Work Header

give you my fever

Work Text:

Louis is sincerely shocked when he finds out, Harry can tell, and at first, he swears Louis is going to laugh at him, maybe even leave him.

It happens when they’re snuggled together in the bunk one night, and Harry just like. Pops a boner. Really out of nowhere. Louis had leaned in for a goodnight kiss because it was already 2am when they realized they’d passed the whole night by, whispering to each other in the dark, goofy smiles on their faces.

Louis kisses his forehead, then his nose, and presses a gentle one to his mouth. “G’night, Curly.” He tucks his chin over the top of Harry’s head, because they sleep face to face, haven’t quite figured out who the little spoon is just yet (Harry thinks he’d quite like to be).

And somewhere between the innocent good night kiss and nuzzling into Louis’ neck to go to sleep, he gets hard. He freezes when he feels it, tries to turn his hips away from Louis’ because for one, they haven’t quite got to fooling around just yet, and two, it’s really time for sleep. He has no luck, of course he doesn’t, because he hears Louis’ breathing stop for a minute and then he bursts into a low chuckle.

“Doesn’t take much to get you going, does it Hazza?” He’s outright giggling now, and Harry is probably visibly blushing down to his toes.

He pulls his head from Louis’ neck and peer up at him until Louis pulls his head back to look at him in the face.

“Shut up,” Harry whines, still blushing, and getting even harder.

Louis snorts and continues laughing. “16 was so weird—“

“’m sorry,” Harry mumbles, and he can feel himself frowning.

Louis shuts up. “Oh. I wasn’t—I wasn’t making fun of you, babe—“ He pauses when Harry squints suspiciously at him. “Okay, I was making fun of you, but like. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He pets Harry’s curls quickly and grins at him, sharp toothed and crinkly eyed.

“Just go to the loo and take care of it, yeah? I’ll just go to sleep, won’t even give you shit for it.” Louis looks at him sincerely, and crosses his heart before closing his eyes exaggeratedly and fake snoring.

Louis’ really fucking cute, Harry thinks, even if he’s being a dork, and dammit, he’s still hard. He’s frozen too, stuck where he is and unable to get up because—

“Really, Curly,” Louis begins, popping an eye open.

“I can’t,” Harry blurts, and he doesn’t think blushing is quite the right word for the flush he can feel creeping over his whole body. More like the beginnings of spontaneous combustion. Or something.

A crease forms between Louis’ eyebrows. “You can’t?”

Harry whines and shakes his head, starts to turn away, hide his face in the pillows, and then Louis grabs his chin.

“I want to touch you, y’know, like I wasn’t rejecting you if that’s what you’re after it’s just, it’s 2am, yeah? And we haven’t even talked? About things?” Louis starts babbling; this is getting worse by the second.

“No! No, I wasn’t trying to like. Get in your pants or—“ Harry stops. “Not that I don’t want to,” he rushes, and how is he still hard after all this awkwardness and humiliation. “I just. Um. I can’t.”

Louis squints at him. “Can’t,” he repeats slowly.

“I don’t—“ Harry squeaks, and this is honestly too much for him. “Can we just go to sleep. And possibly never talk about this again?” He smushes his face into their shared pillow and hopes that’s the end of it, tries to wish his boner away.

“Wait,” Louis says, and it sounds like comprehension is starting to dawn on him. “D’you not know how to wank or summat?”

Harry screams silently into the pillow. “I know how to wank, Lewis,” he mumbles into the pillow, and he’s so frustrated now.

Louis bristles next to him. “Well then, what can’t you do?”

“I can’t, um,” Harry feels tears starting to rise. “I’ve never—shit, Lou, please, can we forget about it?” He’s still fucking hard.

A gentle, gentle hand winds it’s way to his hair, tugs so softly, getting him to turn his face. Louis’ face is sweet, calm and serious, no mischievousness or blustering cockiness there. “Hazza,” he whispers. “It’s alright, I won’t say anything about anything, yeah?”

Harry sniffles, feels stupid because they’re talking about his erection, for Christ’s sake. “It’s stupid, like. What 16-year-old boy has never—“ He whimpers again and shuts his eyes.

Louis scratches his scalp and Harry tries not to purr. “You’ve never, um. Come? Before?”

Well, shit. Sometimes he forgets Louis’ actually smart, when he’s not being a smartass. Harry groans. “Yes, okay, fuck, please, Louis, I’m done, please can we sleep.”

Louis’ breath leaves him in a rush, and Harry peeks one eye open, and there it is. There’s the look of sheer surprise. Louis’ disgusted, he knows it, can see it on his face, doesn’t want to be with a boy who can’t even get himself off, Harry had better say his goodbyes now.

“Jesus,” Louis whispers. “I’m sorry, that’s. That sucks, mate.”

Harry wasn’t expecting pity, but he’s not sure it’s any better than disgust, and besides ‘mate’ isn’t anything like ‘Hazza’, or ‘babe’, and he definitely doesn’t like that. “’m sorry,” he says, probably pathetically. “Gonna go sleep on the couch, I’m—“

He starts to roll out of bed, dejected and at least his erection has started to go down, just a bit.

“No, Hazza,” Louis whisper-shouts, grabbing his wrist. “’s alright. You’re just, y’know. You. And I never would’ve thought, um.” There’s a silent moment, and Harry tries to tug out of his hold.

“Hazza,” Louis mumbles, touching his chin and pulling Harry back against him, so that they’re spooning, finally. Harry’s the little spoon, he notes, and that’s the one good thing right now. “We can go to sleep, now, love. I’m sorry.” Louis tacks on and nuzzles into his hair.

Harry still feels awkward beyond belief, but they’ve stopped talking about it and he’s being spooned by Louis, is warm and tired. “Thank you,” he mumbles. And that’s that.


In the morning, Louis jumps on him to wake Harry up, as per usual. And that’s comforting, being awoken to the familiar whoosh of breath leaving him and the familiar sight of Louis, all fluffy hair and manic blue eyes. “Time to get up, Harold my boy!”

It’s like last night never happened and Harry is honestly so grateful. “Shut up,” he groans, pushing at Louis’ chest feebly.

“I made you tea,” Louis announces proudly. “Wake the fuck up.” He pinches Harry’s cheek too hard and scrambles off the bed and down the hall, where Harry can hear the rest of the Xfactor housemates milling about in the living room and kitchen.

Louis’ tea is cold, but made the way he likes it and Louis presents it to him with a sweet smile before stealing Harry’s beanie, so it doesn’t matter.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, Louis bounces around during rehearsal and makes them all laugh during lunch, pokes at Harry’s belly and kisses him while he’s trying to practice his solo.  It’s a normal day and Harry basks in Louis’ light the whole time, at ease.

Except. In the evening, when everyone gathers round for a movie, Harry hasn’t settled down in Louis’ lap for two minutes when Louis bites his shoulder and whispers, “Let’s go upstairs. This is a shite film, anyway.”

A niggling feeling of apprehension forms in the back of Harry’s mind but he follows Louis up the steps anyway.

