the crinkles by his eyes as he wiggles his hands where Louis has got them pinned above his head.
“This is our home, baby. Would love to settle down with you proper.”
At the time, Louis hadn’t considered the possibilities of truly domestic life with Harry, living out of a home that they’re always around to fill with life and warmth. They’re both still busy, still have careers in full swing, but they’re firmly based at their home in London and every night they go to bed together. It’s a nice, reassuring constant. They have a routine, and Louis has always been sure about Harry, but now he can see the full life they’re going to have together, is living it.
All of the domesticity and normalcy has done nothing to lessen Louis’ want for Harry, for his body. The lovely routine they’ve got in place, it’s a much different pace than the touring life Harry’s been accustomed to. He’s used to planned sessions with his trainer on the road, runs with his body guards, giving his all every night on stage. Here at home, Louis gathers he’s having fun experimenting. He spends a lot of time writing, which is significantly less strenuous than performing, and still makes time to work out. Running and yoga are his go tos, but he, at random, as far as Louis can tell, swaps out the time slot for things like boxing, a brief attempt at karate, Zumba, and, for the coming few weeks, a couples dance class that Louis is slightly terrified for. Harry seems elated about it, though, and Louis has never been able to resist that pout. The point there, though, is that it’s not the Dunkirk days anymore. Harry is fit and healthy, but the most difficult thing he has to train for these days are weekends where all of Louis’ little siblings come to stay with them at once.
His diet, too, is largely affected by living full time in a house with a proper kitchen. Harry loves to cook and bake, and he’s still a health nut, but he’s not a crazy health nut. Louis has never eaten so well in his life. Between trying out countless recipes from the cook books they’ve accumulated from their travels over the years and Harry’s delight with the little bakery just inside of town (and his subsequent delight with Louis for bringing him lots of treats), Louis knows that Harry is eating a lot better than the road diet. Better even than Harry’s hippy version of the road diet.
These two variables, combined with the fact that it’s winter, which means lots of early nights and snuggle time, have resulted in Harry’s slight weight gain. His stomach and hips have softened a bit, thighs and bum just a little fuller. Louis literally loses his breath when Harry dimples at him through the morning sun reflected off of the snow lining their bedroom windowsill and he notices that Harry’s handsome face has also softened just the slightest bit, his dimples just a smidge deeper. He’s all healthy and grown up and glowing, Louis swears, even though he knows they’re both paler because its winter and there’s no way that Harry is pregnant. He’s a vision, every bit the gorgeous man Louis knew he’d be when he first became infatuated with the cherubic sixteen year old.
And, while it’s become a small, running thread in Louis’ head the past few weeks of appreciating the subtle changes in Harry’s body, he finds himself entirely unprepared for the moment when Harry points it out to him.
They’ve just gotten in from a lovely evening hanging out with Anne and Gemma. There’d been a newly rediscovered photo album of the Styles siblings as wee babies involved. Louis had teamed up with Anne to tease them about it, and got a new screensaver on his phone of wee blond Harry out of the deal. At sunset they’d been saying their goodbyes, and the drive home in the dark had been spent listening, singing along to, and discussing the direction that pop radio has taken. It’s been a good night.
They’re in their bedroom now, Louis in the process of removing all of his clothing as Harry pads out of the ensuite bathroom, evening clothes now replaced with a cropped hoodie of Louis’ and loose briefs. Louis perches on the edge of the bed, admiring Harry’s bare legs and the way the hem of the sweater is just long enough to sit below his belly button. He watches, heart full, as his husband shuffles to stand in front of their mirror, tilting his head and shaking his hips a little.
“D’you think I’ve put on some weight, Lou?”
Louis’ mind lurches a little at that, thoughts of some of his sisters’ sensitivity with their weight and his reassure Harry instinct clawing at his throat. He notes that Harry doesn’t seem bothered, though. Just conversational, perhaps a little bit fascinated with his own body as he turns to peer at his backside over his shoulder. The way he twists emphasizes the cute little pouch of his tummy, and even though it’s a thought that crosses Louis’ mind in countless different situations on a fairly regular basis, he thinks that here, in their bedroom, wearing Louis’ clothes and checking himself out in the dim lighting, Harry has never looked more beautiful.
