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Maybe It's A Bit Much

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Maybe it's a bit much. Maybe most of the people here are a bit overly artsy and maybe the live band could be a little less drunk, but it's a pretty good party for something hosted by Nick Grimshaw. Not to mention everything's been paid for so that means open bar all night. Which Louis is especially fond of.

It's the people that Louis is getting tired of. And yeah he sounds like an asshole even thinking it but he really can't help himself. Sure he's had a few conversations tonight and met a number of people, but nothing or no one has really kept his interest for more than a few minutes. As vain as it sounds, Louis would much rather keep his seat at the bar than have to pretend to be interested in yet another conversation about how radio has progressed over the years. But really, what can he expect when most of the people here are from Nick's studio.

It's not entirely bad. The raspberry vodka Louis has been sipping on for the past hour is one of the best he's had. Make that his third raspberry vodka. All doubles. But hey, he just reached the next level on this weird word game he downloaded to his phone so this might just be shaping up to be a good night after all.

It's just that Louis has been so antsy lately. They've been so busy with the tour, especially in the past few weeks, that Louis hasn't had time to do anything that isn't related to One Direction.

It's weird being on his own without the other lads constantly in his space. It's a strange feeling that he's almost missing but it's nice to catch up with himself at the same time. What with all the shows and interviews and travelling and press events, Louis hasn't had any personal time like at all. Let alone private time with his boyfriend. Fuck personal time when he and Harry haven't even had a chance for a quick shitty handjob in two fucking weeks.

You could say it's really starting to get to him.

"I guess another then?" the bartender warms up to Louis, taking note of his third empty glass of the night.

"Ah fuck it," Louis smiles with a tilt of his head. He's had three drinks and he's only feeling a slight buzz. No harm in having another.

"There's the lad," the man chuckles, mixing a new glass and sliding it over to him right away. It's free but Louis tips him anyways because why not.

Louis is almost starting to think that the open bar is going to be the highlight of his night until its tender speaks up again.

"I think someone's looking for you," he gives Louis a nod, gesturing past him.

"Louis Tomlinson," he hears a voice call, almost on cue. Louis expects to turn around and fake another smile to yet another nameless radio intern, but something's different with this one. This voice is more confident than that. He knows this voice.

"Greg James," Louis turns around with a smirk, slightly gripping his drink tighter without consciously realising it.

"Didn't think you'd actually show," Greg says as he nears him. "What with your busy popstar life and all."

Greg says the last bit in a mocking tone, as it always is with him and Louis. They've grown closer in the past year or so, as Louis spent well over a couple hours at the BBC Radio studios during their segment together. Since then they've traded numbers and have done lunch a few times, not to mention a few more interviews. But that was months ago. And tonight Greg looks- maybe he's taller. Maybe he's broader. Whatever it is, he looks good.

"You did text me about six times," Louis quips as he catches himself staring.

"Oh was that you? Shit, I thought I was texting my nan."

"Nah, she was texting me," Louis retorts back with a cheeky wink.

It's always like this with Greg and Louis. The banter they exchange is always so good it's almost like it's rehearsed. They just fit well. It's part of why they've become such good friends over the years.

Greg chuckles at Louis' wit, lowering his head. He goes to say something until one Nick Grimshaw catches him around the shoulders and pulls him into a strained headlock. But Greg is just so tall and Nick is just so- Nick that it doesn't really end up working out.

"Gregory talking about the big ol' crush he's got on you, Tommo?" Nick slurs from over Greg's shoulders, taking no mind to the taller man's discomfort.

"Oi, we were just getting to the smutty details," Greg chides, sneaking a glance at Louis as he pulls Nick from around his neck, "I was nearly at second base you dick."

Nick apparently finds Greg's joke just about the funniest thing in the world and nearly spills his drink as he throws his head back in laughter. Louis laughs along, but mainly to hide the sudden flush that covers his complexion.

Nick knows Louis and Harry are together. Obviously Nick knows. But Louis isn't entirely sure about Greg. Greg probably doesn't have any idea that Louis is even into guys, to be honest. At least he shouldn't.

"Gonna burst a lung, Grimmy," Greg quips, steadying his friend who is probably far more smashed than he and Louis combined.

"Come on James," Nick hums, his chuckles dying down as he tucks in his shirt. "Finchy's just about missing you by now."

Greg turns to Louis with a twinkle in his eye and shrugs apologetically as Nick pulls him away. They disappear into the crowd surrounding them and Louis is left alone once more.

There was an expression playing on Greg's face that Louis wasn't entirely sure of. In all honesty it wasn't quite terrible. Intriguing is what it was. But Louis is very much taken, and he really shouldn't be having any thoughts about anyone other than his boyfriend, so he neatly stores any suggestive image he may have had in the back of his mind and moves along.

