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You Don't Need Me To Show The Way

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We're all in this together, once we know that we are, we're all stars, and we see that we're all in this together…

Louis groans into his pillow and wonders if he's stuck in a really weird nightmare or if he's actually living out one. He doesn't have the strength to open his eyes and check, but he's sure it's late and he's (mostly) sure he's awake. Neither fact explains why he's hearing a vaguely familiar song from the bunk above his.

Together, together, together everyone. Together, together, come on, let's have some fun!

When Louis finally recognises it, his eyes snap open and his ears prick up. That is. That's definitely a song from High School Musical. Coming from Harry's bunk. Making it the best thing that's ever happened to Louis.

Automatically, five different plans to humiliate Harry form in his head. The most obvious one involves waking up the rest of the boys, for maximum embarrassment, but he's hesitant to do that. Firstly, because it'll be very irresponsible. It's been an exhausting day, and they have to set up for a show almost as soon as the bus reaches its destination. Even Louis' energy levels have been lagging, though he'll never admit it. He's on tour, on The X Factor tour, performing for audiences who love them even though they lost. It's fantastic.

The other reason he doesn't want to wake anyone else up is that humiliating Harry can go in one of two ways, and privacy could nudge the situation in the right direction. Suddenly energised, he scrubs his face and rolls to his feet, eyes adjusting quickly to the... light.

Looking around, he realises he's miscalculated completely. The bunk area is completely empty barring Harry and himself, and there's already morning light outside. The other boys must have already dragged themselves to the common area. Harry must have thought it was safe to listen to High School Musical.

Louis tiptoes over to the divider closing off the bunks and makes sure the curtain is drawn properly, then rounds back to Harry's bunk. His curtain is drawn as well, so Louis' extra careful to pull it back as slowly and quietly as he can, hoping that—yes, Harry's facing away, curled up with headphones stuck in his ears. He probably doesn't realise they're not plugged in his iPod properly. Louis can't take how perfectly this all worked out. He's quick to take the video, already envisioning the retweets that will make Harry blush and try to kill him.

Once he thinks he's got enough material, he tosses his phone to his own bunk and climbs up to Harry's. The only way to make himself known is to jump straight on top of Harry, elbowing his ribs hard enough that Harry yelps and nearly kicks Louis straight off the bunk. "Motherfucker, what the bloody fuck is happening—" Harry starts, and Louis' struck by three things at once.

One, Harry's morning voice is gruff as shit. Two, Harry's been wearing a face mask. Not a cheap one you'd get on an airplane, either, but a fancy dark blue one. The third thing that strikes him is Harry's fist. Well, it attempts to strike him. Harry's still too dazed to lift the sleep mask, so he's just flapping his hands around in confusion.

"Hazza, it's me, you lunatic," Louis says quickly, and sits his arse on Harry's thighs to stop him from flailing them both to the floor.

Harry settles instantly, and slowly lifts his sleep mask to his forehead, over his perfect-messy curls. Now, Louis' not one to give himself too much credit, but he thinks that as soon as Harry's assured it's Louis in his bunk, a soft smile spreads on his face and his glittering eyes look mostly amused. Louis can't help but smile back down at him.

"I was sleeping, y'know," Harry drawls, and starts to pull the mask all the way off his head. Something possesses Louis to snatch his hand away before he can. Harry quirks an eyebrow but doesn't struggle. He never does, much prefers just to let Louis have his crazy way. A convenient quality of his.

"Really, Harold? Did I wake you?" Louis prods. "Would you consider that rude?"

Harry's really not grasping what Louis' getting at. He just nods cautiously, eyes darting from his hand still caught in Louis', to Louis' chest, to Louis' face. "Quite."

"I thought so too, you know, when I was woken up. I guess you could say we're all in this together."

Harry just does the slow blink thing, mouth slightly open in confusion. In an outrageous effort to stay on-point, Louis digs his knees into Harry's ribs a little. Harry's tight stomach tenses at that, and it's not that Louis expected to find Harry clothed in bed, but his nakedness makes things a bit more dramatic now. Harry grimaces and starts slapping Louis' thighs to get him to stop, so Louis grabs his wrists and shoves them under his own legs to keep his restrained.