Slowly, he rises and makes his way to stand behind Harry, guiding him by his hips until he can pull the warm weight of him against his chest. Harry’s relaxed smile at the gesture, the way he leans back trustingly against him prompts him to be honest.
“Maybe a little bit, love.” He slides his hands under the hoodie, Harry inhaling sharply at the cold of his fingers fluttering lightly against his tummy, but going easy as always for the touch. With minimal giggling as the material gets stuck around his shoulders, they work together to rid Harry of the hoodie, both going soft and smiley as Harry snuggles as best he can right back into Louis’ waiting arms. Their reflection tells it like it is, two besotted men cuddling, mostly naked, standing up in front of a ridiculously large mirror. Louis wants to keep the moment in his mind forever.
“I quite like it.” He adds on the last part more quietly, not entirely sure that Harry will appreciate it.
Harry blushes lightly, to his pleasure, making eye contact with him through the mirror. The way he swoons slightly against Louis body, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips tells Louis all he needs to know.
Louis can read Harry like a well loved book after all these years, delights in the slight dilation of his pupils as he presses his lips behind his ear, the way he shivers at the feeling of Louis’ stubble against his neck, the slight tremble in his breath as he awaits Louis’ praise.
“Mhm.” He opts not to give him any more just yet, taken by the urge to drag it out nice and slow, work his way up to lavishing his husband with affection, thick and sweet like honey. Harry’s eyebrows twitch up slightly at the tone of his voice, the flutter of his breath over heated skin. He won’t verbally ask for more until he’s in the headspace to beg, sweet little thing he is, but Louis doesn’t intend to take them there tonight. Just wants to play with the anticipation.
He easily guides Harry’s body back to the bed with him, pulls down the thick comforter for later, coaxing Harry between the soft sheets for now. He easily slips in on top of him, smiling fondly at the way Harry glances pointedly towards the still lit lamp, acknowledging the fact that neither of them will want to move far enough to turn it out once they’re curled together afterwards. It’s a task Louis resigns himself to taking on, easily worth it to get to see Harry like this, for Harry to see himself.
He decides that Harry isn’t affected enough by the haze of arousal yet, steals his attention back from the lamp with a slow, deep kiss, appreciating the cozy feeling of their abdomen and legs pressed together, the warm weight of Harry’s arms cradling his back, the gentle pressure of his palms and fingers cupping over his shoulder and hip. Relishes in the deep intake of breath he feels through his husband’s body after he begins nibbling at his ear, whispers for him to watch through the mirror.
Harry complies, turning his head obediently to take in their reflection. It’s not a new request. Louis specifically purchased the enormous pane of glass and placed it very carefully when they were decorating their home for this very purpose, to elicit Harry’s delicious response to being able to see the way they’re tangled together, see his own face when Louis is pleasuring him. It’s a kink he’d noted after they’d fucked in a fancy hotel with Harry bent over a lavish sink. Their perfectly defined reflection had been mere inches from his flushed face, his leaking cock. Harry had been keeping his gaze down, in what Louis had believed to be a submissive gesture, until Louis had pulled his hair and made him look. The noise that had come out of him as his mouth fell open had been damn near sinful, had prompted Louis to go back on his order for Harry not to touch or receive any touches to his cock as he’d taken him in hand. Toes curling against the tile, his wet eyes glued to himself slamming back on Louis’ cock, Louis’ hand flying over him, Harry’d mewled and trembled as he finished, eyes glued to himself absolutely gagging for it until he couldn’t keep them open any longer.
Now, Harry moans softly without breaking eye contact with himself. He arches his body to mould against Louis’, his bare, heated thigh slipping out from the sheets to hook around his waist, neck flushing with the sensation of Louis’ lips and stubble. His fingers curl tightly against Louis’ bicep, and Louis is obsessed with how Harry moves when he feels as sexy as Louis already knows he is.
Running his hand down Harry’s side, over the curve of his bum to squeeze at his flesh, Louis’ plan settles in his mind. Flexing his fingers, he begins.
“You’re so warm, darling. Love how soft your skin is here.” He digs his nails lightly into the meat of Harry’s sensitive inner thigh, kissing at his jaw as he shudders.