 


 

It's nearly twenty minutes later and Louis has actually found good conversation in a young woman from Brisbane. That is, after he had finally found the motivation to leave his homely seat at the bar.

The girl has short blonde hair and is in her mid-twenties and is undeniably very pretty. She has already explained to Louis how she's aiming to make it as a radio host on BBC Radio 1, as are all the other interns at this party. But the girl does hold a decent conversation and is generally quite nice overall so maybe she does have a shot at this radio thing after all.

The girl ― Katie, Louis finds out is her name ― has also informed Louis of her massive crush on none other than Gregory James.

"I dunno, I just think he's well fit."

Louis wanted to say "me too" as a joke but stopped himself. It almost felt too familiar. Instead, he settles with a suggestive, "You never know what can happen in those radio studios after hours. I've heard stories!" He raises his eyebrows comically, making Katie laugh out loud.

She touches her hand to her quickly reddening face, "God, I probably sound like I'm fourteen, telling you of all people."

Louis chuckles and reassures her that at least it's not as weird as having a crush on Nick Grimshaw and hoping to get with him, having actual boobs and all. And then he inwardly cringes because he just made a joke about the poor girl's boobs. But she seems to not take notice and instead laughs with, "At least I know I have somewhat of a chance with Greg." And all Louis can say is "yeah." Because as soon as she said it he got a twist in his lower stomach that almost felt like- was it jealousy? And since when does Louis get jealous over other guys? Maybe he is a bit drunk.

All of Louis' thoughts wash away, however, as Katie's face blanches and a voice next to Louis' ear says deeply, "Mind if I steal your friend away?"

And it's not until he turns around that Louis realises the man was not talking to him, but about him. It's Greg. Obviously it's fucking Greg.

After a quick hello and goodbye between Greg and a slightly flustered Katie, Greg is smoothly leading Louis back to the familiar bar counter.

"I looked for you," Greg says to Louis as they take their neighbouring seats. Louis blushes inwardly at the image of Greg James wandering Nick's party searching for him and only him. "I expected you to be glued to your seat by now."

Louis releases a laugh at that, "Why are we back then?"

"Thought I could buy you a drink."

"They're free, mate."

"It's the thought that counts," Greg eyes Louis cheekily, taking in his disbelieving stare, and then says, "Alright, let's do it then, shots it is!"

"I can't be out too late tonight," Louis bluffs. Really, he just wants to go home and have actual sex with his boyfriend. Something he hasn't done for too long of a time. Sparing the thought that he is having a decent time tonight-

"It's half eleven," Greg says plainly. "You're going to turn me down at half eleven?"

Louis gives Greg a painfully slow once over that Greg has to notice. His vision unknowingly trails down to the larger man's chest, his abdomen, his thighs- It's not like anyone's paying for anything. And it's the first day off he's had in a while.

"Why not."

And with that, three shots are ordered each, and taken (almost) all at once.

 


 

Greg has found them a nice spot on some couches in a dimly lit corner of the main room where the two have been talking for the past half hour. Most of it is just drunken banter. So a lot of it is them trying to make sense of things that don't entirely make any sense at all. But it's fun, and relaxing, and just what Louis needs actually.

He's much further gone than he expected to be tonight. But apparently so is Greg. It makes Louis feel better knowing he probably won't be the only one making a fool of himself tonight.

If Louis had been checking his phone he would have seen the two unread text messages from Harry, catching him up with what he missed on tonight's episode of The Graham Norton Show. But he hasn't so he doesn't. He's too wrapped up with Greg and his hilarious take on public nudity to even consider focussing his attention anywhere else.

"I'm just saying it's not as glamourous as we're making it out to be," Greg laughs, pouring himself some more champagne from the bottle at the table. He tops off Louis' glass while he's at it.

"Because we all know you live for the glamourous lifestyle, Gregory," Louis slurs sarcastically, taking hold of his newly filled drink.

"Obviously," Greg repositions himself. "I mean look at me."

And Louis does.

His eyes falter over Greg's cocky yet attractive expression, releasing a chuckle from the back of his throat. Fuck, he looks good. His eyes trail down the taller man's body, unable to help but notice how tight that t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. His eyes then flick up to Greg's lean yet muscular neck and wonders for a moment if his skin is as smooth as it looks. Fuck, Louis wants his mouth on that neck.

Louis involuntarily licks his lips as his eyes move from Greg's throat down to his chest ― to his abdomen and waist ― reaching his thighs... God, his thighs.

It's not like he's physically touching Greg. He's just having thoughts about physically touching Greg. But shit, that's bad enough in itself.

