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Good Boys Do Bad Things

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All things considered, a recording studio was a great place to work. There were the perks of being around musicians all day, some of them were even famous enough that Louis had to shove down any feelings of being star struck. There was the fact that through some nepotism, his friend Niall had not only gotten Louis the job, but his other friends slash bandmates jobs there too. Which meant that free studio space when they weren’t completely booked was one of the very best perks, only slightly higher than the fully stocked kitchen full of free food.

The number one very best thing about Louis’ job though, was his boss.

Officially: Niall. Unofficially: The Other Niall. To Louis: Bressie.

He was six feet six inches and built like a professional rugby player. Which he had been; before finding success as the lead singer and guitarist for a pop punk band Louis happened to idolize. When the band ‘went on hiatus,’ Bressie had opened up the studio, hired one of his dad’s friends’ kids—that’d be Niall, aka The First Niall—who snagged jobs for the rest of their band and made Louis promise that he wouldn’t sully the good name of The Rogue by embarrassing them in front of The Other Niall.

Louis mostly stuck to that promise.

He tried anyway.

Hand on a bible he really did.

But, like, Bressie was a fucking stud and Louis couldn’t fully be blamed for his actions when Bressie was around. Harry had made fun of Louis relentlessly for like four months back in college after Louis had admitted there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for six feet two. And Bressie was six feet fucking six.

So sometimes Louis acted like a fool.

Like when he showed up for work thinking he was the only one opening that morning, and the only thought in his head was what cereal mix to make once he refilled the breakfast bar, and he was blindsided to find Bressie and Harry already in the kitchen. Harry was giggling into his omelet and Bressie watched him with a soft smile, clearly proud of himself for making Harry laugh, as though it was hard.

Bressie almost looked halfway smitten with Harry.

Everyone was halfway smitten with Harry, Louis included, so it shouldn’t have really bothered him. Harry was fully aware that Louis had laid his claim on Bressie and plus, Louis was ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure there was something there between Harry and the new sound engineer, Liam, but Louis also thought there might be something between Liam and Zayn, so really it was all very confusing and while it was proving impossible to get into Bressie’s pants, despite his best efforts, Louis simply didn’t have the brain power to figure out all the love triangles that were happening around him.

“Hi boys,” Louis said as he crossed the kitchen in search of the kettle. By the time he filled it up and flicked the switch, Harry looked rightfully shamefaced. “Having a good morning?”

“Good morning, Louis,” Bressie said. “Glad to see you’re on time today.”

Louis turned, disgust on his face. “I told you I wasn’t a morning person.” He stood on his tip toes and reached for the spot where he kept his favorite mug. It wasn’t there. “If you want sunshine and rainbows and to open early every morning, even though no one is going to show up until this afternoon, then you should really switch our schedules and have Harry open.”

Bressie scoffed. “That’s no way to talk to your boss.”

“And where’s my mug?” Louis asked, ignoring Bressie.

“Dishwasher,” Harry said around a mouthful of omelet. The dishwasher was still running. Almost as if Harry forgot to run it before he left the night before, and came in to do it before Louis noticed. He should’ve known that Louis always noticed.

“You can use any of the others,” Bressie said, spearing a bit of Harry’s omelet and moaning around the taste of it.

Louis tried to take Harry out with a side eye, and simply hummed in response to Bressie. Because that was a full-on sex moan and if Louis opened his mouth he was probably going to say that he wanted to hear that sound at least once a day for the rest of his life. Bressie should be tried at the Hague for that kind of exquisite torture. Louis grabbed the nearest mug, and poured his tea into it, then he carried it over to the table where Harry and Bressie were apparently sharing breakfast.

He didn’t really mean to… well, maybe he did a little bit… but the tea did go much farther than Louis anticipated when he tripped over nothing and his tea flew out of his mug. He was really just hoping to break up their little party, and figured spilling some tea on the table would work perfectly. He didn’t intend to drown Harry’s omelet. Even if it did successfully get them to separate. Harry leapt up to run for a dishtowel, and Bressie stood in place, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Bressie slowly shook his head and there was absolutely no reason why Louis’ dick should’ve twitched at Bressie’s disappointment, but Louis couldn’t help any of what was going on these days.

🥁 🎸 🥁

Louis stepped outside, taking a big breath of the fresh night air before lighting up a cigarette.

It was hot inside, between the tight press of people and the multiple vodka red bulls, and Louis needed a moment alone. It was supposed to be a celebration, the ‘famous enough that fans were camped outside for weeks’ band wrapped up their recording that evening and were treating the staff to a night out. Maybe it was because they were friends with Bressie from his bona fide rockstar days, or maybe because they had been genuinely nice guys.

Louis was pretty sure that getting drunk around Bressie was a terrible idea. But staying sober and watching the way he casually draped his arms around everyone else’s shoulders, the way his face lit up as he clinked glasses in cheers was unbearable. Louis wanted to have that effect on him. But he didn’t. And getting drunk was making it worse. Unfortunately, Louis also didn’t have enough self-preservation to just leave. He had been getting mouthier and louder as the night dragged on and from the corner of his eye he kept catching Bressie turning to look at him, so he got more and more obnoxious because having Bressie’s attention felt euphoric, even if it was an unreadable scowl, and so it was a cycle he couldn’t break.

But cool night air and a cigarette would help clear his head. And when he joined the table again afterwards, he would stop annoying everyone, including himself.

