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Harry inhales the sweet scent of flowers as he and his sister, Gemma, walk through the hotel lobby. The venue for the wedding reception is some giant ballroom in a fancy hotel, and it reminds Harry of where his prom was held. From the corner of his eye, he can see the lucky couple surrounded by people and being fawned over by the other guests. He feels a bit bad that he barely even knows them.
Gemma huffs in annoyance as she grips his wrist and tugs him along a bit roughly. Harry frowns at his older sister, understanding why she’s bothered but still offended that she’s so upset about having to drag her baby brother with her to her old schoolmate’s wedding. He’s not that lame. In fact, plenty of his friends at school would attest that he is quite cool (which would probably mean more if Gemma didn’t think they were all lame too).
Except – okay, it’s one thing to be seventeen years old and basically rule sixth form. It’s an entirely different thing to be seventeen-years-old and realise you’re surrounded by dozens upon dozens of older people who are most likely infinitely cooler and more mature than you. It doesn’t help that most of them either give him a confused scowl or coo at how “cute” he is.
“Just hurry the fuck up, please,” Gemma grumbles, fluffing up her hair a bit as Harry nearly trips and falls flat on his face. She glares back at him when he grabs her shoulder to save his fall.
Okay, whatever, it’s not like this was his decision. Their mother is the one who already made plans tonight with Robin and decided she doesn’t trust Harry on his own in the house after he accidentally set the kitchen on fire (it was one time, god). If Harry had it his way, he’d be chilling at home with Zayn and Liam, failing at FIFA and munching on a bag of Doritos. Like, Gemma could afford to be a little bit nicer to him, okay. It’s not his fault that she got stuck with taking her little brother as her plus one.
The room is wide, about the same size as his school’s gymnasium, and decorated with silver wallpaper and dark blue lanterns, a few tables set up along the walls with delicate floral centerpieces and a crystal chandelier twinkling above in the center of the room. Some popular song from several years ago plays softly through the black speakers in each corner as everyone mingles. Harry recognises it after a second and idly hums along to the Backstreet Boys tune.
They make their way towards the makeshift bar on the other side of the room, past the scattered crowds of excited adults reuniting and socializing or whatever (they pass a particularly shrill and loud group of women whose shrieks of glee forced Harry to actually cringe and cover his ears). When they reach the bar, Gemma promptly drops herself onto a barstool and orders something that sounds fruity and girly. It’s some bubbly pink concoction that Harry crinkles his nose at when the bartender passes the finished product over.
“Um,” Harry says, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels, the poster child of awkward tagalongs. He feels so uncomfortable in his suit, a slate grey with fabric that’s too tight in some parts and makes his skin itch a little. It’s the same suit he once had to wear for a fancy New Year’s party in the middle of a growth spurt last year, meaning it doesn’t exactly fit as well now as it used to. He fidgets with his crooked bowtie, wondering if he looks as ridiculous and out-of-place as he feels. (He’s almost positive that he does.)
Gemma barely spares him a glance, opting to seek out the groom, who’s laughing and canoodling with his bride a few metres away (he remembers seeing him like, once at their house – Neil or something – and recalls him always being quite friendly and boisterous). She downs the rest of her drink before ordering two more – presumably for the newlyweds – and getting up from the stool. He watches as she heads towards Neil and his new wife (whatever her name is), waving a hand dismissively in Harry’s direction. “I’ve got to go congratulate them. Go, like, mingle or something, bye.”
Harry finds himself suddenly alone in a sea of people, some of whom are vaguely familiar because he once spent an hour going through Gemma’s old yearbook and circling all the hot guys in it. Which – doesn’t really help his discomfort much when he spots one of the aforementioned hot guys across the room, talking to a leggy brunette. Harry thinks his name was Greg or something, but he definitely remembers drawing an extra tiny heart next to his face because he once held the door open for Harry at a McDonald’s. It was pretty romantic, Harry thinks.
Figuring he has nothing to lose since he’ll probably never see any of these people ever again, Harry decides to just head over and see if Greg will take pity on him and let him hang off of him for at least an hour.
He’s only taken about ten steps towards him when another body suddenly collides with his from the side, causing him to stumble a bit over his feet. Like before, his hand flails out to catch himself, finding purchase on a strong shoulder. “Oops,” he mutters softly, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He flicks his eyes up once he’s saved himself from his possible death, opening his mouth to apologise to the person for running into them, but he loses his breath the moment he sees who it is.
“Hi,” the man says, a devilish smirk fixed on his face.
His name is Louis, Harry knows, and the past few years have clearly done wonders for him. He was already gorgeous before, but now – now he’s older and sexier and so, so fit, Jesus Christ, Harry wants to lick his stubble (among other things). It’s not fair how stunning he looks in a tailored black suit.
“Y’alright there?” Louis asks, quirking an eyebrow at Harry’s frozen form. Harry feels awestruck. He remembers circling Louis’s face twice in the yearbook and putting about six hearts around his name. God.
Harry clears his throat and quickly removes his lingering hand from Louis’s shoulder as if his black blazer has burned him. “Um, yes – yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” He swallows. “Sorry for bumping into you.”
“No worries,” Louis answers kindly enough. Then he cocks his head to the side a bit, eyes roaming Harry’s lanky frame with clear curiosity, his gaze finally settling on Harry’s pink cheeks. “You look a little young to be a friend of the bride or groom.”
Harry’s blush deepens. “M’seventeen.”
Both of Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. “Definitely too young. Are you a relative then?”
Harry barely stifles a giggle. “Nope, m’just Gemma’s brother. She had to bring me along.”
Something like recognition flashes across Louis’s eyes. “Gemma Styles?” Harry nods. “You must be Harry then.”
To say Harry is stunned that Louis knows who he is, much less his name, would be a grand understatement. “Yeah, that’s, uh – that’s me.”
Louis holds a hand out for Harry to shake (which he does, albeit a bit shakily) and says, “I’m Louis Tomlinson. Twenty-years-old and Niall’s best man.”
This time, Harry does giggle. He thinks he sees Louis’s eyes soften a bit. Also, Niall. That’s the groom’s name. Harry will have to remember that if he happens to run into him tonight.
Harry clasps his hands together again and ducks his head to hide his grin, but he makes the mistake of looking up at Louis again, feeling timid and so, so young, probably far too young to say what comes out of his mouth next. He’s not entirely sure what makes him blurt it out, but – “I used to have the biggest crush on you, y’know.”
Louis arches an eyebrow at his boldness and his pretty lips curve into a half-smile. “Really, now? Cute little Harry Styles liked obnoxious ol’ me?”
Harry can do nothing but nod, his face absolutely burning with the force of his blush as he mentally berates himself for saying something so irrelevant and mortifying. He expects Louis to brush him off, make up some excuse about having to go meet someone somewhere, and leave Harry by himself to wallow in humiliation and self-pity.