Harry makes a soft noise and tilts his head back towards Louis’, biting his lip, hips arching up like he can’t help it but he doesn’t want Louis’ to know he’s already so into it. His pupils are blown and the sweep of his lashes is coy. There’s a wet noise when he finally releases his lip in order to teasingly brush against Louis and lick his way into more kisses. Louis lets himself get lost in it, reassures Harry with heated touches building into a slow, deep grind between their bodies.
“Baby,” he deliberately reduces their kisses to light brushes of their lips, shared breaths as Harry whines and opens his thighs wider. Continues whispering as he shifts to begin trailing kisses downwards, has to stop himself from leaning right back up as his husband hesitantly humps against his hip. He watches his delicate skin flush a shade darker in light embarrassment, the question is his eyes that disappears behind his eyelids, his breaths melting into soft, hot ‘Mms’ as Louis encourages him by roughly pulling his hips against his body.
“So handsome, sweetheart.” Louis eagerly laves his tongue over Harry’s chest, presses his smile into the salty skin and eagerly presses his hands against his sides to feel the harsh rise and fall. Harry’s gaze drifts back towards the mirror, his hips bucking a little more sharply, breaths coming out whinier when he catches onto the way Louis is playing his body. Louis won’t look to the mirror to meet his eyes.
“Love touching you here,” he squeezes Harry’s love handles, lightly tickling over the skin to make Harry gasp, make his gentle thrusts lose their rhythm. “Gorgeous curves you’ve got, darling.”
He doesn’t let up the ticklish touches until his lips reach Harry’s nipple, licking lightly once before letting Harry shiver under his breath for a moment.
“Most beautiful body I’ve ever seen. Want to eat you up.” With that, he closes his lips firmly against the nub. Bites and sucks until Harry sounds overwhelmed, uses a particularly low groan of his name as his cue to switch to the other nipple, letting his fingers glide and tease over the slick skin he’s leaving behind. At this, Harry’s fingers twitch towards his hair, but then he stops himself and twists them into his own curls instead. Louis sucks and twists both nipples firmly as a reward, and Harry keens, panting harshly and letting out a cry like he’s being fucked as he shifts his thighs and finds an angle for his cock against Louis’ body that he really likes.
Louis quickly realizes that letting Harry get himself off against him while he works is going to bring this to an end far too quickly. They’re not teenagers anymore, and Harry won’t likely get off in his pants unless Louis wants him to, but. There’s a specific type of horny that Harry gets when Louis simply praises him like this. Horny like he needs the touches so bad he’ll tremble apart if he doesn’t get to cum. Louis can’t really deny him anything he needs, even when they’re playing, but he feels no qualms about making him wait for it a bit.
Lifting his head, letting his hands take over for his mouth, he allows himself a selfish moment to simply admire. A delicious flare of heat rises in the pit of his belly when he sees that Harry isn’t even watching himself anymore. His eyes have fallen shut, lips parted, cheek rubbed into the pillow, fists curled tight into his hair as he simply whines and arches into Louis’ touches, basking in his attention. That is, until he realizes that Louis’ mouth is unaccounted for.
There’s a moment where he opens his eyes and slowly stills his hips, simply holding Louis’ gaze. It feels like time thickens, Louis licking his lips while Harry’s shimmering, blown eyes track the movement. The intensity veers back into something sweet and soft as Harry’s lips quirk up into a dimpled smile, Louis giggling into his tummy as Harry shyly tucks his chin against his chest and removes a hand from his hair to brush gentle fingers against Louis’ cheek.
“I love you, gorgeous.”
Harry giggles, nose crinkling cutely as Louis nips his finger.
“And I love you.”
Louis spares him another moment of warm eyes and a glowing smile before he continues his trail of kisses down Harry’s flushed chest, picking it up from the dip between his pecks, warmed by the feeling of Harry’s eyes on him. He takes Harry’s hand in his, this time, lacing their fingers and getting to feel Harry squeeze gently every time he nips and sucks at a sensitive spot. Feels the cool weight of Harry’s wedding ring against his skin.