He was about halfway through his cigarette and his heart was close to beating at its normal ‘not around Bressie’ rate, when the door opened and the noise of the bar spilled out into the street, along with Bressie.

He took one look at Louis and tromped over.

Louis looked up at him, his heartbeat kicking up a notch.

Bressie hovered over him, his eyes dark in the moonlight. “You little shit,” he said as he plucked the cigarette out of Louis’ mouth. He crushed it under the toe of his sneaker. Louis’ indignant "Hey" died on his lips as Bressie took a step forward, crowding into Louis’ space. Louis took a step back, which Bressie matched. Cowardice wouldn’t work, so Louis puffed out his chest, ready to give back, to volley, whatever Bressie threw his way.

What Louis didn’t expect was Bressie putting his arms out, caging Louis in, then leaning down, breathing heavy against Louis’ ear, and whispering, “Why so quiet now? You’ve been acting like a jackass all night.”

“I— I’m allowed to have a laugh with the guys. Relax after a hard day’s work.”

“Don’t think sitting at the front desk scrolling Instagram on your phone counts as a hard day’s work.”

Maybe if Bressie knew how hard he had gotten when he totally accidently and not at all on purpose ended up on Bressie’s ’gram and maybe drooled over some of his thirsty workout pics. Louis had double checked, and Bressie was absolutely not lurking around while Louis was creeping on him. But a thrill ran down his spine at the chance he had been caught.

“Had to deal with you creeping up on me, checking in like maybe I don’t know how to do my fucking job.”

Bressie’s eyes drifted down to Louis’ lips and he said slow like honey, “The mouth on you.”

Louis dropped his eyes as he swallowed thickly, tried not to think about his mouth on Bressie, failed, and dug his nails into his palms to keep from falling to his knees.

Bressie’s eyes were dark when Louis looked back up. Louis had drank too much to come up with a witty, borderline-appropriate, flirty response. He swayed when Bressie arched an eyebrow and stood back up to his full height.

“You alright, little one?” Bressie tucked his finger under Louis’ chin and tilted his head up.

Louis wanted to put up a fight, insist he’s not little, but Bressie’s finger felt so large and warm, and Louis felt his eyes flutter shut. “More than alright, now.”

Bressie lingered, and Louis opened and focused his eyes to find a wry smile on Bressie’s face. He licked his lips, then cuffed Louis on the shoulder and said, “Get home safe.” Louis watched Bressie’s ass as he walked away into the night.

Louis’ hands shook as he lit up another smoke.

🥁 🎸 🥁

Louis was so focused on the music, the way the beat flowed through him, the energy he was creating by pounding his sticks on the drums, that he didn’t notice Bressie in the control room until the song was done. Louis wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair up and out of his face in the same motion.

“Fuck yeah,” Liam said from the other room, his voice piped in through the speakers. “That was sick, bro.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked. He thought it sounded good, it felt like it sounded good, like he was in the pocket, but nothing was ever really good enough. He was learning to trust them though, when the rest of the band said it sounded great and they didn’t need a 900th take.

“Yeah,” Liam confirmed. “That’s the one.”

Through the glass, Louis watched Bressie stand and lean over the mic. “Nailed it. Great job leading with your left hand.”

Louis’ cock gave a kick at Bressie’s voice. Or maybe at Bressie’s words. He had received a lot of compliments about the ferocity of his drumming, his stamina, his slick fills, but no one other than his drum teachers have complimented his technique.

He pulled his lips into his mouth and shook his head to keep from smiling, then threw up his middle finger.

“You little fuck,” Bressie said without any bite.

For the rest of the day, Louis couldn’t stop thinking about dropping his clothes and showing Bressie what other techniques he could nail.

🥁 🎸 🥁

“What?” Bressie didn’t look mad, per say. But his jaw was clenched and he blinked more often than normal. (Louis realized he was in too far, having already catalogued Bressie’s resting blinking rate. He wasn’t happy about it, but what was the alternative? Quitting the best job he ever had and never seeing Bressie again? Not likely.)

“Sorry?” Louis said, unsure what he was really sorry for. Other people switched their shifts all the time. He had already worked Harry's swapped shift.

“Why can’t you work Saturday night?” Bressie’s knuckles were white around his phone.

“Dude,” Louis said. “Chill.” He reached out to gently pry Bressie’s phone out of his hand before he crushed it. He spared a glance at Bressie’s flexing forearm while he was in that general area. “It’s just a thing. Harry’s covering and everyone knows he’s more responsible than me. It’ll be fine.”

“A thing,” Bressie deadpanned.

“I— What?” Louis licked his lips as he thought over his next words. It was going to be hella embarrassing if he was wrong. Louis hoped he wasn’t wrong. He popped a hip and smirked. “You think I have a date.”

“No! Why— No. Nope.” All of Bressie’s tension was wiped from his face, replaced by embarrassment.

“You think I have a date. And you’re jealous,” Louis prodded.

Bressie shook his head. “Not jealous. Couldn’t care less what you do in your personal time.”

Louis cackled. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Louis turned and walked away, swinging his hips ever-so-slightly more than usual. After months of Bressie having the upper hand, Louis finally scored. Louis-1, Bressie-about a million.

🥁 🎸 🥁

Louis liked that look on Bressie, dark and possessive, and playing like didn’t care. Louis replayed it again and again in his head. The flared nostrils. The intense eyes. The furrowed eyebrows. Louis could see it so clearly that it was easy to pretend it was real. Easy to pretend Bressie was holding himself up over Louis, a look of concentration and power as he rawed Louis hard.