But then Louis surprises him completely. His half-smile morphs into a sultry smirk as he leans forward, grazes those pretty pink lips along the shell of Harry’s ear, and murmurs lowly, “Y’know, I always thought you were an interesting kid, Harry Styles.” His hand trails down Harry’s torso, skims down his side, and comes to rest low on his waist. He squeezes softly with his thumb, rubbing circles into the soft skin of Harry’s hip. Even through two layers of clothing, the touch sends a shiver down Harry’s spine.
And like – wow, Harry is so fucking done right now. He’s fairly certain that if he doesn’t get Louis’s cock in his mouth, hand, or ass in the next fifteen minutes, he will surely self-destruct out of sheer want. “I – I, um. Louis,” he ends up whimpering pathetically, bringing one hand up to clutch tightly at the older man’s bicep. He’s already almost half-hard in his skinny jeans and Louis has barely even touched him yet. Fuck his teenage hormones.
“Hm? What is it, babe?” Louis says softly, pulling back to meet Harry’s eyes. He’s teasing and Harry knows it, but he can’t be arsed to give a fuck if he comes off as desperate. He’s wanted this man for several years, ever since he went to a footie game at school with Gemma and couldn’t keep his eyes off of player number 17, eyes glued to the delicious-looking arse hidden inside those shorts. Let’s just say Louis unwittingly helped Harry figure out his sexuality. And if the first boy to ever fuck Harry about a year ago bore a startling resemblance to Louis, then no one had to know.
Harry is distantly aware that they’re still in the middle of a party right now with plenty of people around to see everything they’re doing, but he can’t keep himself from pushing forward and pressing himself against Louis, his semi throbbing faintly against the man’s strong thigh. “Just – can you – please,” he whines softly, using his best puppy dog eyes on him (the effect might be a little different than usual since there’s also a raging pit of lust in his stomach, which is no doubt showing in his expression, but whatever, he doesn’t really care right now. He just wants Louis to fucking touch him already, touch him properly).
“I have a hotel room booked for tonight a few floors up, but are you sure, kitten?” Louis mumbles huskily into Harry’s mess of curls, and like, how the fuck can he expect Harry to ever say no to that? Jesus Christ.
Harry nods against Louis’s shoulder, maybe a bit too eagerly, but he barely has time to even wonder what Gemma is doing and where she is before Louis has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and is guiding Harry out of the large room and into a smaller, plainly-decorated lobby with beige walls (that’s pretty much all Harry can even notice about his surroundings when he has Louis fucking Tomlinson touching him). He lets Harry tuck his face against his neck, lips brushing his pulse point, as he greets the receptionist and asks for his room key. He thanks her politely before ushering Harry towards the lifts, his thumb lightly running through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.
“You okay, kitten?” Louis murmurs, ducking down to press a lingering kiss to the soft skin of Harry’s neck, just below his jaw, once the elevator doors slide shut.
Harry is definitely not okay, can absolutely not believe that this is really happening, but then Louis’s sharp little teeth nip at the pale flesh of Harry’s throat, lick at the mark to soothe the tiny flash of pain, and okay, yes, this is definitely real. Fuck. Harry’s only response is a moan of the older man’s name.
Louis rearranges him and presses up against Harry’s backside, close enough that Harry can feel his dick faintly against the cleft of his arse, and slowly trails his other hand down Harry’s chest, so painstakingly slow that Harry can barely resist bucking forward when his hand finally settles against the bulge in his trousers. “Excited, are we?” Louis whispers against Harry’s shoulder. He gives Harry’s cock a gentle squeeze, almost teasing, and runs his thumb over the length of it, rubbing against the head. Even through the two layers of material, the pressure feels like Heaven and Hell at the same time, so pleasant and still not nearly enough.
The elevator dings quietly, signalling they’ve reached the floor, and the doors slide open to reveal an empty corridor. Harry lets Louis lead him forward past multiple doors before he pulls him to a stop at room 418. He allows Harry to lean into him while he slips the key card into the slot, waiting for the tiny light to flash green before pushing through.
The privacy feels like the best thing in the whole world because now Harry is so free to touch, free to feel without worry of judgment or scandalising a room full of people. He rushes to do just that, to touch and feel and maybe (probably) lick a little, but Louis holds him at bay with a single hand, closing the door and silently commanding him to wait. The next few moments feel like fucking hours, especially now that Harry is fully hard and his jeans are constricting his cock uncomfortably.
Louis drops his hand, but Harry has enough sense to stay put anyway, no matter how much he wants to reach out and touch. Louis nods in approval, cooing softly, “Good boy,” and the praise goes straight to Harry’s erection. He suppresses a whimper and watches as Louis heads over to the bed and settles himself on top of the mattress. The older man props himself up against the headboard and crosses his legs like he’s fucking lounging, just relaxing by himself. The only thing that gives away his state of arousal is the bulge in the front of his tailored black trousers. He says one word and one word only: “Strip.”
Harry can hardly stop himself from rushing to comply. He wants to take his time with this, wants to get Louis as riled up as he can, no matter how much he wants to just rip both of their clothes off and jump onto his cock, so he slowly treads further into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed. There’s no music, so he can’t do a strip tease, and he’s not confident enough to do it to a song in his head or something. He keeps it simple and grips at the hem of his shirt, slowly easing it up his torso until he can slip it over his head and drop it to the floor. Louis’s eyes darken and roam over Harry’s newly exposed skin, making the boy feel self-conscious. Thankfully, Louis doesn’t say anything about his extra nipples or his love handles, just continues to watch.
Harry decides to be a little bit of a tease and thumbs over one of his nipples, pinching it to make the bud harden and draw a soft moan out of his throat. His other hand trails down his tummy to unfasten the button and slowly ease the zipper down until he can slide the jeans down his legs. The more of his skin that’s exposed, the harder Louis’s cock seems to get. Harry watches, nearly salivating, as Louis brings one hand down to palm lazily at his erection.
The younger boy swallows thickly, kicking his trousers away and not giving a single shit about where his clothes end up. While he’s at it, he kicks off his shoes as well, though he doesn’t bother with his socks. There are much more important things to address, such as freeing his poor prick from its snug confines.
He brings both hands down to take his underwear off, tucking his thumbs under the waistband and sliding them down as slowly as he can, biting his lip when the rough elastic rubs over the length of his stiff cock. They fall down on their own once he gets them to his knees, so he’s left standing there naked, flushed, and helplessly aroused while Louis is still grinding a palm lightly into his crotch.
“You’re so pretty, baby, so gorgeous,” Louis murmurs, the compliment rolling off his tongue easily and making Harry preen at the attention. He waits for Louis to gesture to join him on the bed before he climbs onto the mattress and crawls towards the older man.
Louis smiles beautifully when he sees Harry’s white ankle socks, the ones with little bananas printed all over them and lace trim encircling his ankles. Harry had bought them a few weeks ago, thinking they were cute and figuring no one would ever have to know about them, but now he flushes, having forgotten exactly which pair of socks he’d been wearing tonight and desperately hoping Louis won’t judge him for them. He’s about to fling them off in embarrassment when Louis reaches out to stroke over his bare thigh, so close to his dick, and says to keep them on. “They’re very cute on you, darling.”