"What am I doing?" Louis murmurs under his breath, tearing his eyes away from the man beside him.

"Were you-" Greg narrows his eyes, still smiling. Louis almost cringes at the sound of his voice. "Were you... checking me out?"

Louis immediately feels his face redden at Greg's choice of words. He wants to come back with a cheeky retort, perhaps something about Greg's nan again ― that ought to shoot off the mood ― but all he can manage to choke out is, "No... I-"

"Can't fool me, Tomlinson," Greg winks, grabbing his drink from the table in front of them, "I saw the way you were eyeing me."

Louis is completely flustered and nothing less.

"Shit, Greg I-"

"Don't apologise," Greg chuckles, reaching his hand out to Louis' knee. "Feel a bit flattered, actually."

Greg's hand remains on Louis' leg as he says it, making Louis' jeans suddenly feel a bit too tight. He internally kicks himself at how his body is betraying him to the older man's touch, but he doesn't protest.

There is a shared silence between the two, where Louis is struggling to keep his mouth from gaping open and where Greg continues to glance between Louis' eyes and his lips.

"Let's play a game," Greg says suddenly, making Louis flinch. His tone is deeper and more suggestive than Louis would like. But Louis nods anyways, because let's be real, there is no way he's managing any words right now.

"Britney, Madonna, Lindsay Lohan," Greg offers when Louis doesn't say anything.

"What?" Louis is taken aback at the question. As ashamed as he is, he honestly thought things were leading somewhere. Maybe it's a good distraction.

"Kill, marry, fuck," Greg laughs after a pause.

"Is that what we're playing?"

Greg nods, "Go ahead."

"Fine then, marry... erm probably Madonna because of all her charity and that... kill Lohan, fuck Britney," Louis gathers, all very quickly. "Now you."

"You've got to give me my options."

"Shit sorry, um," Louis racks his brain for anyone, literally anyone, but all he can think of is how close Greg is and how his own vision is beginning to spin a little from the alcohol and how fucking hot Greg looks and maybe he tastes as good as he smells.

"Louis-"

"Paris Hilton, Jim Carrey and, shit, Oprah," Louis manages.

Greg's eyes twinkle at Louis' obvious intoxication, but doesn't say anything. He's got that same expression he had earlier ― the intriguing one that Louis had trouble reading.

And obviously Greg's smashed too, but it's nothing compared to the way he's got Louis stumbling over his words. It's entirely abnormal. Louis is usually the one to lead with his wit and charm and let everyone else catch up to him. Never the other way around.

"Kill Paris Hilton, fuck Oprah," Greg winks at that one, "and marry Jim Carrey."

Louis laughs, loosening up a bit, "Top lad, that one."

"He's a good man," Greg agrees, his cheeks reddening from the alcohol. "Alright, I've got a good one for you. You'll like this one."

"Alright then," Louis motions for him to continue.

"Meryl Streep, Adam Sandler and... me," Greg sets his drink on the table, resting his full attention on Louis.

Louis' breath hitches. He can feel his heart beating in his chest and the heat rising to his face and Greg is just being so fucking calm about it all, sitting there like he's just had his afternoon tea. And Louis doesn't know what to say. So he just goes for the obvious.

"Marry Meryl Streep..." he begins.

Greg smiles naturally, "Of course."

"Kill..." Louis swallows, physically having to keep his nerves down. "Shit, Adam..."

"Okay," the corners of Greg's mouth turn upwards, his expression forming into a soft smirk. "Guess that leaves me."

"Guess so."

"What is it then?" Greg edges nearer until his leg is right up against Louis'.

Suddenly Louis doesn't know what to do with his hands, "Well-"

"I want to hear you say it."

"I-," Louis chokes out. "I'd f-fuck you."

Greg leans forward, "Bet you'd like that," he breathes against Louis' lips.

And Louis instinctively closes the space between them because there is no way he could've pulled back in a situation like that. And fuck does he ever want it.

Greg's lips press into his, mouthing hot and wet against his own. Greg slides his hand up to Louis' thigh, making his jeans tighten even further. If that was even possible.

Fuck, he's kissing Greg. Louis is actually kissing the friend he's admittedly flirted with countless times before. But back then it was always just for a laugh. And now... Shit, Greg's even touching him. And it feels fucking good. He just needs more.

Louis grips the back of Greg's neck, pulling him in deeper, allowing their mouths to fit closer together. Louis slides his tongue between Greg's parted lips, hungry with lust. His dick twitches as their tongues meet, immediately sending a shock of electricity throughout his entire body.

