Work Text:
Harry hurried into his dressing room, not looking back as he locked the door behind him. He had broken out into a jog on the way there, running down the hall with his adrenaline still heightened after coming off stage. It was a feeling that he could never get enough of, the energy that was thick in his veins and practically leaking from his pores with every step.
It was hard to come down from sometimes, though falling into Louis’ arms after each show was often just what he needed. Sometimes they kept it going between them, building up a new kind of rush and then crashing down together wrapped up in each other’s nudity. Other times just a cuddle and hearing his husband tell him how proud he was, how wonderful Harry had done, was enough to calm the buzzing that seemed to radiate through Harry’s muscles after a good show.
This time, however, Louis wasn’t there, leaving Harry to decompress by himself.
Harry began pacing as he headed further into the room, thinking that maybe he could walk it off. That was how he always ended his runs after all, slowing down to a walk until his heart rate became more even. The walk around his room didn’t seem to be helping, though, only continuously reminding him how sweaty he was as the fabric of his clothes clung to different areas of his skin with each motion.
Harry turned as he reached the end of the room, ready to pace back to the other side. That’s when he caught sight of himself, in the mirrored wall to his left. He couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat in his chest at the image that lay before him, cheeks slightly rosy and whole face glistening. He ran his hand through his hair absently, feeling the damp heat on his fingers. His eyes darted to the armpit of his shirt, now exposing the large darkened circle where he had been sweating through the fabric for the last two hours.
Harry whimpered, fingers tightening around the hairs between them. It wasn’t often that he got to see himself like this, spent and sweaty after his performances. Sure, his dressing rooms usually had mirrors, but he never sought them out, usually eager to see Louis and wind down from the show. But this mirror was hard to avoid, stretching to the ceiling and across the entire wall, and without Louis there to distract him, Harry’s reflection was the only other form in the room.
Harry took a step closer and lowered his hand from his head. He blinked hard, as if maybe the action would cause his reflection to change. It did no such thing, and the man looking back at him looked just as debauched as he did before, shoulders rising and falling with each panted breath. He swore his face was reddening even more, cheeks heating up as he realized what his image was doing to him. His trousers were tightening, already more snug against his body than the ones he had worn several nights prior. His pulse was increasing, pumping arousal throughout his body and a newfound sweat through his pores.
Harry swallowed hard and watched as his throat bobbed, the sight somehow adding to how raunchy he looked. He couldn’t do this. How was he meant to calm down alone when he looked like that?
He needed Louis.
Harry found his phone where he had left it before his show, picking it up and hitting the speed dial.
It rang too many times, giving Harry more time to begin pacing again.
“Hey, Haz.”
“Louis,” Harry said the moment he heard his husband’s voice. He stopped in his tracks, realizing that he was in front of the mirror again.
“Hi, babe,” Louis replied. “How was the show? Only caught the tail end of a stream, but you looked like you were having fun as always.”
Harry could hardly focus on Louis’ words, though his skin tingled at the mention of his show and the reminder that his stage clothes were still clinging to his body. “I’m…” Harry swallowed hard as his sentence trailed off.
“Baby?” Louis said from the phone speaker moments later. “You alright, love?”
Harry nodded absently before realizing that Louis couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Just…” He let out a breath that felt strained as he turned away from his reflection.
“You sound a bit gone, darling,” Louis said, concern ringing through his tone and making Harry’s heart flutter. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m.” Harry took in a breath and then forced himself to continue speaking. “I’m hot,” he settled on.
“Have you had a drink, doll?” Louis asked. “Are you alone? Can you sit down and have someone turn up the air for you?”
Harry shook his head. “No, it’s—it’s not… like that.”
“Hazza,” Louis said, but Harry cut him off.
“I’m fine,” Harry said. “I’m just…” He lowered his voice, turning to look towards the door, as if someone could have gotten past the lock. “Sweaty.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and for a moment Harry thought that maybe Louis hadn’t heard him—or hadn’t understood.
Then Louis released a breathy chuckle. “That all, sweetheart?”