Harry goes squirmy as Louis nuzzles into his lower belly, breathing quickening again as his thigh is caressed. Louis nips lightly at his bellybutton and gives one last squeeze to his ticklish waist before kissing at the waistband of his briefs, letting his fingers ghost over the hard outline of Harry’s cock, just to hear how it makes him gasp.
“Hips up for me, darling.”
Stripping Harry of his underwear, wrangling the fabric off of his long legs refocuses Louis on the task at hand, which is to worship Harry’s body as thoroughly as he deserves. He knows Harry’s getting antsy now, free hand curling in the sheets as he flexes his toes, carefully measuring his breathing as his cock leaks against his belly.
His reaction to Louis abruptly dragging his blunt nails from the crease where his thighs meet his torso nearly down to his knees is beautiful. His eyes widen to great green marbles, his chest heaving and his thighs squeezing and rubbing together, like he’s not sure that he likes the sensation but it’s turning him on anyway.
“Lou. Please, Lou,” his voice comes out a brittle whisper. He’s not asking for anything, not really, except to hear Louis’ voice, to know what’s coming.
“I’ve got you,” Louis gets a hand under Harry’s thigh to bend his leg up, wiggles his fingers towards a spare pillow and smiles proudly as Harry scrambles to hand him one.
“My best boy, you are,” he pats Harry’s bum gently as he helps him get situated on top of the pillow, squeezes his hand gently in acknowledgement before taking his hand back and letting Harry grab onto the sheets. “Gonna make you feel so good. You comfy, sweetheart?”
Harry shifts about a bit, splaying his legs wide and putting himself completely on display before nodding eagerly. Only whimpers a little bit when Louis ducks down to start at his left knee, instead of between his legs.
“So, so sexy for me, baby,” Louis alternates between bruising kisses and whispering wetly against Harry’s skin, slowly but surely making his way back up his leg.
“You’ve got the hottest thighs, darling. I know you know that. Your arse and these thighs, I swear, been thinking about tying you up and spanking you just to see them all lovely and red. Bet you’d like it if we did that, hm? Haven’t gotten to play since you’ve been home, looking so gorgeous, parading these thick thighs around. Driving me crazy.”
He glances up to Harry’s face as he reaches the swell of his very upper thighs, scratches lightly to watch Harry shiver. He’s got his whole bottom lip in his mouth, sucking so hard he’s struggling not to let out wet sounds. Louis arches a brow and jerks his head towards the mirror, doesn’t wait to see whether Harry’s obeyed him before wetting his lips and promptly spreading Harry’s cheeks to lick teasingly over his hole. Harry tenses immediately, shifting restlessly as Louis gets him warmed up.
He starts by simply kissing wetly and running his tongue over the expanse of skin before him, getting Harry used to the sensations. Lapping at his balls and dipping back down to suck lightly at his hole, hand wandering up and ghosting against his cock, listening to Harry’s soft, pleased sighs as he runs his fingers through the patch of pre-cum wetting his tummy and begins to tease at the swollen head of his dick. Harry’s still shivering more than he’s still, relaxed, and Louis knows that’s just where he likes to be. He progressively lets his mouth get sloppier, getting Harry nice and wet before gradually moving his mouth higher, his hands taking over at teasing Harry’s arse as he glances at the mirror.
Harry’s cheek is rubbed into the pillow again, eyes half lidded but trained steadily on their reflection. He’s panting quietly, toes pointed towards the end of the bed, long fingers switching between tensed and relaxed depending on the pressure of Louis’ fingers.
“Can you hand me the lube, baby?”
Harry’s throat clicks softly as he swallows, but he easily enough reaches to the edge of their nightstand where the little bottle is hiding behind a couple of novels. Louis notices that he trembles a little bit as he passes the bottle, and stops the drying rub of his fingers against his rosy skin to rub gently at the side of his belly for a moment.
“Alright?” He doesn’t move and keeps his eyes on Harry’s face, lube resting in his other hand as he waits for Harry to realize he wants words in return.
Harry is still nice and alert for him, takes a nice, deep breath and answers, “So good, Lou.”
Louis smiles, watches Harry snuggle back down against the sheets and blink slowly, watching him snick open the cap of the bottle and slick up his fingers. Harry seems to remember that he’s supposed to be watching the mirror just as Louis is tossing the bottle to the end of the bed, sharply turns his head back, contrasting the languid fluidity of his other movements.