When they get to their room, Louis drags him up to his bunk and Harry sits down, crosses his legs and looks at Louis patiently, ready to do whatever Louis pleases.

And then Louis turns him round and pushes him down onto his back, gets his head on the pillow and then lies down next to Harry. He’s actually worried now, hopes this isn’t going where he thinks it is.

Louis turns to lie on his side and props his head on his hand so that he can still look down at Harry. “So.”

Harry panics, because yeah, it’s going where he thinks it’s going. “No.” He says, and his voice is actually a little mean. “Not gonna talk about it.”

He feels like shit when Louis wilts a bit, he’s just embarrassed is the thing. Harry opens his mouth to apologize when Louis strokes his cheek.

“I, um. Hazza.” He looks at Harry with big blue eyes, and he honestly likes Louis so, so much. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, or do—do anything about it. We don’t have, yeah? I’m not gonna make you say anything, y’know, like that’s not fair, I just.”

Harry melts a bit and nuzzles into Louis’ palm, lets him finish.

“I wanna help, because I care and you were so upset about it right? I felt really bad, Hazza, you know, what is that even like?” Louis looks genuinely perplexed, like he’s trying to figure out what it must be like for a bloke to never get off, and it’s upsetting to him. “You’re really fit,” Louis blurts, and for once, they’re both blushing. “I mean, I saw you and I thought you’d have been with someone before, yeah? But you haven’t, and that’s fine, you know. But I didn’t know, that it was like that for you, and um. I want—if you want, I mean. Because like maybe you don’t want it? But if you do, I’d help you, if—if that’s okay.”

Louis shuts up, stops babbling because Harry still hasn’t responded, and starts twisting his hands nervously.

“Thank you,” Harry says, and he’s probably got cartoon hearts popping from his eyeballs now. “I—it’s, um. Embarrassing, yeah? And, you know, it’s not normal, really, and I like you, you know, but I was still afraid to tell you but I’m not anymore because, um. Thank you.” He finishes lamely, voice trailing off. He thinks ‘like’ isn’t a strong enough word for how he feels when he thinks of Louis, thinks ‘like’ doesn’t describe the way he’s the earth and Louis is the sun.

Louis grins at him suddenly, and pulls him close to nuzzle their noses together. “I give you shit, Curly, all the time, ‘s probably my favorite thing,” Louis rambles. “But I’d never hurt you, wouldn’t make fun of you for something like this.”

Harry almost can’t contain the butterflies erupting in his stomach. “You’re a dickhead,” he breathes, “but I trust you.”

Louis kisses him, and it’s their deepest kiss since the goodnight kiss last night, their kisses throughout the day today had been almost too chaste. Harry pushes into it, clumsy even though they’ve been snogging since the band was made, is still too eager for finesse. Louis’ never minded.

“Hey,” Louis mumbles, pulling back, and is he blushing? “D’you wanna know what it’s like? I mean, um, is it like something you don’t want cuz. I’d help you, if you wanted, but only if, um. You want it.”

Harry blushes too but he also smiles shyly at Louis, looking at him through his lashes. “I want it,” he admits. “I’ve just never been able to, and um. I don’t know if I can, but I really, really want it.” He feels like room gets smaller when Louis’ eyes darken at his confession.

And Harry does really want it, he’s wanted it since he got a boner the first time and his best mate told him what was supposed to happen when he did get a boner. Except it never did happen. And he’s wanted it even more since he met Louis’, it driven him insane, he spends 90% of his life turned on because of Louis and he’s had no relief at all. He’ll wake up at night too hot and itchy, with Louis warm and sweet smelling next to him, and unable to do anything but wank unsuccessfully, with no release.

“I can try,” Louis says, close enough that Harry’s eyes cross a little trying to look at him. “I want to, I’ve never been with anybody, like, I’ve snogged people, lots of people, but I’ve never—touched anyone.” He clears his throat. “I’d touch you, Hazza.”

Harry’s breathing picks up. “Yes.” He doesn’t think there was a question but he’s a little overwhelmed. “Yes,” he repeats, dizzy. And hard, he’s hard, he just now notices.

“Okay,” Louis says, hushed, and he looks a little nervous. He fumbles around until he’s straddling Harry, and it’s a little clumsy, because they’re both anxious and over-eager but it’s good, it’s nice, it might be odd if it wasn’t.

“So, you wank though, yeah?” Louis says it in a rush, but looks Harry in the eye, and curves a hand around the side of his ribs.

Harry wants to close his eyes and turn away, but he doesn’t. He thinks of the frustration, of never being able to release, being wound up and too hot, itchy all over when his body can’t come down. “Y-yeah, just it never. I never get to—“

Louis hums. “It’s okay, it didn’t happen like that for me, at first.”

He’s actually surprised by that, and maybe a little comforted. “Really?” He’s suddenly aware of his hands laying limply by his sides, and slides them up to rest on Louis’ hips.

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “I mean, I figured it out soon enough, but the first few times I almost went mad.”

Harry bites his lip. “I’ve, um. In my sleep, just once. I woke up one morning and it was just a miracle I was wearing pants that night.” Which means he can come, now that he thinks about it. He just never has.

Louis barks out a sudden laugh, and it startles Harry, until he begins giggling too. “God, Hazza, when have you ever actually worn pants?” Louis’ eyes are twinkling and he straightens his fringe across his forehead.

Harry blushes harder than he has since they got upstairs, and Louis cocks his head curiously. “The first time you and me shared a bed.” He breaks eye contact.

He can feel it when Louis puts the pieces together, because his grip tightens on Harry’s side. “You came in your pants when we slept together?” His voice is even higher than usual.

Harry winces. “Yeah—yeah, ‘m sorry, that’s so gross, I couldn’t help it—“

A hand slips over his mouth. “It’s not gross, Harry.” Louis is looking at him like he wants to eat him. “That’s really fucking hot.” He’s never seen Louis like this and he is so, so, so hard.

He nibbles at Louis’ palm until he pulls away. “I don’t remember it,” Harry says honestly. “I don’t remember coming, but it was because of you, I know it was.” He feels awkward and unsexy as he says it but Louis suddenly swoops down to kiss him.

“You’ll remember it this time, love,” Louis murmurs, and Harry really can only take so much.

“Louis,” he moans, like a real sex moan, oh god, and arches into Louis. “I’m hard,” he gasps, “oh my god, please, sorry, I need—“

Harry can’t believe himself but it’s just. This is happening and he’s still just a 16 year old boy with a fit as fuck boyfriend, he’s got a breaking point.

“Shit, Haz, okay,” Louis says, and his voice is somehow both higher and deeper. “Don’t be sorry, alright, it’s, um.” There’s a pause and then Louis rearranges himself so that he’s more or less lying on top of Harry and slips a thigh between Harry own and—he’s hard, too. Fuck.

Harry kind of chokes on his spit and humps up into Louis before he can think better of it. It feels so good, he can feel his eyes roll back and he’s almost afraid, what if Louis can’t make him come either, what if he’s stuck like this for the rest of his life, eternally sexually frustrated by Louis Tomlinson and unable to get relief?