And like – they’re just fucking socks, but Harry feels like he’s won an award every time Louis compliments him or says something nice to him. He tucks his legs underneath himself and sits still, waiting for Louis to do something, anything. The hand on his thigh is running lightly back and forth, gradually making his way up, up, up, until the tips of his fingers graze Harry’s cock, thick and drooling. When he curls his fingers around the base and rubs his thumb over a vein on the shaft, a blot of precome leaks from the tip and drips down his length towards Louis’s hand. With a faint smirk on his lips, Louis catches the drop with his thumb and releases Harry’s cock (much to his dismay) to bring the digit to Harry’s lips instead.
Eyes locked on the older man’s blue ones, Harry flicks his tongue out to swipe over the damp skin, tasting himself. He sucks Louis’s thumb into his mouth and hollows his cheeks, tongue swirling around the skin in an attempt to show Louis what he’d do to his cock if he allowed him.
“Like the taste of yourself, baby? Taste so good, I bet,” Louis murmurs.
And then finally, fucking finally, Louis grips the back of Harry’s head and yanks him into a searing kiss, the first of the evening (despite the fact that Louis has had Harry’s cock in his hand once already – they’re probably doing this a bit backwards). Louis nips and sucks at Harry’s bottom lip, teeth tugging at the pink skin before he abruptly pulls back and starts trailing kisses down Harry’s neck, collar, chest. He pulls Harry’s naked body into his lap as he closes his lips around one of Harry’s puffy nipples. He’s always been a bit sensitive there, and Louis is the first person to actually play with them before since none of his previous partners (not that he’s really had that many, to be honest) had any interest.
Louis flicks his tongue over the rosy bud once, twice, and then sucks hard on it, coaxing a long moan from Harry’s mouth. “Oh, fuck, daddy,” he blurts out, completely unexpected and unplanned and oh, shit.
Louis’s ministrations come to a sudden halt, his head lifting to stare imploringly at Harry’s flushed face, like he’s not sure if he heard it correctly. “Say that again,” he commands, quiet but firm.
“D-Daddy,” Harry whimpers, too far gone to worry too much about what he’s saying. If the way Louis’s cock twitches is anything to go by, the older man seems to definitely like it very much.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” Louis groans, his mask of composure cracking for the first time. He presses a hard kiss to Harry’s mouth and ducks back down to suck on Harry’s other nipple, biting down gently to tease the pert bud. Before he pulls away completely from Harry’s torso, he licks sweetly at the extra two nipples just below. His eyes dart up to meet Harry’s, catching him slightly off guard by saying with a faint smirk, “So… Four?”
Harry shuts his eyes out of pure embarrassment over Louis’s comment on his extra nipples. “Um, yeah,” is all he manages, too busy blushing furiously to formulate a proper response. He feels skin brush against his left cheekbone, prompting him to open his eyes again.
Louis is still leaning over him, but the corners of his mouth have softened noticeably, fingers stroking lightly over Harry’s warm cheek. “Hey, no need to get embarrassed. I think it’s cute. More to play with, darling.” He follows the statement with a filthy smile and a lowering of his head, and then his mouth is sucking hard on Harry’s nipple again, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin and making Harry fidget and moan. His lips are gone again much too soon for Harry’s liking.
“Daddy, please,” the younger boy whines. “Touch me, please. Want you, need you so much.” He’s babbling at this point, saying anything to try to get Louis to touch him again. His cock already misses his hand, even if all he did was hold it for about five seconds before.
“Shh, angel, m’gonna take care of you, Daddy’ll make you feel so good in a minute,” Louis whispers against the bare skin of Harry’s shoulder. For some reason, the touch seems so intimate and sweet that Harry only blushes harder. “Need to talk about this first, though, okay, baby?”
And like, no, that’s not okay, Harry doesn’t want to talk, he wants to fuck. But Louis’s giving him this serious look that leaves no room for arguing, so he sighs like it’s such a goddamn chore to not be pouncing on Louis (which it fucking is) and gives a shaky nod of his head.
“Good boy, so good for me,” Louis coos. He settles one hand on Harry’s hip, rubbing circles into his skin. “How far do you want to go with this, baby?”
“All the way, wanna do it all with you, please,” Harry nearly whines again.
“You want me to fuck you, princess?” Louis runs his free hand through Harry’s curls gently, fingertips massaging his scalp, and Harry wants to fucking purr because every touch from Louis feels like he’s being caressed by fucking angels. He feels electric. And just – princess.
Harry moans wantonly at the name, clinging onto the other man’s shoulders desperately. “Yes, daddy, want you to fuck me.”
“Alright, darling, I will, just need to talk about a couple things first. Have you ever done this before?”
Harry nods, trying to clear his head enough to respond coherently. “A few times.”
Louis clears his throat. “Okay, baby, and do you have any particular things you like that you want me to do? Want to know how to make you feel amazing, Harry.” It’s almost a bit strange to hear him call Harry by his name after being dubbed baby, princess and darling, but it still sounds so sweet coming from Louis’s lips. Harry imagines he could call him anything he wants and he’d still love how it sounds.
He tries to focus on answering the question, biting his puffy lower lip in thought. “I, um. You could – could spank me. I think I’d really like that, if you want. I like – I like calling you daddy.” No shit. “Like it when – when, um.” He pauses to breathe shakily, trying to tell himself that Louis won’t think badly of him for this, he won’t, he can’t.
“Go ahead, baby, don’t be nervous,” Louis reassures, still playing gently with Harry’s hair.
The younger boy forces himself to calm down and just spit it out. “I, uh, like it when it hurts a bit.”
Louis doesn’t falter. “How much do you want it to hurt?”
“Just, like – if you, um – bite me a little or pin down my arms. Like it when it’s too much, also,” he adds, the insistent throbbing of his cock making it a bit hard to concentrate.
“Okay, baby, I’ll try my best to make you feel good,” Louis says. “We’ll need a safe word, though, okay? Something you can say if I’m doing something you don’t like, and vice versa.”
“Okay, um.” Harry looks around, trying to find something he’ll remember easily enough. His eyes land on his banana-printed socks, toes curled against Louis’s thigh, and he decides, “Banana?”
Louis smiles fondly at him. “Yeah, that works. Don’t be afraid to use it, okay? And if I check in to see how you’re feeling, tell me what your colour is, okay? Green means keep going, yellow means slow down, and red means stop. Do you understand, Harry?”
Harry nods again, growing restless and impatient. “I understand, daddy, can you please fuck me now, please?” he groans, grinding his cock down into the fabric of Louis’s trousers. The tip of his dick dribbles some precome onto the front of Louis’s shirt, the subtle friction making him whine for more.