Harry’s stomach dropped into his groin, his cock stirring in his trousers. Louis knew. Harry could tell by the tone of his voice, the way he lowered it in both volume and register, the way he’d said “sweetheart,” like he was balls deep inside of Harry and breathing hot on his ear.
Harry squirmed. “Sweaty and—” He couldn’t say it. It was too embarrassing, too crude, too insane for him to admit out loud, even though Louis was already well aware.
“Sweaty and horny off it, yeah?” Louis provided for him.
Harry whined, bringing his arm to his face like he needed to hide the blush on his cheeks from his husband. “Lou,” he said into his sleeve with a mumble that he was sure Louis hadn’t heard.
“Are you alone?” Louis asked for the second time. He didn’t wait for Harry to answer before he spoke again. “You wanna touch yourself?”
Harry whined again as he pulled his face from his arm, wishing that Louis was there with him. He hated that he couldn’t just nod, couldn’t dig his fingers into Louis’ flesh in a way that wordlessly told Louis exactly what he needed. But Harry knew he had to speak, had to say yes and admit his desires out loud. He opened his mouth, hoping that a word of confirmation would come to him, but all that came out was a small, “Daddy.”
He’d barely gotten the word out before Louis was speaking again, like he had been ready to jump into the role and was just waiting for his cue. “Yeah, darling,” Louis soothed. “You want Daddy to talk you off?”
“Please,” Harry whispered hesitantly, as if asking for it would make Louis change his mind.
“I can do that for you, honey,” Louis said.
The certainty in Louis’ voice had Harry letting out a breath of relief, a sigh that he hadn’t realized had been trapped in his chest.
“Surprised it’s taken this long for you to get yourself this worked up,” Louis chuckled. “This is, what—your sixth night back on stage?”
Harry chewed on his lip, reminding himself again that he couldn’t just nod. “Mhmm,” he forced himself to say.
“Know you’ve missed it so much, yeah?” Louis went on. “Jumping around and getting all sweaty in front of a screaming crowd.”
“Daddy,” Harry whined, fidgeting where he stood as he grew antsy with anticipation.
“Patience, darling,” Louis said easily. “Tell me what you need.”
“Need you,” Harry said, though he knew that his dom was going to require more of him than that. “I need you to tell me what to do, please.”
“Okay, good boy for using your words.”
Harry bit his lip, a shy smile dimpling on his face at Louis’ praise.
“Alright, I’ve got some questions for you first, okay, love?” Louis began. “Do you have some water?”
Harry loosened his hand around his water bottle, realizing how tightly he had been clutching it. “Yes.”
“Good. Have a drink for me, please.”
Harry did so, moaning at the shocking chill as it coated his tongue and slid down his throat.
“Next question, does your dressing room have a thermostat?”
Harry looked around, noticing a keypad on the wall in the corner. “Yeah,” he said, already walking towards it.
“Turn off the air conditioning,” Louis said next, but Harry’s fingers were already tapping at the screen, attempting to figure out how the system worked.
“I think I got it,” he said a few moments later.
“Good lad. Your door locked?”
Harry nodded, a thrill racing through him at the question, the implication that a locked door usually meant for them. “Yes,” he said.
“Okay, darling. You’re doing so well already,” Louis told him.
Harry took in a shaky breath, the praise almost stinging without Louis physically there with him. “What else, Daddy?” Harry asked softly.
“One last thing, sweetheart,” Louis said. “Does your room have a mirror?”
Harry’s eyes flicked up to the mirror, the sight that he had been avoiding since he’d first caught a glimpse of himself. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered as his reflection stared back at him from across the room.
“How big?” Louis asked.
“It—” Harry swallowed, quickly pulling his eyes away. “It takes up the whole wall.”
Harry swore he could hear Louis smile through the phone. “Good. Is there a chair you can move in front of it?”
Harry grabbed the chair from in front of the vanity and brought it over to the mirror. “How close?” he questioned.
“Close as you can put it and still sit in it comfortably.”