“Yeah?” Louis says. “Is it okay?” He sounds breathless.

Harry nods a bit frantically and focuses best he can on Louis’ face. Louis’ cheeks are a splotchy red, and his mouth is gaping a bit, like he’s in shock.

“I want you,” Louis rushes out, “I’ve wanted you this whole time, you’re so fucking fit, Christ, I think about you, yeah? Like all the time, I feel like I can’t get off enough, because I’m always thinking about you, Hazza, I want you so bad, I—“

Louis breaks off from his ramble and looks mortified. “Oh,” he mumbles. “Sorry, that—that was out of line, I didn’t—“

Harry shushes him. “Hey,” he says, and his voice almost breaks. “If I’m not allowed to be sorry, then you can’t be either, okay?”

Louis still looks doubtful, so Harry steels himself enough to slip a hand down Louis back and squeeze his bum. “It’s like that for me, too. I want you that way too.”

There’s an odd sound from Louis, sort of strangled, and Harry almost pulls his hand away, but they’re doing this, aren’t they? And Louis’ arse is amazing, he wants it in his hands always.

“Okay,” Louis says, and Harry thinks they’ve been saying that quite a lot, ‘okay’ and ‘yeah’, but he also thinks that’s good, that they’re on the same page, that they both want this.

Louis rocks his hips down again, and Harry is looking him in the eye when he moans this time, grinds his hips up at Louis, a little clumsily but good all the same. He tightens his grip on Louis’ arse and brings his free hand up to curl around his waist, and pull Louis’ closer to him, following the maddening movement of his body.

“I think maybe,” Louis starts, and then ducks down to kiss him again, before continuing. “We should take our time with it, yeah? I think if like, I got you really hot,” and Harry can see how much Louis is embarrassed by saying that, wants to reassure him, but is too busy holding his breath. “Sometimes going too fast, not taking the time to really get going, it doesn’t make it easier, you know?”

Louis is blinking rapidly, blue eyes earnest, and chewing at his lips, waiting for Harry to respond.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “That’s good, I trust you.” He wants to say something, but thinks it might be a bit much.

Louis must see his struggle and cards a hand through Harry’s hair, “It’s okay, you can tell me.” He really might be in love with Louis, doesn’t care that people might say it’s too soon.

“I was just gonna say that, um, you can help me learn what I like, you know, like. Where to—where to touch.” Harry has to close his eyes when he finishes, beyond flustered.

Louis startles him by peppering his face with kisses until he opens his eyes. “Yeah, just like that, I can do that,” Louis says.

Harry is so hard right now, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before, and whines pitifully. “Yeah,” he repeats, and then, “please make me come, Louis,” before he can think better of it.

Fuck,” Louis’s voice is almost inaudible. “Yeah, okay, fuck, I’ll make it good, Hazza, you must need it so bad.”

This might be considered real dirty talk, Harry thinks, or maybe just really fucking hot, but either way it just turns him on more. “Please,” he says, and his voice breaks this time.

“I’m gonna take your shirt off, okay?” Louis is rocking against him steadily, keeps his hips moving as his sits up to remove Harry’s shirt. Harry pouts a bit when he has to remove his hands from Louis’ bum to do it.

“Oh, hush,” Louis teases, “you’ll have plenty of time for it later.”

Harry’s grinning like an idiot by the time Louis has gotten his own shirt off, and it feels good, to be this happy and turned on at the same time. Louis’ eyes crinkle up and he pokes a finger into Harry’s dimple. “Such a weirdo, Curly.”

Harry turns to bite Louis’ finger, and somehow ends up sucking on it instead.

“Oh,” Louis says in a small voice, and his fringe is sticking to his forehead a bit. “Pretty mouth.”

Harry preens, sucks a little harder, and shivers when he thinks of sucking Louis.

He tries to follow Louis’ finger when he pulls it from his mouth and sits back against Harry’s thighs, but he quickly forgets because Louis just puts his hand on his dick.

“Louis!” His voice is louder than it should be, but Harry can’t be arsed to care right now. Louis curves his palm around the shape of Harry in his chinos, and is looking down at his own hand like he’s in awe.

“Is that good?” Louis whispers, and he sounds like he’s really asking, like he’s trying to figure out if it’s actually good for Harry.

Harry’s moan is so high-pitched it might be considered a mewl. “Yes, it’s good, shit,” he’s trying not to thrust into Louis’ hand, because he’d like to have a little more control than that

And then Louis’ fingers start trying to feel out the shape of the head of Harry’s cock and he can’t help himself, fists his hands into the sheets, and humps up. “Please.”

Louis’ index finger presses into the head of his cock through the fabric and Harry can’t take it. “Please,” he repeats.

Louis sucks in a shaky breath, and nods his head. “Yeah, want to touch you.” He’s so gorgeous, Harry thinks, high cheekbones and shiny blue eyes, forehead tight in concentration as he works on the button of Harry’s chinos.

He pulls Harry’s zipper down so slowly, and he thinks they’re both holding their breath. Once it’s down Louis tucks his fingers into Harry’s waistband and tugs them down past his knees.

“Of course you’re not wearing pants,” Louis mutters, seemingly to himself. Harry laughs silently anyway, preens when Louis shoots a fond smile his way.

Louis presses the pad of his finger to one of Harry’s nipples, and splays his other hand across his belly. “Alright, baby?”

Baby. That’s new, that’s really new, it’s always been ‘babe’ before now, but Harry likes ‘baby’ better. “Yes,” he whines, slinks his hand down to tangle with Louis’ on his stomach. “Keep going.”

And Harry likes to be naked, loves it really, feels comfortable like that and Louis has seen him without clothes plenty, but it’s different now, because they’re in bed together, and he’s hard, and orgasms are likely to happen. He’s almost self-conscious, of Louis’ hand on his tummy, soft and undefined, of the way his chest is an unattractive blotchy red, and--

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” Louis says suddenly, and Harry heats up with a blush, a nervous giggle bubbling up from him.

“What?” He turns his cheek into the pillow. “Louis, it’s. It’s just a dick.”

Louis leans down to munch on his neck, “Yeah, but it’s a good one.”

Harry starts to protest again, but then Louis scrapes his teeth experimentally over the bump of his jawline and Harry arches up from the bed. “Oh.”

Louis bites harder, presses his thigh down against Harry’s cock, and pinches his nipple. “Is that it? You like this?” He murmurs into the flesh of Harry’s throat, bites down just above Harry’s pulse.

He starts to gasp, rakes his hand down Louis’ back, can’t fathom how good it feels just like this, when Louis’ not even touched his cock yet. Harry wonders what it’ll feel like when he does touch him, wonders if he’ll come.

“Louis,” he moans, freely now. “Oh my god, more.” He tilts his head back, spreads his thighs, opens himself up for Louis.

“There you go, baby, come on.” Louis untangles his hand from Harry’s on his belly and slides it down to hold onto Harry’s thigh. “What’s it feel like?”

