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sweet, where you lay

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sweet, where you lay


It’s another one of those industry parties, and, well, Louis doesn’t want to sound ungrateful, but after a certain amount of years they’re all pretty much the same. There’s the added novelty of his recent coming out now, though, and even two months after the fact he’s still got people coming up to him to congratulate him. Like it’s his birthday or something, or like he just won an Oscar. It’s strange, people wanting to shake his hand just because he, at the age of twenty-eight, stopped lying to the general public about who he is. Honestly, they all treat it like it’d been such a hardship for him, and, yeah, sure it hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park, and twenty-one year old Louis would have shat his pants just contemplating coming out in a Hollywood world that despite it’s wish to seem proactive and accepting can honestly still be homophobic as nothing else.

Perhaps it’s just that it’s easier to come out when you’re a respected actor with an Emmy, and two Tony’s, as well as three Oscar nominations and countless other prizes under your belt, than it was as an up-and-coming star, trying to pave your way through the gladiator ring that is Hollywood’s acting scene. Or maybe it’s just that he’s older now, has a whole other view on the world and what’s important in it. When it came down to it, coming out had been almost laughably easy for him. The reaction has been pretty nice too. Of course there’s the occasional not so fun comment on IMDB, or Tumblr, or Twitter, or sometimes someone shouts something rude when he’s walking the red carpet, but really there’d been that before too, so not much of a difference there. There’s a difference, though, when a nervous looking fifteen year old comes up to him and thanks him. And not just for acting in their favourite movie, but for coming out, for being true to himself, for allowing them to believe that the world might be accepting of them too, for all the work he’s done for LGBTQ+ organisations in the short two months since he came out to the public with his sexuality.

Luckily it hasn’t done him much harm workwise either, considering he just signed a three movie deal with Marvel to headline their latest try at the Spiderman universe. He still can’t quite believe it, playing Spiderman is a dream come true, and he hopes – believes – that this third spin on the comics will rock everyone’s world. They’re going to slowly incorporate Miles Morales into the series over the three movies, and, like, they haven’t explicably said it, but he’s pretty sure they’ll end the last one with killing Spiderman, and, well, Louis too then. As a Spidey fan that’s a bit sad of course, but he can also see how great it would be to spin it into a series of Miles Morales films. It’s all good basically, and besides he’s not going to say no to acting a Major Battle™ and then having an Epic Emotional Death Scene™. They also just cast Alfie Enoch as Miles, so Louis isn’t going to say no to an opportunity to grill the guy for every bit of Harry Potter filming trivia he can remember. Anyway, the industry can’t be much bothered with his homosexuality if Marvel is willing to sign him on for a superhero movie, knowing very well that their target audience are straight males. Maybe the world really is changing, tiny step by tiny step.

At any rate he isn’t complaining, maybe except for the fact that he has to sit at this thing, surrounded by posh celebs all pretending that they care about the launch of Marc Jacobs’ latest line. Well, all right, maybe they do, and, like, Louis definitely should since he just signed on to be the face of their newest fragrance. It’s just… well, it’s not really his crowd is all. It’s mostly tall, beautiful models that Louis have never met, or twenty-something actresses that all lost interest in him the second it became known he liked dick. It’d be bad form to leave though, so he’s gotta stay at least an hour or two more. He just wishes that Niall had agreed to come with him, but his manager had laughed for ten minutes straight when Louis had suggested it and that had been that. So alone and bored as he is now, the only option is to get spectacularly drunk. Or, well, at least take advantage of the free bar and expertly skilled bartenders.

He’s standing at the bar, waiting for some colourful concoction the bartender is mixing for him (‘Give me something colourful, something happy.’ He’d said. ‘Surprise me.’). He’s pretty, the bartender is, maybe not Louis’ usual style, but pretty nonetheless. Perhaps he should just stay here and chat him up, see how far he can push it. It’s still weird, not having to be covert about who he flirts with. Well, it’s still not like he can publicly shag left and right now, honestly hasn’t had a proper shag in close to a year despite being out for the last two months. He’s not sure he’d really want to though, even if he could. He’s pretty much past the time of his life where one-night stands held any appeal, now he’d much rather have a relationship.

At any rate, even though he’s out, he’s still got a reputation to uphold, and the gossip rags are as vicious as ever. He’s a private person, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be able to walk down the street holding someone’s hand, or kissing them at the market. Like, objectively he knows that he’s not gonna get that with the bartender, likely the boy’s not even into men, but he revels in the oddity of being allowed to openly flirt with him.

“How’s this?” The bartender asks, and slides what at first glance seems like an explosion of colours but on the second turns out just to be a drink complete with a pineapple slice, two cherries and a glittery, blue umbrella on top. The bartender flashes him a cheeky smile, and, well, maybe Louis will have to re-evaluate the ‘probably straight’ verdict. Maybe he can make the night interesting yet.

He’s just about to answer when someone sidles up next to him and does it for him.

“Whoa,” the stranger says, and Louis turns his head sideways to take him in. If he were a cliché and it was actually physically possible, he’d say the air just got punched out of his lungs, and maybe it did, but, like, metaphorically. Or something. Whatever. Louis is honestly a bit stunned. Like obviously he gets that there’s a tonne of models here, that the entire room is basically filled with beautiful people who are beautiful for a living, but the man – boy? – next to him is nothing short of stunning. Ethereal. Outer-fucking-worldly. He’s got a jaw-line that looks as though it’s been chiselled by the fucking gods, he’s long and slender, his torso frankly ridiculously hot looking through the sheer shirt he’s wearing. He’s got his side turned to Louis, so obviously Louis isn’t getting the most premier viewing of the man, but he’s pretty sure that the shirt is only barely closed and there are at least a dozen tattoos scattered randomly over the stranger’s upper body. Unapologetically Louis lets his gaze travel down the expanse of the stranger’s body, takes in his long legs clad in jeans that look tight enough to have been painted on. It’s insane. This man is clearly sex on legs, and for as much as the bartender wasn’t really Louis’ type, this man is. And as much as he’s just sworn he wasn’t looking for any more one-night stands, he’d definitely reconsider for this man.

He looks young though, probably almost too young, and it makes Louis feel a bit like an old pig to be lusting after him like this, even though he’s not even thirty himself yet. The man – fuck, boy, shit he doesn’t even know. He wants so bad to say ‘man’, but honestly he could be anything from a teenager to his mid-twenties (Louis just hopes he’s at least legal) – has his hair pulled back into a bun and it looks like it’d probably reach just past his shoulders if he let it down. Curly too, it seems. Unfair, really, that one person gets to be so attractive. He’s definitely a model for sure, and if he isn’t there’s something unfair and wrong with the world. In fact, honestly, there’s something wrong with the fact that this man-boy isn’t covering every single available surface of New York City – of the world, honestly – with his pretty face.

He’s British too, Louis can tell from just that one word, and fuck if that isn’t the hugest turn on. Louis goes so hard for anything that’s related to home, to be honest, and fit British boys are no exceptions.

“That looks sick, mate,” the boy-man grins, turning his face towards Louis with a big grin. And, fuck, dimples. Louis is so fucked. “Can I--?” he gestures towards the black straw in the drink, and like, is he asking Louis if he can have a taste because who even does that?

Louis gestures weakly with his hand, relived that he can at least manage to keep up a soft smile so he doesn’t look like a complete douche.

The guy’s grin widens even more, impossible more, like it actually looks like it might split his face in two, and he goes for the straw tongue first. Louis has to actually keep himself from whimpering out loud, because, really, fuck, on what planet is that kind of sex appeal allowed? On what planet is that even possible? Well, Earth, obviously, since this… creature is currently in front of him sucking on the straw with closed eyes and hollowed cheeks. He should be arrested, really, for, like, public indecency or something, for being completely irresistible to poor, unsuspecting lads like Louis.

“’S good,” the boy-man says when he releases the straw, licking a drop that fell on his lips with his tongue, and Louis might be tracking the movement, but honestly he’s only human, what do you expect? “What do you call it?”

“Well,” Louis clears his throat, because, god he’s a twenty-eight year old actor on the top of his career, he can fucking handle talking to an attractive boy-man without creaming his pants, all right? All right. He’s cool as a cucumber, really. Cool and collected and a proper decent conversationalist, like anyone’d be lucky to converse with him. Right. Yes. Okay. “It’s a bit of a rainbow explosion, innit?” He says.

“The Rainbow Explosion,” the boy-man guffaws, a proper laugh leaving him unabashedly. “I like that.  Very catchy. Very delicious. Fruity, you know?” He’s talking with this slow drawl that could potentially be due to however much alcohol the boy has consumed tonight but could also just be how he talks in general. Louis is perhaps the most impatient person on the entire planet Earth, but he finds that he probably wouldn’t mind listening to the boy-man’s slow drawl for the rest of his existence. Which, well, is maybe a bit dramatic, but he’s after all not just an actor for the fun of it.

“Dunno, do I?” Louis grins, because he can totally do this. Totally. Talking to fit men is like so doable, no worries and all. Yes. “Never got to have a taste, did I?”

The boy-man blushes slightly, before gesturing towards the drink. “Go on then, need your expert opinion.”

Louis heart stops for half a second, because, fuck, was that a dig? Like a ‘hey you’re queer, you should know all about rainbows’ kinda thing? But then his heart settles into it’s normal rhythm (or at least as normal as currently possible when standing across from personified sex), because the boy-man is smiling at him with no hint of anything but friendliness and happiness and maybe just like a smidge of flirtyness. Maybe more than a smidge. A part of Louis can’t help but really fucking hope more than a smidge.

“Not sure I should share a straw with a boy I don’t even know the name of,” Louis says, fishing for information with a smirk, stirring the drink slightly as he waits to hopefully get a name to the face.

The boy-man grins, like he can’t quite believe Louis is actually there, and it’s flattering and lovely and fuck. Everything about this makes butterflies erupt in the pit of Louis’ stomach and he’s not quite sure what to do with himself, to be honest. He’s out where he can barely swim, treading unfamiliar waters and all that, and honestly it’s a little bit scary, but it’s also so thrilling and new and… and amazing. He can’t remember the last time he felt like this, and it’s, well, it’s sad probably, but right now he’s feeling too excited, too happy and hopeful to dwell on the sadness that has been his love life for the past twenty-eight years.

“Harry Styles,” the boy-ma—Harry – says, tucking a stray curl that’s fallen out of his bun behind his ear. “Pleasure to meet you, Louis Tomlinson.” He extends his hand, and Louis takes it with a laugh. Cheeky then, Louis likes it. He also likes how Harry’s hand positively dwarfs Louis’ own as they wrap around each other. Honestly Louis isn’t quite sure there’ll be anything about Harry he won’t like.

“I’m honoured you’d give your drink to a boy you didn’t know then,” Harry says then, pulling his hand back and sticking his fingers into the front pocket of his skin-tight jeans.

“I’m generous like that,” Louis grins, and makes a show of putting the straw of the drink to his mouth and taking a sip. It’s a bit too sweet for his taste, actually, but he thinks he’ll probably manage. This drink brought him Harry, so actually it might be his favourite drink ever right now.

“Sharing is caring,” Harry grins in agreement, tilting his head sideways.

Inspired, Louis slides the drink towards Harry with a wink. Well then. “Here cutie,” he says with a small grin, “Have a drink.”

Harry seems stunned for a second or two, before his dimples deepen and he looks down bashfully, taking a sit of the drink. “Thanks.”

“’Course,” Louis smiles, before turning back to the bar only to notice the bartender on the other end of it, chatting with another customer. Honestly, Louis isn’t ashamed to admit that he’d forgotten everything about the bartender the second Harry’d entered his world. It is what it is. He signals one of the other bartenders behind the bar and orders himself a whiskey sour instead. Better just stick to the classics, really. The drink is handed to him soon after, and he turns back to Harry to find the other lad staring at him, worrying his lip between his teeth. It’s stupidly erotic like only things that aren’t intended as such can be, and Louis has to quench the urge to reach over and pull Harry’s lip from the captivity of his teeth. Has to really resist the urge to be the one doing the biting.

“Do you wanna maybe like,” Harry starts, laughing slightly at his own nervousness and gesturing a little helplessly towards an empty booth in the corner. “Wanna keep me company for a bit?”

Louis grins taking a sip of his drink. Much better. He leans towards Harry slightly, placing his hand on the lad’s bicep, squeezing slightly. Harry seems surprised and pleased all at once and Louis mentally congratulates himself on a move well made. “Harold, yes, please save me from dying of boredom at this god awful event with your company.”

“That’s not actually my name,” Harry says as he grabs his drink and start walking. He doesn’t seem to mind much though.

“Sure it is,” Louis grins, daring to place his hand on Harry’s lower back, guiding him towards the empty booth. It’s just so they won’t lose each other in the masses, of course. Obviously.

“So, Harry not-Harold Styles,” he says, and they’ve slid into the booth, sitting closely, their knees knocking together. Louis doesn’t remove his. Harry doesn’t either. It’s all good. Louis’ game might be rusty, but he’s pretty sure he knows where this is going and he can’t exactly say that he minds. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Uhm,” Harry says, like the question somehow managed to catch him off guard, like he hadn’t actually expected Louis to be interested in him as a person. Which is preposterous, really. Louis is very interested. The most interested, really. Harry’s intriguing. Beautiful and sweet and too charming for his own good, and Louis is perhaps already in too deep for what is shaping up to be a one-night stand, but he can’t help it. He’s always been an all or nothing kind of guy, falling too far much too fast. And yet it’s never been quite like it is with Harry, never before this intense instant attraction, instant need to know everything about him. It’s never been quite so overwhelming or confusing all at once. Just his luck that when lightening finally strikes him, it’s in the form of a honest to god hunk of a fellow Brit whose age may or may not make him unattainable. Shit. Louis has never considered himself the kind to be into younger men, has honestly actually been a bit spooked by age differences ever since then for reasons it’d probably only take ten minutes of psych counselling to work out.

Harry is inarguably younger than Louis and probably by a fair bit, and it’s, well, it’s not a kink, it’s not like it’s what draws him to Harry, in fact it makes him a little nervous, a little self-conscious, but, the honest truth is that Harry could be nineteen or fifty-six and it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference to Louis. There’s this just… instant, instinct attraction that’s honestly quite scary and definitely nothing like anything Louis has ever tried. He wants Harry, wants him so bad.

“My name’s Harry Styles,” Harry starts with a shrug and his hand twitches like he was going to extend his hand to be shaken but then thought otherwise of it. “I’m from Cheshire, back in England. I’m a model. Or, you know, kind of anyway. Living here in New York right now, got this shitty two bedrooms with a mate of mine, but, like, at least it’s in the city, you know? Saint Laurent signed me on for the new season so that’s why I’m here, I guess. Big fan,” he grins cheekily, knocking Louis’ knee with his own, “Which, like, I guess I probably shouldn’t say, like that’s probably really weird to you, but, like, you know, you’re really, like, good? Like, Through the Dark is probably my favourite film ever, and I’m so excited about Drag Me Down, the trailer looks amazing. Also you’re definitely the only reason I watched Heroes through all four seasons—“

Louis interrupts his slow rambles with a laugh, positively endeared. “It was a bit of a shit show towards the end, wasn’t it?”

Harry frowns, like he doesn’t appreciate Louis talking himself down at all. “The first season is, like, epic. Like absolutely brilliant television.” He informs him seriously. “And you were still brilliant even when the plot went to shit in later seasons.”

“Thanks, babe,” Louis smiles, the endearment slipping out easily. Harry doesn’t seem to mind at all, so Louis isn’t going to linger on it. “And I’m not creeped at all, don’t worry, like I’m more, well… flattered? I think.”

“You think?” Harry teases, taking another sip of his drink.

Louis laughs. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to sweet talk me a bit more, so I can figure out how I really feel.”