Louis was in his bedroom, sheets down toward his knees, naked and writhing. His hand felt good, the steady beat of it. He bet Bressie had rhythm, had perfect control of his hips, would draw out the pleasure until Louis couldn’t stand it anymore and begged Bressie to pull him over the edge. He tightened his grip and twisted his hand at the crown of his dick. He was so close. He gulped in a breath as his body tensed, and his balls tightened up and an image looped through his mind: Bressie stepping in close, caging Louis against a wall with just his size, the methodical way he held eye contact as he dipped his head low, then turned to whisper, his breath hot and alive against Louis’ skin, “Knock it off, little one.” Louis whined. It was painful how close he was. A freight train couldn’t stop him, the speed at which he worked his cock, his held breath, and the pressure building between his legs, and with both a ghost of a whisper of ‘little one’ prickling the skin at his neck and the memory of the careful way Bressie held him outside the bar, pleasure finally seized him and he came so hard—arcing into himself, giving himself a charlie horse—shaking through it, before breathing again.

He caught his breath, laying still on his sweaty sheets, and told himself—like always—that was the last time he’d jerk off to his boss.

🥁 🎸 🥁

Harry called Louis from the front desk, letting him know they had a last minute cancellation due to somebody or other having some sort of intestinal distress. That sounded terrible for them, and Louis cut Harry off with a “be there in twenty” before Harry could get into the unnecessary details.

He threw on some athletic shorts and a t-shirt, and swiped his hand through his hair. He’d normally take longer to make sure he looked good, there was an almost 100% chance that Bressie would be there, since he practically lived at the studio, but free studio space and an open drum kit happened so rarely he needed to get there before someone else claimed the space.

Bressie always looked good, whether he was sweaty from the gym, (Honestly, didn’t Bressie know that showing up dripping with sweat, taking a lap around the studio to make sure everything was running smoothly, then taking a shower in the back before coming out smelling like some expensive cologne he probably got free from some awards show was practically sexual harassment? Louis didn’t understand why no one else would back him on that.) or dressed to the nines for some event, or relaxed and casual. It was highly unfair. Louis wondered if maybe the way Bressie always looked flawless led in part to his band’s success. It certainly played a part in Louis’ realization that he was into dudes.

Louis skidded into the open space, only to find that it was already occupied. By Bressie. Of course. Because in addition to having his perfect face, and his front-man confidence, Bressie also worked his fucking ass off. So maybe that had been part of the band’s success too, the way he always pushed himself and his tenacity. Louis was sure the passion he poured into his projects was the reason why the studio took off like it did.

Louis hovered by the door for a moment, watching Bressie’s look of concentration as he played his guitar, too focused on his fingers on the frets to notice Louis’ arrival.

He was so fucking talented.

That was probably the biggest reason why the band finally made it.

Even though Bressie still insisted it was mostly luck. Because he was also fucking humble as fuck.

Louis scowled. He hated Bressie.

“Oh,” Bressie said, his brows drawn together. “What are you doing here? I thought you were off today.”

“Yeah, but Harry called, mentioned…” Louis waved his hand at the empty room. “Thought I’d get some practice in.”

The other thing Bressie was good at? Making Louis weak in the knees with just one look. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it,” he said with a shrug.

“Hey, um, by the way,” Louis said, as Bressie put his guitar (his fucking handmade guitar that he actually helped build because what the fuck can that man not do) back on its place on the wall. Louis had been meaning to tell him, but kept forgetting with how unfairly distracting Bressie was literally all of the time. “Thank you, for those suggestions for my sister. She’s taking some of your advice and she’s coping better, with her anxiety.”

Louis hated the way Bressie’s face went soft. “I’m really glad to hear it. If there’s anything else I can do, you know where to find me.”

And Bressie was so smart. Always going on about politics and mindfulness, talking passionately about mental health and the benefits of physical wellbeing. It made getting to know Bressie, not the idolized version that he was obsessed with as a kid listening to his CDs in his room, but the real Bressie, the one who wanted to write a children’s book and was legitimately the most insightful person Louis has ever met, it made getting to know him so much worse. Because he didn’t just want Bressie to rail him—and by god, did he want Bressie to rail him—but he wanted to stay up late, curled up in bed, and listening to Bressie ramble on about meditation. He wanted to know all of Bressie’s thoughts on everything.

He’s well and truly fucked.

(Not yet. Hopefully someday.)

Louis shook his head as he took his seat behind the kit and Bressie left him alone. Louis needed to concentrate, needed to channel some of Bressie’s focus, and work out the jittery feeling that Bressie left in his wake.

🥁 🎸 🥁

Their session ended early because Zayn had to go watch his little sisters, which was fine because it was a frustrating day where none of them were gelling in the way they needed to. Louis knew that was at least partially his fault, he took responsibility every time it happened, and he got more and more frustrated as the afternoon, then evening, wore on.

He was beyond cranky by the time they reached the bar. Even the sight of his favorite bartender, a cute guy named Luke who Louis liked to flirt with, couldn’t lift his spirits. It must’ve shown on his face; Luke frowned as he pushed Louis’ first beer of the night over to him. “You okay?” Luke asked.

Louis downed half the pint in one go.

“That good? Huh?” Luke said.

“Shitty day,” Louis said.

Luke was already pulling his next beer. “These are on me,” Luke said with a smile. “Maybe your day’s turning around.”

“Seems that way,” Louis said with a flirty smile.