Harry breathes heavy, brings the hand from his belly to tug on Louis’ hair. “Good, please, it’s good.”

Louis moans into his throat, and shifts his hips so that they’re in line with Harry’s, and then grinds down. He’s still wearing his jeans and the material of them is deliciously rough on his cock.

Harry grinds out a high moan and feels his cock twitch. “Oh shit, oh shit.”

Louis jumps and pulls his hips up from Harry’s. “Oh, sorry, sorry, love, forgot I was wearing those, must have hurt, sorry—“

“No!” Harry yelps, and tugs Louis back down by his bum. “I liked it, I loved it.” He wraps his legs around Louis’ hips and grinds his hips up into the rough material of the jeans, groaning.

“Oh,” Louis says, and lifts his head from Harry’s throat to look at his face, “you like it to hurt a bit, then?” Harry looks at him from half-lidded eyes and nods.

Louis cocks his head and pushes down, then pulls his hand up from Harry’s thigh and pulls on a nipple.

Yes,” Harry moans, “that’s—that’s perfect, oh.”

He feels Louis dig the edge of his nail just slightly into his nipple and his eyes roll back.

“God, Harry,” Louis ogles. “I wonder if….”

And then he puts both his hands on Harry’s arms and pulls until he has hold of Harry’s wrists, looks at Harry carefully, and then wraps them around the rail at the head of the bed. “Can you hold them there?” Louis says, voice low.

Harry nods, wondering what the point is and then—

“Since I can’t tie them up,” Louis clarifies.

Shit, okay, Harry didn’t know he wanted anything like that but apparently he does, and he wants it bad.

“Jesus,” Louis whispers, “you’re gonna be a kinky one, aren’t you?” A ghost of the smile he’d usually flash at Harry when he’s teasing him appears, but Harry’s too far gone to do much more than pout at him before moaning again.

Louis leans back and looks down at Harry’s body, eyes raking him up and down. Harry squirms a bit, self-consciousness starting to work it’s way into mind again, and then Louis reaches out to stroke the thin skin where his thigh meets his groin. “Soft,” Louis mumbles.

Harry whines and shifts again, hard and really fucking turned on. He wants to do everything with Louis, even if he doesn’t quite know what everything is just yet.

“Can I,” Louis starts, flicking his eyes up to Harry’s face hesitantly.

“Yes,” Harry cuts him off, “whatever you want, you can have it, I want you to.” He bites his lip and watches Louis mirror him.

Louis blinks at him and then he’s—he’s ducking down between his legs, flattening himself out on his front. Harry jumps, because like. Louis’ face is between his thighs, warm breath tickling the skin there.

“I just want to see,” Louis mumbles, quietly enough that Harry can barely hear him.

And then there’s a wet warmth on the inside of his thigh, and Louis is sucking on the sensitive skin there, biting sharply and gripping Harry’s leg tightly.

“Oh god,” Harry moans, and he wants desperately to reach down and grip Louis’ hair tightly.

Louis keeps at it, biting and sucking and licking, digging his nails into soft flesh and making little happy noises as he goes. Harry can’t grab at Louis with his hands, so he settles for hooking his calves over Louis’ shoulders and digging his heels into his back.

Finally, Louis relents, sitting back so that Harry has to drop his legs back down.

Shit,” Harry breathes, “what was that?”

Louis looks unsure suddenly, “I’m sorry. Was that—was that too much, like, my mouth or—“

“No!” Harry rushes to reassure him. “Fuck, I liked it, like a lot.”

Louis looks pleased now. “I just wanted to see, what it would look like, when—when my mouth had been there.”

Harry’s puzzled for a moment, but follows Louis’ gaze down to his thighs. Christ. Red marks are scattered where Louis bit and sucked at him, darkening even as he looks at them. They feel sore and kind of perfect.

He can hear himself whine and closes his thighs so he can feel the love bites rub against one another so that they sting even more.

Louis sucks in a breath, and his lips are so red and plump, Harry kind of wants to drag him down, roll him over, and kiss him senseless until his mouth is bruised and tingling.

“Louis,” he pleads, opening his legs again, so that Louis might crawl back between, so that they’re touching again, because Harry needs Louis’ skin against his.

He does fit himself between Harry’s spread thighs and starts running his hands down Harry’s body, smoothing his palms across his chest, gripping on to his waist before moving down to pet the bruised skin of his thighs and squeeze the tense muscles of his calves. “Jesus,” Louis whispers. “Fucking hell, you’re so much.”

Harry whines and he really fucking needs to touch Louis.

“Okay, baby,” and there’s that pet name again, “’m gonna touch you, now, if you’re ready.”

Harry nods maybe a little too vigorously. He’s afraid, actually, a little bit, that Louis won’t be able to make him come, that maybe it’s just never going to be that way for him but he wants to try.

Louis kisses him as he wraps his hand around his cock for the first time, so that Harry has to moan into his mouth, let Louis swallow every sound of pleasure he makes.

His cock lurches in Louis’ grip, and he gasps at the feeling, the warm, damp hold Louis has of him, the pressure. “O-oh.” Harry wants to pull his hands off the railing, wants to grip onto Louis’ shoulders, but he resists.

“You’re big,” Louis breathes, then strokes up, just once.

Harry bucks up, tries to regain control of himself. “Good,” he says, out of breath. “More?” He can only form one syllable at a one time now, has almost completely lost his words.

Louis doesn’t say anything but tugs 3 times in quick succession, before stopping and sitting back. “D’you want to know how to make yourself come? Want me to help you learn?”

He just wants to come, Harry almost says as such, but then he considers all the sleepless nights and frustrated showers, remembers crying from the unrelenting pressure, unable to find relief and doesn’t ever want to feel that away again, so he nods.

“Okay,” Louis says, and he looks a bit wild. “Show me—show me how you touch yourself, then.”

Harry stares at him and if he could blush anymore than he already is, he would. “Louis—“

“I just want to see,” Louis says, “so I know, like. What you’re doing, how to help you.” He pauses. “You don’t have to, darling.”

Darling. Where are these names coming from? Harry likes them. “No I—okay. But. But you can’t laugh, yeah?”

Louis shakes his head. “I would never.”

He trusts Louis, he does, but it’s still hard, reaching down to take himself in hand with Louis watching his every move. “It’s okay,” Louis soothes him. “D’you—would you want me to, um, do it with you?”

Harry blinks at him, because Louis looks really unsure all of sudden and he’s not sure what he means—oh. His mind is suddenly bombarded with images of Louis touching himself, of Louis moaning as he gets himself off, of Louis watching Harry and jerking himself off in time with Harry, of Louis’ hand wrapped around his own cock and like. “Yes,” Harry gasps out, “please.”

Louis blushes but ducks his head down to unbutton his own jeans and Harry’s really fucking excited, because as many times as Louis’ seen him naked, he’s rarely seen Louis naked, let alone naked and hard. He’s outright leering as Louis strips, hungry for every inch of tan skin, wants to touch his waist and stomach, squeeze his arms. He wants it all.