Harry set the chair down in front of the mirror and waited to be told to sit down. “Okay,” he breathed, letting Louis know that he had done it.
“Good boy,” Louis said. “Now sit.”
Harry jolted, the command hitting his ears and shooting down his spine, filling him with a primal urge to obey. “I’m sitting,” he said moments later as he set his water bottle on the ground beside him.
Louis didn’t reply at first, the silence making Harry squirm. “Daddy,” he said moments later, itching with the need to be told what to do.
“Look at yourself, Harry,” Louis instructed. His voice was softened but suddenly serious, the combination making Harry’s toes curl.
Harry whimpered, as he finally forced himself to look at his reflection again.
The sheen along his forehead caught the light as he lifted his head back to the mirror, the sight of it making his breath catch in his throat. He thought he heard Louis chuckle, but he couldn’t be sure with the way his heart was pounding in his ears.
“How do you look, baby?” Louis asked.
Harry bit his lip, taking a shuddering breath and stretching his fingers out atop his thighs. “I look…” He swallowed, trying to find the right word. “Hot,” he settled on, unsure which way he meant it.
Louis hummed. “I’m sure you do, love,” he said. “Can you unbutton your shirt a bit for me?”
Harry put his phone on speaker, setting it in his lap. His hands shook as he tried to work the buttons, fingertips bumping against the tackiness of his chest as more and more skin was revealed. He stopped once he reached his butterfly tattoo, the sight reminiscent of a younger time when he often wore his shirts open that deeply.
“Okay,” he breathed, signalling to Louis that he had obeyed.
“Open it up a little,” Louis said next. “Get a good view of your chest.”
Harry obeyed, fingers dragging against his abs as he pulled his shirt apart. He trailed them upwards through the light hairs towards the top that were damp with sweat. The feeling sent a jolt down his ribs, cock hardening in his pants and pulling at the front of his trousers. He couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped his throat, immediately causing his teeth to sink into the inside of his cheek.
“How are you feeling?” Louis asked.
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer this question, how to explain that his body felt electrified, and his skin felt like it was going to melt off of him in the best way. The room was getting warmer, though this fact made him shiver, knowing that the sheen on his exposed chest would probably grow soon. He swore he felt warm on the inside too, like even his bones were sweating beneath the layers of muscle and flesh.
Harry considered that perhaps Louis hadn’t meant his question that way, not physically. Perhaps instead, he wanted to know how Harry was feeling mentally, emotionally. Harry didn’t know the answer to this either. He was excited, he was anxious, he was eager to be told that he was allowed to remove his cock from his pants and get himself off. Moreover, he was happy, delighted to be back touring again after being away for so long. As much as he’d needed and enjoyed his break, being back on stage felt so right, filling him with an elation that made him feel warm all over.
“I feel good,” he said with a nod. “Really good.”
“Good,” Louis said, though Harry was unsure if this was meant to be praise or simply a repetition of Harry’s answer. “Love you so much, you know.”
Harry watched as the cheeks of the man in the mirror sprouted dimples, a soft, “Love you too,” leaving his lips.
“Bet you look so lovely right now,” Louis went on. “All sweat-soaked and pretty for me.”
Harry squirmed in his seat, restless as butterflies stirred in his stomach at his husband’s words.
“Pretty and sweet and wrecked already, yeah?”
Harry moaned at this, lower lip getting sucked into his mouth. It was true—the man gazing at him looked like he’d been wrecked and worn out, leaving behind a mess of moisture and heat.
“Yeah,” Louis breathed. “It’s not often you look so used up before we’ve even begun anything.”
Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he let the words sink in—used up. That’s exactly how he felt, like a wrung-out towel that was warm and wet, discarded on the floor in a heap. He opened his eyes again and scanned his body, his gaze stopping at the darkened fabric of his shirt, just barely peaking out from beneath his arms. His stomach jumped as he imagined the damp material pressed to his tongue, shirt stuffed in his mouth to gag him as Louis had done so many times before.
He was pulled from his thoughts by Louis’ voice, speaking to him again. “Which part of you do you think is the sweatiest?” he asked.