He finished the first beer and slid the froth-streaked glass a few inches towards Luke. Luke put the fresh one in front of him with an accompanying wink.

Louis turned away from the bar, ready to join most of his band mates at their table. Instead he turned right into Bressie’s broad chest. “Steady on,” Bressie said. “Don’t get sloppy.”

“Fuck off. You’re not my dad,” Louis sneered.

Bressie’s shoulder twitched. “Aren’t you a delight.”

“We’re not at work,” Louis said as he pushed his way past. “I don’t have to be nice to you.”

Bressie scoffed as Louis walked away. Louis had lost some of his steam though, by the time he slid next to Niall.

“Why are you such a dick?” Niall asked. “To him?”

Louis really didn’t want to get into it. “He just gets under my skin.”

“Bet that’s not all he wants to get under,” Harry said under his breath.

Louis tried to take him down with his best glare. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Just relax,” Harry said, like it was that easy. “We’ll be better tomorrow. We are on tomorrow, right? Zayn’ll be back?”

“Who even invited him?” Louis muttered, unable to think of anything but Bressie.

“I invited myself.” Bressie sat down next to Louis. “So no need to be prickly to the guys.”

“Should’ve guessed,” Louis said.

Louis finished his beer while listening to Harry and Niall debate Fleetwood Mac vs the Eagles. Louis wanted to jump in with Led Zeppelin because of John Bonham, but then Bressie might agree with him, which would be the worst.

When Niall offered to get another round, he had Louis and Bressie scootch out of the booth so he could slide out after them. Louis took the chance to go to the bathroom, since he’d just have to get back up for Niall when he got back.

“Excuse me,” he told Bressie, disdain dripping from his voice, and even though there was plenty of space to walk around him, knocked into his side as he walked past.

Bressie looked down at him with an arched eyebrow and Louis cursed the blush he felt blooming on his cheeks.

He did his business quickly, no one else was in there, and he took a moment to compose himself—his hair and his brain—in the smudged mirror. “Stop being a prick,” he said to his reflection. He still felt like a prick though, because what was done was done and he didn’t know how to stop being an asshole to Bressie, even though Bressie had been perfectly nice and hadn’t fired him yet. Sometimes it felt like Bressie was giving back as good as he got, volleying barbs as a flirting technique. Other times, well, other times Louis just felt like a heartless asshole. There was no fixing his hair with the amount of times he had run his fingers through it during the last few hours, and there was no fixing the fact that he was a douchebag. He was going to have to suck it up and go back in there and at least attempt to do better, even if that meant not opening his mouth at all.

He opened the door and standing in the hallway, directly across from him, was Bressie.

“You could’ve come in. I don’t bite,” Louis said, with the bite he told himself to get rid of.

“Oh, I know,” Bressie said.

The door closed behind Louis and Bressie took a long step forward as Louis stepped to the side. In that one second, Bressie had Louis pressed right up the wall.

“What the fuck,” Louis hissed.

“Shut up,” Bressie said, his voice was deep enough that it sent a shiver down Louis’ spine.

“Who—”

“Someone needs to put you in your place,” Bressie’s head was tipped downward, and his breath was hot against Louis’ neck.

“And what, you’re offering yourself up?”

Bressie laughed, a dark thing, and Louis should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“If you want me, you’ve got to earn me.”

It was Louis’ turn to laugh. “Dude, I don’t know what you think—”

“If you’re good for me now, the rest of the night, I’ll show you how good my cock feels.”

Louis’ breath got caught in his throat. “What?”

“How good it’ll feel sliding into you, slowly pushing you open,” he said, eyes drilling into Louis’. “How full you’ll feel. All those things you dreamed of me doing to you; I can make it a reality. Take care of you until you’re begging. Treat you like you deserve.”

Bressie leaned forward, pressing his body against Louis’ and with how hard Louis was, and without a chance for him to tuck it away, there was no way Bressie couldn't feel exactly how much he wanted that.

Bressie smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Louis wanted to say something, anything, before Bressie walked away. But his throat was a desert. He was burning up from the inside. Bressie pecked him on the cheek, a move that could’ve felt patronizing, but instead felt like exactly what Louis needed. With a wink, Bressie turned and walked away, back toward their group of friends and fucking hell Louis had to get back there before they thought he fell in. But his legs felt too weak to make it across the bar. He all but melted against the wall.

Fucking hell.

No one said anything when he returned, not even if they thought he’d been gone an abnormally long time. The only spot left in the booth was across from Bressie. Louis wasn’t even surprised.

The fresh beer Niall had delivered was right in front of him, thank god, and he picked it up, the glass cool in his hands. He brought it to his lips, and started to drink, until he caught Bressie’s eye. Bressie shook his head. Louis swallowed what was in his mouth, then put it down. There was a water right next to it, one he definitely didn’t order, but with a tiny nod of his head, Bressie indicated it was for him.

Louis sat still. He did want to be good for Bressie, even if he didn’t know exactly what that meant. He wasn’t going to sass him, but other than that, his head was a mess of contradictions. Louis was bouncing his knee, not sure how else to quell the stirring in his chest. Then Bressie hooked his foot around Louis’ and he stilled immediately. He cracked his knuckles as Bressie looked at him with wide-eyed faux innocence. “You okay, Louis?” he asked, soft enough that Louis wasn’t sure if anyone else heard. He suspected Niall, the way he stiffened at Louis’ elbow, but Niall minded his own business. Louis did always love Niall.

“‘M fine,” Louis mumbled.