When Louis has wriggled out of his jeans and pants, and flipped his fringe out of his face, he looks at Harry a little nervously. “Um?”

Harry tries not to actually drool all over himself but he just. He really wants Louis, right, and he’s been wanting him for so long, and he’s so, so, so hard and now Louis is naked in bed with him and just. “Yeah,” Harry says, “you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.” He lets his eyes drop to Louis’ cock, hard and thick and curved up towards his tummy, and he feels his mouth actually slacken at the sight.

“There you go,” Louis says suddenly, and Harry realizes he’s started tugging at himself.

He almost freezes up, embarrassed, but then Louis wraps a hand around himself, and Harry finds himself speeding up. “I—“ Harry whines. “You’re gorgeous.”

Louis flutters his eyelashes nervously, but keeps going. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful, come on, show me what you do.” The words seem to be flowing out of him, and Harry loves all of them. Sweetheart.

Harry watches Louis touch himself, and it’s like fantasy come to life, and he feels himself let go, wanks the way he would in the shower with nothing but the water on his skin and thoughts of Louis in his head.

He hears Louis start to whimper, and bites his lips, tugs harder, and he’s not going to come, knows it, starts to stroke faster, frustrated.

“Haz,” Louis’s voice is throaty, “baby, it’s okay, don’t hurt yourself, it’s—“ he breaks off into a moan for a moment, “it’s okay to go slow.”

Harry huffs and whines, still frustrated. “I want to come, please, ‘m so turned on, I need it.” He eyes Louis, who’s started to hunch forward, hand slipping over his cock like a blur.

‘O-okay, hn,” Louis looks at him with wide eyes. “Fuck, I’m, okay, shit, let me—“ He yanks his hand off his own cock, like it takes all of his willpower to do so, and braces himself over Harry, breathing heavily. “Shh, Hazza, okay, let me touch you.” He scoots forward to brace himself over Harry.

Harry uncurls his hand from his cock, and looks at Louis trustingly. “Please help me.” He’s taken his hands off the railing now and can wrap his arms around Louis’ small frame, clings to him, drags his palms up and down Louis’ back.

Louis buries his face in Harry’s hair, and slips his hand down to Harry’s cock. “Tell me when it feels best,” he murmurs quietly.

Harry doesn’t get what would feel best in a wank, there’s only one way to do it, but he stays quiet and breathes Louis in.

At first, it feels the same, like it’s good but not enough, and he’s just in a limbo of arousal, clawing at Louis to try and work his frustrations out, but then he realizes Louis’ changing up the strokes, making them shorter and longer, faster and slower, and then. And then he strokes down slow, and up fast, squeezing tightly at the top, and flicking his thumb quickly at the head. Harry stops breathing and Louis pauses then does it again, just like that. “Yes,” Harry’s voice is so high he might as well be squealing, “what—ah—“

“There it is,” Louis says, and he sounds as excited as Harry feels. “I’ve got you, does it feel good?”

Harry stretches his mouth open to say something, but he can’t find words. He feels his stomach twist with something delicious, and his legs kick out, spastic. Harry’s toes curl and he scrambles to grab at Louis’ back. “I, uhn, I, Lou.” He sounds panicky and he just needs Louis to look at him.

Somehow, Louis understands, pulls his face away from his curls and brings his free hand to cup Harry’s cheek, nuzzles their noses together. “It’s okay, Harry, I know.”

Part of Harry is ashamed, that he needs to be coddled through a wank, held and reassured with gentle words, because he’s 16 and has never had an orgasm before, but he feels so good, and he trust Louis and it’s okay, just like Louis said. He brings his legs up, folds them so his knees are close to his chest, and arches his back. On the next stroke up, Louis pushes into his slit rather than just brushing against it and Harry kicks one leg back out, unable to keep still. “Like that, fuck, fuck fuckfuck,” he sounds like an idiot, he knows but he honestly cannot help himself.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis is muttering, “god, you need it so bad, I’m so sorry you had to wait this long, poor darling, it’s okay, you can have it now,” and he keeps mumbling these sweet nothings, holds Harry close.

It’s quiet other than Harry’s moans and Louis’ words, dark and hot in the room, until Harry hears a crash from the movie playing downstairs and jolts. They’re in the Xfactor house, it’s like he forgot, they’re on the bunk in the room they share with other people and he wonders if anyone has caught onto what’s happening in here.

It doesn’t matter then, because Louis ducks his head to bite at Harry’s neck, the way he learned Harry loves earlier, and Harry almost throws Louis off of him. Dizzily, he wonders if he’ll ever learn to get used to this kind of pleasure, if he’ll ever be able to take it and calm down enough for other things, like touching Louis, or blowjobs, or one of them inside the other--

He moans too loudly, tossing his head back at the thought, and Louis shushes him gently, “Baby, it’s alright, gotta be a little quieter, people will hear—“

Harry shakes his head, can’t do it, doesn’t know how anyone could feel this good and not scream from it. He reaches up to pinch his own nipple, and shakes.

The hand on Louis’ back is rising and falling with how quickly Louis is breathing and he feels the hand speed up on his cock, still following that same pattern driving him crazy. “Hazza, you’re so into it, god, can’t wait to see what you’re like when I get my mouth on you, or—or my fingers maybe—“

Harry bites his lip so hard he can taste blood, he feels delirious, and then the delicious twisting feeling in his stomach starts to feel heavier, tighter, and he lets out a confused whimper.

Louis pulls his head from his neck to look at him. “Oh,” he breathes, “are you close?” He looks almost predatory as he says it.

And Harry doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what close feels like, he has no idea what’s happening, but he can’t keep still, pinches too harshly at his nipple and his mouth drops open and his hips starting humping up into Louis’ hand. He must be close, that has to be what this is. “Louis,” he whines, soft and pathetic.

“Yeah,” Louis moans, “there you go, can you feel it?”

Harry can’t breathe and suddenly, inexplicably, he’s frightened, because he’s been able to have an orgasm for almost 5 years and it’s just now here, what if, what if—“Hurt?” He gasps out.

Louis frowns at him, and cocks his head, slowing down. “Do you hurt, baby?”

“Is—will it hurt—me?” Harry feels ridiculous saying it, but he’s confused.

Louis is stroking him so slow now, so that he still feels the sweet pleasure of his hand, but the tight feeling in his stomach goes away. “No, Hazza, it won’t hurt. You’ll feel good.”

Harry bites his lip, and feels like a child, a stupid child but. “Will you show me?” He sounds breathless, and he wants Louis to keep going but he needs to see.

“Show you, baby?” Louis stops his hand and brings it up to pet at Harry’s nipple, soft and perfect.

“Will you come for me?” Harry gets it out in rush, humiliated but needy. Louis blinks at him owlishly for a minute and Harry panics for half a second before--

“If that’s what you need,” Louis says, voice a little shaky, but still low and throaty, and Harry had forgotten that this is new for him, too.