Without checking for permission, he shakily starts unbuttoning Louis’s dress shirt at a startlingly quick pace, not stopping until he can push the fabric apart and to the sides and grind his cock up against tanned, bare skin. He’s almost surprised that Louis allowed him to get so far, considering he seemed to be intent on practically teasing the life out of Harry, but when he looks up at Louis’s face, it hits him how true those words are. Harry wasn’t able to get his shirt open by his own accord – Louis allowed him to, he let him do it. He’s got a half-smirk plastered on his lips, watching Harry carefully as he ruts against the older man’s stomach. The sheer dominance and control in his eyes makes Harry keen and leak more precome against Louis’s torso, this time getting his skin damp.
“Daddy’s gonna take care of you now,” Louis breathes against Harry’s mouth, his hands coming down to grip Harry’s hips again, effectively hindering his motions. Something in the air seems to shift then, like they’re slipping into something a bit different than before, and Harry bites his lip when Louis roughly positions him onto his hands and knees on the mattress. His hands slip down from his hips and stroke the backs of Harry’s slim thighs for a bit, then come up to rest on his bum.
He digs his nails into the meat of Harry’s arse and pries his cheeks apart, exposing Harry’s hole. Before he moves in, though, he draws one hand back, making Harry look over his shoulder curiously, and brings it back down with no hesitation, the firm smack making Harry’s bum tremble and a rough groan slip unbidden from Harry’s lips. There’s a stinging warmth blossoming where his hand landed and Harry grows unsteady on his arms, the dizzying concoction of pleasure and pain making him a bit shaky. “Fuck, daddy, more,” he manages through a moan.
The next spank lands on his other cheek, giving his flesh there the same pink mark as the other one, and Harry’s arms give out quickly from the power behind the smack. He collapses onto his forearms, pushing his bum out more, silently asking for another and another and another. The sting feels like a zap of electricity in his bloodstream, making him feel fuzzy and heavy yet light as a feather at the same time.
Louis brings his palm down firmly in quick succession, getting Harry’s right arse cheek to throb with pain, which is probably a brilliant shade of red by now. He presses his thumb against the sensitive flesh and Harry whimpers from the sting of it, whimpers for more, more, more. Louis gives the left cheek the same treatment, stopping to ask Harry what his colour is. Even though he cries out, “Green,” Louis only gives him a few more spanks before coming to a stop. His palms rest lightly on the sore cheeks, gently enough that Harry doesn’t expect him to dig his nails into the aching flesh. He makes a choked-off sound caught between a groan and a sob.
“Look so gorgeous like this, Harry, all laid-out and desperate for me,” Louis says, ducking his head down to bite into the rosy skin. Harry cries out again, automatically pushing his arse back for more. “So sensitive, baby.” Louis uses both hands to spread Harry’s cheeks, pausing for a moment before he presses a kiss against Harry’s dry hole. It tightens under his lips, Harry moaning softly when Louis licks a fat, wet stripe up his crack, eliciting pleased sounds from the younger boy. He circles his tongue around the ring of muscle, murmuring, “Such a pretty hole, princess. Want me to lick you out, Harry? S’that something you’d like?”
“God, yes, please, daddy, want it so much,” Harry pleads, pushing his bum out towards Louis’s face with clear desire.
Just before he starts, Louis swipes a thumb over Harry’s hole and asks quietly, “How many times do you think you can come tonight, babe?”
“The – the most I’ve ever came in one night is twice. Think I can do it more, though, daddy, please.”
“Okay, baby, just tell me if it gets to be too much.” The moment the last word leaves his mouth, the older man dives back in to lick and trace Harry’s hole, probing it gently with quick little stabs of his tongue. It’s a tight fit, so tight, even for just the tip of his tongue, and Harry just wants to be absolutely wrecked by Louis, wants Louis to turn him inside out, pick him apart, piece by piece, until Harry’s just a mess of frayed nerves and uncontrollable moans and so much pleasure. Louis nibbles softly on Harry’s rim and sucks lightly on his slick skin. Harry’s ready to start begging for more again when Louis finally sharpens his tongue and pushes it past Harry’s tight muscles, making him clench around the intrusion.
Harry grips the bedsheets tight, so tight that his knuckles are starting to turn white, while Louis eats him out like a fucking professional. With slightly bleary eyes, he sees Louis fishing inside his pocket with one hand for his wallet, slipping out lube and a condom. He drops the latter onto the bed but draws away from Harry so he can tear open the packet of lube. As Harry whines from the loss, Louis dribbles a bit of the silky substance onto his fingers, rubs them together to warm it up, and goes back to licking into Harry’s hole, to Harry’s delight. This time, in the middle of one of Harry’s loud moans, he feels Louis carefully slip a finger in beside his tongue.
The pad of his slender finger strokes against Harry’s walls, pushing inside until the digit is buried up to the knuckle. Harry thinks it’s progress, having Louis’s finger inside him now, but it’s still not nearly enough.
Louis starts fucking in and out with his finger then, pulling his tongue out to just lick at Harry’s rim for about twenty seconds before he adds a second finger. It forces Harry’s hole to work to accommodate the new addition and Harry whimpers at the glorious stretch.
Once Louis works his way up to three fingers, scissoring inside Harry’s heat, he seems to fuck Harry with more purpose, as if he’s trying to make Harry come undone in the least amount of time possible. A few moments later, Louis curls his digits inside of Harry and the pads of his fingers brush over something fleshy that causes Harry to cry out and arch his back, startled. Harry thinks he can feel Louis smirking against his skin as Louis strokes his fingers against Harry’s prostate with deadly precision and determination. From that sensation coupled with Louis’s mouth starting to suck a bruise into his already abused bum, Harry’s body tenses up, clenching around the man’s fingers, as he comes for the first time tonight, his orgasm rocking his body and splashing against the sheets in streaks of white. He utters a long, drawn-out moan of, “Fuck,” as Louis fingers him through it. He continues to massage Harry’s prostate and thrust his fingers in and out in the aftershocks, making Harry’s body twitch and tremble with overstimulation, his teeth clamping down on the skin of his arm.
After about fifteen seconds of it, it’s getting close to the point of too much, more than
Harry can really handle, so when Louis asks for his colour, he releases his poor arm and softly answers, “Orange.” It wasn’t really a colour he was told to use, but it’s somewhere between slow down and stop what you’re doing, please so he figures Louis will understand. Thankfully, he does.
“Okay, baby,” he murmurs against Harry’s thigh, sucking a light bruise into the skin there as he carefully draws his fingers out, wiping them off on the sheets. Harry is panting softly as Louis leans up to give Harry’s abused hole one last lick, dragging the flat of his tongue over it and eliciting a shudder from Harry, before Louis gently manoeuvres the teenager onto his back.
Harry’s chest is heaving and glistening with a light sheen of perspiration, feeling like he’s just sprinted a marathon when all he’s done is tremble his way through an incredible orgasm (let’s just say that none of the other boys he’s been with before knew how to wreck someone like Louis clearly does). He can feel that the heat from his cheeks has travelled from his face down his neck, spreading across his chest, and some self-conscious part of Harry wants to cover himself up and hide his embarrassing flush and sweaty hair and messy cock, but he can’t bring himself to when Louis is looking at him like he’s a fucking angel sent from God or something, so. Harry watches in a daze as Louis dips down to softly lick at one of his hard nipples, earning a happy hum from Harry. “You good, baby?” the man asks.