It's so incredibly different kissing an older man. Louis can't quite put his finger on it. But Greg is a good six years older than him and is therefore likely more experienced ― something Louis isn't used to, having been with the same boy since he was nineteen. And kissing Greg is so new. And new is something Louis hasn't had in quite a long time. Fuck, Louis hasn't had anything in the longest time.

And this. This is new and something.

It isn't until the band starts playing a shitty rendition of La Bamba that Greg asks Louis if he'd like to join him upstairs. And it isn't until Louis has his forehead pressed against Greg's and is staring into his deep grey eyes that he actually nods, and silently takes his hand.

The taller man leads the younger out through the hallway and up the stairs. God, this is so fucking wrong and none of this should be happening right now and Louis should be going home soon. But the grip Greg has got on Louis really isn't helping. Because suddenly Louis is wondering what those big hands would feel like if they were instead wrapped around his cock.

The two young men stumble down the upstairs hallway, passing a couple making out at the top of the stairs and two more girls waiting for the toilet. Finally Greg finds a bedroom that isn't occupied. They let themselves in and Louis climbs on the bed as if he was instructed to.

"Whose bedroom is this?" Louis asks aloud, needing an obvious distraction from everything that is happening.

"Can't be..." Greg says, pausing by some photographs on a wooden dresser as he shuts the door. It's dark but it sounds like he has a smile on his face. "This is fucking Grimmy's room."

"Shit," Louis chokes out a laugh. "You mean I'm on Nick's bed?"

"Guess you are," Greg lets out a laugh as well, letting his weight rest next to Louis, then lowers his voice, "You look good on it."

Greg joins his lips with Louis' once again as he leans over him, letting him down and pressing his arms into the mattress on either side of the smaller man's body. Greg licks into Louis' mouth, teasing him and making him even more unbearably hard. Louis grips onto the large torso above him, pulling Greg in closer, feeling his warmth and- fuck Greg's just as hard as he is.

Almost out of instinct, Louis' hand moves from Greg's waist down to the bulge in his trousers. He's never felt another man's cock, like ever. And it's different. But that doesn't make it any less hot. Louis begins to palm Greg gently, causing him to let out a soft moan into Louis' mouth before pulling away briefly to strip off his own shirt.

Greg comes back down, his mouth immediately landing on Louis' neck. Louis sighs, stretching his neck out, grinding his own restricted erection against Greg's above him. Greg moans against the smaller man's neck, sending vibrations through Louis' skin that go straight to his cock.

Louis can feel him tugging at the sides of his shirt, wanting to get it off, as he sucks tauntingly into his neck.

"No," Louis pulls Greg's lips from his neck, breaking the needed pleasure. "N-no marking."

Greg smiles down at Louis, pressing a hot kiss to his lips, "Take it off then."

Louis tries to push Greg off and roll him to his side but he proves too weak with Greg being much, much larger than him. Greg chuckles against his lips before easily rolling the both of them over, and as soon as Louis is on top of him he is stripping off his shirt and kissing and touching all over Greg's neck and torso ― head spinning as he does so.

"Get on the bed," Greg squeezes Louis' hips.

"You always so demanding?" Louis licks up Greg's neck.

"Only when I know what I want."

"What do y' want?" Louis slurs, rolling to Greg's side.

Greg gets on his knees at the edge of the bed and pulls Louis' thighs towards him, "Your cock."

Louis groans. Or whines. But before he can decide what sort of noise he had just made, his pants are around his ankles and Greg's warm lips are wrapped around the tip of his penis. And fuck it's exactly what he needs.

Louis tilts his head back, his cock sliding deeper and deeper into Greg's mouth as the larger man adjusts to his size.

Greg is licking and sucking down Louis' cock and it's so hot and wet and tantalizing that before Louis knows it he's on his feet, hands gripping roughly into Greg's hair and he's fucking into his face. And Greg lets him.

It's not like he's being gentle either. He's done this sort of thing loads of times before, but with Harry there's always at least a hint of restraint, careful not to damage his voice. But in this moment with Greg, he's just fucking for pure cum.

And he's close. Fuck, he's close.

Greg is tugging gently on Louis' balls with one hand and smoothly wanking him off with the other where his mouth doesn't reach and then Louis is cumming. And Greg is taking it.

Greg swallows down Louis' cum as his thrusts slow down ― Louis gently letting his cock slide against Greg's tongue as he soaks in the final waves of his orgasm.

And then he takes in what just happened.

"Fuck, Greg," Louis chokes out, horrified, taking a step back. "I'm a dick. I'm an idiot, I'm a fucking asshole, shit."

"It's alright, Louis," Greg laughs. "I didn't mind-"

"No, I-" Louis sobs, barely able to get his words out. "...I'm in a relationship. I just fucking cheated."