He lets out his breath in a whoosh and tugs Louis down to kiss him gratefully, “Please and thank you.”

Louis smiles just briefly into their kiss, bites his bottom lip gently, and pulls back. “Okay, promise not to laugh, yeah?” He makes his voice light, like he’s joking.

Harry wants to snort, of course not, but he can see that lingering insecurity in Louis’ eyes and shakes his head instead. “No, never.”

He watches as Louis lays back on the bed opposite where Harry was, so his head is at the foot of the bed. He feels almost hungry when he looks down at Louis’ body, the soft, tan expanse of it, wants to drape himself across Louis and kiss every inch. Instead, he tucks himself against Louis’ side and rests his chin on his shoulder. “Will you tell me when you’re, um, close?” he asks hesistantly.

Louis nods and licks his lips. “Won’t be too long., I’m, y’know, you’re kind of fucking hot, so.” Louis sounds nervous but Harry preens at the compliment anyway.

Then he looks down at Louis’ cock, and stifles a whimper. He’s really, really hard, almost standing up from his belly with how stiff he is, and wet at the tip. When Louis gets a hand around himself, Louis’ back arches off the bed, and he loosens his grip, like he’s too sensitive. Immediately though, he starts to pull at himself, firm and almost frantic. “Harry,” Louis breathes out, sounding almost drunk.

Shyly, Harry tucks his hand into Louis’ free one and squeezes tight. “How d’you get off when you think about me?” Harry is really hard too, and he wants to see Louis come, wants to see what the pleasure is like before he has it.

Louis lets out of a strangled whine-moan and starts pushing his hips up into his fist. “I get off thinking—about you,” Louis huffs, “every day. ‘s never enough though, cuz—then I have to see you, after, and—“

Harry mewls and bites Louis’ shoulder, then presses his mouth into Louis’ neck. “Show me.” He watches Louis’ strokes, sees that they’re the opposite of the way he liked them, slow stroke up, fast stroke down, squeeze at the base. His hand is getting sweaty in Louis’, but he could never let go. Hesitantly, Harry presses a hand to Louis’ sternum so that he can feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He drags it up to brush an index finger across one of Louis’ nipples, and he abruptly needs to touch Louis except--

Harry,” Louis whines, “I want—oh, Haz, ‘m gonna, now, baby.”

He scrambles to sit up on his knees watch Louis’ face, fringe sweaty and plastered to his forehead, cheeks dark red, and blue eyes half-lidded, almost feverish. “Harry,” he rasps, mouth dropping open.

Harry is transfixed, looks down as Louis brings one knee up as he pulls his fist faster across himself. His chest starts heaving and his moans are so high-pitched, it sounds like he might lose his voice altogether.

He can’t help himself, his hand moves on its own to wrap around Louis’ and follow the movement of his hand, squeezing with him. He pries his hand from Louis’ to cup Louis’ balls, and feels hot all over, craves Louis in every way. Louis garbles a set of nonsense, and Harry looks at him until his eyes close, and then he feels something wet over his fist.


Harry looks down and watches Louis come, squeezes his fist as Louis works himself through it. “Yeah,” he whispers to himself, and looks back at Louis’ face. His face is entirely slack and peaceful-looking, can see Louis’ throat moving as he whimpers.

“S’good,” Louis moans, opening his eyes to look at Harry. He lets go of his grip on Louis’ fist, and kisses him, relishes in the post-orgasmic pliant way Louis opens his mouth for him.

“Wanna try it, darling?” Louis mumbles into his mouth lazily.

And he does, he really does, wants to come, feel the way Louis did, understand the obvious pleasure in his face and body. “Yes, please, I want it.”

Louis hums into the kiss, then pulls away, sitting up and pushing Harry back to the head of the bed, and onto the pillow. “D’you wanna do it yourself, love? Want me to?”

He feel needy, desperate again, twists uncomfortably on the sheets. “You, please,” Harry says, quiet and child-like.

“Okay, whatever you want,” Louis whispers, settles down on top of him, between Harry’s spread legs, and gets a hand under his head, cradling him. When he grabs Harry’s cock, again, finally, Harry twists in his hold, and his breathing speeds up again. “You’re okay, now,” Louis says, “just gonna get off, yeah?”

Shame washes through Harry once more, embarrassment strong and he closes his eyes, too humiliated to look Louis in the eye, but too desperate to stop feeling this good.

“No, Haz,” Louis murmurs, “it’s alright, I know it’s a lot.”

Harry blinks his eyes up reluctantly again, just as Louis pushes into his slit and he arches up high, as his toes curl. He wants to be close again, is ready for that heady, tight feeling in his stomach. 

“I’m gonna do so much to you, someday,” Louis says, voice low like dark honey. “Already know you’re gonna be kinky, yeah?”

The twist starts up in his stomach again, and Harry moans, humps up into Louis’ fist. “Yeah.” He thinks it comes out as more of a grunt than anything else but Louis continues anyway.

“You’re so lovely, Harry, I love touching you, think maybe I might tie you up someday,” a flash of the Louis from before they started this thing shows in his eyes, a little unsure and new to this, before it’s replaced by want and sex again. “I’ll tie you up—and then you have to just let me work you over, make you come over and over again—“

Harry whines. “Please.” He can hardly take the images Louis is burning into his brain, and he’s already thinking of everything else they can do, imagines touching Louis everywhere and making him come, pressing in close so that they can never really separate.

Louis kisses him, down his cheek to his neck, and bites, licks each spot where he’s left a stinging sensation. Harry wants to come, has literally been waiting for too long for this, has been waiting too much for this since he met Louis.

The hand on his cock speeds up, tugs perfectly, pushes into his slit, and back again. Louis’ mouth is quick and clever on his throat, and Harry pushes one hand into Louis’ hand and twists the other into sheets as his thighs draw up and close tightly around Louis’ waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles, and wants to say more, but then Louis slips his free hand down to cup his balls and presses his middle finger into the soft skin underneath.

Ah,” Harry cries out. “Oh—oh, Louis, it—“

He’s probably pulling too hard on Louis’ hair, and he can’t seem to wrap his legs tight enough around him. Harry feels the twisting in his stomach draw tight again, and he almost starts crying with relief.

It steals the breath from him and his body seems almost out of his control, as Louis works his cock over and over, murmurs things he can’t hear into skin. Harry feels panic rising again, even though he wants this, knows that it’s good now. “Louis, I’m—“

The tightness in his stomach is wound heavy like a small coil just in the pit of abdomen, and he whimpers, can’t stop himself. It feels so fucking good, he can’t fucking breathe, he’s gonna come, is gonna know what that feels like. “Louis,” and Harry probably sounds a little hysterical.

Louis pulls up from his neck, still cradling the back of his head, “I know, baby, but it’s good, yeah? I’m right here, come on, Hazza, it’s okay now.”

Harry feels the tightness pull at his cock and up into his belly and it almost feels strange, like something needs to release

Fuck,” he spits, eyes wide and staring into Louis’. “’m gonna—“

He breaks off into embarrassing little whimpers, and feels his mouth drop open, his back arch, and his vision go blurry.