Harry shifted, feeling how sticky nearly every inch of him was. “Either under my arms or in my—” He stopped, the rest of his answer getting lodged in his throat at the embarrassment that suddenly rolled through his system. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t form the words to reveal the place where he was feeling it the most.
“Harry,” Louis said, his tone kind but indicating that he expected Harry to answer fully.
Harry whined, high in his throat as he ducked his head and brought his hands to his face. “Don’t make me say it,” he mumbled, squeezing his thighs together like that would change the answer.
“Come on, Hazza,” Louis encouraged knowingly. “Where else are you sweating?”
Harry pulled his hands off of his face, his palms and fingers now damp. He grabbed at his thighs anxiously, spreading his legs and further confirming the truth that he was reluctant to share. “Daddy,” he mumbled, heat rising on his cheeks once again.
“I’m not going to play with you if you can’t use your words with me, Harry,” Louis said, his tone suddenly firm. “If you want to be naughty and get off in your own filth, then you need to answer me when I ask you a question.”
Harry tipped his head back with a humiliated groan. It sounded deliciously sinful when Louis put it like that. “In my pants,” Harry whined, his dick suddenly leaking at the admission.
“That’s right,” Louis said. His confirmation somehow made it even more embarrassing, the fact that he had clearly known before Harry had spoken the words. “Always get so sweaty down there, don’t you.”
Harry swallowed, attempting to breathe past the mortification that was threatening to choke him out. He was trying to find a verbal response, but then Louis spoke again.
“How’s it feel, baby?” he asked. “You gonna tell me about it? Or do I need to tell you?”
“You,” Harry replied, the word barely making a sound as it left his lips.
“Can’t hear you, doll,” Louis said, just as Harry knew he would.
“Tell me, Daddy, please,” Harry spoke up more clearly.
Louis hummed, the sound making Harry shiver. “Bet you’re nice and wet right where your groin meets your thigh, yeah? Where Daddy likes to lick and make you squirm?”
Harry wriggled in his seat with a shaky inhale, just the mention of Louis’ tongue between his legs making him writhe.
“And around back? Between your cheeks? You get so wet there too, yeah?”
Harry let out a broken groan, clenching his hole and tensing his thighs. “Yeah,” he breathed, tipping his head back towards the ceiling as he basked in the feeling Louis spoke of.
“And how about up near your dick?” Louis spoke, the word making Harry kick a leg out. “You haven’t shaved in a while, have you.”
Harry shook his head, his breaths coming faster. “No. No.”
“You get fucking soaked on stage when you let it grow out,” Louis said. His voice was husky, teasing, pulling in Harry’s chest like a rope was tied around his sternum. “You love when Daddy gets his fingers wet at the base and then drags them up your cock, yeah?”
“Daddy,” Harry breathed, back arching off of his chair and fingers gripping the fabric at his thigh. “Can I take it out, Daddy, please?”
“Not yet, darling,” Louis replied. The words were torturous, dragging a groan of protest from Harry’s throat. “You hard for me?”
“Yes,” Harry answered automatically.
Louis paused a moment before he asked, “Dripping?”
“Yes.”
Louis released a hummed chuckle, the kind that often disappeared into Harry’s neck when Louis was on top of him and teasing him relentlessly. “Good,” was all Louis said. The word felt taunting, like a teasing taste on Harry’s tongue that he wished he could swallow down completely.
Harry whimpered, digging his heel into the floor and trying to adjust his position. He was so hot, his clothes feeling like they were glued to his body with sweat and arousal. “Please,” he breathed, trying to find his voice. “Please, can I have it?”
“Can you have what?” Louis asked, like he didn’t know.
“Take my dick out,” Harry mumbled. “Wanna play with it.”
“What?” Louis asked in mock confusion. “While it’s all sweaty and gross?”
“Yeah,” Harry said wetly, his head falling into a nod as his hand came to grip himself over his trousers. “Please.”
“Harry.”
Harry sank in his seat at the way his name sounded like he was about to get in trouble. “Yes?” he replied.