"Shit..." realization fades over Greg's blanched expression. "...That's pretty bad, isn't it."

"It's fucking bad."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Lou, I didn't mean to make you-"

"It's not your fault- you're lovely- it's just-," Louis buries his face in his hands then hastily begins redressing himself. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I really have to leave."

"Hey, mate," Greg touches his arm before he reaches the door and looks him in the eyes, "get home safe."

Louis takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and whispers, "Thanks."

 


 

Louis isn't sure what's worse ― the stress of the cab ride home, how sickeningly loud his key sounded in the lock, or how foreign his own house seemed upon walking in.

He's just about ready to throw up, but it's not because of him still being drunk ― which he definitely is. It's guilt. It's all guilt.

After finally managing to stagger up the staircase, Louis reaches his bedroom. He hopes with all his might that Harry isn't awake. That he can fall into a much needed sleep next to his loving boyfriend. That they can have a nice sober talk about everything that happened tomorrow morning. That maybe then he will have gathered his thoughts and can explain everything rationally. But all of his hopes shatter when he opens the bedroom door.

There's Harry, sitting on the edge of the bed with his mobile clenched in his hand rather tightly. His head shoots up at the sound of the door; the infamous crease between his eyebrows being displayed rather prominently. He doesn't look happy in the slightest.

Louis is at a loss on how to start any sort of conversation with Harry looking at him like that. Especially with his obvious intoxication. He probably looks a right mess.

Louis stands fixed in the doorway until Harry speaks up ― his voice sounding hollow in the otherwise silent room.

"Check your phone."

After sending Harry what felt like what could only be a guilty look, Louis drunkenly fumbles around in his pockets until his hand grasps onto his mobile.

Thirteen unread messages ― nine from Harry.

Three missed calls ― all from Harry.

"It's two in the morning, Lou," Harry strains. "What the hell happened?"

"I- shit ― was out late ― the party just," Louis swallows his own words, not making sense to his own self, let alone Harry. "Feel like shit," he finishes off with, unable to do anything but frown.

"You're fucking wasted, aren't you," it's more of a statement rather than a question.

"Fuck," Louis nears him slowly. "Smashed... Harry, I-... I'm a fuckin' dick."

"Louis," Harry's eyes narrow as Louis gets closer. "What the fuck is that?"

Louis' hand touches his neck, cringing at the sting as he does so.

"Who the fuck gave you that?"

"At the party- was really drunk- fucking terrible- Harry, I-"

"Why the fuck is your zipper down?" Harry stands up, immediately towering over him. "Louis."

If Harry would just let him speak. Fuck, they're going nowhere with Harry continuing to interrupt him before he even has the chance to explain himself. If Louis could tell Harry everything that happened and why, he would. But he's so fucking wasted and he feels a bit nauseous and his head is spinning so much that there is no way he could form a full sentence if he tried.

"Tryin' t' tell you, Harry- wanna tell you," Louis presses, his own brows furrowing now.

"Did you... fuck someone?" Harry lets out in almost a whisper.

"No, Harry-" Louis' eyes widen. "No, I- What happened... everything... there was kissing... a blowjob-"

"You're fucking joking."

"-then I ran away. Left. Feel like shit. I'm shit. I'm so sor-"

"You got your dick sucked."

"Too many fucking drinks... way too many shots I- was just so-..." Louis lets out a strained sigh. "He just-"

"It was a guy?"

Somehow it makes Harry's blood boil even more, knowing another man had taken advantage of his Louis.

"F-fuck, Harry," Louis stammers out. "I'm so fucking s-"

"Get on the bed," Harry growls, eerily mimicking what Greg had said earlier that evening. This time the request holds an entirely different meaning. This time it makes Louis flinch.

"W-what?"

"Get on the fucking bed, Louis," Harry swears impatiently.

And Louis does what he says. Because Louis is ready to do just about anything Harry asks from him at this point.

"Harry, I-" but Louis is silenced as Harry presses two fingers to his lips.

"Suck," Harry demands.

Louis is frozen in his position and can do nothing but oblige. So he parts his lips slightly to allow Harry's fingers to slip past them.

Harry forces his fingers deep into Louis' mouth, shoving them in and out repeatedly. And Louis tries to suck on them. But Harry's fingers are so, so long and he is in no way being gentle that he's almost making Louis gag as it is.

"Guess you want something a little bigger in there, don't you?"

Harry doesn't wait for a reply as he strips off his bottoms and his shirt, rendering himself fully nude in front of an entirely ashamed Louis.

And he doesn't wait for Louis to adjust to his new sight. Because almost immediately, Harry is forcing Louis' jaw open and shoving his flaccid dick into his mouth.