“I can do that,” Harry says seriously, even though Louis was only joking. He smirks then, something dangerous glinting in his eyes and Louis is both intrigued and worried. Harry might just end up being the death of him, but oh what a way to go. “Louis Tomlinson.” Harry starts, saying Louis name like he’s announcing his entrance to a talk show or something. “Possibly fittest guy in Hollywood. Definitely got the best arse. Very kind. Very inspiring. Probably the reason for many poor lads’ ‘oh shit I’m gay’ realisations with that scene in No Control, including yours truly.” He grins and shrugs, and Louis is fucking floored, speechless, trying to make sense of what Harry’s saying. “You know,” Harry continues, “This is a bit embarrassing, but I once spent half an hour crying on my sister’s shoulder because you were straight and that was fucking unfair to the world. Mind you, I was like four shots past sloshed, right, but still. You’ve caused me much emotional stress over the years.”

“I…” Louis opens his mouth, not quite sure what to say. “I’m sorry?”

Harry’s eyes widen, like he just realised what he said, and he clasps a hand over his mouth like some kind of cartoon character. “Fuck.” He states, the words muffled by his hand. “Fuck, god, I’m sorry.” He removes the hand from his mouth, still looking positively mortified. “God, that was way too much, wasn’t it? I swear I’m not some creep, I haven’t like stalked you or anything, I promise! I just, like, promised my self ages ago that if I ever met you, I’d say hi and like thank you for all that you’ve done, and like I’m really cocking this up, aren’t I? I’m really sorry, I never meant to—“

“Harry,” Louis interrupts him gently, placing a hand on his upper arm. He laughs a little over the absurdity of the situation. “Don’t worry about it, mate, it’s all right. I’m not like creeped out or anything. I’m flattered, really. Like, it’s a little weird too, but nice, and you’re nice, like—“ he shakes his head again with a small embarrassed laugh, unsure what to do with himself. This is the most absurd thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s been acting in Hollywood since he was 17, so, like, he’s seen and done plenty of fucked up stuff. He’s pretty sure this isn’t how a hook-up is supposed to go, but then again there’s nothing ordinary about Harry in any way and definitely not about whatever Louis is feeling between the two of them. “Shit, Harry, how old are you even?” He blurts out then, because he honestly just really needs to know.

Harry glances to the mostly empty drink on the table next to them and shrugs sheepishly. “Twenty?” He says, more of a question than a statement. There’s a part of Louis that kind of wants to go ‘are you telling me or asking me?’ but, like, neither the time nor the place. Twenty, shit. Well, at least he’s not a teenager, silver lining and all. And legal, Louis supposes, though still, twenty. It’s really just eight years, but it feels kind of massive none the less. Like it’s only eight years, but it’s also eight years and… god. Louis remembers himself when he was twenty, twenty and a bloody train wreck really, immature and gullible. Back then Louis had no business being with a twenty-eight year old. Didn’t have the emotional maturity to match Louis as he is now. So much has happened to Louis in those eight years and he knows it’s probably a different situation, knows that he was a closet case that smoked too much weed, hung out with some shitty people and drank too much in order to prove his heterosexuality. He doesn’t know Harry and yet he can already tell that he’s different, can tell that he has his shit together in a way Louis wasn’t even close to having when he was twenty, but still… Harry’s only like a year older than Lottie, which, fuck.

He laughs, because he isn’t quite sure what else to do. “God, fucking twenty,” he says with a disbelieving shake of his head. “You’re a baby.”

Harry honest to god pouts, looking like an actual disgruntled kitten. It’s awful, Louis might just cry from how cute it is. “Heeyyyy,” Harry protests. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

“Eight years, Harold,” Louis reminds him, and it’s almost laughably nauseating to him, really, because out of all the age differences in the world, of course it’s eight, of course it’s twenty and twenty-eight.

“Eight, yeah,” Harry shrugs, “Not eighty. Besides, you know, age is just a number.”

Louis shakes his head. “Of course that’s something you’d say, you’re practically still a teenager.”

Harry frowns, his brows worrying. “Is it really something that bothers you?” He questions, scratching his thighs slightly. “Like, I’m not… I know what I’m doing, I’m not a kid. I’m not, like… you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me, or anything. I’m an adult too, I know what I want, I’m not like confused or impressionable or anything.”

Louis shrugs, and he’s not quite sure what to think or what to do. God, if only Harry knew. It scares him, probably most of all, because he didn’t have the emotional maturity to be with someone eight years older when he was in Harry’s place eight years ago, and he knows Harry’s not him, but he doesn’t ever want him to feel the way Louis did. He kind of wants to hug Harry, bring him in for a proper cuddle, but he also kind of wants to push him away, towards someone younger, someone Harry’s own age. Then again, he also kind of wants to snog him and possibly, probably, fuck him up against a door, so it’s all a bit confusing really.

“But like, I’m not like on the prowl for a sugar daddy or anything, Lou, I didn’t like come up to you just to seduce you. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable…” Harry says, looking actually distressed.

“Hey,” Louis says, placing his hand gently on Harry’s thigh, rubbing his thumb over the denim soothingly. Honestly, fuck the fact that Harry’s twenty. It’s not that big of an age different, right, and they’re both consenting adults, so. So. It’s not the same thing as what Louis experienced eight years ago, it’s not. If he tells himself enough times, he can probably make himself believe it. Probably. At any rate he wants this too much, wants Harry too much, and he can feel it the moment he caves, like when a straw on a field finally bends to the pressure of the wind. He’s not particularly proud of it.

“It’s alright, love.” He says, trying to focus on the moment rather than the past. “You haven’t made me feel uncomfortable or anything, I’ve just never…” he trails off, unsure what to say or how to explain it.

Harry tears his gaze away from where he’s been staring intently on Louis’ hand on his thigh and looks Louis into the eyes. “Been with a younger guy?” he questions earnestly.

“Not someone that much younger, no.” Louis admits, “Honestly, I just had a minor existential crisis. You’re my sister’s age, see. And I’m weird about age, I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I just think of myself when I was your age and I wouldn’t have wanted some twenty-eight year old pig to try having a go at me.” It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s grossly paraphrased and not exactly the whole truth, but, well, the truth isn’t exactly something he feels like sharing in the middle of a crowded club, so…

Harry smiles softly, almost as though he understands Louis’ struggle though surely he can’t. “But you’re not a pig at all, Louis,” he says with a certainty he shouldn’t possibly be able to convey considering the fact that he doesn’t know Louis at all really. “And I’m not you when you were twenty – no offence.”

Louis shakes his head with a small laugh. He looks down on his own hands, avoiding Harry’s gaze. He doesn’t know how Harry can be so sure, and he doesn’t know how this is their first meeting and how their conversation turned down this road. It’s all so strange, from the way Harry just seems to get him and his worries, to the way they just click, to the instant attraction. Louis doesn’t want their ages to be what stops them, even if they are only in for a one-night stand. He can’t help but feeling like what’s presented before him is a one-time chance, and he’d be stupid not to take it. Louis has been accused of being many things throughout his life, but he definitely, definitely isn’t stupid, and he’s always up for taking a leap of fate. Now’s not the chance to chicken out just because he’s got some silly complexes. Besides, he’s pretty sure it won’t take much one on one time with Harry before he forgets every single age related scruple he has. Probably. Hopefully.

He tries to lighten the mood, get their night back on track, by looking up at Harry through his lashes, smile coy as he says, “But then again, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone as fit as you either, so, like, that’s a bit intimidating too.”

Harry flushes prettily, licking his plumb lips subconsciously. “What’s a whiskey sour taste like?” He questions, doing a complete one-eighty with their conversation.

Louis is kind of relieved, to be honest, that they’ve moved on from the heavy subjects for a bit. It’s not exactly a conversation suited for the middle of a crowded club, so. “Dunno,” he says, “You’re not exactly old enough to have one, are you?” Humour has always been his favourite way to go about things.

Harry looks shocked for all of a few seconds before bursting into a laugh. “Oh, fuck off,” he says with a shake of his head.  

Louis laughs, pushing the drink towards Harry. So what if he’s underage to drink here, they’re both Brits, that’s gotta make this booth like British domain… or something.

“Can I have a taste?” Harry asks then, which, odd, since Louis just indicated so with his drink, but then he looks properly at Harry, and sees that Harry isn’t looking at the drink, he’s looking at Louis. Looking at Louis’ lips more specifically, and, oh.

Louis nods slightly, his own gaze trained on Harry’s lips, flitting up to his eyes periodically as the younger boy leans closer and closer. He’s doing so slowly, achingly slowly, as though he’s trying to do the right thing and give Louis the possibility of pulling away (like he’d ever) or like he’s trying to savour the moment. There’s something indescribable about the first time you kiss someone else, Louis finds, about the moment leading up to it in particular. The waiting, the anticipation, the slight worry that you’ve misinterpreted everything and the other isn’t interested like that at all. There’s no misinterpretations here, though, of that he’s certain.

He leans closer to Harry himself, his eyes falling shots seconds before their lips finally meet tentatively. It’s too gentle for a club kiss, really, it’s too gentle for something that’s to be the prelude to a one-night stand. It’s too intimate and familiar, the way they’re pressing against the other’s lips with more and more force, going from tentative to certain but still with the same amount of intimacy. Almost alarming amounts of intimacy for someone who have known each other less than an hour, but it feels like he must have kissed Harry in every single past life, in every single alternate reality. It makes Louis hope for more. Much, much more.

They’ve kept it mostly chaste this far, mouths closed and tongues yet to meet. Louis’ one hand is cradling Harry’s cheek gently, the other is holding the back of Harry’s head, nestled on top of his soft hair just below the bun. Harry’s got both his hands cupping Louis’ neck, his thumbs stroking along Louis’ jaw gently.

It feels amazing, and Louis simultaneously wants to slam Harry against a wall and fuck into him relentlessly until he’s a panting mess, and he wants to treat him like the finest china, gently and carefully, taking care of him as though he might break into a thousand tiny pieces with only the slightest touch. It’s contradictory and confusing but all Louis knows is that Harry is precious, Harry is special and he wants so bad to be the one to protect him, the one to please him. Maybe the feelings will have passed come morning, maybe Louis is so hopelessly deep in now because he’s finally free and finally can be, and maybe, probably, it’s just because it’s Harry, and he’s only twenty but he moves something in Louis, touches something within him with only a few words and a smile, that no one else has ever managed to reach.

He sucks Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting into it gently with his teeth like he’d been fantasising about ever since he saw Harry doing it to himself. Evidently Harry likes it, a gasp leaving him as his thumb digs deeper into the junction between Louis’ jaw and neck, pushing against his pulse point. Harry must be able to feel how Louis’ heart is thudding, quick and excited but steady still. He wonders how Harry’s heart is faring.

The best way to describe their kiss, Louis thinks, is by calling it sensual. It’s slow and hot, sexy and overpowering. Their lips drag, their tongues meet, gliding wetly over each other. The last time Louis kissed someone was when he locked lips with Emma Stone in Drag Me Down which he figures really doesn’t count when it comes down to it. All respect to Emma too, but their kiss doesn’t even reach this one to the top of its socks. Kissing Harry is amazing, and maybe it’s unfair to compare it to a kiss made in front of cameras, scripted and directed and with a gender he doesn’t hold any interest in, but the fact remains that there’s something about Harry that absolutely consumes Louis in the very best way possible. He doesn’t want to quote Edward Cullen (and thanks his lucky stars every day that he ended up declining the request to audition for that role) but Harry is like Louis’ very own favourite brand of heroin. He’s intoxicating and irresistible in the very best way.

As cliché as it sound, kissing Harry feels like coming home. It feels like a ship finally sailing into harbour after a yearlong voyage, like finally typing the last dot of a novel, like accomplishing something you’ve yearned for your entire life. It’s perhaps too extreme to say that Harry’s what he’s yearned for his entire life, but the sort of instant connection and attraction is something Louis has always dreamed of but never experienced. It’s the kind of thing he’s been told time and time again to portray in his films, the kind of thing you read about in books all the time, but there’s always been a part of him that thought it was all talk and no truth. That it was some kind of Hollywood hyped ideal that could never be achieved in real life. He’s finally starting to rethink that assumption. Rethinking it after half an hour with a lanky twenty-year-old model, which is ridiculous, but fuck.

He draws back when his lips have gone numb and his lungs are demanding air, and he can’t help but match Harry’s grin.

Harry’s lips are like the most intoxicating kind of aphrodisiac, and it doesn’t take Louis long to move his head towards them again, meeting their plumpness with his own thinner lips. He kind of wants to just sink into Harry, just stay attached to his lips and never stop kissing him. If breathing wasn’t a necessity, he thinks he might just decide to do so. He’s got his hands in Harry’s hair and his lips sealed with his, his tongue gliding wetly against Harry’s and it’s the best he’s felt in months and months. Part of him wants to say years, but, god, that’s a depressing thought.

Harry doesn’t kiss like a twenty year old. At least not like Louis remembers people kissed when he was twenty. Harry kisses confidently and all-consumingly, devoting everything he has to meeting Louis’ lips with his, tangling their tongues. He kisses like he’s already made a career out of it, like he’s excelled in his field, graduated with the highest honours.

Harry draws back with a smack, the sound audible to Louis, sounding so loud that surely the whole club must have heard it. Of course that’s ridiculous, the music drowning out anything and everything from reaching any ears but their own. He draws his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip, watching how it glistens from what’s probably a combination of both of their spit.

Harry puckers his lips, kissing Louis thumb, before smiling wide. “So,” he starts, sounding coy and shy all at once. “You wanna go to the bathroom, or…” He nods his head towards the bathrooms, a nervous tug at his lips, and Louis can’t help but find it eternally endearing that even some one as confident as Harry Styles can get nervous when asking Louis to sleep with him, as though there was ever any universe in which Louis might have said no. There isn’t. There absolutely, absolutely isn’t. No matter how many moral scruples Louis might have about it, there was never a version of their story where he could say no to Harry. Perhaps that’s the most terrifying of all.

“Nah,” he replies, pausing for a moment to smile impishly. If they’re doing this, and clearly they are, they’re doing it right. Louis will treat Harry right, will never give him the chance to feel like Louis did back then. “I’d rather take you home, I think. If that’d be alright with you.”

Harry smile widens impossibly, dimples deepening. It makes his look so young Louis’ heart nearly skips a beat. “I’d like that a lot, yeah. A lot, a lot. Should I go out the back, meet you somewhere?”

Louis frowns. “Why would you—is that—do you—“ he shakes his head, clears his throat and tries again. “I was just thinking we could go out the front door, but if you’d rather—“

No! No.” Harry interrupts hurriedly, shaking his head vehemently, looking all too earnest. “No, not at all. I just… Well, there’ll be paps out there.”

“Oh,” Louis says, shaking his head with a small self-deprecating laugh. He hadn’t even realised that might be a problem for Harry. “I’m sorry. I haven’t ever actually done this where it wasn’t a publicity stunt, you know? I didn’t realise you might not be comfortable with being linked to me like that, I’m sorry.”

“Louis, no, it’s not that at all.” Harry shakes his head, reaching forwards and grabbing Louis’ hands in his. Louis intertwines their fingers with a small smile as he looks down on where their hands are now joined. “I’d love to walk out that front door with you, I just didn’t think you’d want to, you know? I didn’t think you’d want to end up on the front page of like US Weekly or something with me.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking we’d make out in front of the paps or anything. But if they wanna write that we shared a cap after the party together, I don’t really care. It’s not anyone’s business, but I’ve done so much sneaking around in my life, I’m not too keen on continuing now that I won’t have to. I mean, obviously that doesn’t mean you have to, we can just meet up too, it’s okay, whatever you want, I—“ he’s rambling and he knows it, but somehow Harry’s managed to put him on unsure territory, and he’s not quite sure what to say or do. Maybe he was too caught up in this intense need to show Harry that he isn’t ashamed to be seen with him, that he entirely forgot the fact that they’re basically going back to Louis’ place for a hook-up and those typically aren’t plastered on the front pages of tabloids, usually those are kept pretty discreet.