Louis smiles, carefully shimmies back down to avoid getting their sheets messier than he has to. “Can watch me if you’d like, sweet boy.”
One of the best parts of being in a long term, committed relationship with someone like Harry, Louis thinks, is that romance and simple intimacy get him as hot as any of the countless other little turn ons and kinks that have written themselves on their list over the years.
Harry turns back to him with a shy little smile, chin tucking cutely as he settles.
Louis winks at him before looking down again, petting a finger against his hole and stroking his other hand against his thigh before slowly pushing a finger in.
Harry’s gorgeous when he’s getting fingered, all fluttery eyelashes and impatient little thrusts of his hips as Louis opens him up. Harry always teases him for being so slow and thorough, after, when they’re pressed together and close to sleep. Louis only smiles, indulging him. They both know that Louis gets off on pleasuring Harry just about as much as Harry goes a bit mad for Louis’ attention, loves to be spoiled and taken care of this way.
Working up to the third finger, carefully avoiding his spot, Louis leans down to mouth at the gorgeous, neglected dick that’s just waiting, throbbing and dripping in front of his face.
“Ah, Lou,” Harry gasps in a breath, breaking his focused silence as if Louis getting his mouth back on him was his start signal. His legs slide up and down before settling, rather shakily, around Louis’ shoulders, his body drawing Louis’ fingers in that much tighter as his fingers scrabble at the sheets.
Louis breathes heavily through his nose, working on tonguing at Harry’s head and gradually getting rougher with his fingers up his arse. Harry’s melting into the sheets, letting out quiet ‘uh’s’ that make Louis throb in his briefs and consequentially grind against the mattress, whining lightly against Harry’s dick and making him keen and tense up.
“If- if you want to get in me, you have to- Mm, I won’t la- st.” Harry bucks up sharply as Louis jabs more insistently at his prostate, body relaxing completely, limbs sagging against the bed as he lets out a low, satisfied moan before he tenses again, hips and legs snapping forward. Louis pulls off his dick before he has the chance to choke on it with the increasingly wild buck of Harry’s hips, or Harry can get off. He doesn’t let up his fingers, making Harry’s soft apology come out choppy and thick.
“It’s alright, my darling.” Louis brushes his lips against his thigh, watches the way Harry’s body eagerly swallows his fingers, his wet dick an angry red against his tummy as he thrashes, utterly desperate at losing the touch when he’s feeling so good. “My good boy. Spoiling me, looking so fucked out already. Could get you off right now for being so good.”
Harry interrupts him with a frustrated cry at that, head thrown back against the pillows, body flushed pink all over. Louis smirks, knowing that as desperate as Harry is getting, what he really wants is to be filled with cock. Louis’ words have the same effect on him as teasing touches, make him tense and whimper and lose himself in the tantalizing, just-shy-of-what-he-needs-sensations. Luckily for him, Louis is feeling generous.
“Want you to touch yourself while I get ready, H.”
That gets Harry’s attention, his swimmy eyes coming back to Louis while he whines at losing his fingers.
“My very best boy,” Louis reminds him breathlessly, finding the lube and indulging a bit as he slicks up his dick, tugging himself off slowly, watching Harry’s shaky fingers bypass his cock entirely and start to tease at his hole.
Harry whines and squirms under his eyes, trying his best for what he obviously feels is too much time in his state, getting increasingly restless and rough with himself, pinching his nipple and doing his best to roll back on his fingers with his eyes glued to Louis’ cock. He’s gagging for it, squirming and whining and moaning like he’s trying to get attention, to get touches, to Louis’ glee, but obviously not satisfied with the best angle he’s capable of.
Finally, with a trembling sigh, rosy lips red and shiny with spit, emerald eyes shiny, lashes wet, he rasps, “Please, daddy?”
“M’ right here, baby,” Louis abandons his dick immediately, shifts to crawl over Harry. He smiles at being so close to his handsome face again, gives him a soft smile, strokes his curls back and gives him a wet, bruising kiss. It’s both because he wants to and because it gets Louis’ shamelessly hot every time Harry demonstrates how much he loves for Louis to be his daddy, even when they’re not explicitly playing.