He doesn't have to ask this time. Louis immediately starts sucking on Harry's soft cock, making him harder with every bob of his head.

"Good little slut knows what he wants," Harry grips onto Louis' hair at the back of his neck, pushing him deeper, making himself harder.

The moment Harry becomes fully hard, he begins fucking into Louis' face. Not even pausing to let him breathe. Louis almost wants to cry because this is exactly what he was doing to Greg no less than an hour ago. It's uncomfortable, but he deserves it.

He deserves every bit of pain Harry is willing to give him tonight.

In no time, Louis is gagging and spitting all over Harry's erection and it's almost too much. He can barely breathe with Harry continuously thrusting into him like he is.

"Take it," Harry says sternly from above him.

He pulls Louis in by his neck ― all the way until his nose touches his stomach ― and leaves him there. He fucking leaves him there until Louis is choking and slobbering and certain he's about to throw up.

Louis presses his hands into Harry's torso, trying to push him away, but he's too drunk and too weak to even shift the larger boy in front of him. So he begins hitting and swatting and pinching and it's not until he really can't breathe that Harry finally does pull back and let go of Louis' head, allowing him some air.

Louis gasps at his sudden release. Tears are pricking at his eyes and he can already feel his throat is wrecked, but he's ready to do it all over again for Harry's acceptance.

Harry stares down at his cowering boyfriend with a glare that almost cuts right through him, "Take off your clothes."

Louis pulls off his shirt, then quickly begins removing his jeans to find that shit, his zipper actually was already undone. The fucking class of him. He's almost ready to swear off alcohol right then, until:

"Faster," Harry strains, annoyed.

Louis finishes stripping himself (drunkenly tripping over his jeans in the process) and tosses the remainder of his clothes to the side, getting back on the bed. Because that's probably what Harry wants. He hopes.

Harry doesn't protest and Louis internally sighs. As cautious as he still is, he just wants to make Harry happy. Everything is about making Harry happy right now. Because it's not Harry's fault Louis was a fucking drunk idiot, kissing another man and letting him suck his-

"Shit," Louis curses as Harry grips onto his cock, suddenly wanking him without any warning. His hips jut upwards at the sudden contact.

"Does that feel good?" Harry almost mocks him.

"Fuck-" Louis spits out, his voice hoarse from deepthroating Harry's cock. "It's a bit-"

"That has to hurt a bit," Harry purses his lips, teasing him. Not in the fun way. "Didn't you just cum?"

Louis whines, not quite enjoying the friction Harry is giving him from the dry wank, though he has managed to get hard from the slightest bit of pleasure it brings.

"Did you cum in his mouth, you fucking whore?"

And without any warning, Harry shoves a finger into Louis, making him cry out in mixed pleasure and pain. Mostly pain.

It's only after a couple thrusts that Harry adds in another finger. It's much too soon and much too dry and it only feels good in the very slightest. And with Harry's hand still pumping crudely on his cock like that... He would rather not.

"Too much for you already?" Harry taunts him. "I thought you liked being used."

With much effort, Harry manages to fit a third finger alongside the two, making Louis scream as he stretches him out. He continues to push deeply in and out of Louis' arse as he jerks his cock in rhythm, sending him over the edge with pain.

As if it wasn't enough, Harry slightly curls his fingers up while still thrusting inwards, grazing Louis' prostate as he fingers him.

"No! Harry, fuck," Louis protests through the almost pleasurable pain.

He's unwillingly close already, as much as he doesn't want to be. But with the way Harry keeps tugging at him and stretching him out and fingering that spot. It's sending him over the edge.

Louis forcefully cums in spurts all over his torso. He whines and groans ― swearing at Harry as he does so because yeah, it does hurt a little, having just cum not that long ago. But it was still a release.

And before Louis can even finish taking in his orgasm, Harry is already over at the bedside table, rolling a condom onto himself and lubing himself up.

"No," Louis scolds, sitting up in alarm. "No- Harry, I can't."

"You like other men taking advantage of you, you little slut?" Harry drawls furiously as he nears Louis once more.

Louis nervously slides back on the bed, almost cowering with his hands gripping onto the sheets by his sides. Harry takes Louis' position as an invitation to climb on top of him.

"Please," Louis begs. "Please don't."

"Tell me you need it," Harry growls, hovering above him, as Louis is already writhing beneath him, untouched. "Tell me it's what you deserve."

"Fuck, Harry," Louis whines, but does as he says anyways. Because, well... he owes it to Harry. This and so much more. "I need it- need your fucking cock... deserve it, Harry. Fuck me," Louis almost cries out. "I'm a fucking whore, fuck me."