“You sure? You seem a little tense,” Bressie said airly, as though he wasn’t responsible for Louis’ current predicament.

The rest of the night passed slowly. Louis couldn’t concentrate on what everyone else was talking about, kept getting lost between Harry’s long pauses, and the thread of conversation from subject to subject was lost every time. But he also couldn’t look at Bressie, he already felt like he was on edge, obvious and vibrating out of his body, while Bressie leaned back, cool as a cucumber. Louis held his water like a lifeline, providing something for him to hold on to, play with, bring to his lips when they felt dry.

It felt like the night was never going to end. He died and was stuck in this purgatory where he didn’t know how to move forward and there was no way he’d be able to go back to where he was, even earlier in the night, before Bressie’s wicked promises.

At some point, Bressie stood up to say he was leaving. Louis’ head whipped up to look at him. He didn’t understand. Bressie gave everyone else a friendly goodbye, smiles and waves and laughs about seeing them the next day. Then he turned and said to Louis, “Louis.”

And that… Louis wasn’t sure what to do with that. He felt dismissed and perhaps like Bressie had been playing with him, saw his innermost desires and used them against Louis, to keep him quiet for the night. He was confused and angry, all tinged with a bit of sadness, that he had so deeply misread Bressie.

With a final goodbye, Bressie walked out.

“Dude, you gonna drink that?” Niall said, oblivious to Louis’ crisis.

His stomach roiled. Part of him wanted to down it, to go lean against the bar and make small talk with Luke and order some shots, until Luke’s shift was over and he could stumble back to his place with Luke in tow.

“Nah. It’s all yours.”

“Sweet,” Niall said.

Harry gave him a concerned look, so Louis smiled, and hoped Harry believed it.

They were talking about something and Bressie had left so Louis should’ve been able to concentrate, but he couldn’t shake that feeling, that feeling of being possessed, how Bressie had looked right into the core of him and knew exactly what he wanted.

He pulled his phone out to check the time, wondering if enough time had passed that he could bail without raising suspicion.

There was a text waiting from him from an unknown number that said, “You coming?” followed by an address.

Louis stood on shaky legs. “I’m gonna get going guys,” he said to the table at large.

A chorus of ‘bye’s followed him out the door and into the warm summer night.

🥁 🎸 🥁

After Louis knocked on the door with shaky hands, Bressie opened it, and the moment of surprise at seeing Louis slid away and was replaced by the same mild indifference Bressie usually expressed toward Louis.

“You sober?” Bressie asked as he turned and walked into the apartment.

Louis hurried after him. “Yeah. Was almost all water tonight.” Bressie’s apartment felt nice, classy, in a way that reminded Louis that Bressie was his boss, and adult in a way that felt very far away from Louis’ own messy studio apartment.

“Good.” Bressie pulled a pitcher of something that looked homemade from the fridge. Louis felt off balance, standing cross-legged waiting for Bressie to make a move. But Bressie didn’t seem like he was in any hurry. He was barefoot, shirtless, and there was a relaxed slope to his shoulders. Louis stood up straight and rolled his shoulders, and Bressie passed over a glass. Louis nodded a thanks and took a sip. Arnold Palmer.

“This is something you want, right?” Bressie asked. It was the first sign that Bressie wasn’t totally and completely in control, and Louis ate it up, offering up a challenge.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he said with a hand on his hip and a cocked eyebrow.

“No.” The single word sent a shiver down Louis’ spine. Bressie turned and put the pitcher back in the fridge. “Not good enough. If you want this to happen, you need to tell me you want this to happen. Not because I’m your boss. Not because you feel obligated. But because you can’t resist, even if I am your boss and it’s wildly unprofessional.”

Bressie stayed rooted in a place as he eyed Louis from across the room. His face wasn’t giving anything away, but the way he cracked his knuckles, slowly. Each finger on one hand. Then each finger on the other. Louis had seen that before, waiting on big name clients to decide if they were going to book at the studio, listening to a final mix of something he was proud of. It was his single nervous tick.

“I want you,” Louis said. “Never thought I’d be an asskisser and want to please my boss as much as I do with you.” He took a step towards Bressie. “Want to see you naked. Want you to see me naked. Want to feel your hands.” Bressie stopped cracking his knuckles and held Louis’ eye as Louis took another step closer. “Want you to touch me everywhere. Want you to teach me how to be patient. Want you to take your time with me.” This time when he took another step, he teased. Two steps away, he lifted his arms, letting his shirt ride up, and it did the trick, drawing Bressie’s eyes downward as Louis held onto his elbows, his head resting in the crook of his right arm as he gently curved his torso. Bressie licked his lips. Louis lowered his arms for the next step, the one that brought him one step away. “Want you in me, over me, surrounding me. Want to feel you everywhere.” He didn’t take the last step. Bressie could close that distance. “I want this.”

Bressie surged forward. In one smooth motion he twisted an arm around Louis’ waist, and cradled the back of Louis’ head in the other and crossed the kitchen in fewer steps than it took Louis, pressing him against the wall. He smelled fresh and crisp, like expensive cologne, and Louis’ cock kicked as Bressie pressed closer still, looking into Louis’ eyes, until they dropped to Louis’ lips. He looked back up, Louis gave the smallest of nods, barely a tick, and Bressie dipped his head.

The kiss was gentle, considering how Bressie had manhandled him across the kitchen to give it, lips brushing against each other as Bressie’s thumb brushed over Louis’ ear and Louis grabbed onto Bressie’s hips. Louis opened up for him, already needing more, needing Bressie deeper, and Bressie went with it, tentatively bridging the gap, then exploring further, tasting like the gum he was always snapping.