Louis was silent, the seconds ticking by with the anxious pounding of Harry’s heart. “That’s pretty filthy of you, kitten,” Louis finally said.
A rushed breath fell from Harry’s lips as he licked them and sat up straighter. “I like being filthy,” he declared.
“Oh, do you?”
Harry nodded so hard that he saw stars for a moment. “Yeah, yes. Yes please.”
“Please what?”
Harry let out a frustrated whine and grabbed at his hair, watching as the forehead of his reflection wrinkled. “Please, I wanna touch myself,” he implored as he raked his hand down his dampened face.
“Yeah?” Louis said around a laugh. “Just sitting there in your own funk, waiting to be allowed to make yourself sweat even more, hm?”
Harry swallowed, his breath hitching as he attempted to speak. “You—you’re already doing that.”
“What’s that?”
Harry squeezed his cock again, feeling the warmth of it beneath the material of his trousers and pants. He blinked hard at his reflection, admiring the way the light caught the shine on his chest as it rose and fell with his breaths. “Making me sweat,” he whispered.
“Say it louder, Harry,” Louis commanded.
“You’re making me sweat,” Harry repeated automatically, the words coming at an increased volume that he hoped Louis would be pleased with.
“Yeah, I am.” Louis sounded cocky, sexy in ways that had Harry wishing he could jump through the phone and sink to his knees in front of his dom.
“Daddy, please!” Harry whinged, close to tears at how restricted he was feeling. He loved when his flesh was trapped beneath his clothes and building up layers of sweat, but being unable to take it further, to release his cock from its confinements and finally start to get some relief… He was going to lose his mind.
“Let me see,” Louis said.
Harry frowned. “W-what?”
“Let me see,” Louis repeated, annunciating his words as if that would make Harry understand.
“My dick?”
Harry swore he could hear Louis roll his eyes through the phone as his dom let out a tight sigh. “No, darling. Let Daddy see how he’s making you sweat. Take a picture for me.”
Harry picked up his phone from his lap, hands trembling as he tried to swipe to the camera. His fingers were tacky and not cooperating with the screen, getting stuck in the wrong places and making Harry want to scream.
He finally was able to open his camera, flipping it to selfie mode. He turned the flash on, hoping it would hit the shine on his skin just right. After pulling open his shirt, he held his arm up and sucked his lower lip into his mouth, snapping the photo with a light whine.
“Sent it,” he sighed out a minute later, leaning back and dropping the phone onto his chest.
After a few moments, he heard Louis release an, “Oh, darling,” low and breathy and making Harry’s heart jump into his throat. “God, baby, look at you.”
Harry furrowed his brow with a whine, eyes darting between the photo on his phone and his reflection in the mirror. “Am I pretty, Daddy?” he asked, locking eyes with himself as he trailed his fingers down the naked skin of his chest.
“So pretty, sweetheart,” Louis said. “You look like you’ve been bent over and railed into next week.”
Harry’s eyes rolled as he sucked in a breath, thumb catching where the two sides of his shirt connected with a button. “Wish I could,” he said, picturing the words Louis spoke. He imagined his husband bursting into the room and hauling him to the vanity, pressing him down across the surface of it and—
“Alright, honey,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. “Open your trousers for me.”
Harry blinked several times as the words processed. Then his hands were at his belt, quickly pulling it open. “Thank you, thank you,” he sighed out as he moved on to his fly. He had finally gotten it open, ready to reach inside for his cock when Louis spoke again.
“Wait,” Louis said, the command ringing in Harry’s ear and making him tense.
Harry gave a questioning whimper, fingers twitching at the waistband of his underwear.
“Listen very carefully, pet,” Louis spoke. “I want you to stick your hand into your pants for me. But don’t pull your dick out yet.”
Harry obeyed, releasing a deep groan as he felt how warm it was beneath the fabric.
“You’re gonna slide your hand down, and trace over the crease of your leg and groin, yeah? Want you to feel how wet it is.”