Harry cuts him off with a kiss.

“I’d snog you in front of every single tabloid, I really don’t care, Lou. I mean, most people won’t know who I am anyway, I don’t really have anything to loose either way.”

Louis shakes his head with a small laugh, still a bit caught up on Harry’s ‘Lou’. He doesn’t think anyone’s called him that for ages, not since Niall entered that phase where he preferred to call Louis ‘Lewis’, knowing full well how annoying Louis found it. “Being seen with you isn’t going to wreck my career or anything, Harry.”

“Are you sure, I mean—“

“I’m sure,” Louis interrupts him. He kisses Harry hard. “The whole world knows I like cock and I still got cast as Spiderman. I don’t think they’re gonna care much if they see me getting into a cab with another man.” He shakes his head with a small smile, thumb stroking underneath Harry’s eye. “But we can go out back too, Harold, it’s no trouble.”

Harry shakes his head with a small smile. “No,” he says, his smile widening endearingly. “No, let’s go out front.”

Louis scoots out of the booth with a grin, waiting as Harry does the same after him. “Alright then,” he says, placing his hand on the small of Harry’s back comfortably as they start weaving through the masses of people. “Let’s go home then.”

He drops his hand from Harry’s back just before they exit the club, walking calmly beside him as countless cameras point at them, flashes blinking and blinding. It’s a publicised industry party, so it comes as no surprise to any of them. It’s an industry party for Marc Jacobs, even, of course every fashion blog and magazine is going to analyse what everyone’s been wearing by tomorrow. He wonders what they’ll have to say for Harry’s tight jeans and sparkly boots, what they’ll say about his sheer shirt and hair tied up in a bun. He hopes they’ll say he’s gorgeous because anything else would be a lie. He doesn’t wonder much what they’ll say about his own black jeans and burgundy scoop neck t-shirt, nor his ratty denim jacked or tousled quiff. He does realise the irony of their looks, though. Between Harry’s sparkling boots and his own ratty converse one probably wouldn’t think their ages were distributed quite like they are. Louis has always appreciated irony.

The paparazzi yell after them curiously, but Louis ignores it all. He’s been in this game long enough to know when to engage with them and when not to. Also he’s on a bit of a mission, really, and he can only think of getting to the car waiting at the curb to take the celebrities away from the party as fast as possible. His lips still tingle from their contact with Harry, and he longs to feel Harry’s big hands against his own bare skin, longs to touch Harry everywhere he can get to.

They get into the same car, of course they do, and Louis can just imagine the headlines it’ll create. He doesn’t care much though. And if Niall complains he’ll just remind him than all publicity is good publicity or something. At least that’s what his publicist kept saying when he complained about his outings with Eleanor back when he was Harry’s age. God, that’s so long ago. He can’t help but be incredibly relieved that the days of publicity stunts and fauxmances are behind him, the days of hiding too, that he actually has the freedom to just get into a car with Harry with a sea of paparazzi to immortalise it.

There’s part of him that wants to just climb closer to Harry and snog him senseless in the car, but there’s a larger part of him that recognises how utterly inappropriate that would be when there’s not even a partition to separate them from the driver. Besides, he’s not an animals, he can wait. As soon as they’ve pulled away from the curb and sped down the road towards the address Louis rattled off to the driver, he reaches over and places his hand on Harry’s thigh though. He strokes the inseam with his fingers and can’t help but smile too when he catches how Harry’s lips quirk upwards as he gazes out of the window.

They don’t talk, which should probably feel odd but is really only very, very comfortable. It’s like they’re both revelling in the quiet after the noisy club, content to just be in each other’s presence without having to fill the silence with chatter. It’s unusual for Louis too, because he’s always been a person too loud for his own good. He’s always felt the need to fill every second with chatter and laugh, and it’s rare that he finds someone he’s content to just be silent with. Silence gets too awkward so quickly, and it’s like Louis has made it his mission to fight off awkwardness, life too short and too exciting to feel such a toe-curling emotion.

By the time the car pulls up in front of Louis’ building, Harry’s hand has joined Louis’ on top of his thigh. Louis thanks and tips the driver generously, climbing out of the vehicle with slightly stiff limbs, Harry stumbling out behind him. Luckily there are no paps or fans waiting at the entrance to the building, so Louis gently places his hand on the small of Harry’s back once more and guides him towards the entrance. He greets his doorman, Andrew, with a smile and a soft ‘good evening’ before continuing towards the elevators on the other side of the lobby. He’s got the penthouse apartment, because of course he does, though he very much prefers his house in Oxshott where he spends most of his time off. He begun to miss the land and the freedom attached to living in a house rather than a flat, and he thinks that Arthur probably is too. He’s already started to look at houses just outside New York City, because as much as the English country idyllic appeals to him, his career is in New York and in New York he’ll stay. At least for the next couple of years, he expects.

“I hope you don’t mind dogs,” Louis says as they step in front of the locked door to his flat. He pulls out the key from his pocket as he waits for Harry’s response.

“Not at all,” Harry assures him, his warm hand having come to rest on Louis’ waist as Louis fumbles to get the door open.

“Good,” Louis says, smiling over his shoulder as he makes eye contact with Harry. “Arthur is usually a very well-behaved dog, but he loves strangers a lot so sometime he gets a little over excited.”

“That’s okay,” Harry says, just as Louis manages to get the door open. “I love animals.”

Louis barely makes it a step into the flat before the tell-tale sound of paws hitting the floor can be heard, and soon the big, shaggy golden retriever that is Arthur can be seen coming at him. Louis can feel his own eyes crinkle as he smiles and he crouches down to accept the huge, excited ball of fur into his arms.

“Hey big guy,” Louis coos as he scratches Arthur between the eyes where he knows he loves it the most. “Have you behaved while I was gone, eh? Have you been a good dog?” When all Arthur does in return is pant excitedly and wag his tale eagerly, Louis laughs. “Of course you have, you’re the very best dog there is. Do you wanna meet my friend Harry? Look there’s Harry.” Louis looks up at Harry, for the first time feeling a bit self-conscious over how he’s sitting on his bum, blocking the entrance to his flat and having a conversation with his dog. Wow, the life of a twenty-eight year old blockbuster actor must look real glamorous to Harry right about now…

Harry’s looking at Louis with the fondest smile though, and Louis smiles back tentatively, picking up where the corners of his lips had dropped a little at the realisation of how ridiculous he must look. Harry surprises him further when he plops down of the floor of the hall unceremoniously, sitting on his bum with his legs spread, smiling widely at Louis and Arthur.

“Hiiii,” Harry coos at Arthur, holding his arms open in a gesture for the dog to come closer. As though needing Louis’ approval, Arthur looks at Louis with a tilted head just before turning his attention to Harry. “Hiiii cutie.” Harry coos again as Arthur stands in front of him, tail wagging powerfully and tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Aren’t you just the cutest dog in the world?” Harry asks as he starts petting Arthur, scratching him behind his ears and rubbing him on the sides. Arthur settles down on his behind contently, before rolling over and lying on his stomach, silently waiting for Harry to start rubbing his belly. Honestly he’s perhaps the most spoiled dog in existence, but he’s also been with Louis for almost eight years, been Louis’ companion and a bright spot in his life ever since his own personal low point.

Louis scoots a bit closer and starts rubbing Arthur’s belly along with Harry, just the way he knows his dog prefers it. He looks up at Harry and smiles when he catches the other man’s eyes. It’s kind of silly that they’re sat on the floor, half outside and half inside Louis’ flat, scratching his dog’s belly when really they went home to fuck. Louis is pretty sure they’ll get there, that even as cute as Arthur is he can’t take away the intense need to feel each other’s skin. Still, it’s nice right now, even as odd as it is, to just sit here and pet one of the most important parts of Louis’ every day life. Arthur has been with Louis at his highest and his lowest, always there as a companion and he honestly deserves all the belly scratches in the world. Even if it does put a bit of a delay on Louis’ plans to get Harry naked. Sacrifices must be made and all, and this one he’s more than willing to make.

“Arthur?” Harry questions then, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Like King Arthur? Big fan of the Arthurian legend, are you? Or have you watched a lot of Merlin?”

“Weasley.” Louis admits with a crooked smile. “Always thought Arthur Weasley was an underrated character. Might even go as far as to say he’s one of my favourite Harry Potter characters. Stellar morals, you know, always there for the people he cares about. Solid bloke, really. Seemed like a nice fit for Arthur here when I got him.”

“I does fit,” Harry agrees, “And, you know, Molly’s always been my favourite character, so, well, I guess you could say that we fit quite well.”

Louis laughs and unconsciously shifts closer to Harry. “Oh, yeah?” He says, mirth dancing in his belly. It’s perhaps something like three am and Harry just commented on their compatibility based on their favourite Harry Potter characters and Louis kind of just wants to kiss him really, really badly.

It seems Harry is quite on board with that ideas as well, because the next thing Louis registers, Harry’s face is right in front of his. “Yeah.” The younger man confirms just before their lips lock again.

This time they get right into it, tongues meeting without preamble, and Louis tries to multitask, tries to kiss Harry and scratch Arthur’s belly simultaneously, but he’s doing a half-arsed job at both, so he strokes over Arthur’s belly one last time before removing his hand from his dog and bringing it up to cradle Harry’s face. He’ll take Arthur for an extra long walk tomorrow and give him an extra big cuddle to make up for it.

He tilts his head a bit more, changing the angle of their kiss and he finds himself constantly dumbfounded at just how good it feels with Harry. Maybe it’s because most of his recent references have been actresses he’s had to make out with on camera and of course there’s an extra added layer of awkward there combined with the fact that he’s not even attracted to their gender. But even still, he thinks it’s never quite been like it is with Harry, not with any of the other men he’s been with. Harry is his first male flirt since he came out, though, so maybe that’s a part of what makes it so exhilarating; the fact that if someone were to find out what they’re doing, it wouldn’t shatter Louis’ entire world like it could have before. Louis has never thrived on secrecy, has never liked having to sneak around and hide. Being able to be open and honest about who he is and what he likes has removed perhaps even a bigger burden off his shoulders than he thought. Maybe that’s why everything feels better now. Perhaps it’s just Harry.

He pulls back when he starts to feel a pinch in his lower back from the half-awkward position he’s sitting in, kissing Harry chastely on the mouth one last time before creating distance between them.

“Wanna come inside properly?” Louis asks with a crooked smile, eyes flitting to Harry’s wet, slightly swollen lips. He can feel his dick start to perk up in his tight jeans and he thanks the gods above that he hadn’t drunk himself into oblivion at the event because he might actually have cried if his cock hadn’t been up to performing.

“Yeah,” Harry nods, somewhat dazedly. His voice sounds deeper than ever, husky. “God, yeah. I’m particularly interested in your bedroom, not gonna lie.” Harry gets up from the floor, Arthur mimicking him as he does, and Louis starts shifting, ready to get up and stretch his back too. Harry extends his hand to Louis just as Louis is about to push off the floor, and Louis accepts it gratefully. Once he’s standing once more, he keeps a hold of Harry’s hand, leading him inside the flat. He makes sure that Arthur is inside too and not left out in the hallway, before he closes the door and locks it behind them.

“The bedroom,” he says, as he pulls Harry along behind him, only pausing long enough for them to toe off their shoes. He doesn’t allow Harry much time to take in the interior of Louis’ flat, honestly having more important things on his to do list than give Harry the grand tour. Like getting him naked, the quicker the better.

“Nice flat,” Harry says, just as Louis pulls him through the door to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It always makes him feel kind of guilty, closing the door on Arthur, but he’d rather keep his dog out of his sex life, thanks. “Lovely décor.”

“Thanks,” Louis grins, as he releases Harry’s hand and turns around to face him, having come to a halt in the middle of the room. He wastes no time in stepping closer to Harry, starting to pop open the buttons of Harry’s sheer shirt. “This is what you want, yeah?” He asks, just be sure.

“Want you,” Harry answers, eyes sincere as they gaze straight into Louis’. He takes Louis’ question seriously and Louis can’t help but be endlessly grateful for it. When Harry seems satisfied that Louis believes him, he ducks down to reconnect their lips, and Louis works open the last button, sliding the flimsy fabric off of Harry’s shoulders as their tongues meet. He lets his hands move down Harry’s now bare chest, fingers flicking over Harry’s nipples, running the buds between his thumb and pointer finger. Right now he just wants to get Harry naked. When Harry moans into Louis’ mouth and bites into Louis’ lower lips slightly, Louis lets his hands travel further down to the button of Harry’s jeans.

Call him impatient, but he works them open quickly, pulling down the zipper and then the jeans to the best of his ability. He pulls back from their kiss, releasing Harry’s lips with a loud smack. “Wanna suck you off,” Louis murmurs, attaching his lips to Harry’s throat, beginning to suck a mark into the underside of his jaw. “Please?”

“God, yeah,” Harry breathes, subconsciously tilting his head to give Louis better access to his neck.

With difficulty Louis pulls back, but only because it feels like if he doesn’t get Harry into his mouth within the next very short while, he might just combust. “Get on the bed then,” he orders gently, “Naked.”

“You too,” Harry replies, as he stumbles towards the bed while trying to pull off his sinfully tight jeans. “Want you naked too.”

“Okay, okay, yeah,” Louis blabbers, tearing his eyes from where they’d been glued to Harry’s arse, looking sinful in a pair of black lace panties. Which… whoa. Louis hasn’t spent much of his life contemplating boys in lingerie but now he feels like that’s probably a big mistake because even just from behind Harry looks sinful.

Louis shakes his head and returns to the task at hand, discarding his jacket and pulling his t-shirt over his head, before dropping it on the floor unceremoniously. Just as he’s about to pop open the button of his jeans, he sees Harry hook his finger in the elastic of the panties, about to pull them off.

“No, wait,” Louis bursts out, startling Harry enough for the younger man to turn around to look at Louis. Louis’ eyes immediately zone in on Harry’s crotch, the hard outline of his cock tenting the flimsy material of the panties. “Leave them on for now.” Louis can see the blush that spreads across Harry’s cheek as he looks down slightly, tugging a strand of hair behind his ear self-consciously. “Hey,” Louis says gently, as he opens his own jeans, pulling down the zipper. “Harry, you look beautiful.”

It only makes Harry blush harder, but a small smile also blooms on his face as he climbs onto the bed, so Louis thinks he did all right. Louis quickly pulls off his jeans and then sheds his pants too, leaving himself completely naked. He can’t help but be a little bit self-conscious. He’s not exactly twenty, after all, and he’s always been quite petite, but at the same time he knows that his physique is top notch, having begun the intense training leading up to his role as Spiderman already.

The last threads of insecurity wedged inside of him disappear completely though, when he looks up and meets Harry’s hungry gaze. Having forgotten his earlier embarrassment apparently, the other man is now spread out on Louis’ bed, proudly displaying his body for Louis to see. And while Louis’ eyes move over Harry’s tattoo-adorned torso, taking in his sinful v-lines and the long lines of his endless legs, Harry seems just as captivated by the thickness of Louis’ thighs, the curves of his hips, and the way his cock hangs hard and heavy between his legs.

Louis kind of wants to ask Harry if he likes what he sees in some lame attempt to diffuse the intense sexual tension just a little bit, but for once he wont. Instead he makes his way towards Harry, climbing onto the bed with him.

“Hi,” he says dumbly, stroking a thumb beneath Harry’s eye.

“Hey,” Harry breathes in reply, eyes flittering down to Louis’ mouth. His hand runs down over Louis’ chest, before one settles right over Louis’ heart. Harry’s thumb moves through Louis’ chest hair, and Louis is just about to say something when Harry kisses him again. “So hot,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips, but he doesn’t allow Louis any chance to return the sentiment before sneaking his tongue into Louis’ mouth. Not that Louis is complaining, though. Definitely, definitely not.