“You sound like a little kitten when you’re close,” he hears Louis murmur, and the fondness in his voice overwhelming. “Are you gonna come for me, little kitten?”

And that’s it. Harry keens as the tight coil in his abdomen is abruptly released, and the feeling ricochets through his whole body. He feels every muscle in his body spasm, rhythmic pulses that make his hips twist and buck, and his back arch. He hears wails that are probably his, and it all feels so, so, so good, the release of tension in his balls and the pleasant burn in his abdomen and cock are unbearably good.

Oh,” Harry moans, blinking until Louis’ eyes come back into focus. “Lou,” he slurs, and he thinks he might still be coming, but he’s not sure, doesn’t really understand much except that he feels really fucking good, his cock twitching and his muscles achy.

When it finally stops, or at least, when Harry thinks it’s stopped, he feels Louis’ hand carding through his curls and scratching at his scalp. He hums and arches into the feeling, still blinking into Louis’ gaze dreamily.

“You even sound like a little kitten after you’ve come,” Louis’ voice says, and he sounds far away. Harry snuffles and tries to move around, unable to really figure where his arms are.

He yawns and reality floods back finally, he can see Louis’ face, not just the blue of his eyes, can feel the sheets plastered to his sweaty back, and can feel stickiness on his tummy. “S’good,” he mumbles, an echo of Louis after his own orgasm.

A blinding toothy grin stretches across Louis’ face. “Yeah?” His face is an endearing mix of pride and relief.

Harry brings a sluggish hand up to pet across Louis’ face. “Yeah,” he says, yawning again, “thank you, Lou. Was the best thing.”

He’s tingly and sensitive all over, and he can’t believe anything could feel that good, he’s addicted now. “’nother?” He slurs, tugging at Louis, and canting his hips up.

Louis chokes. “Haz?

“Mm,” he moans, looking at Louis pleadingly.

Louis whines, and shakes his head, kissing him. “Okay, baby.”

It’s fast after that, Louis is in arms his in the blink of an eye, and Harry grips his bum and starts moving his hips down into Harry’s. “Fuck, Louis.”

They’re both hard again and Harry is so fucking glad they’re still just teenagers.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Louis is chanting, and he tucks his face into Harry’s neck, muffling a scream there. “Dammit,” he moans, sounding overwhelmed and then he starts snapping his hips into Harry’s, pinning him down by his shoulders and sinking his teeth in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

Harry wraps his thighs around Louis’ waist, locking his ankles together, and rakes his hands up and down Louis’ back. “Faster,” he gasps, dragging his mouth across every inch of skin he can. “Faster.”

Louis groans and shifts his hips, bucking fast and hard. His tummy is dragging across Harry’s cock now, and he’s fucking sensitive, he just came. It’s too good though, that short stab of pain tangled in pleasure.

It’s so much though, and he’s moaning too loudly, heaving in deep, shuddering breaths. “Ah, Louis, yes, ah, ah—“

“Harry,” Louis hisses, “baby, shh.” Even as he tries to hush him, he swivels his hips down in a new way, which only makes Harry cry out more loudly.

“I can’t—“ Harry gasps, throwing his head back and twisting a hand in Louis’ hair. “’s good, I want, oh god.”

Abruptly, he pushes at Louis roughly, tossing him onto his back and fitting himself between Louis’ legs, as Louis blinks up at him with foggy blue eyes. “I need—“ He whines, moving his hips into Louis’ now.

Louis nods vigorously, mouth slack, and tugs Harry down to his chest, slipping one hand down to his bum, and twisting the other in his curls, tight enough to hurt. He starts circling his hips upward to meet Harry, shit, he wants him so much, it feels like nothing is enough.

Whimpering, he bucks into Louis blindly, too far gone and hungry for finesse, searching only for pleasure. He’s wrapped up completely in Louis, gasping breaths into his collarbone, gripping his waist, pressing his thumbs into the soft skin there.

“So good, Hazza,” Louis starts mumbling into his ear. “So hot, want to have you like this all the time. You’re. So. Good.” He punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust upward.

Harry sobs, wild and absorbed in Louis, swimming in his touch and praise. “Lou, Lou, I—“

“Shh, baby—ah—Harry, you gotta—shit,” Louis tries to calm him down but he’s not much better off than Harry.

Harry cries out loudly, obscenely, and drops his hips completely into Louis, just rolling them fast now.

Harry,” Louis moans, urging him to quiet.

His dick is so sensitive now, though, every touch is magnetized, the drag a bit painful and his balls deliciously sore. He can’t quiet himself, he just can’t. “Louis,” he moans, loudly enough that it might be a shout.

Fuck.” He hears Louis curse and then he’s being pushed over onto his back, and Louis slaps a sweaty palm over his mouth.

He—he really fucking likes that, actually, holy shit. Moaning, he feels his eyelids flutter and his back arch.

Louis is moving his hips still, but his eyes are wide and his lips are bitten and swollen as he apologizes. “’m sorry, I didn’t mean to you’re just—loud, I didn’t want, oh, fuck.”

Harry whines and shakes his head, pushing his chin up into Louis’ hand.

A dark glint passes through Louis’ eyes briefly, and he uses his free hand to heft one of Harry’s legs over his shoulder so he can lean forward and look Harry directly in the eye as he works his hips in a wicked rhythm. “You’re dirty, Harry, hm?” He shifts his palm up just a bit, like a tease, like he could cover Harry’s nose too, so he couldn’t breathe.

Harry groans, deep in his throat, and stares up at Louis, unwilling to break eye contact.

“Dirty,” Louis murmurs, and then he starts peppering kisses across Harry’s cheeks and fluttering eyelids. “I—like it though, so fucking hot, ‘m so hard—“

Fighting back an actual scream, Harry fists his hands into the sheet and bucks his hips up hard enough to jostle Louis. And then the head of his dick rubs just right against Louis’ and he starts to shiver, tries to cant his hips up so the head of his cock hits in the just the same way every time Louis thrusts up. “Louis,” he tries to whine, muffled by Louis’ hand.

“You’re gonna come,” Louis gasps, and it’s not a question. His cock hurts now, but it only makes the pleasure heady enough to make his head swim.

“Mmm,” he moans in confirmation, looking up at Louis adoringly.

Cool air hits his face suddenly and Louis pulls his palm away. “No, wait,” Harry whines, and he’s not sure if Louis understands because all that comes out his mouth are moans.

God, Harry,” Louis grits, “’m sorry, I just have to. Have to—ah—hear you come, you sound so—so good, fuck.” He drops his head to hang down and watch their cocks rub together.

Harry follows him and keens embarrassingly at the sight. It’s filthy and delicious, seeing the pink wetness of the heads of their cocks appear with each rock of their hips. “I’m—“ he hardly recognizes his voice, “oh.” He scrambles to lock his legs around Louis as he twists up and feels his stomach tighten. “Lou—I’m gonna—“

Yes,” Louis murmurs, “please come for me, baby. I want it—so bad.” He reaches down, eyes feverish, and pinches around the sensitive part of his cock, just under the head. “Little kitten. Please.”