Right. Restrained.

All of a sudden they're in this supercharged moment, where they can't look away from each other and every point of contact between them feels like it's leaving blisters on Louis' skin. They always manage to find themselves like this, even in a room full of people, even with cameras on them. Because Harry's so beautiful Louis can't breathe sometimes, and looking at his soft, full lips takes Louis back to the first time Harry blew him, clumsy and overeager and perfect. Looking at him spread out under him takes Louis back to the first time he fucked Harry, Jesus Christ, just a couple of weeks ago.

Harry's remembering too, Louis knows. His big eyes are just a tad darker and he's all squirmy. Louis' heart's beating too fast, heat shooting up his body from the memory of Harry being so tight and loud for him. He wonders if he'll ever get used to it, used to this boy's eyes and hands on him. He decides he really just wants to kiss Harry, wonders why they're not always in a state of making out. Harry's licking his lips, probably reading his mind.

The boys always take the piss out of them for being so mind-meldy, but Louis loves it, never had this instant connection with anyone. Because Louis' nineteen and in love and everything is always supercharged when he's around Harry. He's started leaning down unconsciously, heart racing because he's going to get kisses, but then someone's yelling and Harry jumps.

I'm not gonna stop, not gonna stop 'till I get my shot. That's who I am, that is my plan, will I end up on top? You can bet on it, bet on it—"Oh my god," Harry squeaks and starts wriggling. He's probably trying to free his hands so he can get to his iPod, or maybe reverse time to when Louis wasn't able to shit up his life using High School Musical, but all he manages to do is hump up against Louis and get both of them a little hotter.

If Louis weren't laughing so hard, he'd probably start the action. As it is, it's much more urgent to torture Harry. He grabs his iPod from the blankets and laughs even harder. Harry's got the whole fucking soundtrack. "Ooh, I'm Harry from Cheshire, I like indie music," Louis says in a deep voice, scrolling through Harry's music. "Like High School Musical 1, High School Musical 2, High School Musical Hits remixed, Infinity On High…" He trails off, partly to find another embarrassing album and partly to enjoy Harry whining for him to stop and trying to justify his diverse music taste.

(Also Harry keeps trying to buck him off, so Louis needs to balance himself while sliding back and forth in Harry's lap. It doesn't escape him how sexual this position is, he's just putting it on hold for a moment.)

"Lou, please," Harry begs, blinking at him prettily. Louis will not fall for that. For good reason, too. Harry follows it up with, "You're destroying me."

Louis gives Harry a disappointed look—Christ, that was awful—and then twists one of his nipples. It's a lot less brutal than he'd give Liam, but Harry's reaction is... different. Instead of trying to get Louis back, he does this thing where he bites his plush lip and flutters his eyes and his body curves a little like he wants more. It's not completely unfamiliar—Louis knows that Harry always craves touches and that his nipples are sensitive—but it's very distracting.

If it weren't for the title Louis' eyes catch, he'd go on and explore that. But right there, on Harry's iPod, is a folder entitled Lou Sappy Sappy Long Indie Hipster 80's Love Songs Mixtape.

He expects a sappy mixtape. He might even expect his own shitty versions of Foo Fighter songs. What he doesn't expect is clicking on "AUD-20101223" and suddenly hearing loud moaning. He gasps and scrambles to pause it, so shocked the iPod drops right to Harry's stomach. Harry looks absolutely mortified, even more than he did when Louis played High School Musical. He's blushing so furiously his face bypassed rosy straight to flaming red, and his mouth is closing and opening like he can't think of a single thing to say.

Then Louis starts laughing uproariously. "Hiiii, I'm Harry from Cheshire, when I'm on the road I like listening to indie music and gay porn."

Harry's defence is so quiet Louis can barely hear it, but something penetrates his cackling. "S'not gay porn." He says it like it's more painful than admitting it is gay porn.