They kiss until they can’t possibly anymore, until Louis feels like if he doesn’t get Harry’s dick into his mouth soon he might just die. A bit dramatic sure, but after all Louis didn’t end up a Hollywood actor because of his good looks, so. He plants one last chaste kiss on Harry’s mouth, before kissing along his jaw and down his neck. He bites into Harry’s collarbone, licks over his nipples and takes them into his mouth sucking gently. He places chaste kisses on the extra nipples he discovers on Harry’s torso rather than comment on them, and nibbles slightly on the skin below Harry’s belly button. He licks along Harry’s v-line and sucks a mark onto his left hipbone. Each action makes Harry moan above him, and Louis can’t help but feel so pleased and accomplished because he’s the one who’s making Harry sound like that.

He pulls back slightly then to take in the sight of Harry’s lingerie covered cock. The head of Harry’s cock has popped free of the elastic band of the panties and is now peeking out, pre-come already pearling at the head. Though the black lace still covers most of Harry’s cock, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination and Louis’ mouth waters at the apparent size and thickness of Harry’s cock. It’s almost too good to be true, and he can’t help but mourn the fact that he’ll have to pull the panties off Harry soon a little bit.

“Wear these often?” Louis asks as he hooks his fingers in the fabric, getting ready to pull them down Harry’s long legs.

“No,” Harry denies, shaking his head, looking flustered already. Louis hasn’t even touched Harry’s cock yet, and already Harry looks affected. It’s so hot to Louis, really, he loves nothing more than a responsive partner. “No, just sometimes.” Harry continues and then breaks off into a moan as Louis strokes his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock, collecting the pre-come gathered there.

Louis pops the finger into his mouth, licking off the salty liquid with a devilish smile. “Glad you wore them today then.” He says nonchalantly, revelling in the effect he seems to have on Harry.

“Yeah?” Harry half asks, half moans. “You like them?”

Louis nods honestly. “Love them, baby.” He bends down to place a line of kisses along the lace-covered cock, and then sits back. “But now they’ve got to go.” He makes quick work of pulling them down Harry’s legs, the other man cooperating something beautifully and lifting his bum in order for Louis to be able to slide them off.

In all fairness it’s been a long time since Louis last had a cock up close that wasn’t his own, but he’s pretty sure that even if he’d been sucking cocks at a rate that was two a day for the past month leading up to this, none of those could have been as pretty as Harry’s. Surely Harry must have the prettiest cock in the world, definitely the prettiest Louis has ever had the pleasure of getting to suck. It’s long, thick and hard – everything Louis wants in a cock, basically. He realises objectively that cocks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but it’d honestly be a cop out to describe Harry’s as anything else.

Usually he’d spend his time sucking marks into the softness of Harry’s inner thighs, mark him up a bit and tease him plenty before giving Harry what he really wants and taking his cock into his mouth. This time is different though. There’s a current of urgency buzzing underneath his skin, like this can’t happen fast enough and at the same time he wants to slow it all down, to experience it all again and again, draw it out and make it last forever.

In the end he just settles for taking the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth and if the wretched moan Harry lets out is anything to go by, the other man is quite on board with Louis’ chosen actions.

“Louis,” Harry moans as Louis licks a stripe down Harry’s cock. Louis can feel Harry’s hand come to tangle in Louis’ hair, messing up his artfully constructed quiff, but he doesn’t care one bit. “God, Lou, that’s so good.”

Louis smiles against Harry’s cock at the compliment, and it’s a little bit ridiculous, sure, but pleasing Harry makes him happy, so. Speaking of pleasing Harry, Louis makes quick work of taking Harry into his mouth. He licks over the slit tasting the come there, before sinking down slowly. It’s been a while since he’s taken a cock like this, since he’s deep throated another man, and he doesn’t want Harry to know how rusty he is. He wants to blow Harry away with his awesome blowjob skill – pun fully intended. Harry’s big though, and Louis can’t take him all the way down straight away without choking, so he wraps his hand around the base of Harry’s cock, covering what his mouth doesn’t. His other hand moves down to cup Harry’s balls, opting to roll them between his fingers.

Harry moans again and again, seeming unable to stop and Louis loves how Harry seems to be the kind of man who’s vocal in bed. There’s nothing worse to Louis than when he doesn’t know if the man he’s with is enjoying what they’re doing. Nothing turns Louis on quite like reassurance that he’s pleasing his partner and Harry’s moans and the way he fists his hand in Louis’ hair is doing a splendid job of spurring Louis on.

Louis bobs up and down Harry’s cock, breathing in and out through his nose so he won’t have to remove his mouth from Harry’s dick. He even dares to scrape his teeth gently along the underside of Harry’s cock, which results in the younger man thrusting up slightly. Luckily it’s not more than Louis can take, but he squeezes the base of Harry’s cock in warning anyway. It only makes Harry moan even louder and Louis starts to wonder if maybe Harry’s the kind of man who likes it to hurt just a little bit. That’s probably not a topic of conversation for their first night together, but if Harry would somehow want to spend more than one night with Louis, he quite thinks it’s something they should probably explore together.

Eventually, after he’s sucked on Harry’s cock for a while, driving him right to the edge but never over it, he decides to show Harry what he’s really made of. He’s had enough time to adjust to the size of Harry’s cock, to adjust to just having a cock in his mouth at all, and he releases the base of it from his hand. Planting both his hands on Harry’s hips, effectively holding him down and preventing him from bucking up, Louis relaxes his throat and sinks all the way down on Harry’s cock. He doesn’t stop until his nose is touching Harry’s belly and the younger man is cursing above him. One of Harry’s hands tightens in Louis’ hair where it’s buried, and the other is resting gently on the back of Louis’ neck, not applying any pressure at all.

“Louis, fuck, god, I can’t…” Harry trails off to moan brokenly, tightening his hand in Louis’ hair even more. “I’m gonna come, Lou, I can’t… please, I…”

Whatever he means to say, he can’t get it out, and Louis just presses his thumbs harder into Harry’s hipbones and hopes it’s answer enough. He’s got tears in his eyes from the strain of it all, and he’s only had Harry’s cock down his throat for seconds but it’s disorienting all the same. He swallows around Harry’s cock, the muscles of his throat working around Harry’s cock and that seems to be the very last straw for Harry because he only manages one last broken moan and a tug of Louis’ hair that warns Louis just enough to pull back a little before Harry spurts into Louis’ mouth. It’s warm and salty, and, like, Louis isn’t going to lie and say come actually tastes nice, but Harry’s definitely isn’t gross either. And, well, he’s swallowed from guys whose spunk tasted worthy of that Sex and the City episode where Samantha makes that guy drink his own spunk. So really Harry’s got a beautiful dick and come that doesn’t make Louis want to gag, and, really, he’s starting to wonder if it’s too early to be falling in love with the bloke.

Like, it is and he isn’t, but still.

He pulls off Harry’s dick and climbs up the bed until he’s hovering naked over Harry’s form. He looks absolutely sinfully debauched and absolutely gorgeous beneath Louis. He’s been neglecting his own cock in favour of Harry’s all through the blowjob, even though just the smallest stimulation could probably have made him come, it was that hot. Now, though, his cock hangs hard and heavy between him, begging for some release. He kind of wants to fuck Harry still, though, wonders if maybe the other man can recover quick enough for that to be possible, if maybe he would actually want to. For now, though, he settles for bending down and kissing Harry’s swollen lips. He’s still got the taste of Harry on his tongue when it meets Harry’s and the younger man moans when they make contact.

They kiss lazily for a bit, their tongues moving languidly together while Harry seems to return to himself. Eventually his hands move from where they were cradling Louis’ face down the naked skin of Louis back, running down his smooth skin, following his spine down to his hips and then eventually his ass. Louis moans into Harry’s mouth as the younger man squeezes Louis’ bum, Harry’s big hands covering each glute almost entirely. Harry must take Louis’ moan as encouragement, because he moves one hand from Louis’ bum to grip Louis’ cock instead.

It feels insanely amazing, almost like an out of body experience, and Louis moans again, can’t help it. He probably couldn’t stay quiet even if his life had depended on it.

“Harry—“ he murmurs against Harry’s lips, pulling back just enough to speak to the boy beneath him. He reaches down to grip Harry’s wrist until the younger man releases his grip on Louis’ cock and allows Louis to move his arm up towards them until Louis can bend down and kiss the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry looks confused beneath Louis, and maybe even a little hurt, as though he thinks Louis stopped him because it didn’t feel good or because Louis doesn’t want Harry to touch him. God, does he ever. He just also knows his own body well enough to know that his recovery time isn’t what is has been.

“Can you come again, love?” Louis asks, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth. He can still taste him so clearly in his mouth, and really everything about this night with Harry is just several shades of too hot, too much. “Can you come on my cock?” He asks, and smiles as realisation dawns on Harry’s face.

Louis wraps his hand around Harry’s spit wet cock again, and the younger man whimpers but doesn’t push him away. He’s looking at Louis with wide eyes, looking debauched, overwhelmed and just so, so lovely all at once. “Gonna let me fuck an orgasm more out of you? Gonna show me some of that twenty year old stamina, babe?”

“You say it like that and I’m gonna start to think you have an age kink.” Harry says, and incredibly Louis can feel Harry cock starting to return to full hardness in Louis’ grip as he strokes it gently.

Louis shakes his head. “God no,” he laughs slightly, stilling his movements on Harry’s cock to straddle him instead and placing both hands on Harry’s shoulders. He leans forwards a bit, keeping eye contact with Harry and shrugging a bit. “I just can’t believe I’m fucking with someone who was a teenager yesterday. You can’t even drink in America.” He leans down and places a small, chaste kiss on Harry’s lips. It’s uncharacteristically soft for what they are and what they encounter has been so far. It’s too familiar for their situation, really, but Louis’ not going to overthink it. “What are you even doing with an old scrooge like me?” He asks softly, nose touching Harry’s, both of them nearly going cross-eyed in their attempt to maintain eye contact with the other. He wants to tell Harry that he could have anyone he wanted to, could definitely have someone his own age, shouldn’t go around shagging middle-aged blokes but it’s honestly neither the time nor the place, not is it really in Louis’ place to say something like that to Harry. He’d be a hypocrite too, since he is insanely grateful that Harry’s offering him the time of the day.

He bumps his nose against Harry’s playfully. “Is it the beard?” He questions, grinning in the way he knows make his eyes crinkle, illuminates every little crow’s feet he’s gotten over the years. “Is that it?”  He rubs his cheeks playfully against Harry’s, scratching him playfully and the other man laughs under him, dimples deepening. Louis’ heart skips a beat. “Does that get you hot?”

Harry shakes his head, still laughing. He looks beautiful, his hair spread around him on the pillow like a crown, and he’s smiling, smiling so wide Louis could drink shots out of his dimples if he were so inclined. He looks happy and content, and something flutters in Louis’ stomach at the thought that he’s the one who made Harry look like that.

Harry reaches up and wraps both of his arms around Louis’ neck, smiling at him serenely as the laughter ebbs out. “I like older men.” He states, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to say in his everyday life. It makes Louis wonder how many other men Louis’ age have taken Harry to bed, and how many of them have been older. It makes him wonder if it’s something Harry does all the time, if this is just how it goes for him and Louis is just another one in a long string of men fucking into Harry. It makes him wonder if everything he’s been thinking and feeling has been one-sided. It’s an ugly feeling, ugly thoughts, and he has no right to have them, has no right to ponder about or judge Harry’s sex life in the slightest. In the end he’ll take whatever Harry’s willing to give him.

Harry pulls Louis down to him, a hand gently placed on his cheek. He kisses Louis softly, in great contrast to the way they’re hard cocks are being pressed against each other from their position with Louis in Harry’s lap. “I like you.” Harry states when he pulls back, and this… this moment is much too soft for their current predicament, but it works, somehow it works and Louis will take it. Louis will definitely take it.

He feels the ugly thoughts ebb away and he smiles back at Harry brightly. “I like you too.” He states. And it’s the truth. He might not know much about Harry so far, but what he knows he likes, and what he doesn’t know he can’t wait to learn. He hopes he’ll get to learn everything.

“I’d like you even better if you fucked me though.” Harry says then, grin big and cheeky.

Louis pinches his hip in retaliation then, laughing when Harry pouts. “Turns around then, babe, on your knees for me, yeah?” Louis says as he moves off Harry’s hips. “I’ll just get the lube and a condom.”

He moves off the bed, ignoring the way his cock hangs hot and heavy between his legs, neglected and just about ready to burst. He pulls open his bedside drawer and grabs the bottle of lube first before reaching further into the drawer to grab a condom. He’s met with nothing, though, and something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach when he remembers the string of condoms he’d thrown out a week ago because they’d passed the expiration day. Fuck. Honest truth is that he hadn’t exactly expected that he’d be fucking anyone in the immediate future, so he hadn’t stocked up his supply yet. Typical, really. So fucking typical.

He must have said something out loud, because next thing he knows, Harry speaks. “Is something wrong?” he says, sounding concerned, and it’s sweet that something as simple as a ‘fuck’ from Louis can worry him.

Louis smiles at him sheepishly, suddenly quite aware that he’s standing in front of Harry stark naked, erection free and prominent right in Harry’s line of sight. He’s acted enough wearing practically nothing, to not really be bothered with nudity, but there’s still something about this moment, about Harry’s eyes on him that makes him feel almost vulnerable, makes him want to maybe drag a sheet around himself or something. It’s silly, because he knows he’s fit, knows that his body isn’t one to complain about, but for the first time in a long time he worries about what someone else thinks when looking at him, if maybe Harry sees all the imperfections Louis’ body has. He hopes not.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you?” He asks with a sheepish shrug, pushing the thoughts from him mind.

Harry laughs, the sound escaping him almost involuntarily. He puts a hand in front on his mouth in shock and shakes him head. “Sorry,” he says with a grin. “You’re out?”

“Wasn’t really planning on taking anyone home,” Louis says honestly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and dragging the sheet over his lap.

“So I’m special then?” Harry asks then, a mischievous smirk spreading over his lips. He climbs towards Louis then, naked and proud, pulling the sheet off of Louis’ lap and exposing him again, before somehow manoeuvring his giraffe legs into a position where he’s straddling Louis.

“Lucky, more like,” Louis teases, hands coming up to hold Harry’s hips.

“I do feel lucky,” Harry admits honestly, his hands playing with the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. “I’d feel more lucky if you’d fuck me, though.”

“Sorry,” Louis says, looking down. “If it’s any consolation, I’d definitely have stocked up if I’d known I was bringing you home.”

“Hey,” Harry says gently then, his finger coming to touch the underside of Louis’ jaw, tipping his face up until they were looking each other in the eyes again. “I don’t have any either.” He admits, and Louis tries to quell the disappointment settling in his gut. They can do plenty of other things, they don’t have to actually fuck. He’d just really wanted to, is all. “I wasn’t exactly planning on pulling either. But I mean…” Harry pauses for a moment, looking hesitant and a bit embarrassed, and Louis frown, wonders what Harry’s trying to get out. “We could still… I mean, without? I’m clean, I swear. And, I mean, you are too, aren’t you?” He’s looking straight in Louis’ eyes, so earnest that Louis doesn’t doubt for a second that he’s telling  the truth.

And of course Louis is clean, and he tells Harry as much, still trying to process the fact that Harry is suggesting they do it bare. God, is that what twenty year old go around doing today?

“Obviously we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it,” Harry rushes out, “I just really want to feel you inside me, would love to have you come inside me.” He leans down and kisses Louis on the lips twice, and it’s enough of a distraction combined with the way their hard cocks rest against each other in their laps, moving slightly against each other as Harry leans in for the kiss.