Harry nods shakily.
Louis’s eyes flicker down to the spurts of come on the bedsheets right next to Harry’s hip, reaching out a confident hand to swipe through the mess and scoop a bit of it up. “Made such a mess, didn’t you, baby?” he murmurs, almost absent-mindedly. Louis lifts his hand towards Harry’s curious face and runs over the line of his parted mouth, smearing white over Harry’s red lips and getting them slick and shiny. The slim digits dip inside Harry’s mouth, Louis’s expression alone commanding him to lick and suck his own spunk off of them, which he does with an embarrassing amount of eagerness. He swirls his tongue around the man’s fingers until they’re clean and wet, his spent cock twitching at the thought that he’s being fed his own come. When Louis withdraws his fingers, Harry licks at his stained lips and glides his tongue over the mess glossing the rosy, bitten skin there.
“You wanna suck my cock and give your pretty little bum some time to rest?” The way Louis says it makes it sound like he’s doing Harry a favour instead of asking him to get him off. Of course, Harry rushes to comply, about to turn over and crawl towards him when Louis stops him with a gentle hand.
Harry stills on the bed, watching in curious fascination as Louis rocks back on his haunches and undoes his trousers, pulling them down slowly like he’s trying to tease Harry (it’s working embarrassingly well). The bulge in his black boxer briefs makes Harry lick his lips because fuck, he looks so big. He can’t wait to get his mouth on him. The next to go are the pants (thank God), pulled down just as slowly as the trousers. Harry has to bite his lip to suppress his moan when the man’s cock springs free. His dick is probably the best Harry’s ever seen (and that’s including the copious amounts of porn he’s watched), red, throbbing, thick, and shiny with precome at the head. Harry wishes he could just swallow him down and keep him in his throat for the rest of his life. He’s not sure his family would approve of that life choice, though, so he merely makes pathetic grabby hands at Louis and whines for him to hurry up.
Louis chides him by lightly smacking his thigh, tugging his bottoms off all the way and tossing them off the bed. He’s only left in his pressed blazer (which now has plenty of wrinkles in it) and unbuttoned dress shirt, open to expose his tanned, toned chest. He only slips off the blazer, leaving the shirt hanging off his shoulders, and something about the sight makes Harry’s abs clench, makes his skin prickle with how much he wants this man.
Louis shifts on his knees across the mattress until he’s straddling Harry’s chest, cock in his hand, and oh. “Gonna fuck your mouth, princess,” he says, waiting for Harry’s nod before he uses his hand to guide his cock towards the younger boy’s mouth and starts slowly feeding it to Harry.
At the first touch against his tongue, Harry hums softly, his mouth already feeling full – full of Louis, fuck – and he uses his lips to coax more of his hard length inside, swiping his tongue across the tip and licking off a fat bead of precome. “God, baby, your mouth feels so good, so sweet,” Louis groans, pushing another inch past the boy’s red lips.
Most of his cock is inside Harry’s mouth now, but before Louis starts really fucking his face, he pauses to say, “Just tap my hip if you need me to stop,” and then continues sliding the rest of himself into Harry’s mouth, moaning again in a husky voice that sends goosebumps skittering across Harry’s skin. His leaking tip hits the back of Harry’s throat, making the boy splutter just a bit, but Harry hurries to relax his throat muscles and breathe through his nose so he won’t gag too badly. He’s deepthroated a few times before, but he’s never had someone quite this big, so it takes a bit of time to accommodate his size. After hesitating to make sure Harry’s okay, Louis keeps going, muttering a soft, “Fuck,” when his entire cock is finally engulfed in Harry’s mouth and throat.
Harry realises that it’s the first real stimulation Louis’s cock has received this entire evening and he suddenly feels bad for the man’s cock, squeezing his throat muscles around Louis’s length before relaxing them again and then running his tongue against a prominent vein on the underside, trying to make this the most memorable blowjob Louis’s ever gotten. (He knows he’s not like, a pro at blowjobs or whatever, but what he lacks in finesse, he’ll try to make up for in enthusiasm.)
“So beautiful, baby, so pretty and good for me,” he whispers. The praise helps relax Harry more and he manages to start sucking on the cock in his mouth, his tongue fluttering softly against the shaft. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated, and Louis reaches down to sweetly stroke his fingertips over Harry’s lips, red and stretched around his girth. Harry shivers at the touch, then closes his eyes in pleasure when Louis slides his hand further up and grips Harry’s hair instead, tugging a bit harshly on his curls as he finally starts pulling out of his mouth and thrusting back in.
He establishes a steady pace, shifting his hips back only to buck forward and fuck back into his throat, over and over again. And Harry’s trying to be so good for him, trying so hard to not gag or fuck up, but the one time he does choke by accident, Louis actually moans louder at the muscles in his throat contracting around him, like he can’t help it, before checking if he’s okay, so he figures it wouldn’t be so bad to gag just a little. Once he’s less worried about making a fool of himself, he starts bobbing his head slightly to the rhythm Louis has set, helping him fuck his throat deeper, faster.
After a few minutes, his fingers twitch and tighten in Harry’s hair, letting out one more guttural moan before forcefully pulling Harry off of his cock, both of them breathing heavily.
Harry’s about to whine at the loss before Louis gently explains, “You did amazing, baby, but daddy didn’t wanna come yet. You were so good for me, sweetheart, took my cock so well. Want me to suck on you for a bit too? Want me to make you come again?” Louis drops his hand from Harry’s hair and runs his knuckles over his cheekbone and jaw, the look in his eyes something akin to affection.
“Yeah, daddy, please,” Harry whimpers. “Want that a lot.” He squirms a little under Louis’s body, his cock almost painfully hard against his tummy again, the head flushed a deep pink.
In compliance, Louis slides down Harry’s body, leaving sweet little kisses all over his skin as he goes – including some tugs on his nipples with his teeth that make Harry keen – until he’s settled between Harry’s legs. He pushes the boy’s thighs apart a bit more to expose his hole again, a bit looser than when they started but still rather tight and a little wet from before.
Harry watches with glassy eyes as Louis licks his lips and leans forward to lick a line from Harry’s rim, over his balls, and up his shaft until he can wrap his lips around the head, sucking firmly on the wet tip as he swirls his tongue around it. The skin on Harry’s head is soft and silky, slick with his precome and hot with his arousal, his length pink and long as it throbs between his lips. Louis slips off briefly to murmur with his mouth pressed lightly to the tip, “You have such a pretty cock, princess, love playing with it for you,” before dipping down and taking in over half of his length right off the bat. Harry feels like he’s on fire.
Harry mewls and kicks his legs out a bit, instinctually bucking up into the older man’s mouth, but Louis stops his movement with a hand on each of his hips, pinning them down to the mattress. The flushed boy bites his lip and whimpers at that, obsessed with the feeling of Louis touching him, Louis sucking him, Louis everywhere and everything.