Harry struggled for a moment as he wriggled his hand further down, beginning to wish he had worn looser trousers. He shuddered when he finally reached it, the tip of his finger sliding easily through the slickened crevice of his flesh. “Daddy,” he breathed, almost entranced by how right his dom had been.
“Yeah,” Louis replied. “Just like that, sweetheart. How’s it feel?”
“Soaked,” Harry whispered, as if someone else might’ve heard him if he dared to speak out loud.
“Good. Now I want you to finger through your pubes, yeah?”
Harry brought his hand back up, a breathy “Fuck,” slipping from his lips as he nestled his fingers into the hairs around his cock. He could feel his face heating with embarrassment at how wet his skin was beneath the hairs, as if he had just come from the shower and hadn’t yet toweled off. He squirmed at the feeling, at the dampness now coating his fingers as his breath stuttered in his chest.
“Maybe I should make you keep your hand like that,” Louis pondered aloud. “Let your fingers soak in your sweat and not let you touch your cock.”
Harry sat up straighter, eyes widening. “No, please,” he whined, shaking his head. “I need it, please, need to touch.”
“Hmmm.”
Harry blinked hard, trying to keep the tears burning in his sinuses from escaping. He was so overwhelmed, so full of pent up energy and neediness and an itch he couldn’t yet scratch. “Please,” he tried again, hearing the way his voice caught in his throat, like he was going to cry.
“Oh, honey,” Louis crooned. “You need it that bad?”
Harry nodded, making a pitiful noise of confirmation.
“You poor thing. You gonna cry for it, baby? Make yourself cry until your face is just a mess of tears and sweat?”
Harry released a sob, tightening the fingers of his free hand into a fist. “Daddy, please!” he begged. “I-I… I’ve been so good, been listening and doing everything you say.”
“That’s true, you have,” Louis agreed slowly. “But you’re not all good, are you, Harry.”
Harry fidgeted with the button on his shirt. “What—what do you mean?”
“I mean,” Louis continued. “You’re just sitting there, hand in your trousers, marinating in griminess like a little skank, aching to touch yourself. You think good boys get off on being gross like that?”
Harry let out a whine, watching his face in the mirror as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m. I’m sorry,” he mumbled automatically.
“Hush now, darling,” Louis said soothingly. “It’s okay. Take your dick out for me.”
Harry gasped as he wrapped his hand around his cock and used the other to pull his pants down over it. He let out a sigh as it finally sprang free, the heat of it practically burning his palm as he gave it a squeeze. The air felt cool against the stickiness of his skin that had been covered and heating for so long.
“Thank you,” he sighed as he stroked his fist up the length of it, drawing a burst of precum from the tip.
“I didn’t say you could start anything,” Louis spoke, as if he could somehow see what Harry was doing.
Harry froze, swallowing the nerves that were suddenly buzzing in his throat. “‘m sorry,” he murmured again.
“You really are proper nasty, are you,” Louis said, his scolding tone making Harry shiver. “Just can’t wait to start touching your gross little cock that’s been baking in the heat all night.”
Harry tried to pull his hand away, tried to release his dick until Louis told him he could play with it, but it was becoming too much—the waiting, Louis’ teasing, the tension that felt like his veins were being stretched as each second passed. It was all weighing on him and making him dizzy, creating an overwhelm that he couldn’t handle.
“Yellow,” he forced himself to say, hating the way his voice shook with the word.
“Okay, baby, you’re alright,” Louis soothed, his tone instantly changing to one that was more calming. “Good boy, using your colors. What do you need from me, love?”
Harry gripped the edge of his shirt and let out a strained breath. “I just—I can’t wait anymore, please. It’s too much.”
“Alright, doll,” Louis said, sounding sympathetic. “You’re good to keep going? You can touch yourself if everything else is okay.”
Harry nodded. “Yes, I’m good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby. Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Harry said again, sighing with relief as he started stroking himself. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into it, a shudder rippling through his limbs as he finally was able to begin to relax. He frowned after a few moments, disliking the silence coming from the phone speaker. “Daddy,” he said softly, a loaded request in his voice that he wasn’t saying.