Louis twists his other nipple for the obvious lie, and then starts playing the illicit track again, even turning up the volume a little. Harry's face is transforming into a mask of shame and arousal and shamed arousal, and it's so funny that Louis' barely paying attention to the obviously gay porn Harry keeps on his iPod. That is, until the breathy man gasps out, shit, Haz, and Louis drops the stupid iPod again and covers his own mouth in shock.

His first thought: Harry's met someone in the two weeks they weren't together and now they have weird iPod sex.

But it's not just someone, is the thing. Louis couldn't recognise it at first, but as it keeps playing—yeah yeah yeah fuck yeah Harry—he realises why he's so familiar with the high-pitched moaning.

His second thought is even more ridiculous: Harry's recorded him without telling him while they were together.

But (Harry would never ever do that and) the turned-on babbling on the recording starts taking a turn. Can't wait to—fuck—see you, just thinking about your—oh shit—your mouth...

Suddenly Louis remembers vividly.

It was half a joke, really. He just missed Harry so fucking much, stuck at home for Christmas. Then Harry did that embarrassing, dopey, adorable twitcam, and Louis teased him about pining for him so obviously. Harry just pouted and accused Louis of not missing him at all. The only course of action was to mail Harry an obnoxiously sappy card with pictures of them, and a flash drive with recordings of himself wanking.

It was meant to prove a point, nothing more. Like, sure, while he was wanking the only way not to die of embarrassment was to think about Harry getting off to this, but he never actually thought Harry would. He never even listened to them himself, couldn't bring himself to open the files because he knew they were all awful and he'd have to rerecord them as soon as he did.

Harry obviously listened to them. Well, Louis knew he did, Harry was grateful enough to wank on Skype for Louis, but he had no idea Harry transferred the files to his iPod. He doesn't know if he's more flattered, embarrassed or turned on. Harry seems to be buzzing within that spectrum too, with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes and hard nipples. There's a blanket between them, but Louis' pretty sure if he moved just an inch forward he'd feel Harry's hardness. Just looking at him all dazed has Louis' cock stiffening, Jesus. And to the sound of himself.

"Why's it on your iPod, H?" he asks, going for teasing but falling somewhere between breathless and weirdly authoritative.

One of them seems to be working for Harry. His hips are starting to twitch under Louis. He stops chewing on his lip for long enough to mumble, "Put it there before we left for tour."

"Why?" Louis repeats, pinching both of Harry's nipples hard. Harry makes the same noise he made before, but now that he's harmonizing with the recording, it's easy to tell it's a sound of pleasure. Louis can't stop touching them now, thrilled by every discovery.

"So I could listen to it," Harry hedges again. He looks more frantic by the second, his hands turning under Louis' legs. "Please Lou, can you close the curtain?"

Jesus, Louis' forgotten it wasn't closed. Just because they're on the top bunk doesn't hide them from view if anyone decided to come in. Then again, Louis closed off the bunks and they've been making enough noise to ward off the boys. But Harry doesn't know that, does he? For all he knows, the boys could still be sleeping in their bunks. Could be awake and tuned in for the show. And Harry's still gorgeously turned on.

"No. Tell me why," he asks, pinching Harry again, and this time Harry outright moans.

"Turns me on, fuck," he huffs. For someone who was worried about being found out, he's not making any effort to quiet down. Knowing him, though, he wasn't that worried in the first place.

"Yeah? You listen to it when you jerk off?" Louis asks, genuinely curious.

"When I—when you're not here, gets me off so hard. Please Louis," he moans, and shit, this is the danger zone. When Harry's voice gets fifty percent lower and twenty percent needier, Louis' in fucking trouble.

He's so tempted to get a hand on himself, but the stupid recording is still playing, and it sounds like he's already touching himself, and it feels like his body is trying to catch up. The only way to stop himself is to focus on Harry, and Harry saying please. Louis gulps and looks out at the room, reconsidering Harry's request. "Please what?"

Harry grunts and his hips jump. Turns out it was more of an existential please than a do what I asked please. Through bitten-red lips Harry whispers, "Touch me, please."