And with that, Harry is pressing the tip of his head against Louis' already-sore hole, pushing in almost too eagerly, just as Louis expected he would.

"Gonna fuck you like the little whore you are," Harry begins thrusting his cock into Louis without giving the smaller boy even a second to adjust to his length.

It hurts, fuck it hurts, but Louis decides that it's better than having three dry fingers fucking up into him, if he could compare. But Harry's dick is making Louis feel so full and he's already cum twice tonight and he really doesn't need this. He doesn't want it. But shit, does he deserve it.

Harry grips Louis' balls almost a bit too tightly as he continues to thrust in and out of him, making minutes feel like hours. He grabs Louis' cock, smearing his thumb firmly over his sensitive opening, making the boy below him choke out yet another scream.

Satisfied at his reaction, Harry pulls Louis' legs up over his shoulders and pushes in deeper, really stretching him out. He fucks him ― genuinely fucks him ― as he slams his cock into his arse relentlessly, wrecking the poor boy's hole.

And when it gets to the point where it looks like Louis has had almost enough, Harry pulls out, sitting back on his ankles. He watches Louis panting and covered in sweat, his eyes brimming with tears as he lays there almost unable to move.

Then Harry's voice cracks.

"Turn over."

The expression Louis gives him is almost like he had seen a ghost. Louis squirms before him, stammering out a chorus of nonononono and dontdontdontdont and pleasepleaseplease. But Harry is numb to his begging.

So he simply says, "Does it look like I've cum yet?"

And Louis knows he doesn't have a chance in hell against his boyfriend, so he obeys his orders and unnervingly rolls onto his stomach, shakily getting on all fours.

"I fucking thought so," Harry moves up against Louis' bottom.

He grabs onto one of Louis' bum cheeks, kneading it harshly before suddenly slapping him with his palm, causing Louis to cry out and buck his hips up in pain.

"Do you like being punished?" Harry asks, with another slap to his cheeks. "Think you should be punished for being a little fucking slut?"

"Y-yes, Harry."

"Sluts like to get spanked, don't they?" Harry moans as he slaps Louis once again, his cheeks reddening with every hit.

"Yes, fuck, give it to me," Louis whines into the pillow, raising his arse into the air, readily begging for it.

It's almost so much that Harry can't take it anymore. He moves back, spreading Louis' cheeks apart to spit between them, not bothering to lube up again before pressing his cock into him once more.

Once Harry is balls deep, he is back to pounding into Louis with a quicker pace and much harsher determination. Harry's fingernails grip deep into Louis' hips as he slams his cock into him incessantly. It's almost satisfying to see the boy squirming below him. Because yeah, Harry's fucking him into incoherency. But the thing is, he's taking it.

Louis is absolutely wrecked. His hole is as tender as it's ever been (more than he's ever wanted it to be) and he is so fucking gone that he can barely even form words anymore, let alone protests.

Still while thrusting into him, Harry takes hold of Louis' cock once more, jerking him off while fucking him aggressively.

"FUCK, Harry, stop-" Louis' own words are cut off by his need to bury his face into one of the pillows on the bed. He bites it and screams into it to distract him from the harsh stinging pain Harry's fucking elicits.

"Think you can cum for me again, Louis?" Harry fiercely pounds at Louis' rear, wanking him harshly in rhythm.

"No no no no no Harry no Harry," Louis babbles into the spit-stained pillow.

"Or maybe my cock isn't enough for you," Harry presses his thumb around Louis' tender rear opening, working it out as he rocks his hips into him.

While still fucking and tugging at Louis' dick, Harry slowly slips his middle finger into the weaker boy's hole, adding it in just above his own cock. Louis screams at the intrusion, never having felt anything so big inside him before. That is, until Harry adds a second finger.

Louis becomes a sobbing mess underneath him as Harry slams himself into him with an added extra two fingers, continuing to pump Louis' oversensitized cock for nothing but cum.

And when Louis finally does cum, it's for the third time that night, and it's more of a dribble than anything at best. But fuck does it hurt. The pain reaches his ears all the way down to the tips of his toes. And his shouts and protests and fuck his moans are exactly what Harry was waiting for. Just hearing those god awful sounds coming from his poor, wrecked boyfriend's lips is enough to make his cock throb.

But as Harry is about to reach his peak, he pulls out, strips his condom off, and demands for Louis to face him.

It's a sudden relief ― not having a hand gripped tight around his spent cock, and being free of every inch of Harry that was fucking stuffed in his arse ― that Louis is almost gratuitous to have Harry's cock back in his mouth.