“That’s quite irresponsible, Harold.” He chides gently, thumb whipping gently across the skin underneath Harry’s left eye. He smiles at him gently, and he’s made up his mind, thinks Harry can probably tell he has too when the younger man smiles tentatively at him, smiles hopefully.

“I trust you.” He says earnestly. “Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis nods, kissing Harry quickly. “Okay then.”

Harry’s answering smile is blinding and he scuttles off Louis’ quickly, climbing back into his position on all fours. He presents himself without worry, and it’s flattering that Harry’s just so secure and happy in his own skin even at the age of twenty – Louis certainly hadn’t been. It’s probably needed in an industry like Harry’s, but Louis suspects a lot of it is just down to how Harry’s nature is. He seems so at ease with himself, well beyond his years surely. Wearing nailpolish and lingerie unapologetically. It’s inspiring to watch, really.  

He deserves nothing less than to be worshipped completely, and even if this is the only night Louis will get to spend with him, he’ll make sure it’s one Harry will remember. Louis will make no claims of being some kind of sex fiend, in fact, in all honestly it’s been too long since he’s had the company of anyone but his own hand, but he’s always been thorough and he’s always been committed to being the best. Whether in sex or any other activity hardly matters. He’s from such a competitive business, has been a part of it since he was seventeen years old, he’s used to giving his all or giving nothing. He’s used to having to do his best, be the best, because if you aren’t in his field of work, there will always be a long line of people ready to take over your role. There’s never a shortage of people hoping you’ll fail so that they can do your job instead. It’s exhausting sometimes, but the mindset it breeds is very good for his current task at hand.

“I’m gonna fuck you so well, baby,” he murmurs into Harry’s shoulder as he kisses it. The he draws back to the sound of Harry’s breathy moan, settling down behind Harry and pops open the bottle of lube. He makes quick work of coating his fingers with the substance, ready to open Harry op. Normally he loves taking his time opening his partner, loves it when his partner loves getting fingered, when Louis can take him apart using only his fingers and sometimes also his mouth. He loves it, and thinks maybe Harry would too, but there’s also a part of him that’s eerily aware of the fact that Harry’s already come once, and Louis really, really wants to make Harry come while Louis is inside him this time, and not just his fingers. His cock throbs almost painfully at the thought of being buried to the hilt inside of Harry’s tight heat, and Louis applies the ghost of a pressure to Harry’s hole with his pointer finger, eager to get started on what’s hopefully going to be a great lay.

He pushes his first finger in slowly, wanting to allow Harry to get used to the feeling before he starts fingering him in earnest, but as soon as Louis has it halfway in, Harry pants out an almost pained ‘Please’. For a second, Louis isn’t sure if it’s good or bad, and he almost pulls the finger out again.

“God, Louis,” Harry continues then, “Fuck, you’ve no idea how good it feels already. So good, just so, so good. But I can’t—please, I can’t take it. Please don’t tease, I can’t bear it now. Just hurry, please, please, I just want to feel you in me, Lou, Lou—“

“Shhhh,” Louis interrupts him, placing his unoccupied hand on the small of Harry’s back, stroking it slowly. He presses his finger all the way inside Harry in a steady glide, and starts to pump it carefully. “Shh, babe, it’s okay, I’ll hurry it up. Whatever you want, I promise, just say the word.” He’s not the least bit surprised to find that he means his final words one hundred per cent sincerely.

From there on he works up to two fingers quickly, and then eventually three. He’d give Harry four too, but the boy in front of him’s moans have turned breathy and desperate, as though he’s just on the brink of not being able to take it anymore. It’s quickly becoming Louis’ favourite sound. He kind of wishes it wouldn’t be terribly unethical of him to record it. Listening to it could probably fuel every single one of his sad, lonely wanks for the rest of his life.

He stops at three fingers, both because they’re both growing increasingly desperate and because Harry feels loose pliant enough for it not to be too painful. It might sting a little, but honestly when does it not, and besides Louis is becoming increasingly sure that Harry might not be opposed to just a tiny hint of pain. It’s a theory to hopefully test out at another time, though. This time he wants it to be slow, and sensual and right on the brink of driving them both crazy.

The heat in the room is turned on despite it being April, because Louis is notoriously cold blooded and doesn’t need it to drop much in temperature before he’s freezing. Maybe it’s those years spent in LA when his career was blooming that’s fucked up his inner thermometer, because being from England one should think he’d be a bit more resilient. Regardless though, it means that it feels like the temperature in the room is rising steadily as they get further and further into what they’re doing, and Harry’s back is starting to glisten with a light sheen of sweat. Louis can’t help but think how incredibly hot it is, thinking about fucking into Harry while his sweaty back glides against Louis’ wet chest. He wants to kiss the wet curls at the nape of Harry’s neck and bite into his shoulder, testing the pain theory a bit.

He leans forward slightly and kisses the small of Harry’s back, lips coming back slightly wet. He licks them as he pulls out his fingers and reaches for the lube, ready to coat his cock in the slippery substance, more than ready to push inside of Harry.

Louis settles down on his shins, making sure the position is comfortable for him, as he gently strokes his now wet cock.

“You sure you want this?” He asks Harry again, can’t not ask. It’s a bit silly, because he’s already blown Harry, already made him orgasm once and he’s had his fingers buried inside of him, opening up. And yet Harry’s consent is important to him, so important.

“Louuu,” Harry whines, wiggling him bum slightly in impatience. “Do you think I’d be on all fours moaning your name if I didn’t want this? I want it. I want it so much. Will you please, please fuck me?”

Louis can’t help but smile slightly. “C’mere then, love,” he says, remaining seated on his shins, stroking his cock slowly.

Harry looks back at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised quizzically. “You’re gonna make me do all the work?” He asks, but he can’t be too torn up about it, because he’s already moving back towards Louis. “Is that the kind of gentleman you are? Thought the benefit of being with someone older was them taking care of you?”

Louis smiles at him wryly and actively ignores the irony of that statement in regards to Louis’ own experiences. Louis will take care of Harry alright. He tells him as much.

“I’ll take proper care of you, baby, I promise. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“You already do,” Harry confesses almost shyly. He bites his lip and looks at Louis unsurely. “Should I…?” He trails off, as though he’s not sure what he’s even asking and it’s a far cry from the confident Harry Styles Louis met in the club, but it’s still as lovely as every other version of him Louis has encountered.

“C’mere, Harry,” Louis says again, reaching out cup his hand around the soft flesh of Harry’s hip. “Is it okay like this? Or do you want us to be face to face?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head for double emphasis. “No, I’d like to try it like this.”

“New position?” Louis questions, stretching his neck to plant a soft kiss on Harry’s sweaty shoulder, as he helps guide Harry to settle over Louis’ lap, his back to Louis’ chest.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, placing a hand on Louis’ thigh. “Everything feels new with you.”

Louis heart stutters a beat, and, well, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t getting harder and harder to consider this a one-night stand. It doesn’t feel like a one-night stand. He doesn’t want it to be one. He’s starting to think more than hope that Harry doesn’t want it to be either.

“You’re amazing,” Louis breathes as he helps guide Harry down unto his cock. He holds it in place with one hand, the other cradling Harry’s hip as he sinks down, taking Louis’ length bit by bit.

“Nrrggghh,” is all Harry can reply with, his breath coming out in heavy puffs as Louis is finally all the way inside of him. Harry sits on top of Louis’ thighs, his own legs spread, shins on either side of Louis’. His back is pressed to Louis’ chest and he leans his head back and rests it against Louis’ shoulder as well as he can with their height difference. Louis tilts his head to the side and kisses Harry’s cheek, as the younger boy remains seated, seeming to need a moment to adjust.

Louis can sympathise, can definitely, definitely sympathise, because the amazing heat that enveloping his cock currently is far better than anything he could have imagined even in his wildest dreams. However good it felt to have Harry clench around his fingers earlier is nothing compared to having his tight heat around Louis’ cock. For a few moments Louis is sure he must have died and gone to heaven, but then Harry shifts slightly, Louis’ cock moving just the slightest inside of him, and even that tiny little motion is enough to make pre-come blurt out of Louis’ slit, enough to send waves of indescribable pleasure through Louis. Surely this is better than anything heaven could ever offer, surely this intense kind of pleasure can only be experienced by someone alive, though if you could die from too much pleasure, Louis would sure be well on his way to the grave.

Louis loops one hand around Harry’s waist, ignoring his cock purposely. He suspects that now that Harry’s already come, it won’t take him much to come again, and Louis has grander plans for Harry’s next orgasm than a hand on his dick.

“You feel so good,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear, biting his earlobe slightly. And it’s true, Harry feels absolutely incredible. There’s something about this position that allows a closeness that’s almost unbearable. Louis is sheathed completely inside Harry, so deep it’s almost unbelievable that it’s even possible, leaving no space between them.

“Yeah?” Harry’s breathes out, a moan following as Louis thrusts up into him slightly.

“Yeah.” Louis confirms, starting to trust up in earnest. He uses the muscles of his glutes to gain momentum, clenching them on every thrust upwards, punching out breathy moans from Harry with each thrust. He’s never been so grateful for all the workout he’s been doing recently before, knows that it’s only thanks to the numerous amounts of squats he’s been doing over his career that he can give it to Harry like this without getting too tired.

He thrusts up and Harry clenches around him, their sweaty bodies gliding against each other. There are drops of sweat running down the side of his face, the temperature in the room seeming to just rise and rise and rise. Louis mouths against Harry’s shoulder blade, kissing along it and tasting the sweat. He’s delicious. Everything about Harry is delicious, and it’s like Louis is attracted to every single part of him from his lovely voice, to the taste of his sweat, to the lovely sight that is his cock. Louis bites into Harry’s shoulder, running his teeth down the skin, before kissing up at the skin he just mauled. Harry’s clenches around him, taking it as Louis moves into him with the slow rhythm they’ve build together, letting out a high whine that sounds kind of like ‘Lou’ and kind of not at all. The sound only spurs Louis on even more.

He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair, but finds that the bun prohibits him from doing so properly, which simply won’t do. He tugs at the elastic gently, trying to ease it out of Harry’s hair, and tosses it to the side when he succeeds. Harry’s hair turns out to really be long and curly, reaching down just past his shoulders. It smells like apples and shines like it should belong on the head of a Disney princess. Louis buries the hand not holding Harry around the waist in Harry’s hair, tugging slightly at it until Harry tilts his head enough to expose the delicate skin of his neck to Louis.

Never letting go of Harry’s middle nor his hair, and definitely not stopping the rhythm with which he’s pumping into Harry’s heat, Louis latches his mouth onto Harry’s neck as though he is a starving vampire and Harry is his only source of survival. He bites, and licks, and sucks while his hips continue thrusting into Harry, Harry’s heat swallowing him in, squeezing tight around his member.

He’s been so focused on Harry, so focused on him feeling good that he hardly even notices how close he is to an orgasms himself until he’s standing right at the precipice of unbelievable bliss. He hadn’t exactly planned on coming first, not that it doesn’t make good sense with Harry being one orgasm in front of Louis, but now that that’s the way things are looking to be headed, whole new possibilities are becoming obvious to Louis.

“God, Harry,” he groans into Harry’s neck, kissing over his pulse and the mark he’s left there. “God, you feel amazing. I’m so close.”

“Please touch me,” Harry whimpers in response, his fingers digging into Louis’ thighs. “Please, god, Louis, you feel incredible. Please touch me, I can’t—“

“Shh…” Louis kisses along his shoulders, hips stuttering against Harry’s arse. “Not yet, lovely. I’m gonna take such good care of you. Can I eat you out, baby? Would you like that?”

“Louis,” Harry whines, gasping as Louis rocks into him with an increasing sense of desperation. “Please, please, please—“

“Can I, Harry?” Louis interrupts him, his grip on him tightening. “Will you let me eat you out until you come?”

Yes!” Harry wails, nails scratching against the skin on Louis’ thighs. “Yes, yes, please.”

“Good, babe,” Louis says, tightening his grip in Harry’s hair slightly. “You’re so good, Harry, god, you feel so good around me. I’m so close. I’m gonna come, okay? I’m gonna come and then I’ll eat you out until you’re coming all over the sheets. That okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry moans, “God, yeah, so okay.”

“Good.” Louis says simply, giving Harry’s hair one last tug before untangling his hand from it. “Can you get back on all four, love?”

Harry nods in response, and somehow he manages to move into position without having Louis slip out of him, which Louis does find quite impressive. While Louis had definitely loved their previous position, loved the way their wet bodies slid against each other, loved the way it was all slow and hot and sensual, he needs more now. He needs to be able to slam into Harry, needs to be able to chase his own orgasm until he sees stars, until he shoots into Harry in a way far more intimate than a first shag ought to be.

He rocks into Harry just once, twice, three times, chasing his orgasm desperately, seemingly hitting Harry where he loves it the most if the other man’s wails are anything to go by, before he comes inside Harry with a stutter of his hips. He’s got each hand clutching Harry’s hips, fingers digging into the soft skin there, as he let’s out a long moan, hips moving his cock into Harry sloppily as he rides out the last of his orgasm.

It feels incredible. Everything about this has been incredible, really. Harry’s tight heat and his amazing body, his breathy moans and high-pitched whimpers. The way he felt around Louis is so good, Louis isn’t sure how he’s ever supposed to settle for his own hand again. And now Harry’s full of Louis’ come, and, fuck, he doesn’t mean to be territorial, knows he literally has now claim or right to be, but there’s some insane caveman part of him that’s so pleased he got to mark Harry as his. And it’s truly ridiculous because Harry isn’t anyone’s but his own, not even if they actually were together, but still he trusted Louis to do this to him and Louis is more touched and honoured than he’d ever admit to being.

He comes back to his senses fairly quickly, mind still focussed on the task at hand. Harry’s pretty much been his sole focus all along, and he did promise him some rimming, so he’s definitely not skipping out on that just because he’s blissed out and got his brain fried from orgasming. He’s a man of his word, and though it’s probably more accurate to call it felching than rimming what he’s about to do, it definitely doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to bring Harry to an orgasm using his tongue in Harry’s arse and his hand around Harry’s cock.

He slips out of Harry gently, feeling completely spend and so wired all at once. He’s pretty sure that as soon as he’s brought Harry to another climax, he’s going to pass out in the bed and potentially not wake for many, many hours. He’s not as young as he used to be, obviously, and much against his own nature he’s been operating with a daily rhythm that has him up and training at 7am every day, so late nights aren’t exactly his forte anymore. He knows he’s only twenty-eight, but honestly this industry makes him feel like he’s forty-eight.

Running on the last surge of energy as he might be, he doesn’t waste any more time before getting to it. He settles back as comfortably as possible, and bends forward until his face is by Harry’s arse. His own come is leaking out of Harry’s pink hole, and if he hadn’t literally just had one of the most amazing orgasms of his life, the sight would probably make him ready to go again. As it is, though, he just focuses on making it good for Harry.

He thumbs over Harry’s hole once before putting his lips there, letting his thumb catch on Harry’s rim, making him whimper slightly. Louis isn’t gonna tease him any more than that though, not this time at least, so he licks a fat stripe over Harry’s hole, tasting his own come on his tongue immediately. He uses his hands to spread Harry’s cheeks apart, allowing better access for his mouth and his tongue. He kisses Harry’s hole chastely once, before lapping over it a couple of times with his tongue. Finally, when he thinks Harry’s whimpers have become sufficiently desperate, he prods his tongue against Harry’s hole, slipping past the rim and into him. The taste of his own come is even more potent here, and he can feel it against his tongue and he fucks it in and out of Harry.