The X Factor house was pretty shitty for hooking up. No privacy, no free time, and definitely no place for dramatic life-changing deflowerments. (That was saved for a fancy hotel room.) However, because all they could manage was mutual handjobs and rushed blowjobs, they made up for it by talking. All the time, about what they would do to each other. It started out shy, naturally, with the "Ireallywannakissyou" that started it all, but by the time they got off to the Daddy thing, Louis' learned a lot.

He knows that Harry doesn't say please just to be polite. He says it because he likes asking for permission, and even when he's denied, he likes to hear himself beg. It works for Louis. As in, Louis fucking loves it. He's always been the one to take charge, demanding everyone's attention all the time. Now though, working with four boys more talented than him, it's easy to feel a little dimmed sometimes.

Harry makes him feel the exact opposite. He does it naturally, emits this glow that envelops anyone Harry loves, but especially when they're like this. When he says please and Louis knows that whatever he says, Harry will listen. When he says please like his whole world hinges on what Louis does next. When he says please and looks at Louis like he shines brighter than the sun and Harry's lucky to have him.

It doesn't even get him what he wants. Sometimes it just makes Louis want him to ask for more.

Now feels like one of those times. He squeezes Harry's nipples and leans down, careful not to come too close to Harry's cock. "Yeah? Want me to touch you?"

"Please," Harry breathes, squeezing his eyes shut tight like seeing Louis is too much for him right now. It seems just silly that he'd do that when there's a sleep mask right on his forehead.

Though—Harry's not sleeping anymore. It's a blindfold. Much sexier. Louis slowly pulls it down and over Harry's eyes. Harry turns his head for a moment, like he's confused, but when Louis kisses his cheek softly like a question, Harry nods eagerly. Louis' heart flutters, almost proud of himself.

He straightens up and pulls the blankets back, finding Harry's cock, as expected, hard and ready. As soon as Harry feels exposed he arches up against Louis, expectant, but Louis knows if he closes his fist around Harry's big cock right now he'll be helpless not to make him come. They haven't gotten this much privacy in a week, he wants to draw it out. "Touch yourself then," he decides.

Harry visibly deflates, sinking into the mattress. "What?"

Louis picks up the still-playing iPod and places it next to Harry's pillow. It's a good bit too, he must have been getting close around that point. Harry whimpers just hearing him, which makes Louis exceedingly smug. It propels him into talking just that much dirtier. "Get your hand on your cock and jerk off listening to me, like you wanted to."

Harry inhales sharply, almost in perfect sequence with Louis' recording. "But you're here," he says, like Louis' missed that part.

He lifts his knees to release Harry, careful not to bang his head on the roof of the moving bus they're fooling around on. Harry raises his hands slowly, and Louis grabs his wrists before he gets any ideas. He puts both his hands on his cock and says, "I know. And I'm gonna watch."

Harry throws his head back, both signalling that he's into it and that Louis is beckoned to kiss his neck. So he does. Kisses and bites and drags his tongue all along his throat. Careful not to leave marks above where his collar would sit; he's not a complete idiot. "Go on then," he says in his ear, before nibbling it a little. "I assume you know how it's done, don't you? Since you do it so much?"

Harry takes like, ten seconds to let that sink in, and then he croaks, "Usually use lube, y'know."

"Cheeky," Louis huffs, giving Harry's chin a friendly nip. He straightens up, biting back a laugh when Harry whines and automatically reaches for him. He starts groping around under the mattress until he bumps into something—a tube, no less, because Harry is indeed a cheeky fucker.

He hands Harry the lube and then decides, well, if he's watching now he's going to do it properly. He gets on his haunches and shuffles back, so instead of sitting on top of Harry's legs he's sitting between them. Harry whines again for the loss of contact, but then there's nothing left for him to do except finally wrap a hand around his cock and start.