Harry can tell just how pleased Louis is to be sucking him off. It's hot. It turns him the fuck on, seeing Louis crave his dick like that. So it takes no more than a few solid thrusts to the back of Louis' throat before Harry is cumming, god he's cumming and it feels good.

Harry's thrusts slow down as he comes down from his high, sliding his large cock from Louis' wet pink lips. And it can't be over. Not just yet.

"Ah ah ah," Harry chides, tapping Louis' puffed out cheeks. "Don't swallow. Show me."

Louis slowly opens his mouth, crudely displaying a mouthful of Harry's cum. His eyes are red, his hair is all over the place, his cheeks are flushed and tear-stained, and he just looks fucking destroyed.

Harry grabs Louis by his jaw, keeping their vision locked as he breathes:

"I want to see you cover that filthy cock with my cum."

Each word is like a slap to the face.

Louis sobs almost immediately, his eyes fill with tears as his mouth is still obscenely agape.

But he sits up.

And leans forward.

And Harry's thick cum is pouring from Louis' lips, dripping hot all over his own wrecked, flaccid dick. Louis spits the remainder of Harry's bitter cum onto himself, actually sobbing with real tears as he does so. Unable to continue, he collapses onto his spit-soaked pillow.

"Fuck, Louis," Harry tears up, coming back to reality and realizing the pain he has just put Louis through. He doesn't know what to do other than hesitantly lay down next to him. So he does, beginning to choke up himself, "I fucking love you..."

Louis doesn't respond. He is literally shaking from crying so hard.

"You can't do that to me," Harry continues, letting his tears fall. "You hurt me so bad."

He raises a hand to his boyfriend's fringe, slicked down with sweat, and Louis actually flinches. He flinches and it breaks Harry even more, knowing that somewhere in Louis' heart he is afraid of what Harry might do to him. Or the further physical pain he might cause him.

Harry shushes him, trying to calm him down, and finally brushes Louis sweaty fringe out of his eyes. Harry pulls the filthy pillow from underneath Louis and tosses it to the floor, replacing it with his own and settling Louis' head on it gingerly.

Unable to find the right words to say, Harry simply pulls his trembling boyfriend into his arms, wrapping him in a secure embrace ― an embrace he hopes Louis finds safe.

The excessive sweating and sudden shock to his body has sobered Louis up a fair amount. He is broken. But he is at least able to form thoughts into words.

"You never deserved to be treated like that," Louis' raw voice suddenly hitches into Harry's chest. "I'm a fucking asshole. I deserved every bit of pain you gave me. And more."

Harry furrows his brow, bringing Louis in closer. His heart is going out to the poor boy in his arms, albeit still being upset about what happened.

But there Louis lies, completely fucked out and torn apart in his arms. And if Harry doesn't feel just as guilty right now as Louis did earlier tonight, he'd be astonished.

"Stay here," Harry says, gently pulling himself from Louis' limbs and climbing out of the bed.

"Where y' going?" Louis practically aches.

Harry reassures him that he's not going anywhere, and quickly pops off to the bathroom. He returns moments later, handing Louis a fresh towel and a tall glass of water.

"Harry-," tears prick at Louis' eyes once more, genuinely upset at how kind Harry is treating him after everything that just happened. "Why are you doing this? You should just leave me here-"

"You need it," Harry says as Louis frowns, eventually taking a sip of water. "I overreacted and treated you like absolute shit. I shouldn't have gone as far as I did, and I feel terrible for it. I'm really sorry, Lou."

Louis shamefully begins to wipe himself clean with the towel, "There's no reason for you to be apologising to me. I told you I deserved it. And I did."

"You messed up and so did I..." Harry bites his lip.

As guilty as he feels about how roughly he treated Louis, there's still a lingering feeling of betrayal. But in all honesty, when taking Louis' feelings into account as well, Harry is having considerable trouble deciding who probably feels worse.

If even is what you could call it, that's what Harry considers them.

After finishing the entire glass of water, Louis lays back into the bed. He pulls the covers over himself, desperately needing sleep. Harry gazes down at his boyfriend longingly, mulling his thoughts over before instinctively cuddling up next to him.

Louis sighs at the pleasurable contact, gripping onto Harry's strong arms wrapped securely around him. He buries his face into the crook of Harry's neck, gently placing a sleepy kiss along his jawline.

"Don't ever leave me," Louis cracks in barely a whisper.

"C'mere," Harry pulls him deeper into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

They can sort things out in the morning. Right now, Harry just knows that Louis is it. If Harry is fire and Louis is ash, then Harry slowly burns into Louis, forever ceasing to flicker. He's certain they won't part.

Maybe it's a bit much, but it's love. And even through their faults, they continue to glow.