Louis let his hands wander, up so he could feel the flex of Bressie’s back, the warm skin. He was already hard, already desperate, and they had barely done anything yet. He ground his pelvis into Bressie’s thigh, and Bressie reciprocated, pressing the hard line of himself into Louis’ lower stomach. Louis whined at the feel of it, and Bressie moved again, sweeping Louis up into his arms and taking a handful of steps into the hallway. They didn’t make it into the bedroom as Louis hoped. Bressie stopped, hoisting Louis against the hall wall. His arm was wrapped around Louis’ waist, holding him in place, and Louis’ legs circled Bressie’s hips. Bressie tilted Louis’ head up, and bent down to kiss him again. He was moving his hips, in incremental pulses like he couldn’t control it. Louis was in the same state, his rim kept clenching tight around nothing as Bressie tilted his head to the side and scraped his teeth down Louis’ neck. “Need this off,” Bressie said as he clutched as Louis’ waist, fisting more of his shirt.

Louis let out a garbled “yes” and moved his arms from around Bressie’s neck to the hem of his shirt. Bressie kept him steady and balanced against the wall, mouthing at Louis’ first freed shoulder and then the other when Louis dropped the shirt to the ground.

“Bedroom,” Louis ordered. “Now. Want more.”

Louis whined when Bressie lowered him to the floor, his legs feeling less steady than he was prepared for. He wanted to be back in Bressie’s arms. Bressie, flushed and breathing heavily, flipped open the button on his jeans, and slid the zipper down. With shaking hands, Louis followed, letting his jeans his the floor with a dull thump from the weight of his wallet, keys, and phone. Bressie’s jeans were still hanging loose off his hips when he turned and went towards a closed door. Louis quickly pulled off his socks as his back was turned, there was literally no way to do that sexily, and then followed Bressie into the darkened room.

Bressie was standing by the head of his large bed, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants. With a little push and shake they were at his ankles and Louis’ mouth flooded at the dark sight of him in his tented grey boxer briefs. His bulge was sizeable, and Louis wanted it filling him up.

“Lights?” Bressie asked.

“Yes. Want to see,” Louis responded in a rush. Light flooded the room. He adjusted his own dick, felt a wet spot on his own boxers, and pressed down, trying to alleviate some of his need with just a palm.

“Don’t touch,” Bressie said. “Want you on the bed. I want to undress you.”

Louis rushed over, and climbed on, kneeing his way toward Bressie.

Bressie looked in control again, he had steady hands as he opened the drawer next to him, pulling out a string of condoms and lube. He placed them on the nightstand.

He raked his eyes down Louis’ body, still kneeling, legs parted. Louis bit his lip and tilted his head, trying to look inviting. It worked; Bressie growled deep in this throat, almost a purr, and pounced.

Louis arched up into another kiss, but then Bressie was pressing down on him, kissing him like his life depended on it, holding Louis’ head in both of his hands. Louis kept rocking his hips up, trying to maintain some semblance of rhythm. Then Bressie slowed down the kissing, moving down to the column of his neck and mouthing at the sharp dip of his collarbones.

As Bressie pinched one of his nipples, Louis yelped, and his hips gave another involuntary kick. “Sensitive,” Bressie said. “How about here?” He dragged his nails down the side of Louis’ ribs to his hips and Louis broke out into goosebumps. Bressie made an approving sound and sat up, straddling Louis’ hips, their hard cocks knocking through the layers of fabric. He gently picked up Louis’ arms and raised them above his head. He wasn’t asked, but Louis clasped his hands together. Bressie then ran his fingertips from Louis’ wrists down to his armpits, he couldn’t control the way he writhed under Bressie, the sensation put all his nerves on edge.

Bressie teased his way up and down, until Louis thought he was going to lose his mind. “More,” Louis moaned. “I need more or I’m going to shoot off from just you touching my biceps.”

“Patience,” Bressie muttered. Louis cursed himself for mentioning that earlier, but Bressie went along with his request anyway, with one last drag through Louis’ pit hair, Bressie started scooching farther down Louis’ body, until he was eye level with Louis’ dick, still straining against his boxers. But to Louis’ frustration, he still didn’t actually move to touch Louis’ dick, instead hiking his boxers up so his inner thighs were exposed. Bressie started there with tiny kisses, each one a sweet reminder of how Louis was not currently getting railed. Louis was convinced he was going out of his mind, he still had his fucking hands above his head as if Bressie had asked him to keep them there, his palms were sore with how his nails were digging in.

Eventually Bressie did add to his kisses, licking and nipping at the skin gently, a handful of times sucking hard and long, so Louis was sure to have bruises in those spots. The thought was so hot that he whined, already fantasizing about touching himself after this was over, when he was home and alone, and could press his thumbs in and remember this moment.

“Bres,” Louis’ voice was so hoarse he barely recognized it himself, “more. Fuck. I need your fingers, need you to touch me, need you to taste me.”

He didn’t know how Bressie was holding out so long. The way he was devouring Louis he had to be just as desperate to get in him.

Louis wiggled in place, as though he could remove his own boxers without his hands. Bressie got the idea though, pressing a hand against Louis’ side, then with his other hand, slowing sliding one side of his boxers down his hip. He must be maddening to open gifts with, if he was this slow and deliberate with everything. He switched hands, and finally Louis’ cock was freed from it’s clothed prison. He wanted to start fisting it already, so he could relive the pressure that was building, but Bressie had other ideas, still slowing dragging his boxers down his legs, seemingly admiring them along the way.