“Ah, ah,” Harry pants in front of him, entire body shaking. Louis can’t help but be impressed that he’s still managing to hold himself up by his arms, that he hasn’t collapsed with his face against the mattress yet, but it seems like he’s been underestimating the strength of Harry’s biceps and that’s definitely not something Louis will complain about. “Please, god, fuck. So good, that’s so good.” Harry chants, and Louis can’t help but feel pretty pleased. He’s the one who made Harry feel like that after all, he feels like that’s a pretty big accomplishment all things considered.

He continues to fuck his tongue in and out of Harry, prompting various sounds of pleasure to escape the other man. Eventually he releases his hold on Harry’s arse cheeks, letting them press more firmly against his cheeks as he uses his now free hands to circle around Harry’s waist to grab his cock in one hand and cup his balls in the other. He starts tugging on Harry’s cock in rhythm with his tongue, thumbing over the come-wet slit. It’s an exercise in timing and multitasking, trying to pump Harry’s cock, roll his balls between his fingers and fuck into his arse with his tongue, and Louis has never been the most coordinated bloke, but somehow he manages.

Harry definitely doesn’t seem to be complaining, growing increasingly desperate in the sounds he’s making, his body shaking more and more as he nears his second orgasm. Louis loves how Harry doesn’t seem bothered with trying to keep quiet, how he just lets Louis hear how close he is, how much he’s gagging for it, how much pleasure he’s in. Louis loves the feeling of pleasing someone else like that, loves that there’s no doubt that Harry’s enjoying it. It’s so honest and open and it’s just one thing on a very, very long list Louis already has of what makes Harry so lovely. 

“I’m—“ Harry gasps, almost sobs, “I’m gonna— I’m gonna—“ Louis tightens his grip on Harry’s cock slightly, and pumps him harder, faster, fucking his tongue into him relentlessly. “I’m—“ Harry says one last time before breaking into a high-pitched moan, come starting to spill all over Louis’ fist as Harry’s orgasm hits him.

Harry shakes and whimpers his way through his second orgasm while Louis loosens his grip on Harry’s dick and extracts his tongue from Harry’s heat, licking over his rim one last time before sitting back. Harry collapses onto his stomach in front of Louis, looking completely debauched and spent, sweaty curls a complete mess and limbs looking heavy, sprawled all over Louis’ bed like a marionette whose strings just got cut. His eyes a closed, and for a second Louis actually worries if maybe he broke him, or maybe Harry just fell asleep.

“Harry…” he says gently, placing a tentative hand on Harry’s naked shoulder. “Harry, is—“

“C’mere.” Harry murmurs sluggishly, opening one eye slightly to look up at Louis. He lifts one hand half-heartedly as though trying to beckon Louis closer but not having the energy to quite go through with it.

Louis lies down next to Harry tentatively; slightly unsure of where they stand now that the sex part is over. Will Harry stay over? Will he just put on his clothes and leave? Will they cuddle? Should he offer him the guestroom? God, so many questions, Louis clearly isn’t equipped for this kind of encounter. He doesn’t have to think much more about it though, because Harry shuffles closer and cuddles up against Louis, laying his head on Louis’ chest, holding him close with an arm around Louis’ waist. It’s adorable, is what it is, and Louis’ heart beats loudly in his chest, pace quicker than usual. He really hopes that Harry can’t feel it, but with the way his head is pillowed on Louis’ chest, Louis thinks the odds of him getting his wish fulfilled are quite small.

“I think you broke me,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ chest, sounding slightly groggy still.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says quietly, not sure how else to respond to Harry’s allegations. He’s suddenly not as tired as he thought he’d be. Having Harry’s cuddled up against him like this is apparently enough for his body to reject the idea of getting some rest.

“No, no,” Harry chuckles, kissing Louis’ chest chastely once. “Definitely nothing to be sorry for. Best sex of my life probably, which I know doesn’t say much with my age and all, but still, I…” he trails off when he must have felt Louis tense up underneath him, and Louis tries to actively force his body to relax. It the way Harry lifts his head to peer down at him is any indication, though, he isn’t doing as good a job of it as he’d hoped though.

“It’s the age thing again, isn’t it?” Harry states more than asks, his pretty face scrunching up in what’s probably a mixture of worry and confusion. “Can you just explain it to me at least?” He sighs, looking like he’s entering a battle he’s already lost. Louis’ heart clenches. “I just don’t understand it, Lou,” he sighs, scrambling back until he’s sitting up and facing Louis, pulling the sheets up until he’s covered. Louis tries not to dwell on how they went from intimate to strangers in three seconds flat, knows it’s his fault anyway. “I just… it’s just eight years, and it’s legal, and I’m perfectly capable of making proper, rational decisions like an adult, I—“

“I wasn’t.” Louis interrupts, effectively cutting Harry off and shutting him up. God, he hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t really meant to fill Harry in. But at the same time, there’s a part of him that feels like he at least owes Harry an explanation and an even bigger part of him that wants this between them to be more than just a one-night thing, and if that’s to actually happen, he definitely needs to explain himself.

“I—“ Harry starts, brow furrowing. “What?”

Louis shakes his head slightly, sitting up properly against the headboard and reaching for some of the sheets to pull them over his hips, covering him up too. “Bet this is the most awkward pillow talk you’ve ever engaged in, huh?” He says, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

Instead of having that effect, though, Harry’s frown deepens further. “Lou,” he says, and it’s not exactly a warning, it’s more like a tired exasperation that makes Harry sound many years older than his birth certificate ascribes him.

“Sorry,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Louis,” Harry shakes his head, making an abrupt motion with his hand as though he meant to reach for Louis hand and then changed his mind. “No. Don’t be sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry. I just wish you’d explain because I genuinely don’t understand it and I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry—“

“No,” Louis interrupts him. “God, no, you’ve nothing to be sorry for, you’re so, so lovely. I’ll try to explain, I will, it’s just… I don’t talk about that part of my life very often, so you’ll have to bear with me.” He smiles at Harry wryly. “You’re too young to remember when I started my career in showbiz probably, I mean, you were only what? Nine? Yeah, anyway, I got my first roles when I was seventeen and by the time I was nineteen I’d kind of made a name for myself and I moved to LA. It made my mum proper pissed at the time, she thought I was much too young to leave and live the film star lifestyle alone so far away from home. In hindsight she was absolutely right, but I was young and naïve and off age, so I wasn’t gonna let something like my overprotective mother keep me in England. I was a bit of an immature twat back then, and the prospect of bigger and better roles, glam parties and famous people surrounding me sounded like a dream come true. I guess it was for a while too. Wasn’t sustainable at all, though, because the business is slippery at best, treacherous at worst. People will be your best friend at a party one night and then sell you out to the tabloids for a head start on a role the next. The inner workings of Hollywood is such a toxic environment, especially the parts containing the up and coming. People will do nearly anything for a proper breakthrough, and I guess I would probably have been one of those people too except I was lucky enough to get the right roles at the right times. I probably could have made it through that part of my career, of my life, fairly unscathed if it wasn’t for him.”

He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. It’s been so long since he’s talked about all of this, since he’s had to fill anyone in who wasn’t there to experience it all with him somehow. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it, but I did a movie called Change My Mind when I was twenty. It was like my big, big break, the one that really cemented my in the eyes of the public and the industry as well. It was also where I met Matt though.”

“Matt Wells?” Harry questions with a frown. “He directed the movie, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, “I’m surprised you know that though, he hasn’t had the biggest career these last few years. He was pretty big back then, though. Did a couple of great films and I guess he was sort of considered a bit of a star in the making himself back then. He was twenty-eight and I thought he was positively dreamy.” He smiles self-deprecatingly at Harry, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “You have to realise I was pretty heavily closeted back then, and I went along with it because that’s what my publicist told me would be best for my career. I was in a PR-relationship with Eleanor Calder from I was nineteen until I was twenty-two back when she was also trying to establish herself in the business. Our publicists saw it as a dream move, I guess. Play up the young, British sweethearts angle for max amount of PR and reinforce my heterosexuality to those who doubted. Classic tale of two birds with one stone.” He plays with a loose thread at the seam of the sheets, not quite brave enough to look Harry in the face now.  

“I don’t know if you can imagine what it’s like, wanting something so much you’re willing to compromise who you are. I hope you can’t. I hope you won’t ever have to. There’s so much I would change if I could go back and knock myself over the head. I was an entirely different person then. Like, I don’t think you can imagine because you didn’t know me back then and I guess you don’t really know me now either, but I sometimes have difficulties uniting the person I was then with who I am now, and that’s saying something considering the fact that I lived through both versions.

“Anyway, I met Matt when I was twenty, and he was this hot, older guy and I was instantly smitten with him. He was twenty-eight then, so, you know, just old enough to be older but still not old enough to actually be old. He was also very much in a position of power over me, which looking back at the whole thing is probably the most disgusting part of it all. I couldn’t see it at the time though, I was just completely infatuated with him. He has a wife and a child now, I don’t know if you know, but back then he was single. He was considered quite the bachelor and he was very, very much closeted. Still is, I guess, probably will always be if his little family is any indication. I guess, looking back, the difference between our closets was that his was definitely self-imposed more than anything and I don’t think he was ever really that comfortable with being gay though that was what he identified himself as to me. I suppose that could have been a lie too though, he was full of them back then.”

Louis chances a look at Harry, wanting to try to gauge out how he’s feeling. Harry’s looking at him intently, a small frown visible in the skin just above his nose. When he catches Louis’ eyes, it’s like something is confirmed for Harry, and he scooted closer, until they’re sitting opposite each other, their sheet-covered knees touching. Harry reaches forward, taking Louis’ hands in his, encouraging him to continue the story. 

“We started shagging before the filming had even started, and I thought it was just about the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. This big, successful director wanted me even though I was only twenty, closeted and inexperienced, and he could have had probably literally anyone else he wanted to. I thought I was in love with him back then. In hindsight it was puppy love at best, infatuation, but that’s not exactly harmless either. I don’t think I was ever anything but a warm hole to him, someone to keep his bed occupied without anyone finding out. And he could manipulate me into doing whatever he wanted, there were so many fucked up aspects of our relationship – if you can even call it that – that I couldn’t see at the time, some that I couldn’t really see until years after I’d gotten out.” Harry squeezes his hands when Louis pauses his story for a moment, and Louis squeezes back, offering him a small smile.

“It was such an unhealthy relationship right from the get to. And I definitely wasn’t mature enough to be a part of something like that. He was older than me, more experienced than me and he was my boss, so it was basically a recipe for disaster. He’d never really acknowledge me outside of the bedroom, always ignore me on set or at industry parties, be really short with me when giving me directions during shooting, wouldn’t let me tell anyone about us. I don’t know what he was afraid of, probably that someone would find out, I guess. At any rate, he never wanted to be seen with me, didn’t want there to be anything that could link us together beyond the director actor connection. And, like, I guess that would have been fine if we’d been on the same page in regards to the relationship and if he wasn’t in such a position of power over me, but… I thought I was in love with him, and I don’t know if you can imagine how damaging it must be to be with someone who won’t even tell his closest friends about the two of you, who won’t even talk to you on set or be seen anywhere with you. There wasn’t even any rumours about his sexuality back then, it’s not like anyone would see him with me and immediately assume we were fucking, but he was just so paranoid back then.”

Louis sighs, playing with Harry’s fingers as he considers what to say next. “I didn’t have the emotional maturity to see it for what it really was or to recognise that he shouldn’t be treating me like that. For such a long time I thought I was just lucky he was giving me the time of the day, and it was basically a really shitty time of my life. I stopped keeping proper contact with my family for a while, partied a lot… you know, the classic tale of a Hollywood youth gone off the rails. It’s almost mandatory by now, isn’t it?”

“How did it end?” Harry asks tentatively, as though he’s almost afraid to know the answer.

“Well, the filming ended, didn’t it?” Louis shrugs. “The film went into post production and he stopped taking my calls, ignored the bell when I tried to come by his flat. I cried a lot, ate a lot of ice cream and partied even more. If you dig back in the archives a bit, you can probably find quite a lot of articles about how I was spinning out of control. I guess I sort of was. By the time it was time for promotion, he had some blonde girl on his arm. Somehow I convinced my publicist to get me out of as much PR work as possible, which I probably only got away with because she recognised just how fucked up I was becoming. I packed a big bag and flew back to England and showed up at my mum’s doorstep unannounced. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone be so happy and so pissed at once.” He chuckles slightly, can still vividly remember the bullocking he got from his mum for ignoring her like that.

“I didn’t do any movies for a year after that. For the longest time I was sure I was never gonna do one ever again. In that year I probably aged five mentally. I realised a lot about myself and a lot about the ordeal I’d just gone through. My mum had the youngest twins, so I had plenty to keep busy with while I stayed with them. It was really great reconnecting with them all, but after that first year my mum sat me down and asked if I thought I could ever find anything I could become as happy with and passionate about as I had been with acting. When I realised the answer was ‘no’, I kind of knew what I had to do. I was very determined not to let Matt ruin my entire future in the industry just because he was a twat who saw it fit to use a boy too young to know what was going on.”

“They’d kept up the pretences of the relationship between El and me while I was gone, but one of the first things I did upon taking contact to my old publicist was to make arrangements to terminate the contract. Then I hired Niall to be my new manager and we made arrangements to loosen my closet a bit. I was a bit of a has-been when I came back, even though I’d only been gone for a year or so, but Niall got me a few really great auditions and then I was lucky enough that Heroes happened. And, you know, a lot of movies and a coming out later, here I am. Slightly fucked up but dealing.”

“You’re not fucked up, Lou,” Harry frowns, as though it personally offends him that Louis would say so.

“Kinda am, babe,” Louis argues. “You asked me why an eight year, twenty – twenty-eight age difference fucks me up, and my answer is an eight year old relationship I had with my director.”

“Louis,” Harry says gently, thumb rubbing over Louis’ knuckles. “You do realise that you’re nothing like him, right? And that I’m not you. No offense.”

Louis can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. God, no, Harry’s nothing like the little shit he was at twenty, Louis can already tell that and he’s not even known Harry for a full day yet. “None taken.”

Harry ignores him and continues on. “You know this between us has been one hundred per cent consensual every step of the way, right? We’re not… there’s not some fucked up power imbalance here, you’re not taking advantage and you’re not using me. We’re not hiding anything; none of us are in the closet. I’m a mature adult too, and I know what I want and what I don’t want. I don’t do anything I don’t want to, and I would have told you no one of the numerable times you asked me for my consent if I’d had any misgivings. It’s not the same, Lou. It’s not the same.”

“I know it’s not the same,” Louis insists. “Logically, I know it’s not the same, but it’s not always rational.”

“I get that it was a really traumatic experience, I do, and if you’re uncomfortable with this thing between us, please know you can always say no too. Consent goes both ways and I’d never disrespect how you feel. But I… I really like you. And I know you’re not supposed to say that to a one-night stand, but I do. And I’d love to see more of you, if you’d have me.”

“Harry…” Louis says, looking into the other man’s green orbs.

“You don’t have to give us a chance if you think it’s always just going to remind you of that time in your life, but… well, if you think maybe it won’t, I’d really love if we could maybe just go for a cup of coffee or something someday. Or tea, I guess. Everyone and their grandma knows you’re obsessed with tea, so I mean—“

“Harry,” Louis interrupts him again, repeating his name. He can’t believe how lovely the other man is, how genuine and sweet and amazing. “I’d really like that.” Louis admits, because now that he has gotten the story off his chest, he finds that it’s a lot easier to distance that experience from the one between him and Harry. Because at the end of the day the only similarity between the two is the age difference. He’s always keyed his experience with Matt together with their ages in his head, but looking at it now it’s so clear to him how ridiculous that is, because it had very little to do with their age difference and everything to do with Matt being an absolute wanker.

“I’d really love tea with you sometime,” he continues, exhaustion having settled into his bones accompanied by the loveliest sense of contentment. “But maybe we could just sleep first?”