It's hotter than Louis thought it would be. Like, it's Harry, of course it's the hottest thing that ever happened to the entire world, but the only time they've done this was right in the beginning, when Louis was too nervous to touch so he asked Harry to demonstrate how he liked it. (It took all of four minutes for Louis to knock Harry's hand aside and take over, pulling him fast and tight and rough. He's a quick study.)

But now, with light streaming through the window right next to them, with time, with himself moaning in their ears, now he's almost hypnotised by Harry's body. The way his big hand closes around the base of his big dick, the way he sucks in his tummy every time his breath hitches, the way his thighs are shaking a little around Louis, the way the blindfold looks so natural, partially covered by Harry's lovely curls.

He's pumping his cock slowly, teasing. It's all slick from the lube, and flushed from arousal, and big. Louis tries to will his hand to go faster, wants to see his foreskin pull, wants precome to drip down like he knows he can do, but he stays silent. It only makes Harry louder, anyway, like he's trying to provoke him. His voice always had this quality that drew Louis in, so much lower than you'd expect from this sixteen year old kid. When he gets off, there's like a brand new range only Louis gets to hear. Achingly deep bass when he takes Louis down his throat, pitchy falsetto when Louis eats his arse, breathless mewling when Louis fucks him. Fucks him. He actually fucked him.

Before he can lose himself in the still-fresh memory, he's interrupted by himself grunting, oh oh oh, much higher than he hears in his head. In any other situation, hearing himself like that would be absolutely mortifying. But right now, seeing Harry lose his mind over it, over him, he thinks he sounds fucking hot. Not too exaggerated, not porny. Just kind of... desperate. Good job, Christmas Louis.

"Shit, god, Louis—" Harry gasps, tossing his head back again. Louis doesn't settle for just kissing his neck this time. He kneels over him carefully, so he doesn't interrupt his hand, and then ducks down to claim his mouth. Harry reacts so sharply, moaning and burying his free hand in Louis' hair and meeting his tongue halfway out of his mouth. Louis welcomes it, could kiss Harry for hours, soft and loving and curious, or like this, dirty and wet and biting.

He shifts his weight a little to kiss him in a better angle and suddenly he can feel Harry's knuckles against his T-shirt. They're flying, Harry's going at it so fast Louis can hear the wet sound of it. He wonders if Harry really is so affected by the recording, or maybe it's because he gets to both kiss Louis and hear him whisper shit like fuck yeah, Harry, feels so good in your mouth, wet and perfect, know you get off on having it fucked as much as I get off on fucking it. (Shit, Louis' affected by it, where the fuck did that even come from?) Maybe it's even the blindfold, forcing him to attune that much more to every sound and move Louis makes.

That must be the only reason he actually catches the moment Louis takes the lube and opens it. He breaks off the messy kiss to pre-emptively whine, and then props up his knees and spreads his legs. So accommodating, his boyfriend. Louis kisses his puffy lips again, and then settles back so he can see him. Watch him fuck up into his fist. Watch him wait for Louis' touch, anything he can get.

He starts just by brushing a wet finger over Harry's hole, and Harry jumps unexpectedly, his hand stopping at once. Louis pauses, suddenly nervous. He's fingered Harry plenty, but only fucked him for real three (perfect amazing heavenly) times. Maybe it's different now that there's intent, maybe Harry doesn't want it now. "Good?" he asks cautiously, dropping a kiss to Harry's knee.

"Yeah, fuck, just…" Harry smirks a little, providing little warning before the awful punch line. "Didn't see it coming."

Louis could slap him. Instead, he pushes his finger up to the first knuckle without warning. Harry reacts even more beautifully than expected—back arched high and a long groan escaping his perfect lips. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry chants, which Louis takes as more, more, more, so he sinks in all the way and then starts twisting his finger around. It's… god, Harry's as tight as ever, but now Louis knows how that feels around his cock, gripping him like Harry's whole being is trying to draw Louis in.

Louis goes slow when he fucks him, doesn't even give him another finger because Harry seems to have completely neglected Louis' first request. Well. Command. So he scratches Harry's hard nipple and says harshly, "Did I tell you to stop?"