“How’s it feel, dove?” Louis asked, somehow knowing just what Harry needed. “To finally have your dick in your hand after needing it for so long?”
“So good,” Harry breathed, extending a leg and leaning back in his chair.
“And how about the rest of you?” Louis went on. “Haven’t started cooling down on me, have you?”
Harry shook his head. “No, never. Still really—” He stopped, clearing his throat before forcing himself to say the word. “Sweaty.”
“Good boy,” Louis said. He gave a weighted exhale that made Harry’s stomach swoop down into his groin.
“Daddy,” Harry said, cocking his head to one side. “Are you… touching yourself?”
Louis hummed a low chuckle. “Yes, I am,” he said huskily. “You think I’m able to talk all that smut to you and not get hard?”
Harry moaned, squeezing himself with a twist of his hand. “Are you thinking about me?” he asked.
“Yeah, babe,” Louis replied. “Looking at that picture you sent and thinking about how pretty you are when you sweat for me.”
Harry squealed, bringing his free hand to cover his face.
Louis laughed. “What, you getting embarrassed on me all of a sudden?”
Harry bit back a grin and uncovered his face. “No,” he said. “Love when you say I’m pretty.”
“Well, you are,” Louis said. “So damn pretty, it’s like you’re glowing.” He paused for a moment before speaking again, more softly this time. “It’s crazy how pretty boys like you can be so dirty.”
Harry moaned at this, running his hand through his hair as he continued touching his cock with the other. “Yeah,” he agreed breathlessly as he tightened his fingers around his damp locks. “So dirty.”
“Dirty and hot and looking like you’ve been fucked to hell and back, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said with a nod, his voice louder as he took in Louis’ words. He forced his eyes open and brought them to the mirror, drinking in the sight of himself with a jolt. He had grown even warmer, evident from the way the circle under his arm had grown larger, darker. His face was shining and flushed all the way down to his chest, the splotches of glossy pink making him feel soft inside. The hairs of his sideburns were pasted to his skin beside his ears, and the ones on his chest were darkened from the mist that they wore. The birds beneath his collarbones were shimmering with every breath, as if they had feathers made of silver, glittering in the sun.
“Daddy,” Harry breathed, picking up the speed of his hand.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
Harry swallowed and parted his lips, staring at himself with hooded eyes. “I… I look good.”
Louis let out a laugh that had Harry preening. “I bet you do, darling. You feel good too?”
“Mhmm,” Harry replied as he ducked his lower lip between his teeth.
“You happy to finally be doing this? After telling your fans how much you’ve been sweating on stage every show over the past ten days?”
Harry gasped lightly, body jerking forward as a thrill shot through his muscles.
“Yeah,” Louis chuckled. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten. Singing about your sweaty armpits and going on about what a scorcher it’s been, all while trying not to get a hard-on in front of everyone.”
Harry whined, high in his throat, wanting to melt into the chair at his dom’s words. He couldn’t even deny them, helpless to the way Louis was spreading him open and reading him like a book.
“Makes you sound a bit slutty, my love,” Louis went on. “Constantly pointing out how wet you are, as if it’s not obvious to anyone with functioning eyes.”
Harry nodded with a moan, unable to find words to respond.
“You’ve missed being a raunchy little whore on stage,” Louis said, not even bothering to ask if it was true.
“Yeah,” Harry confirmed anyway, letting the words tickle him deep between his hips.
“What’s it feel like?” Louis asked next. “Sweating under your arms, down your back, all in your pants… and being unable to do anything about it other than sing and jump around and sweat even more?”
“Feels…” Harry trailed off, palming over the head of his cock and whimpering at how wet he was.
“It’s worse,” Louis went on. “Worse than it was last tour. What was it you said once? That ever since you turned thirty, your body just pours sweat like a faucet?”
Harry nodded with mumbled words, unsure if they were forming coherent sentences or not.
“Know you’ve missed it so much, kitten. Sweating in front of so many people.”
“Daddy,” Harry sighed, dipping a hand into his open shirt and sliding it along his chest.