“I can stay?” Harry asks, his eyes widening like he genuinely hadn’t expected the offer.

Louis frowns. “Of course you can. If you want to.”

“I want to!” Harry says eagerly, a smile breaking out across his face like a sun peeking out behind a cloud. “I really, really want to.” His smile falters slightly and he looks bashfully at Louis, for the first time really looking his age; young and vulnerable. Louis lips quirk into an amused smile, endeared right down to the tips of his toes. “Can I kiss you too?”

“You can always kiss me,” Louis promises with a squeeze of Harry’s hand that he’s still holding. “Always, always.”

“That’s a dangerous promise.” Harry grins, as he leans closer to Louis, their lips only millimetres apart.

“I don’t see many downsides to it.” Louis replies, before sealing their lips in a kiss. It’s soft and slow, exactly like that kind of kiss ought to be, and Louis can’t say he’s ever experienced anything that’s felt quite so right.

“’M tired,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips, and Louis hums in agreement, feeling tired into his very bones too.

“Me too,” Louis says, kissing Harry one last time. “Let’s sleep, babe.”

“Can we cuddle?” Harry asks as he sets about fluffing the pillows and Louis tries to untangle the sheet from the mess it’s turned into.

“’Course we can,” Louis smiles, “I love a good cuddle. Do you want me to get you a flannel to clean up with?”

“Nah,” Harry yawns, settling into the bed properly. “I’ll just shower tomorrow. Just wanna sleep now, if that’s alright.”

Louis climbs under the covers himself instead of answering, turning on his side to face Harry. “Big spoon or little spoon?” he asks.

Harry hesitates for a moment, though not in the sense that he seems to have to contemplate which he’d prefer, but more like he has to contemplate if he can tell Louis. Luckily he’s over it quickly, too quick for Louis to have time to dissect what the hesitation meant. “Little.” Harry says, almost shyly. “Would that be okay?”

“More than okay.” Louis smiles, opening his arms to Harry. Harry settles against him, sighing contently when he’s snuggled into Louis’ warmth. Despite their size-difference they fit remarkably well together when cuddling, and it feels a little bit like a sign. Matt certainly never cuddled with him like this, not even moths into their ‘relationship’. “I really do like you a lot,” he whispers to Harry then, wanting to make sure Harry knows. “I know we only just met, H, but I’ve liked you from the very start.”

“Me too,” Harry murmurs quietly. “I know me saying that I’ve never felt like this so quickly upon meeting someone else doesn’t carry much traction considering my age, but I do mean it.”

Louis kisses the back of Harry’s neck over his still sweaty curls, nuzzling his head into them. “I know.”

They fall asleep curled around each other like two pieces of puzzle, like they’ve known each other for years and not just hours.




The next morning Louis wakes up with a hard-on. That’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence seeing as he’s a healthy male in what’s basically the height of his reproductive age, but it is definitely uncommon to have his hard-on wedged in between someone else’s arse cheeks. He’s got a mouthful of Harry’s curls too, and his warm, broad back pressed against Louis’ front, so there’s no doubt in his mind who he’s cuddling with. He kind of thinks he can’t quite be blamed for his hard-on either, not when he’s been lying this close to Harry’s naked body all night, not after the activities they were up to last night. Still, though, he’s not sure where they stand now in the harsh morning light. Sure they’d said some things last night that sort of implied that they were more than just your regular one-night stand, but for all Louis knows that could just have been some crazy sex high speaking.

He contemplates what to do for a few moments. He doesn’t want to make Harry uncomfortable by waking up with Louis’ hard-on pressed against his arse, however natural it may be. He could try to extract himself carefully, make sure Harry doesn’t wake up, but seeing as the younger boy is using Louis’ arm as a pillow that might be easier said than done. Just as he decides to at least shift his hips back, trying to do so without disturbing Harry, the other man grinds his arse against Louis’ bare cock. It’s not much, really just the briefest shift of his hips, but it feels amazing.

Louis groans quietly, still not sure if Harry’s awake and moved deliberately or if it was something he did in his sleep. Harry does it again, this time grinding even harder, catching Louis’ cock between his cheeks. No way that wasn’t deliberate, and Harry proves that he’s awake only seconds later when he moans too.

“Lou,” he says, grinding back against Louis again. Louis tightens his arm around Harry’s waist, meeting Harry halfway the next time he grinds back against him.

“Morning, Harry,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s shoulder. “Sleep well?”

“So good,” Harry sighs, tilting his head back against Louis’ shoulder. “You’re a good cuddler.”

“Why thank you,” Louis laughs, nuzzling into Harry’s neck. “I’ve spent many years perfecting my cuddling technique.”

“So good,” Harry murmurs, voice slurred slightly. He sounds tired, and Louis feels it too, but he’s not sure he could go to sleep again with the current state his cock is in. He brushes his hand down Harry’s stomach until he comes into contact with Harry’s cock. It’s hard too, and Louis thanks his lucky stars that Harry is as affected by this as Louis is.

He grips around Harry’s length, pumping him slowly, squeezing on every upstroke. Harry’s letting out these quiet, breathy moans, sounding blissed out and content, and this might very well be the best morning Louis has had in a long time. It’s been so long, too long, since he woke up with someone in his arms, and having Harry like this, feeling like this first thing in the morning is more than he could ever have hoped or wished for. It’s incredible.

“Fuck,” Harry swears, as Louis bites down on his shoulder, running his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock and collecting the pre-come bubbling at the tip. “Fuck me again, please,” Harry gasps, leaning his body further into Louis’. Louis isn’t really going to say no to that, not in any universe or on any planet. Not ever.

He reaches behind himself for the lube, making quick work of coating his cock. “Yeah?” he says, nudging the tip of his cock against Harry’s rim. He kisses Harry’s shoulder as the younger man whimpers, sounding overwhelmed already. It’s okay. Louis can definitely sympathise. The last remnants of sleep still lingers on the frayed edges of Louis’ mind, and he feels a little bit like all of this could potentially still turn out to be a very, very good dream, like he still might wake up alone in his bed, almost like Harry’s too good not to be a figment of Louis’ imagination.

“Do you need my fingers?” Louis asks, breathing directly into Harry’s ear. He doesn’t raise his voice much, almost as though he’s trying not to disturb this early morning tranquillity they’ve created.

“No,” Harry shakes his head a bit frantically, already panting, “No, no, it’s okay. I can take it.”

And Louis knows he can. Probably still open and pliant from last night, probably even still a bit wet from Louis’ come inside him. “Know you can, baby,” Louis murmurs soothing, nibbling gently on Harry’s earlobe. “You’re so good for me, darling. So good.” This need to soothe Harry, to compliment him, to make sure he feels appreciated and taken care of is nothing Louis has ever experienced in bed before, but it feels so natural and the way Harry practically preens tells Louis that Harry loves it too.

Louis takes a hold of his own cock as he lines it properly up with Harry’s hole, pushing in steadily. When he’s halfway in, Harry having gone completely silent apart from his heavy breathing, Louis moves his slightly lube sticky hand to Harry’s hip, curling around the meat there. “You okay?” He asks, pausing his movement. He’s not going to just push mindlessly into Harry’s body without making sure he’s not hurting him first, after all.

“Oh, god,” Harry moans. Panting slightly, he tries to push back onto Louis’ cock to take it all it, but Louis’ hand on his hip prevents him from doing so. “Don’t stop,” Harry pants, “Don’t ever stop, please.”

“Never?” Louis laughs, and with a steady movement pushes the rest of the way in. It feels every bit as good as it did yesterday, tight and hot and impossibly brilliant. Perhaps even more so knowing that the reason Harry could be fucked into without prep just now was because of Louis. He lets out a low grunt, stilling inside Harry to allow them both to get used to the sensation of being connected (ha, as though it’s something they could ever get used to!), kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth. He remembers what Harry’d said then, and continues, not willing to give up an opportunity to tease him. “Really never? That’d look a bit funny up on the runway, wouldn’t it?”

Harry laughs, breathless and hot, clenching around Louis’ cock and making them both moan in harmony. It sounds amazing, it sounds like music to Louis’ ears, the sound of Harry’s laugh and their moans both. It’s absurd and it’s stupid but the thought of being with Harry is also embarrassingly a bit hot. Not so much the idea of Harry walking down the runway with Louis behind him, inside him, that part is equally horrifying and hilarious, but the idea of Louis getting to fuck him on a runway is hot. Louis starts to wonder, if maybe it’d be possible if they snuck into a venue like really, really early one day, or like stayed really late or—fuck, Louis is getting ahead of himself. This is technically still a one—well, two times kind of thing, and the fact that he kind of just wants to wrap himself around Harry and never let go doesn’t mean he’ll actually get to do so. He has a pretty good felling after their talk last night that Harry wants it to be more too. More than pretty good really; Harry said he liked Louis, asked to see him again. Louis just hopes that ultimately they want the same thing too. He guesses he should probably be the mature adult soon and make sure they’re on the same page, but it will have to be after he’s fucked Harry silly.

Harry’s young, he might not be looking into getting tied down now, surely he wants to conquer the world and shag models left and right on all the most exotic locations. Or something. Surely he doesn’t want a twenty-eight year old and his dog. Or maybe he does. It kind of seemed like he might want to. God, Louis hopes he does. Hopes he wants more than just a one-night stand and a cup of tea, more than just a friend with benefits. Hopes Harry despite his age is stupidly ready for dogs and long-term and boyfriends who are pushing thirty.

He’ll leave those thoughts for later, make sure to communicate with Harry, talk things through, ensure they’re on the same page. He’ll fuck him first though. He quite thinks Harry would appreciate that sequence of priorities.

“Feels good?” he murmurs, kissing behind Harry’s ear. One of these days they really have to fuck face to face because Louis quite wants to see Harry’s face when he orgasms. This position was just too perfect for a lazy early morning to pass up. One of these days they need to switch roles too. Louis loves being on top, sure, but there’s also nothing like having a cock inside you and particularly not one as exemplary as Harry’s.

“So good,” Harry breathes out, sounding positively blissed out. Harry’s hand comes down on top of Louis’ where it’s resting on Harry’s stomach, having let go of Harry’s cock when he pushed into his tight heat. Harry entangles their fingers and Louis tries not to dwell on how well they fit together in every single sense of the word.

“How do you want it?” Louis asks, kissing along Harry’s shoulder as he thrusts into him slowly with small jerks of his hips.

“Just like this,” Harry replies. “Just slow and deep, you know? Just like this. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He tilts his head sideways, presenting his lips for Louis to kiss. Louis presses his lips against Harry’s gladly, kissing him with lazy tongue and slow moving lips, morning breath be damned. It’s funny, really, because objectively he would have thought that sex between him and Harry would have been faster, rougher, explosive in a whole different way. It still could be, he supposes, thinks they could probably have any and all kinds of sex and be more than satisfied afterwards, but so far everything they’ve done has been just on the heavy side of sensual, slow and burning rather than quick and dirty. He supposes if there really does come something of this, there’ll be plenty of time for quick and dirty later. He thinks maybe that why it’s all felt like so much from the very start, because they haven’t fucked like strangers, they’ve fucked like soul mates who’ve waited their whole life to encounter each other. They’ve fucked like they were making love.

He slides his hand down Harry’s abs again until he meets Harry’s cock, taking it in his hand. He’s pressing into Harry’s tight heat with small jerks of his hips, punching small moans from Harry with each thrust. He shifts his hips a little, aiming for Harry’s prostate, and there’s no doubt when he finds it.

“Oh, oh!” Harry gasps, clenching tightly around Louis’ cock inside him. “Please. Right there, Lou, don’t stop!”

Louis makes sure to aim his small thrusts right where Harry’s prostate is with each little movement, more rubbing against it than he’s actually thrusting. His hand works over Harry’s cock, his grip tight as he pumps up and down, thumbing over the tip repeatedly and collecting the pre-come gathering there and using it to make the glide of his hand against Harry’s member smoother.

“Feel so good, sunshine,” he murmurs into Harry’s neck as he fucks him, kissing and licking and biting every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Harry’s getting stimulated from every angle, from Louis’ cock inside him, rubbing against his prostate, from Louis’ hand on his cock, from Louis’ lips on his skin. It’s no wonder when he comes.

It happens with a tight clench around Louis’ cock and a drawn out moan, and Louis has to grit his teeth not to come right then and there himself. Harry feels, sounds and looks amazing as he rides out his orgasm, back arched and head resting against Louis’. Louis pumps his cock through the orgasm until Harry’s completely spent and Louis’ hand is covered in ribbons of white, salty liquid.

Louis pulls out of Harry, careful not to hurt him, oversensitive as he must be. He kisses Harry’s shoulder again as he wraps his own hand around his cock, ready to pull himself off. He fully plans on painting Harry’s beautiful back with streaks of Louis’ own come, doesn’t really care about how filthy it will make Harry and not to mention the sheets. They’re gonna need a shower after last night’s activities no matter what and these sheets were shot anyway, might as well cement the reason for their imminent washing.

Harry turns around to face him them, a slightly dopy smile on his face, as though he still not quite down from his orgasm high.

“Hi,” he says, grinning at Louis. “Need some help?” He reaches down then, batting away Louis’ own hand and takes Louis’ cock into his fist. It feels amazing, really, nearly as good as being inside of Harry. Louis groans, bringing his hand which is still covered in Harry’s own come up to tangle in Harry’s hair, pulling his head closer to Louis.

“Heyyyy,” Harry protests into Louis’ mouth as their lips meet in a kiss. “That’s gross.”

“I’ll help you wash your hair once you’ve made me come,” Louis smirks, pecking Harry’s lips once more.

“Oh?” Harry says, mirth clear in his eyes as his hand moves up and down Louis’ hard cock. “I’m the one who must do all the hard work then?”

“Think you owe me a bit, mate,” Louis shrugs, pausing his thoughts to kiss Harry again. “Got you to come thrice, haven’t I? Hard work that.”

“Guess you do deserve a proper treatment,” Harry whispers, kissing the corner of Louis’ mouth. “You’ve taken such good care of me. Fucked me so well. Made me feel so, so good. The best really, babe, made me feel the best I ever have.”

Louis can’t help but moan, tightening his grip in Harry’s hair. He feels overwhelmed and so good and kind of like he could float away if not for Harry keeping him anchored to the bed.

“And well,” Harry continues talking, “I was thinking, if you wanted maybe I could fuck you too. I mean, obviously not right now, but some other time. Because I wanna see you again, like, if you’d want that too. And I really wanna fuck you too.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Louis moans, leaning his forehead against Harry. He feels so completely overwhelmed, so, so close and yet just not there yet. “I wanna do that,” he babbles, “I really, really want that.”

“Great,” Harry says, laughter clear in his voice. He pecks Louis’ closed lids gently before saying,  “It’s settled then.”

Nothing’s really settled when they keep having these conversations when they’re high on orgasms, but Louis refrains from saying so. They’ll talk later too, he’s sure.

“I’ve kind of been fantasising about something else too,” Harry continues talking, his drawl slow and husky, sounding so, so sexy. He’s slowly pulling Louis off while they lie face to face and it fantastic, but it’s also driving Louis crazy because somehow Harry manages to give him enough to feel absolutely insanely good, but also just shy of enough to push him over the edge. It’s infuriating and amazing all at once.

“Hmm,” Louis acknowledges with a moan, almost beyond the ability to talk at this point. “What’s that?”

Harry pulls him into a slow kiss, taking his time to lick into Louis’ mouth, bite down on his lower lip and tug at it gently. “Wanna lick you out,” he says then when he pulls back, kissing Louis quickly once more, like he just couldn’t not.

“Right now?” Louis asks, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yeah?” Harry says, the hand not pulling Louis’ off moving to rest on Louis’ bum, a finger running teasingly down the crack between his cheeks. “That’d be okay? You’d want that?”