Harry instantly gets back to it, his long fingers curling tight around his cock and stroking himself. He's doing it in the same pace Louis' fucking him in, he notes. It seems to have happened effortlessly, so Louis tests it by starting to pump his finger in and out faster. Harry stays with him, jerking off quicker and getting louder. Even better than that, when Louis adds a second finger Harry starts moving his hips with him, back on Louis fingers and up into his own hand.

He's insanely hot like this, when he's moving his whole body just for Louis—according to Louis—his hips snapping, his legs opening, his chest heaving, his arse clenching, and both his hands now on his cock, one pumping and the other twisting over the head. He's sweaty and pale and falling apart right under Louis. All of a sudden, between his garbled swears, Harry starts talking. "Lou, I'll—oh—I'll come."

Louis grins to himself. Making Harry come is one of his top three favourite pastimes. "That a warning?"

Harry probably has a smart answer, but Louis steals it right out of his mouth when he turns his hand to relieve his aching wrist and stumbles upon Harry's sweet spot. His entire body shakes like the bus went over a speed bump. He clenches so tight that Louis' fingers squeeze together painfully, but he knows better than to stop now. He rubs up with his fingertips, chasing after Harry when his hips buck uncontrollably.

When he manages to tear his eyes away from Harry's cockhead finally dribbling precome, he's completely stunned by Harry's face. His mouth is gaping but there's no sound coming out, and his curls are matted to his forehead and his cheeks are flushed so sweetly. He wants to catch Harry's eyes so much it hurts, but if the blindfold makes this experience better for Harry even by one percent, it's fucking worth it.

"Louis," he manages, finally, high and airy and so needy it makes Louis want to record him.

"Yeah baby," Louis says quickly, not really a question, just reminding Harry that he's here. While starting to thrust his fingers directly against Harry's prostate.

"It's fucking—oh my god, yeah, oh god please, Louis I'll—I'll come." Louis' so close to snapping at him—come, that's the point—but then Harry chokes out the loveliest words known to man. "Wanna come on your cock."

Jesus Christ. Louis only redoubles his efforts, fucking him so hard his thumb keeps digging into the sensitive skin under his balls. Harry's practically thrashing under him now, like every brush against his prostate pushes his body into overdrive. It's so amazing, everything about this—fingerfucking his fit as fuck blindfolded boyfriend hard first thing in the morning. Louis can't help but reach inside his boxers and start tugging off himself.

The first touch feels so good (and over-fucking-due) that he grunts out loud, only triggering Harry to clamp down hard and moan helplessly. Louis just grunts again. "Like that, baby? Hearing me twice? Not seeing a thing? Just feeling me?"

Suddenly Harry's legs are wrapped around Louis' waist and he's drawing him in, like he's physically incapable of resisting any longer. Louis indulges him, crouches so he can keep his fingers buried inside him while he plants kisses all over his chest. His skin feels hot and enticing and familiar. Louis' so wrapped up in touching him that he almost misses Harry thumping his foot against him in another warning. "Please," he adds.

"Please what?" Louis asks, mostly just to be difficult.

"Please, Daddy." As if that wasn't mindblowing enough, Harry adds what he actually wants. "Fuck me, please."

Louis starts stroking himself even faster, losing it. "Yeah, darling?" he starts. He has to bite his lip extra hard before daring to say, "Want Daddy's cock?"

It's so completely worth it when Harry keens and shudders from head to toe. "So much, please, want you so much," Harry says on a whine, shameless and good.

Louis knows with perfect clarity that if he fucked into Harry right now he'd blow his load in twenty seconds, making their fourth fuck ridiculously disappointing. He takes it out on Harry, naturally. "Tell me when you're close," he says. Without stopping the slow, precise way he's fucking into Harry, he pushes his boxers down to his knees and gets his hand slick.

This time there's a purpose to touching himself, so when Harry barely waits three seconds to gasp close, Louis rolls his eyes and jabs his prostate hard enough to make him cry out again. "Do better."