Harry’s arms wrap around him, nails scratching lightly at his back and scalp as he moans softly into his mouth. He impatiently wraps his legs around Louis’ waist and grinds, keens softly at the feel of Louis’ mouth, his hands, his hard dick brushing teasingly against where he wants him most. Another thing about when they’re not explicitly playing that gets Louis ridiculously hot is how demanding and coy Harry acts when he’s feeling needy, but too shy to ask Louis to be stern with him with words.
“Need you to relax for me, sweetheart.” Louis’ forehead presses to Harry’s neck as he looks down, carefully positions himself against Harry’s entrance. At this point in the night it could go either way with whether or not he’s going to be daddy, but he still wants to romance his baby, love his body. That’s what he thinks, anyway.
Harry, mouth watering, is already sinking into the headspace where he likes to be handled. He inhales, slow and deep, eager to be a good boy, even as he’s being cheeky in hopes of a response, and tries to let go of the tension in his body.
“M’ ready, daddy,” he practically purrs, all bitten lips and batted lashes. Louis knows exactly what kind of response Harry is trying to evoke from him, little minx. He decides to allow himself to be provoked, making a mental note that Harry is definitely getting spanked the next time they play.
Before Louis has even bottomed out, Harry’s already arching up, thrusting his hips against Louis, trying to take him deeper, harder. Louis smoothly twists an unforgiving hand into his hair and tightens his fist, relishing in the way Harry’s eyes fly open before relaxing to half lidded, his back arching more dramatically and a low, needy ‘uh’ falling from his lips as Louis sharply thrusts into him, grinding into him deep and keeping him pinned by his hair.
“Relax for daddy,” Louis reminds him sharply, tugging at his ear with his teeth.
“Mmf,” Harry whines and his body bows, tense and coiled with the rush of getting what he wants, the excitement hot and fluttery in his belly.
“Tonight is about spoiling my good baby boy, his perfect little body, hm?” Louis pulls out slowly, readjusting his hands to bracket Harry’s head, centring himself. Chest shimmering with sweat, He cheers internally when Harry takes the bait, whines and scratches at his back.
The second Harry really gets his nails in, Louis thrusts in all the way, not bothering to ease himself into a brutal pace, and whispers, “but you’re not being very good.”
Harry gasps and thrashes when Louis doesn’t slow his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he scrabbles and eventually ends up with his ankles hooked behind Louis’ back, hands slipping over his skin as he keens and pants.
“Nng, daddy, fuck,” Harry’s entire body is jerking with his thrusts, and he doesn’t exactly settle, but he wraps his hands around Louis’ biceps and seems to cling to that point of contact to let himself relax just a touch, for his body to cooperate with thrusting back against Louis. It’s at that moment that Louis’ actual words seem to catch up with him, and a particularly hot shiver runs through his belly at the idea that he’s being naughty.
“I’m, I’m a good boy, your good boy, oh!” Harry’s whole body throbs with heat as Louis shifts and gets his spot, his mouth falling open, head lolling against the pillow. Louis carefully slides his leg up so that he can move an arm, only losing the angle for Harry for a few seconds before they’re back on track.
“Fuck, daddy, uh, uh,” Harry goes boneless against him as he picks the pace back up, nailing his spot, and Louis curses softly with him, feeling Harry’s aching cock brush against his abs with every bounce of his body against the mattress.
“Awfully filthy mouth on you for a good boy, baby. You- fuck -know what I think, hm?”
Harry opens his mouth, whether to gasp or speak Louis isn’t sure. What comes out is a whiny groan as Louis drags a nail over his nipple.
“I think you know you’re being a bad, needy little thing.”
Louis twists a hand back into Harry’s curls, watches his eyes roll back as he anchors himself there with his fist.
Harry’s body abruptly jerks up, his thighs relaxing and sliding against the sheets for a moment before he cries out, legs snapping back around Louis. Louis groans at the way his hole tightens, the knowledge that he’s getting close. He arches enough to get a hand around his dick, relishes in the way Harry spasms like he’d fly off the bed if Louis weren’t holding him down.