“Yours too,” Louis begged. “Wanna see. ’M so desperate for you.”

Bressie laughed, a soft chuckle. “I know you are, darling. Be patient.”

They might have finally been on the same page though, with Bressie standing at the end of the bed and pulling his own boxer briefs down. He was six six and perfectly proportioned and Louis clenched again in anticipation.

Bressie winked. “Have I finally rendered you speechless?”

With a reprieve from Bressie being so close Louis’ head was clear enough to say, “You know you’re huge. Seems greedy to want me to stroke your ego about it.”

“I’m greedy?” Bressie said with a smirk. Bressie altered his voice so it was closer to Louis’ tenor, “I want it. I want it. I want it.”

“I do fucking want it. Don’t know why you’re over there bantering when you could be sliding home.”

Bressie opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. One point to Louis. Before he joined Louis on the bed again, he picked up the supplies. Then he laid down next to Louis and gave him another sweet kiss. “Seriously though, you still okay with this? Some people see it and run.”

Louis turned on his side, and shook his head. He cupped Bressie’s face with one hand and kissed his cheek. “Even if I didn’t want your monster dick in me—which I do, let’s be clear—there’d be plenty of other things we could do. Just want you.”

Bressie caught him by surprise when he surged forward again, locking Louis into another deep kiss that had the blood rushing back towards his dick again.

Louis felt around the bed until his hand wrapped around the lube. He shoved it into Bressie’s chest. “Here. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“I’m not dicking into you without prep,” Bressie looked horrified.

“Well get on with it. I’m okay with a little pain—”

“I doubt that.”

“My dick’s going to fall off if you don’t get to it soon, so I suggest you hurry.”

Bressie clucked his tongue. “It’s a marathon. Not a sprint.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Louis said.

But Bressie did get to it then, slicking up his fingers and pressing two right against Louis’ puckered rim. Bressie pushed forward, his eyes flicking back and forth between Louis’ face and where he was entering him. Louis sucked in a breath, feeling the give and stretch and then relaxed into it. Louis hadn’t been with too many guys who had any talent for fingers, so he saw it more as a sometimes necessary evil, but maybe Bressie had had enough practice to make it worth it with his partners because he had Louis twisting, arching, reaching down and grabbing Bressie’s free hand because Bressie’s pinpoint accuracy was overwhelming. Bressie fingered him until Louis was practically sobbing for either more or to come. “I’m ready. I’m ready. I’m ready,” Louis kept repeating over Bressie’s murmured encouragement and soft endearments.

Bressie pulled out his fingers and Louis hated that. He wanted to be stuffed full of Bressie again.

“How do you want it?” Bressie asked as he rolled the condom on.

“Baby, I don’t care. Want you.” Louis realized his mistake as Bressie’s head snapped up, but the heat in his eyes had Louis thinking it was fine, Bressie could be his baby. This could be a thing between them past one night.

“Is it okay if you turn over? I want to see your face, but the first time— This might be easier.”

Louis scrambled to turn himself over and push his ass into the air. “Whatever. Whatever.” He straightened his arms and looked over his shoulder. “Please… just…”

“Okay, I got you. Let me know if—”

“I will. I promise. I can take it though.” Bressie pushed forward a bit, the blunt head of his cock pressed against his rim, then through it. “Love your big cock,” Louis babbled as Bressie stretched him further. “Fuck it feels so good. Nothing feels as good as—”

Louis cut himself off as his breath caught in his throat as Bressie pushed in further.

Bressie stilled. “You okay?”

Louis managed to say, “Yep.”

“Need you to breathe through it. Bear down. You got this.” Louis took a deep inhale. “Or we can stop. That’s—”

“No!”

“Okay,” Bressie remained still, other than his hand soothingly rubbing Louis’ lower back. “Let me know when I can… you know… move.”

“I will just…” Louis took a few more deep breaths, focusing on Bressie’s hand. “Okay. I’m good.”

It was true Louis was a size queen and Bressie was giving him a run for his money, but after a few more inches Louis was better able to relax into it, and the overwhelming thought that he might not be able to handle it faded away as the pleasure took hold.

Louis dropped down to his elbows and arched his back, push back slightly into Bressie. Bressie paused again, once he was fully in Louis, murmuring “you’re okay. You’ve got this.”

Louis did have it. “I’m good. Fuck you feel so good.”

“You sure?” Bressie pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m— Fuck, I’m so full. You’re so fucking big. Feels so good.”

“Okay. If you need—”

“I need to you fucking fuck me.”

The slow drag out as Bressie pulled out was delicious, but it was the punch back in that had Louis moaning. Bressie kept him on edge, starting slow, with his measured movements and expert control. And then as Louis relaxed more, Louis could feel him start to lose control, fucking in harder and hips stuttering, his hand clenching, holding tight to Louis instead of the gentle caresses from earlier in the night. He pressed one of his huge hands between Louis’ shoulder blades, holding him down, as he thrust into Louis. Louis sobbed with how good it felt. He couldn’t catch his breath and between the combination of sweat and drool, Louis was already lying in the wet spot. The pleasure washed over him as Bressie drilled into his prostate.

“Feel so good, Lou. Your body, fuck.” Bressie panted. “I’m so close.”