“God yeah,” Louis breathes. He loves being eaten out, loves it so much, but it happens so rarely. It’s usually not in the catalogue of possibilities with the people he hook up with, so it’s been so, so long. “Are you sure?”

Harry grins at him, kissing the corner of his lips. Louis loves how they seem unable to keep away from each other, even with the smallest gestures like a chaste kiss. He loves this closeness they have right now, they’ve had right since they met. Loves the need to constantly be close, constantly touch.

“Very sure.” Harry confirms. “Can I?”

“Fuck.” Louis says, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Harry’s. “You’re gonna be the death of me.“

“Please?” Harry asks, lips right against Louis so he can feel every single drag of them against his own as Harry speaks.

“Please.” Louis echoes. “I’d love it if you’d eat me out.”

Harry answering smile is blinding and he let’s go of Louis’ cock after a final squeeze to it that makes Louis moan out loudly. “Turn around then, babe.” Harry says, as he scoots back a little himself. Louis doesn’t allow himself any time to mourn the loss of contact on his dick, knowing what’s to come. He follows orders obediently, turning around until he’s lying on his stomach, his cock pressed against the sheets.

“You arse looks so good, Lou,” Harry says as he runs his hands down over it, making Louis shudder. His bum has always been one of his most erogenous zones, so having Harry’s hands all over them feels amazing. He feels Harry settle over him, Harry’s bare bum resting on top of Louis’ thighs. He palms Louis’ arse, each hand covering a cheek. Louis is so torn between telling Harry to get on with it as he squeezes and fondles Louis’ bum as though he’s never had the pleasure of having one in his hands before, and letting him do so indefinitely because it feels so good.

“Could play with your bum all day,” Harry says, running a thumb down the crack. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you, taste you. Felt so great yesterday, Lou, wanna make you feel that good too.” Louis can feel him shuffle further back then before spreading Louis’ arse cheeks with his hands.

Even though he knows it’s coming, the first drag of Harry’s tongue over his arsehole comes as an absolute shock. Just that tiny, miniscule act sends countless waves of pleasure coursing through Louis’ body. He moans, high-pitched and desperate, fisting his hands in the sheets. Harry only seems encouraged by Louis’ reaction, licking and sucking around Louis’ hole eagerly.

“Harry,” Louis moans brokenly, always having been an absolute sucker for getting rimmed. He’s so close, he’s been so close for so long, and the way Harry’s using his tongue is driving him absolutely crazy.

Harry’s reply, as his mouth is otherwise occupied, is squeezing the meat of Louis’ bum and prodding his tongue against Louis’ rim. There’s nothing that can quite describe how it feels when Harry’s tongue pushes past Louis’ rim and fucks into his arsehole, nothing that could ever come close to justifying the feeling. It’s a little bit like how Louis would expect being electrocuted feels like, only a million times more pleasurable. Pleasure soars through every fibre of his being, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. He shifts his hips slightly as in attempt to rub his cock against the sheets to get some friction, but he might as well not have bothered at all. Harry shifts his hands and pins Louis down by the hips, making sure he can’t move an inch and drives his tongue in and out of Louis’ hole with renewed vigour. He slurps at it like a starved man would attack a meal, alternating between licking over Louis’ hole and pushing his tongue inside of Louis. His thumbs dig into the small of Louis’ back with a force that’ll probably leave bruises and with a particularly deep thrust of his tongue, Louis comes.

It takes both of them by surprise, Louis practically sobbing as he comes basically untouched. He hasn’t done that in what’s honestly probably years, didn’t think he actually still could, so he’s overwhelmed and blissed out and feeling so, so good. His cock soaks the sheets in pools of come while Harry withdraws his tongue, licking over Louis’ hole one last time and kissing it gently. He then kisses up Louis’ spine as Louis tries to recover, eventually getting a heavy Harry Styles flopping on top of him, pressing him into the mattress and into his own come.

“Was good?” Harry asks, nuzzling into Louis’ neck, his soft cock lying comfortably on top of Louis’ bum.

“So good,” Louis confirms, tilting his face as well as he can. Harry gets the message it seems, as he bends down to peck Louis’ lips, before rolling off of him, but not too far away. “I’m filthy now though.”

Harry laughs, reaching over to wipe away some wetness from under Louis’ eye. “Me too,” he agrees. “I feel like I’m covered in come. Both from last night and this morning.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums, turning slightly sideways and opening his arms for Harry to crawl into. So what if he turns into a cuddling koala post sex, it certainly doesn’t seem like Harry minds if the way his smile widens before crawling into Louis’ arms is any indicator. “Was phenomenal though.”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, making Louis feel impossibly pleased. “Best shag of my life, you. Definitely ten out of ten. Would recommend. All that jazz.”

“Please don’t go around recommending me as a shag to all of your friends, Harold,” Louis says, lips pressed against Harry’s temple.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry says, smile turning shy. “Kind of wouldn’t mind keeping you to myself.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, smile widening. He knows his eyes must be crinkling now, as they always do when he’s really happy, but he can’t find it in himself to mind. Particularly not when Harry gently swipes his thumb over the wrinkled skin. “Feeling’s mutual.”

“I’m glad,” Harry says, seeming unable to control his grin.

“Me too,” Louis grins, and he realises that their conversation is pretty much going in loops, but he’s still a little out of it from all the mind-blowing sex they’ve been having, excuse the cliché term. “Have you got any wild plans today, model boy?” he asks then, nosing a little at Harry’s cheek. So what if he turns into an actual puppy when blissed out, at least it means he gives good cuddles. It’s been so long since he last had someone he could cuddle with in post-coital bliss, he thinks he deserves to have some slack cut.

“No,” Harry denies, almost a little too eagerly, like he’s just hoping Louis might ask him to stay. “No plans.”

“You can stick around if you’d like.” Louis offers, because there was never a version of this conversation where Louis wouldn’t suggest for Harry to stay. If it was up to Louis, Harry could stay forever. “I wouldn’t mind some company. I was just planning to spend the day at home.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, smile large. He laughs then, schooling his features into a mock-thoughtful look. “Hmmm,” he says, pretending to contemplate Louis’ offer. “I don’t know. Will it require being clothed?”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “Well, maybe at some point, yeah. But over all I’d say preferably not.” He softens his smile then, running his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. “I’d like to take you out to dinner too, though, and I think it’d probably be best for everyone if that particular activity did involve clothing.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says coyly, grinning big. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, wanting his intentions to be perfectly clear, doesn’t want Harry to have any doubt that Louis is interested in more than just his body, in more than just secret shags. “Yeah, I am.”

“In that case,” Harry says, winding his arms around Louis’ neck as best he can with their positions in the bed. “I’d really, really love to go on a date with you.”

“Good,” Louis smiles, leaning closer to Harry. “I’m glad.” His eyes fall shut just as their lips meet. It already feels like coming home.




<><><><> FOUR MONTHS LATER <><><><>



Harry’s snoozing in bed when he gets the text from Niall. Over the last four months where he’s been dating Louis, he’s become fast friends with the energetic Irish lad. He supposes dating isn’t quite the right way to describe what they’ve been doing, though. They more or less jumped straight past the ‘dating’ relationship mark and straight to the ‘boyfriends’ one. Harry thinks they probably had a maximum of two and a half date before he found himself pressed up against a brick wall with Louis alternating between kissing his neck and murmuring ‘please, please be mine’ into his ear. Harry didn’t really have to think twice before saying yes.

It’s not that it’s all been grand and bliss since they got together officially, Louis own experiences still haunting him every now and then. And Harry understands, he does, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not frustrating when Louis time and time again questions if Harry really knows what it is he wants in life, whether he’s really ready for a relationship with someone like Louis, whether he’s really at the same place in his life emotionally. Harry doesn’t know how many more times he can say that maybe he’s only twenty, but he’s been wanting to settle down and have babies since he was sixteen before he explodes. Luckily actions speak louder than words, as they say, and Harry has been able to feel Louis’ trepidation and insecurity ebb away little by little every time they’ve been out together and Harry’s sole attention has been devoted to him, every time Harry’s cooed over baby pictures of Louis sibling, even though none of them can rightfully be considered babies anymore.

They’re at a place in their relationship now, where they’re just happy, and it means so much to Harry to be able to look at Louis and see his future laid out for him and know that Louis sees the same when looking at him. They haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, which in hindsight seems ridiculous considering the pace with which they’ve been taking their relationship from the very beginning, but it’s okay. Harry knows it’s coming any minute, if not from Louis then from Harry himself, because he has no doubt about how he feels, no doubt that it’s the real deal. Maybe it really should come from Harry first. He’s sure they both know, though, sure they both understand how they feel about each other and where their relationship is headed.

The text from Niall makes it pretty obvious if nothing else.

From the very beginning of their relationship they practiced what Louis liked to call ‘hiding in plain sight’. He was always adamant about not wanting to hide Harry away, about not being ashamed or embarrassed by being seen with him, but at the same time they both really wanted to get to know each other, figure it all out without the scrutiny of the media and all of Louis’ fans.

They spent four blissful months in each other’s pockets, getting to know each other inside out, discovering time upon time again just how compatible they really are. They spent four months getting acquainted with each other, each other’s lives and friends. They spent four months solidifying their relationship, working towards the time when they’d be ready to share their relationship with the public.

That time is now, and the text Niall woke him up with contains a link to an article in The Mirror. They’d known the article would be published today, known that it would go up sometime in the afternoon in England, making it just before noon in New York and therefore surely they’d be up when it happened. They just hadn’t factored into their planning that Niall would take them out for drinks to celebrate their imminent coming out as a couple which would lead to them getting to bed at 6 am and therefore sleeping until noon. How Niall was up to even send Harry the link is beyond him.

He checks his twitter before he checks the article, wanting to get some kind of an idea of people’s reactions. He figures it can’t be too bad. They were both already out, so it’s not like it’ll come as a shock to anyone to see Louis in a relationship with a man. Besides, there’s been rumours about the two of them for months now, only the most stubborn fans won’t have seen it coming.

Sure enough, when Harry gets his twitter app opened he’s gained nearly 20.000 followers, which he figures is pretty impressive considering the fact that the article must only have been up for an hour and a half or so. He checks his mentions quickly, can’t help it, even though he knows Louis would tell him not to. He quickly finds that he had nothing to be worried about, though, the messages directed at him, at them, are largely positive, and it makes Harry smile widely, his heart melt, knowing that people out there are as supportive of them as he’d hoped for. He can take the eventual jab about who gives it to who, or about their age difference, when there are so many other people telling them what a beautiful couple they make. Harry quite agrees with that assessment.

He clicks on the link to the article then, grinning widely when he sees the two of them walking next to each other, holding hands openly and proudly. The moment may have been staged right down to the very last detail, but from this moment on Harry never has to think twice about grabbing Louis’ hand when going somewhere, never has to hold back when wanting to touch him, can walk down the catwalk with Louis sitting front row just to see him and arrive on the red carpet on Louis’ arm for any and all of the numerous awards Louis will be nominated for. It makes him so happy he nearly wants to cry.

“Babe,” Louis’ sleep groggy voice sounds from behind him. “What are you doing?”

“The article is up,” Harry answers, turning in Louis’ arms so that they’re face to face. He pecks his lips once, before bringing up his phone so that they can both see the screen.





“We’re a very pretty couple, aren’t we?” Louis says, kissing the side of Harry’s head.

“Yeah,” Harry grins. He can’t get himself to quite look away from the picture of their joint hands just yet. It feels so, so nice to have it out there. “You look very smug, very self-satisfied.”

Louis laughs, and it’s honestly probably Harry’s favourite sound. “It’s hard not to be when I managed to snatch you to be my boyfriend, isn’t it?” Louis answers, and Harry’s heart positively soars. He loves when Louis praises him, loves it when Louis lets him know how happy he is, how much he loves being with Harry. “You look very happy.”

“I am,” Harry tells him, leaning forward to kiss Louis again. “I am very, very happy. Now and when that picture was taken and basically every single day since I met you.”

“Good,” Louis says, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles. Harry loves those little crow’s feet, loves them very much a lot no matter how much Louis complains about them. “I want you to always be happy.”

Harry’s heart hammers inside his chest, speeding up as he smiles, because he just knows that now’s the moment. The whole world knows they’re together now; they’ve got nothing to hide anymore. Harry doesn’t want to hide a single thing about himself from Louis then, doesn’t want to keep anything quiet.

“I love you.” He tells him then, voice calm in stark contrast to the way his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. If he was expecting anything monumental to happen after that declaration, he is let down something dreadful. Nothing really happens, no fireworks, no romantic music starting to play in the background, no confetti canons going off. It’s just Louis lying opposite him in bed, smiling at him softly. His eyes convey so much love that even the small part of Harry that thought maybe he’d been wrong in thinking Louis loved him too is put to shame.

“I love you too.” Louis says, lifting his hand to caress Harry’s cheek, running his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. “I love you so much, baby.”

“Your baby.” Harry says, smile wide. He loves knowing he’s Louis’ in every sense of the word, loves that even though they’re their own people, they belong to each other too, now more than ever. He loves the feeling of love and protection Louis gives him every time they’re together, every time he’s in Louis’ arms. Loves knowing that in Louis he has someone who will always be in his corner.

“Mine.” Louis confirms, kissing Harry’s lips gently. “And I’m yours.” It’s sappy and romantic, and almost too much, but in true Louis fashion he manages yawn loudly, effectively ending the moment.

Harry laughs out loudly, because only Louis would be so bored from love declarations that he had to yawn.

“Hey,” Louis protests, “I’m sorry. I love you, I do, I do, but I’m also very, very tired. I’m an old man, Harold, I can’t just party all night and then not get my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s heart flutters when Louis tells him he loves him. He wonders how long it’ll take before it won’t get a physical reaction out of him, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get to that point. At least not completely. It’s good though, he wouldn’t want to reach a point where Louis telling him that he loves him doesn’t have any impact on him. He wants to stay right like this forever, happy and so, so in love.

“It’s okay, Lou.” He says with a small laugh. “I’ll still love you, even on your olden days.”

“Good,” Louis murmurs, rolling over slightly until he has his head resting on Harry’s chest, snuggling into him under the blanket. “I’m gonna go back to sleep now. You can make up celebratory we-love-each-other-and-every-one-knows pancakes when I wake up again.”

Harry bends his head down to kiss Louis’ forehead. There’s really nothing he wants more than to cook them breakfast and eat it with their feet tangled on the couch while they run lines for the Spiderman scenes Louis will start shooting in only a couple of days. “Promise,” he says to Louis, tightening his grip on the other man. “Sweet dreams, love.”

His phone is still lying on top of the duvet, and he really realises then that he doesn’t have to hide anything. In fact, if he wanted to, he could go onto his twitter and talk freely about Louis, could post something about him, could confirm it once and for all. He knows Louis won’t mind, they’ve talked about it already. About how they’re both private people, but some things will probably be required as fan service and about how Harry will probably want to post things about Louis, pictures and anecdotes because that’s just the way he is.

Mind made up, he stretches out his arm, phone clutched in his hand. He bends his head towards Louis’ where it’s resting on his chest, quickly making sure that they’re covered enough to be considered decent. He snaps a photo then. He’s careful not to wake Louis when he brings his phone back to eyelevel, looking at the photo he just took.

It looks amazing. They look amazing together, and so, so intimate. There’s no doubt about what they really are to each other when looking at this, and Harry hurries to put it as his lock screen now that he finally can, before opening the instagram app too. He uploads the picture choosing a soft, golden filter that goes excellently with the morning vibes the photo gives off, and captions it ‘Not-so-early morning cuddles’ and uploads it, feeling nothing but happiness when doing so. For a second he contemplated adding ‘with my love’ to the caption, but he knows his friends would never let him live that down, would tease him endlessly for being so sappy. Louis would too, probably.

Besides, it’s kind of implied.