“Just want daddy’s attention, don’t you, naughty minx? Want me to punish you and- Christ -baby, want daddy to spank you until you’re ready to be good again, don’t you?”
“I- Oh, I-“ Harry goes totally lax, letting Louis pound him with no resistance, eyes fluttering and brows twitching restlessly. Louis matches his strokes to his thrusts, twisting just the way Harry likes and thumbing his head, his own toes curling as he buries his head in Harry’s neck and speeds up just that much more as Harry starts getting worked up the way Louis loves.
“I’m, ah, daddy, gonna be good, want you to spank me, uh, uh, ‘m your good boy, daddy, gonna cum, ah, daddy!”
Harry wails as Louis bites down on his skin, thrashes wildly enough that the headboard knocks against the wall with a bang as he shoots thick ropes of cum over Louis’ fist and between their bodies. He jerks his head back into the pillows, skin red with the heat of it all as he bucks desperately onto Louis' cock and into his fist, lips licked puffy and shiny. His toes and fingers are curled, against sheets and skin, his thighs sliding endlessly as white hot pleasure courses through his system.
Eventually he tapers off into a long, wobbly whimper. His vision fades back in and his thoughts begin to trickle a little bit more coherently.
Louis groans lowly, chasing his own orgasm as Harry melts into the sheets, his hole fluttering with the continued stimulation. It’s just the push he needs as those long, trembly fingers dig into his shoulders, and Harry’s soft, spaced out post-orgasm voice coaxes him on.
“G’nna fill me up, daddy?”
“Harry, baby, oh.”
Louis gives himself a moment to breath against Harry’s skin as he comes down, enjoys the feeling of big hands petting his back, before the sex haze recedes a touch and he can focus his attention back on his baby.
Harry’s eyes are closed when he lifts his head, expression so utterly relaxed Louis might think he was sleeping if not for the rhythm of his hands, the slight wiggle of his toe brushing against Louis’ calf. His eyelashes are shivery where they rest against his cheeks, slightly damp against his rosy skin.
“Sweetheart,” Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s chin, smiles to see his dimple pop out and his glazed eyes crack open to peak at him sleepily. “You’re with me, darling?”
Harry breathes in deep, sighs out breathily. He feels just a little bit distant, sated and comfy and very sleepy.
“‘M with you, Lou.”
“Good boy. I’m going to pull out now, alright?” Louis pecks his lips after Harry nods, pulls out gingerly before smoothly rolling to the edge of the bed and shifting to stand, much to Harry’s apparent displeasure.
“I’m only going to get a flannel, love. And a glass of water for you, and to turn out the damned lamp.” He’s smiling as he speaks, walking backwards towards the ensuite and giggling as Harry scrunches his nose at him and squirms to sit up a bit, wanting to wiggle over to the cooler sheets on Louis side of the bed, but also to take care of the mess on his tummy and between his thighs before he moves.
Louis returns with a glass and a flannel, knowingly sets the drink on his own side of the bed before crawling over to Harry and wiping him down. Harry blushes as Louis gently runs the material over his flushed skin and hides his face in his hands, like he does every time, and Louis smiles.
He’s pulled into a smiley, lingering kiss before Harry lets him up to get rid of the flannel and get the light. Harry’s sucked down half of the glass by the time Louis is back in the room, places the glass on the nightstand for if he wakes up later. He snuggles up on Louis’ side of the bed with the comforter pulled up to his chin, like he always does, and makes grabby hands at him. Louis thinks he’s the picture of gorgeous, satisfied and sleepy, fluffy hair mussed and wild, lips pouting for Louis to come to him.
“I’m coming, love. Budge over.”
Harry only giggles and, rather than moving further in the bed, or, perhaps to his own side, he simply turns over so that he’s still in Louis’ spot, peaking over his shoulder expectantly.
Smiling and shaking his head, Louis crawls in and spoons Harry from behind, like always.
In the dark, feeling warm in all the best ways, appreciatively curling his fingers against his husband’s tummy, Louis thinks that a lifetime of this with Harry is everything he’s ever going to want. He’s also thinking about sneaking out the next day to pick up a new bottle of Harry’s favourite lotion. He'll definitely be needing it for when he massages Harry's thighs and arse after spanking him for being greedy, but that’s neither here nor there.