Louis held himself up, getting back to all fours. “No. Wait. Can I…” Louis finally snuck a hand down, between himself. “Want to come when you’re in me.”

“Let me. Please,” Bressie said as he swatted Louis hand away. Louis tucked his head, watched as Bressie enveloped his cock in his huge hand. He tugged Louis off, panting in his ear, never stopping his rhythm.

The feeling in Louis grew, he was going to come while Bressie was dicking him and it was like he had died and gone to heaven and every single one of his wishes was coming true. His balls tightened and even though it had been steadily building, his orgasm still took him by surprise with how intense it was. His whole body tensed, and then he shook through it, as Bressie ground into him, hips barely pulsing, as Louis clenched down around him. He spurted in waves, crying out in pleasure.

“Gorgeous,” Bressie whispered. “You look so good when you’re coming.”

Louis wetly chuckled. “Don’t need to feed me any lines now. You’re literally in me.”

“I am,” Bressie said, sounding breathless. “And you are, stunning.”

“Keep—”

“You sure?” Bressie said.

“Yes. Keep fucking me. I’m just going to…”

Louis finally gave his arms a rest, laying down in his mess, and riding out the final moments of Bressie’s pleasure before he started to jackrabbit his hips and then he was coming, pressing himself deep within Louis, and twitching with it.

Once Bressie caught his breath, he leaned up on one elbow, and slid out of Louis before rolling off of him. Louis rolled the other direction, onto his back, and looked up the ceiling. In any other situation he would’ve allowed more than thirty seconds before he started to go into crisis mode, but this was Bressie, and he liked him so much and he was his boss and that was the best sex of his entire life and he already wanted another round in the morning.

Bressie grabbed his hand in the middle of the bed and intertwined their fingers together, holding tight.

“Can feel the tension from over here, Lou. You’re supposed to be relaxed now. You’ve got me questioning my sk—”

“If you’re going to kick me out, can you just do it now?”

Bressie shook his head. He turned away from Louis, reaching for a tissue from the box next to the rest of the condoms. Louis felt his cheeks heating. He didn’t know what he had imagined would happen afterwards, because he hadn’t imagined it at all, never thought that far ahead because he was an impulsive shit. Bressie pulled the used condom off and gave himself a cursory wipe down with the balled up tissue and dropped it back to the nightstand.

Louis was watching as Bressie turned around, and he immediately caught Bressie’s eye. Bressie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Louis hated that.

Bressie kept moving towards Louis, until he was planking over him. “Baby,” Bressie said quietly. “Why would I kick out you out when I could cuddle you all night, wake up next to you, have you slowly ride me before breakfast. Pancakes? How do you feel about pancakes? I could whip us up some before work.”

“Oh.”

“Oh is right. I don’t go around sleeping with employees. Ever. You’re something else, Louis Tomlinson. Knocked me right off my feet.”

“Well. Same.”

Bressie did a push-up—his body was fucking sick, Louis marveled for the hundredth time—and kissed Louis on the tip of his nose. “Like you so much that I’ll even sleep in the wet spot.”

Louis scoffed. “Good. You better believe I wasn’t going to.”

“Ah,” Bressie said as he moved them around so he was spooning Louis. “There he is. I was afraid I had fucked all the sass out of you.”

“You wish,” Louis scoffed.

“No. I really don’t. I like you just the way you are, prickly edges and everything.”

“Good. I like you too, with your… muscles and kindness and putting me in my place.”

🥁 🎸 🥁

The amount of food that Harry had prepared was frankly overwhelming. “What, you planning on opening a catering place or something?” Louis ribbed as he walked in and saw the spread.

He resolutely refused to look over at Bressie, because his face would turn to goo and Harry would call him out on it immediately. But his heart pounded at seeing a Bressie-shaped form out of the corner of his eye—wearing the shirt Louis picked out for him that morning, a grey short-sleeved thing with three buttons undone at the top so a hint of chest hair peeked out.

“Liam’s working the early shift and I got nervous,” Harry said.

Louis raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never been so nervous that I cooked every single breakfast food ever invented, on the same morning.”

“Yeah, when you’re nervous you’re just a bratty…” Harry’s eyes flicked over to Bressie and he clamped his mouth shut.

Louis allowed himself a peek and found a very self-satisfied Bressie digging into a plate of bacon and eggs. Louis walked over to him, Harry trailed him, holding a muffin.

“Lou, you have to eat some of this. What can I get you?”

Louis sat down next to Bressie, hands to himself, and very smugly said, “Nothing, thanks. My boyfriend made me pancakes this morning.”

Harry’s eyes went huge. Louis loved when a plan came together. “What the fuck, Louis. What are you talking about?” He clambered into the nearest chair. “Who? Tell me everything.”

Louis shrugged with faux indifference. He wanted to scream from the rooftops, but he wanted to draw out the reaction more.

Bressie took a bite of eggs and looked at Louis innocently.

Harry rolled his eyes, used to Louis’ games. “Whatever. Tell me whenever you want.” He reached out to steal a piece of Bressie’s bacon.

Louis batted Harry’s hand away. “Mine.” He looked at Bressie and finally allowed himself to smile.

Harry tilted his head, opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Wait. Really?”

Bressie matched Louis smile. “Yeah, really,” he said, linking his hand with Louis’ on top of the table.

“Holy shit!” Harry exclaimed. “The First Niall is going to flip when he finds out.”

“Finds out what?” Niall asked, walking into the room and seeing the spread along the counters. “More importantly, is this grub up for grabs?”