He takes Harry deep into his throat, swallowing around him repeatedly, and an embarrassingly breathy moan that spills from Harry’s lips when he feels Louis’s throat muscles contracting and squeezing around his length. Louis doesn’t stop sucking him until Harry twitches hard and shoots into his mouth, coming for the second time tonight. Even beyond that, he keeps him in his mouth and sucks softly on the head, giving his sensitive skin these little kitten licks that make Harry shiver and whine.
“Please,” is all Harry can manage once the older man finally allows his cock to slip out from between his lips. Harry hears how fucking wrecked his voice sounds, like he’s already more than half-destroyed and only a few more touches from Louis will push him those last few inches over the edge.
“Think you can get hard for me again, darling? Can you do that for daddy?” Louis coos, gently stroking his hip with a thumb. He places sweet kisses and nips along Harry’s thigh, already mottled with lovebites and light bruises from before, making Harry tremble slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, and slowly trails his other hand down Harry’s body. He eases Harry’s legs apart again while waiting for his answer, prodding lightly at his hole.
Harry groans around his words, shakily saying to the gorgeous man between his knees, “Yes, daddy, please, fuck me – want you. I need–”
Harry is cut off by a slender finger sliding into his heat, still wet enough from earlier to let the digit slip past his rim easily. He arches his back and chokes on a whimper, taken by surprise by the sudden intrusion. A second finger is added quickly, Louis just scissoring them inside and wiggling them a bit. When he adds the third one, Harry reaches down to clutch at his shoulder, fingernails digging harshly into the man’s tanned skin. Louis takes his other hand off of his hip to wrap around Harry’s wrist and pull it away from himself, pinning his hand against the mattress with his palm pressed firmly against the younger boy’s.
“Lou–”
“Daddy,” the older man corrects, voice stern.
When Harry tries to whine out the word, “Daddy,” Louis crooks all three of his fingers inside the boy to press them firmly against his prostate, eliciting a sharp keening sound from Harry. The younger boy arches into the touch, whimpering wantonly at the sharp surge of pleasure. Already, his cock, wet from his own come and Louis’s mouth, is gradually swelling to full hardness yet again, lying stiff and flushed against Harry’s tummy.
Louis fingers him open again until he’s properly stretched enough and ready to take his cock, the sensitivity waning a bit, and slowly retracts his fingers to stroke Harry’s thigh gently. Harry breathes heavily and watches as Louis’s other hand moves to grab the abandoned condom from before, tearing the package open and rolling it over his own erection with ease. He gets some more lube to spread along his length, pumping himself a few times and hissing at the friction.
Harry tries to relax and spread his legs just a bit more as Louis’s fingers curl around his own shaft and guide it towards Harry’s wet hole, but he pauses with his cock poised against the ring of muscle to check, “Ready, baby?” At Harry’s frantic nod (because yes, he’s been waiting the whole time for this moment, he is so beyond ready for this), Louis smiles softly and slowly pushes against his entrance until his head pops inside. It’s not the most comfortable sensation at first, but Harry isn’t too bothered by the intrusion, just wiggles his hips a little as if saying, ‘C’mon,’ so Louis starts easing himself further into the younger boy.
He keeps sinking deeper inside until he’s fully buried inside Harry, hips pressed to the small curve of the boy’s arse. He stills then, looking down at Harry, and seems to wait for a signal to proceed.
Harry sucks in a long, shaky breath, trying to centre himself and wait for the small pain to subside. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it honestly could have, considering how much prep Louis gave him, so he just needs several long moments to let himself grow accustomed to the feeling of Louis inside him.
And then it hits him that Louis is fucking inside of him.
He’s getting fucked by Louis.
Harry’s lost all capability of speech, so he just gives a jerky nod, a sharp desperation settling inside his chest. He wants this, he wants Louis to fucking wreck him. He wants to feel him now, filling him up so perfectly, so beautifully, and he wants to feel him later, a dull ache in his arse to remind him of this exact moment.
Apparently, it was the only signal Louis needed to begin slowly pulling out only to thrust back in – hard.
Harry outright moans like he’s being fucking filmed, throwing his head back with his hips twitching up a bit. He moans even louder and longer again in the hopes that a passerby will overhear and know how well his daddy is pleasing him. The older man starts fucking in and out of the boy, building up a steady, harsh pace. He fucks him like he’s singing along to his favourite song, like he knows every button to push and every trigger to pull in order to make Harry come undone in the shortest amount of time possible. Louis drags a short nail over one of the boy’s nipples; he grips his hip tight, digs his fingers into the doughy skin there firm enough to leave little white half-moons from his nails; he leaves his trace everywhere he can reach and Harry thinks it feels fucking glorious.
He’s changing the angle slightly and leaning down to attach his mouth to the exposed column of Harry’s throat when his cock finds Harry’s prostate. Unknowingly, Louis rams directly into the boy’s sweet spot, making Harry’s back arch again and mouth drop open, rendered silent from the sheer pleasure pulsing hot through his bones.
And like – Harry can’t even moan; that’s how fucking overwhelmed he is. It’s all so much, almost too much, yet still not nearly enough. He wants more. He says (more like whines) just as much.
Louis complies easily enough, driving back in against his prostate repeatedly with deadly precision, but when Harry starts scrambling to grab at the older man’s body, feeling a bit frenzied, Louis catches the boy’s wrists and quickly pins them down against the mattress, his rhythm barely faltering a beat. And – it’s weirdly different this time, different than when he held his hips down before. Maybe because this time, Louis’s cock is splitting Harry open and fucking every needy moan and desperate whimper out of him. Maybe because this time, Harry only starts to moan louder because it’s exactly what he needs and Louis is giving it to him exactly how he needs it. It’s wonderful and satisfying and so, so perfect.
Harry writhes in pleasure as Louis continues pounding into him and sucks marks into the soft skin of his neck, licking over a collarbone on his way down the boy’s chest. He swipes his tongue over one nipple, then the other, taking turns sucking on the hard pink buds. When Harry’s leg kicks up to wrap around Louis’s hip, letting him fuck inside deeper, Louis nips at one puffy nipple and pulls his mouth away to lightly kiss Harry’s sternum and ask softly, “Think you can ride my cock, kitten?”
Tiny shivers are dancing down Harry’s spine as he nods, Louis gliding the tip of his tongue up Harry’s neck to reach his lips. He presses a feverish kiss into his mouth, still fucking into him just as hard and steady. Curling one arm around Harry’s waist, Louis gently reverses their positions and manoeuvres Harry above him, letting him settle on his hips. Harry feels so wrecked already, face hot and hair disheveled with stray curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, as he slowly lowers himself back onto Louis’s thick cock, biting his lip at the new angle.