Harry’s face crumples and he nearly sobs, his body on edge before he fucking comes. It slows down for a moment, when the rushing in his ears turns to static and his body spasms, intense and good. He feels his hands slip over the sweaty skin of Louis’ back and Louis’ lips slide over his clumsily.

When he finally relaxes, he opens his mouth for Louis, who pulls away after a moment. “Shit, baby, you’re still coming.” He sounds kind of wrecked, so Harry looks down and yeah, just a bit of come is still blurting of his cock and dripping on to his belly.

“Louis,” he whines, pawing uselessly at Louis’ shoulders. “Let me.” His voice is throaty and hard to understand.

Louis is still working his hips, slow now, trying to avoid hurting Harry. “Harry—I gotta come, please—“

Harry huffs and wrestles a hand between them. “Let me.” His arm feels heavy and clumsy, but he still grasps onto Louis’ cock, jolting at he brushes against his own spent dick.

Oh,” Louis moans, loudly and unashamedly. “Gonna.” He’s staring wide eyed at Harry, who looks back at him, lazy and satisfied and really quite in love. He keeps dropping his gaze to Harry’s parted mouth and Harry suddenly has an idea, just as Louis’ breathing picks up and his shoulders cave in.

“M’mouth,” Harry says, unnecessarily, before fumbling for Louis’ hand and sucking three of Louis' fingers between his lips.

Oh, fucking, Hazza, please.” It’s one long moan-shout and Louis shoves his fingers down Harry’s throat, making him gag deliciously, before dropping his hips down onto Harry’s and coming hard and beautifully.

He yanks his hand from between them, and then Louis’ cock and hips are rubbing against where it’s most sensitive and he yelps, muffled by Louis’ fingers. His head starts to spin, and he loves it, floats off in heaven for the few precious seconds where Louis’ works out his orgasm against Harry’s spent cock and Harry curls his tongue between Louis’ fingers, relishing the pressure in his throat.

Louis drops heavily onto him once he’s finished, and Harry cries out weakly from the sensitivity. “Oh,” Louis mumbles blearily, making to move his hips and pull his fingers from Harry’s mouth.

Harry shakes his head, unable to speak, and presses a hand to the small of Louis’ back and allowing Louis to draw all but one of his fingers from his mouth, keeping the tip of one between his lips.

They’re both boneless and satisfied, reeling both from the orgasms and each other. Harry’s still tranquil and fuzzy-minded when Louis recovers enough to shift Harry to next him, coaxing him to sling his thigh over one of Louis’ and rest his head on his chest.

He plays with Harry’s hair and murmurs to him, quietly enough that Harry only catches a few words; ‘pretty’ and ‘good’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘little kitten’ among them.

Harry yawns and snuffles his way back to reality again, biting playfully at Louis’ collarbones. “Mmm,” he mumbles. “Lou?”

“Yeah, baby,” he replies, voice low but clear again.

Harry turns his nose into Louis’ neck. “I like orgasms,” he declares.

Louis bursts into a chuckle so Harry adds on, “And you. I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Louis says amused but fond. There’s a pause. “You looked good,” he says, moving them again so he’s hovering over Harry, between his legs, and petting at Harry’s shoulders now. “Like, really fucking good, jesus.”

Harry tries not to smile too widely. “Are they always like that? Orgasms, I mean.” He’s too sex-silly to feel embarrassed about it, and his voice is slow and syrupy.

Louis cups his hand around Harry’s throat. “Getting off is always good, Haz, but I think this was kinda special cuz you looked a bit like you were losing your mind.” He winces. “In a good way, obviously, but yeah. Probably cuz you needed it so bad, I reckon.”

That’s a good point, Harry thinks, and he nods agreeably, because he did kinda lose his mind. In a good way. He kisses Louis’ palm and sucks a lovebite in the thin skin on his wrist. He tries to pull Louis down on him, frowning when he resists.

“See, Hazza,” Louis says, and there’s mirth in his voice that hasn’t been there since before they came upstairs, “when you come, your dick kinda makes a mess—“

Harry face feels like it bursts into flames. “Oh my god,” he whines, still too out of it for banter. “Could you not.” Louis is cackling at him now, but quiets down to a wide smile when Harry pinches his nose.

“We really do have to clean up, love,” Louis murmurs. “Can you imagine if Liam found us?” He pauses. “Actually, that’d be aces, I’d have to get a picture—“

Harry pinches his nose again. “Shut up and carry me to the bathroom.”

Louis blusters indignantly, complains that, no, it’ll be Harry carrying him to the bathroom, who did all the work here, thank you very much. In the end though, Louis helps him back into his boxers and gives him a piggy-back ride to the shower, hunkering low like that’ll help their case if they’re caught in the hallway.

In the shower, they clean each other up between compliments and curses, and Harry gets shampoo in his eye and Louis hops out, still lathered up, to grab him a towel and wipe the suds gently from his face. Louis hits his cheek on the shampoo rack and Harry kisses it better. It’s a perfect shower, all in all.

After they’ve cleaned up successfully, they hold each other under the warm spray. Harry hides his face in Louis’ neck when he says, “Thank you, though. I, um. It was what I needed and I wouldn’t—I’m glad it was you.”

Louis ducks his head to hide his own smile in Harry’s shoulder, “I’m glad I got to give it to you.” He slides a hand down to Harry’s bum when he says, “I’d like to give you as many more as I can, if you want.”

Harry can feel Louis’ heart speed up when he says it, so he knows he’s nervous. “Yeah, Lou, I do want. I can do it, too, yeah?” He means touch Louis too and he hopes Louis understands.

“Sure, Hazza,” Louis mumbles into his skin. “You’re really beautiful,” he feels Louis’ lips move against his ear when he tells him..

Harry’s unsure if he hasn’t fallen back to sleep and is in a dream, because damn if this isn’t everything he’s ever wanted. He turns his neck to press his own lips against Louis’ ear, “You’re really gorgeous.”

Louis squeezes him tight, and Harry wants to say more, possibly initiate a quality snogging session when a loud banging on the door interrupts them. “Jesus Christ lads,” somebody yells, though Harry can’t tell their voice through the rush of the water, “it smells like fucking sex all the way into the fucking hallway, what the fuck.”

They sleep that night on the floor of the living room, kicked out by their own friends (“betrayed”, Louis claims). Louis spoons him again, though, and tangles their legs together, so Harry doesn’t mind.

“Little kitten,” Louis says, in lieu of his usual ‘G’night, Curly’ and kisses behind his ear before they fall asleep.


Harry learns how to come on his own (it doesn’t take much), for when he’s away from Louis, and because it’s “a good life skill to have, kitten”. Making him come is still one of Louis’ favorite things, but not as much as making fun of him is, Louis reminds him. And when Harry pouts about that, Louis will relent and say, “But my most favorite thing is loving you.”