From that point Harry just doesn't stop making noises, soft and broken and longing. His body feels like it's curling around Louis, legs holding him tight. The shaking is continuous now, like it's just another part of the fluid way he's rolling his hips. He's fucking breathtaking, is what he is. If it means making this boy feel even better, Louis will hold out for a whole hour. Or maybe, like, ten whole minutes. (That's two minutes more than last time.)

"Stop now," Louis grits through his teeth while pulling out his fingers, and it looks like Harry has to force himself to remove his hand from his overworked cock. He still doesn't melt into the mattress in relief, exactly, so Louis waits. "Ready?"

"Can I…" Harry hesitates, so Louis kisses the very tip of his cock in encouragement. "Wanna see you, wanna see you fucking me."

Louis smiles so hard it hurts. He tugs off the blindfold and watches as Harry blinks owlishly. His eyes are a little misty, but Louis' too relieved to see them to be concerned. When Harry finally sees him he lets out a moan like Louis touched his dick or something. Christ, they're both hornier than they've ever been, possibly even more than the first time Louis let Harry finger him in the shower. "I love you," Is the first thing Harry says. He then rushes to say, "Can I try riding your cock?"

Louis lets go of his dick like he's been burned. Or like he doesn't want to come before Harry does that. He needs to. Process. "Yeah?"

"Please, feel so good," Harry says, almost shyly, his body still rolling even though nothing's on or in him. Trying to prolong a sensation that isn't there. Because Louis made him feel that good. "If you're—on top, think I'll come too soon."

Okay, Louis' done processing. He kisses Harry's lips and then nods. It's a ridiculous struggle to switch places, considering they're in a tiny bunk on a moving bus. When Harry finally finds himself perched in Louis' lap, he has to duck down a little just to keep his head safe. All Louis can think is wow. He might even say it out loud.

They've never done it like this before, and the sight is truly remarkable. Harry's torso is all long and just on the boyish end of defined, and his face is—god, he just looks like he's already been fucked for an hour. His pupils are blown and his lips are puffy and his hair's a mess and he's gorgeous and he's going to ride Louis' dick.

Louis reaches up to tweak Harry's nipples, and, as if that's his Start button, Harry grabs Louis' cock and spreads his own cheeks.

He sinks down so slow it's searing. He's tight and close and Louis can feel him stretch around him, take him like he was bloody made for this. Harry's face is, again, the most stunning thing after the feeling. His eyes flutter closed while his mouth drops open, visibly overwhelmed. When he finally bottoms out, Louis' completely lost his mind, and Harry's panting wordlessly.

Harry's eyes crack open, and then he collapses forward on Louis' chest gracelessly. Louis instantly wraps his arms around him, somehow managing to ignore the snug heat around him in order to run his hands soothingly over Harry's back. "Hurts, love?"

Harry shakes his head, his soft hair flying everywhere. "Good. Just. So much. Need a moment."

Louis kisses Harry's ear, stroking his sweaty skin fondly. "I love you so much, did you know that?"

Harry buries his face in Louis' neck. "You're just saying that 'cause you're getting my arse."

"Please," Louis protests, unable to resist fitting his hands over the small swell of said arse. And then unable to resist spreading his cheeks and letting his fingers drift along his crack, almost touching his own dick, that's buried inside him. Completely unable to resist drinking in Harry's little gasps. "Of course I am. What other reason could I possibly have to love such an idiot?"

Harry lifts up just to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the enormity of his dimpled grin. Then he lifts up his hips too, and if it was meant to make a point about Louis' flippant heart, the only point it's making is oh shitting fuck that feels fucking amazing. Harry seems to agree, enjoying the friction as his eyes are closed again and he's humming to himself.

"Good?" Louis asks, embarrassingly croaky.

Harry nods, his hand naturally drifting to pull his cock slowly. It's far too much for Louis. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing, on counting, on anything other than Harry gently rocking on top of him. Somehow that makes it even worse, because every time Harry discovers a move that's good for him he gives this pleased little gasp and tightens around Louis hellishly.