In this position, Harry can swivel his hips any way he wants, can grind down in little circles to get that sweet pressure on his spot, and Louis just holds onto his thighs and lets him use his cock for his own pleasure. He throws his head back to groan loudly, Louis’s dick pressing into his prostate and sending waves of satisfaction through his veins.
“Fuck, yeah, princess, use my cock, wanna watch you ride me, you’re doing so well. Christ, you’re so gorgeous.”
Louis’s words spur the younger boy to whimper in pleasure and bounce on his cock harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. With each bounce and grind, Harry’s not only closer to his third orgasm of the night, but closer to exhaustion as well. Though he continues to ride Louis to the best of his ability, his rhythm is notably shaky and Harry feels too overwhelmed to go on by himself much longer. The blue-eyed man slowly trails his hands up the boy’s tense thighs until his fingers are curled gently around each of Harry’s soft hips. He digs his fingertips in before he abruptly lifts his own hips off the mattress to slam up into the boy’s arse, hitting his prostate dead-on.
Harry whines in pleasure, “Oh, daddy,” and reaches down shakily to brace himself on the man’s shoulders, letting Louis fuck up into him at his own harsh pace. Before long at all, Harry is collapsing onto Louis’s chest with a sharp cry as his cock twitches hard and gives a few weak spurts of come, balls drawing up tight as they empty themselves yet again. His spunk splashes onto Louis’s stomach, a bit of it pooling in the tanned man’s navel, Harry panting from sheer fatigue.
Still, Louis is relentless, fucking steadily into the younger boy, every thrust jostling the boy on his chest and sending sensitive shivers up and down Harry’s spine. He manages to choke out, “Colour?”
Harry pants softly into the man’s chest, “Y-Yellow, but don’t stop, please, want you to come too.”
Despite this, Louis still slows down his thrusts, much to Harry’s disappointment, coming to a full stop before pulling out of Harry. Harry whines at the loss, watching with a pleading, half-lidded gaze as Louis tugs off the condom and drops it in the trash bin beside the bed. He tries giving Louis the best puppy dog eyes he can manage while fucked-out and hazy, but Louis just flips him over onto his back and crawls up to straddle his chest again. One of his hands is braced against the headboard while the other trails down to pump his cock fast over Harry’s face. And – oh. Harry is definitely on board with this new development.
Like the good boy he likes to think he is, Harry opens his mouth wide and waits semi-patiently as Louis tightens his grip on the headboard and climaxes with a groan, shooting ribbons of come across Harry’s face. Harry can feel it drip down his cheeks, splatter across his lips, and end on the steep bridge of his nose. Breathing shakily, Louis guides his cock closer to Harry’s mouth and lets him catch the last couple spurts on his tongue, swiping the head of his dick across Harry’s lower lip slowly.
Harry moans softly at the taste, eagerly swallowing all that Louis’s given him. He peers up at the older man with hooded green eyes as he slowly flicks his tongue out to pepper soft kitten licks over the flushed head, tonguing at the drooling slit. Louis shudders above him, pulling away from the boy’s mouth after just a few seconds of Harry suckling softly on the tip.
“God, you did so good, princess,” Louis murmurs, sounding tired. “Such a good baby for me.” He reaches down to run a finger through the mess on Harry’s face, scooping up a bit of his come to feed it to the curly-haired boy.
Louis sighs, watching Harry lick at his finger before climbing off of his chest and off the bed, holding his hand out to help Harry onto his feet. Sated and sleepy with post-coital bliss, Harry clings to Louis’s side as the older man gently leads him through the dimly-lit room and into the attached bathroom. One hand coiled securely around his boy’s waist, Louis flips the lightswitch and manoeuvres Harry across the tiled floor to sit him on the closed toilet seat. Harry is watching him move around the small space with more fondness in his chest than is probably normal as Louis heads over to the tub and turns the water on, setting the plug inside the drain to let it fill. While they wait for it to warm up, Louis leans down to Harry and presses a tender, closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, one that Harry is more than happy to return.
Strangely enough, this is the action that makes Harry smile bashfully and blush. After all they’d just done, just a sweet kiss is enough to leave Harry fidgeting like a giddy schoolgirl. Grinning up at the older man, Harry leans up to give him a light kiss in return, eyes falling shut as he curls his hand around the back of Louis’s neck to keep him there.
Harry pulls Louis into a deeper kiss, tongue gliding across the seam of the man’s lips until he parts them. He licks into his mouth easily, eagerly, savouring the soft brush of Louis’s tongue against his.
Louis sucks lightly on Harry’s tongue for a bit before he whimpers against Louis’s mouth quietly. When they finally part for air, their lips are swollen and puffy from the kiss, smiles on both of their faces. Harry tries not to think too hard about tomorrow and just pecks the older man on the lips one last time before Louis checks the temperature of the water.
They slip into the tub after switching off the faucet, deeming the water warm enough, Louis positioning Harry in front of him and letting him settle between his legs. Harry feels him snake a strong arm around his waist, gently pulling him against his chest, and smiles to himself when Louis leaves a soft kiss on his bare shoulder. In the corner of his eye, he watches Louis reaching to grab the dry flannel set on the edge of the tub. “Close your eyes, baby,” the older man says kindly, voice soft and calming.
He can hear a soft tiny splash as Louis presumably wets the cloth, then waits as Louis uses it to clean his face, gently wiping Harry’s skin of the man’s traces. Harry feels him run his thumb over his wet lips, seeming to hesitate for a moment before he drops his hand away and instead strokes over Harry’s shoulder once. “M’gonna wet your hair now, ‘kay?” he murmurs.
Harry nods and sits there with closed eyes and loose limbs while Louis scoops up some water in his palms and pours it slowly over the boy’s dirty hair. With gentle hands, Louis grabs the complementary bottle of shampoo and lathers some into Harry’s wet curls, eliciting a soft moan of satisfaction from Harry as Louis massages his scalp.
Relaxing completely against the man’s chest, Harry lets himself succumb to the feeling of strong fingers threading through his curls, tugging him into a state of serenity. The pads of Louis’s thumbs are tracing the natural part in the boy’s hair when Harry, eyes still firmly shut and body loose and pliant against his torso, decides to speak up. His voice is soft as he asks, “Louis, what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
Clearly caught off guard by the abrupt question, the blue-eyed man only responds with a soft, “Hm?”
Harry clears his throat. “Like… Will you still want me when – when morning comes?”
For a few moments, Harry takes Louis’s following silence as a no, clear as day. He swallows around the hurt and wills himself not to cry in front of Louis. And when Louis starts to silently move his hands through the teenager’s soapy curls again, Harry worries that he’s choosing to ignore the question altogether. He’s about to dunk his head under the water and scramble out of the bathtub when Louis takes him by surprise, finally answering. His voice is softer than ever right now, kind of sleepy and laced with more affection than anything that has transpired tonight. “I wanted you since the moment you walked into the room tonight. I can’t imagine I’ll stop wanting you in the morning.”
And it’s such a sentimental, sappy thing to say, but Harry is nothing if not a sucker for sentimental, sappy things, so he mewls in happiness and relaxes against the man’s naked body again. It’s the most romantic and peaceful moment he’s ever experienced.