“‘s why you took up running, innit? So you had another way to make yourself sweat while you weren’t touring?”
Harry whimpered, pinching his nipple and increasing the pace of his hand on his dick. “I like running,” he protested with a pout.
“I know you do,” Louis said. “Getting all nasty from it is just the icing on the cake, hm?”
“Maybe,” Harry said smally.
Louis chuckled. “You know your best wanks are after a run, before the shower.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut with an embarrassed whine, beginning to regret ever telling Louis his secret. “‘s better with you,” Harry said.
“God,” Louis murmured. “Fucking love fucking you after you get back from a run.”
“Daddy,” Harry whined, squirming as he imagined Louis’ hands, grabbing at his flesh in tacky, hungry fistfuls. He let out a broken moan as his jaw dropped, hips bucking up into his hand. “Daddy, I’m close.”
“Are you able to stand for me, sweetheart?” Louis asked.
Harry frowned in confusion. “Stand?” he questioned.
“Yeah,” Louis confirmed. “Want you to get close to the mirror, hand above your head resting on the glass, and I want you to watch yourself.”
Harry stood on shaky legs. “What about my phone?” he wondered.
“You can keep it on the chair,” Louis told him. You’ll still be able to hear me.”
Harry set his phone on the chair and positioned himself in front of the mirror, groaning with his lip between his teeth at how ruined he looked.
“Get yourself nice and close to coming again, baby,” Louis instructed. “Look at how pretty you are and get yourself to the edge.”
Harry whined, eyes widening at Louis’ words as he pulled at his cock. He watched sweat bead at his hairline and run down his face, the sight making his jaw fall open and his knees buckle. “Daddy,” he spoke, voice tight as he leaned his forearm against the mirror.
“I’m right here, love,” Louis said. “You’re almost there, yeah? Getting close watching yourself sweat like that?”
Harry worked his fist faster between his legs, breathing hard and watching the mirror begin to steam up. He fell forward as he felt his balls tighten up against his body, still damp and hot in his pants. “Daddy,” he said urgently. “Fuck, Daddy, I need—” He cut himself of with a stifled groan, unsure if he’d be able to stop himself from coming before his dom gave him permission.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Louis said, voice sounding tight and breathy. “Make yourself come for me.”
Harry’s forehead pressed against the mirror with an open-mouthed moan splintering through his throat as his cock began pulsing. He kept his eyes open, watching in awe as he sprayed long ropes of cum over the glass, the image looking almost as filthy as he felt.
Somewhere in the haze of his orgasm, he heard Louis coming too, groaning choked and deep through the phone speaker.
Harry collapsed completely against the mirror, letting his body slowly slide to the floor. “Oh my god,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “Fucking shit.”
“You okay, angel?” Louis asked breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Harry said as he rested his head back against the mirror and closed his eyes. “Cannot remember the last time I came that hard.” He blinked rapidly, the sweat that he had loved so much a moment ago now burning his eyes. He wiped at them with his sleeve and then turned his head back to the evidence of his orgasm.
“You were so good,” Louis continued. “You always listen so well for me, baby, thank you. Can you get your water?”
Harry swallowed. “I… came all over the mirror,” he mumbled with embarrassment
Louis chuckled. “That’s okay, love. You can clean it in a minute. Get a drink for me..”
Harry bit his lip with a soft whimper, turning and pressing himself onto his knees. He then extended his tongue and pressed it to the glass in a long swipe through his mess. He pulled back and swallowed, gasping lightly at how naughty it felt. He leaned back in and did it again, breathing heavily through his open mouth as he went.
“Harry,” Louis said seconds later. “Baby, are you licking the mirror clean?”
Harry only moaned at this, continuing until the mirror was clear. “Maybe,” he rasped after the last swallow, voice sticky with cum.
“Jesus Christ, Haz,” Louis mumbled. “That’s proper fucking raunchy of you. When I said get a drink, that’s not what I meant.”
“Hey,” Harry protested as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve been gross all evening. What’s another thirty seconds?”