His eyes snap back open when he feels Harry's hand dig into his stomach. He nearly bites his tongue at the sight. Harry's so completely into it, face drawn in concentration and his hips moving back and forth instead of up and down, probably just to torture Louis. He knows it's only getting better and better for him, since his nails are digging into Louis' skin and he's pumping his cock more and more slowly, like he can't focus on it. Louis can't focus on anything, lost in the way Harry's enveloping him.

Game's over when they finally get it. Well, Harry gets it, Louis' resigned to being useless. Harry's the one who swivelled his hips just so and found the exact right way to get Louis to nudge his spot. He fucking lights up, his body drawn tight and his mouth slack in bliss. His hips start trembling out of control, so much that Louis has to grab them to steady him. Harry's hand immediately settles on Louis', gorgeously responsive just to Louis' touch. Their fingers lace together automatically.

Finally, he starts drawing up and bearing down. He's clumsy about it at first, still Harry, so there are a few attempts that cause him to lift right off his dick. But the cramped space doesn't really allow them to get frustrated and switch positions, so Harry just kind of giggles breathlessly and aims Louis' cock again, taking him in so easily, like he does it every day.

When they figure it out, they figure it out good. Louis' grabbing Harry so hard he's probably leaving marks, and Harry starts to properly bounce up and down, like Louis' wildest fantasies come to life. Suddenly Louis feels both of Harry's hands on him, which is wonderful both because he'll always want Harry's hands on him, and because he can finally see Harry's stiff, flushed cock bobbing with every grind. He reaches for it, thinking Harry must have let it go because he needed to balance himself, but then Harry whimpers, "Please let me try."

Louis would frown if he still possessed any control on his facial muscles. "Try what, baby?"

"Come," Harry says, ragged and kind of desperate. "Come from getting fucked. Come from Daddy's cock. Please."

Louis doesn't know if Harry's trying to turn him on, turn himself on, or if the words just come naturally to him. Whatever it is, it sends electricity down Louis' spine, and his hips snap up on their own, fucking back for the first time. If up until now they've fallen into some awed silence, it's officially broken. Harry moans so loudly Louis' sure people outside the bus can hear it, and Louis' cursing and groaning and losing his mind. Fuck if he won't use that trick again.

He fucks up into Harry relentlessly, now determined to make him come on it. Harry takes it so fucking well, riding him smooth and steady until miraculously they synchronise. Louis slams up just as Harry bears down, and they both stare at each other for this second solely dedicated to the mutual thought: we are amazing this is amazing you're amazing I love you.

And then the moment ends and Harry comes. Just like that, hands-free, straight up from Louis pounding his arse. He's stuck staring at Harry's cock twitching and spurting everywhere, so astonished that he nearly misses his own orgasm. Except that it's the hardest he's ever come in his life, Harry falling apart over him and clenching tight as a vice around him and probably ruining him.

A few minutes must pass between that transcendent moment and Harry curled up tight in his arms, but Louis' too out of it to notice. He does notice his own come dripping out of Harry's arse onto his thigh, but that's totally brilliant as well. Everything is brilliant and perfect.

"I do love your arse," Louis finally whispers.

Harry laughs that laugh that's so loud he startles himself. He's adorable and he just rode his dick. Wow. "I love my prostate," Harry admits. Only when Louis slaps his arse does Harry add, "I guess you're okay too."

"From love of my life to okay?" Louis accuses, pulling on Harry's hair gently. "Guess someone doesn't want more recordings of this sweet sweet voice moaning in ecstasy."

Harry huffs, not unlike a disgruntled kitten, and scratches Louis' side. "You're too hot for your own good, how is that my fault?"

Louis' instantly placated. He lets go of Harry's hair and kisses his temple instead, then his cheekbone, then his ear, then whatever he can reach. He just feels... full and giddy and in love. "We could always, you know. Record both of us."

Harry stifles a gasp in Louis' neck, nuzzling. "Yes. That'll be amazing."

He can't help himself. No way.

"More amazing than High School Musical?"

Harry knees him in the balls, effectively shitting up his afterglow. "Bet on it."