It’s sweet and calm after that, even more so than before, now that Louis has answered the question burning in the forefront of Harry’s mind.
And it’s nice knowing where they stand now. They’ve spent the entire evening getting to know each other’s bodies, but now they proceed to waste over half an hour getting to know each other’s lives and personalities instead, and Harry thinks it’s actually the most intimate part of the whole night.
They don’t leave the lukewarm water until their skin is pruny and wrinkled, both of them feeling refreshed from the long bath. Louis wraps them up in fluffy white robes provided by the hotel and leads them back into the bedroom, narrowly saving a starry-eyed Harry from running into the nightstand. He grins at the younger boy, tucking a stray damp curl behind his ear, and softly asks, “You hungry, babe?”
Harry leans into the tender touch and nods, realising he hasn’t eaten anything in – he glances at the bedside clock – wow, three hours. Oh, shit, he’s been M.I.A. for three hours. He completely forgot about Gemma. “Um, yeah, would you mind ordering room service for us? I, uh, have to let my sister know I’m okay and not dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Louis blinks slowly, expression showing a bit of surprise, like he’s also forgotten that they aren’t the only two people in the world. “Oh – right, right. Gemma must be worrying her head off by now. Would you like me to take you home, babe, or…?”
Harry knows his mother would disapprove, knows Liam would frown and tell him it’s way past his curfew and he should be getting home now. Even knowing those things, what comes out of his mouth is, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” and it feels like exactly the right answer when Louis grins, all crinkly-eyed and happy. The older man pecks Harry on the lips before heading over to grab the hotel phone, dialing room service with a smile lingering on the edges of his mouth.
Harry fetches his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans and wanders off to a glass sliding door that appears to lead to a balcony, stepping out into the crisp night air. When he and Gemma had arrived, the sky had been tinged various hues of oranges, pinks, and blues; now he only sees an expanse of midnight blue, dotted with silver stars. Hands braced on the railing, he unlocks his phone and steels himself for the barrage of 16 text messages. Most are from Gemma (subtlely worried and mostly annoyed), some are from his mum (much more concerned and confused as to why Gemma said she couldn’t find him), and a couple from Liam (inquiring about the best way to get rid of a stubborn spot).
Rolling his eyes as he reads the messages, he ignores Liam’s without a second thought, hesitantly passes over his mum’s, and hits ‘Call’ on Gemma’s contact.
He only has to wait about two seconds before he’s greeted with her fuming. “Where the fuck are you?”
Harry makes an attempt to calm himself down before he answers her. He glances back inside the room and sees Louis biting his lip as he flips through a tiny menu, the top of his robe slipping off his shoulders to expose half of his toned chest. Harry sucks in a deep breath. “’M with Louis Tomlinson.”
“I swear to all that is good and holy, I will hunt you down and strangle you with my bare hands if you don’t tell me why you fucking ran off with a boy you barely know without even telling me first. Mum put me in charge of you for the night and I had to try explaining to her why I had no fucking clue where you were. I’m willing to bet that she was willing and ready to send out a search party for you.”
Harry wants to argue that Louis is actually a full-fledged man, not some boy, but he suspects it’ll be a lost cause at this point. “I just – I mean,” he flounders helplessly, then sighs in resignation. “Gem, you know I always had a crush on him…”
There’s silence for a moment, and then – “Oh my god, did you sleep with my ex-classmate? Harry fucking Styles, I cannot believe you!”
He rolls his eyes. “Settle down. I don’t – it’s not that big of a deal, Gemma.” Yes, it is, yes, it is, yes, it is.
“Not a big deal, my arse, you twit,” she huffs. “So – So like, what now? Are you guys like a thing now? Do I have to deal with my baby brother making googly eyes at a bloke I once did a shitty science project with? This will be so awkward, H, I–”
“I don’t know,” Harry interjects abruptly, effectively cutting her off. For a moment, there’s just silence, nothing but a soft crackle of muted static in his ear, and then he murmurs again, “I don’t know. He’s – He’s good, though. Trust me, yeah? I do like him, just – we’ll see what will happen when tomorrow comes.”
At first, he thinks she might have hung up on him, even pulling away to check that the call is indeed still connected, until finally, his sister grumbles reluctantly, “He better not hurt you, Haz, or I will fuck him up, all joking aside.”
He cracks a smile at that. “Yeah, Gem, I know.”
They stay on the line for only a few minutes more, ending the call when Harry looks inside and sees that an array of food has been delivered to the room and deposited on the bed. When he ventures back inside, sliding the balcony door shut quietly, Louis is sitting cross-legged atop the sheets, staring absently at a plate of greasy chips and chicken wings.
After he sets his phone down on the bedside table, Harry moves aside a small pizza to fit himself next to Louis’s knee, curling up against his soft side with a contented sigh, arms coming up to hang loosely around his waist. It’s priceless, the way Louis’s face immediately brightens at the boy’s return. Something warm and soft expands inside of Harry’s ribcage at the sight, swelling with every brush of their skin. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but he hopes Louis will stick around long enough for Harry to figure it out.
“Alright, babe?” Louis asks softly, grabbing a chip to feed to Harry. It’s just some cheap junk food and a simple action, but for some reason, it feels inordinately romantic with Louis as the one doing it. His hand lingers near the younger boy’s face, cupping his smooth jaw and stroking a dimpled cheek with a look of fondness in his eyes. When his red lips curve with a grin, Harry tries not to let his mind wander to where those lips were not too long ago.
Harry chews and swallows quickly before turning his head just slightly and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of the man’s wrist. He savours the way Louis’s pulse spikes beneath the soft pressure of his mouth. “I really like you, Louis,” the boy confesses in a whisper against the tanned skin. He’s nervous to meet his eyes.
There’s the soft press of lips against his, there for a moment much too brief, but when he tries to chase his departing mouth, Louis stops him with a look. His eyes are soft when he stares at Harry and then noses gently at his neck, peppering his collarbone with light pecks and playful nips. “I am pleased to inform you that the feeling is very mutual,” Louis murmurs, voice almost inaudible. The words glide over Harry’s skin and raise goosebumps in their wake, drawing a subtle flush to his cheeks.
After about forty minutes of exchanging sleepy kisses, he falls asleep with Louis’s arms around him. When he stirs awake only a few hours later (which is actually about six o’clock in the morning), roused by the sunlight filtering through the window onto his face, Louis’s arms are still around him and he’s still got stars in his eyes and his heart in his throat. It’s comforting to know that Louis is still here, still with him and real and proof that last night really happened.
He can feel the pulse of Louis’s heartbeat against his back, a bit out of sync with Harry’s but still a sweet source of reassurance, lulling him into an easy calm. Before his mind can even try spiralling into a bottomless pit of questions and uncertainty regarding their possibly nonexistent future, Harry simply wiggles around to face Louis, kisses the man’s jaw with a tired smile, and falls back asleep to the sound of their breathing.