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“Don’t know how you’ve talked me into this,” Harry mumbled, combing his hair back with his fingers as they waited in a security line at the arena.
Niall slapped his hand away. “Stop fucking up your hair. Don’t want to hear you whinging on about how your hair looked shit when you talked to Louis.”
Harry pressed his lips together but didn’t answer. He hated when Niall was right.
“Don’t want to hear another word about how I talked you into this when you’re the one with all his songs on repeat.”
“Yes, well, I wanted to stare at him from the audience like any normal person who once had a massive crush on a boy in sixth form that went on XFactor and got put in a boy band that took over the world.”
Niall rolled his eyes. “How many times did you see One Direction in concert anyway?”
“I’d rather not answer that.”
Their turn had come, and Niall pushed Harry through to the metal detectors. Once through, Niall pulled out lanyards with badges attached and began nudging Harry towards the floor of the arena. “Pick up the pace, mate. Want to hang with Louis for a bit before he’s got to go on.”
Harry’s heart rabbitted in his chest. Arguing with Niall had temporarily taken his mind off the fact he was about to speak to the man who had begun his sexual awakening back in their Hall Cross School days.
An enormous man stood guard at a barricade separating the floor of the arena to presumably backstage areas. Niall marched them right up to the man and showed their passes as their names were double checked with a list.
“Is it warm in here?” He could feel sweat begin to form along his top lip that he quickly wiped away. It didn’t stop sweat from re-forming there almost immediately. He could really use a flannel to wipe beneath his arms and lower back and quite frankly it felt like it might be running down the crack of his arse now.
“No,” Niall replied flatly as they made their way down a large corridor. “It’s not warm in here. It’s fucking November. Get a hold of yourself, Styles. Don’t embarrass me in front of my super famous mate.”
“My ass is sweating.”
“Christ.”
Niall stopped outside a door with a taped up sign that read LOUIS TOMLINSON in all capital letters. He sent a bit of a warning look at Harry as though to give him another moment before he knocked at the door to try and stop panicking.
The universe had always liked having a laugh at Harry’s expense.
The door swung open before Niall could even raise his arm, and the fittest man Harry had ever seen in his life burst through it.
“Mate!” Louis yelled, opening his arms wide. “Bring it in, Nialler! Good to see you!”
Niall grinned and happily accepted what looked to be an excellent hug. “Good to see you, Lou. Haven’t seen you since the last tour I don’t think.”
“Ah, sorry, Nialler. Wish I got home more often, mate. Usually wrapped up with family stuff when I do. Swear I’ll do better! Glad you lads made it to Sheffield to see me though. Nice to have a bit of home here innit?”
This was the only warning Harry had before Louis Tomlinson turned his piercing blue eyes directly to him. Harry inhaled a little too sharply, but managed to not choke on his own tongue. He was going to call that a win. He waved, his hand suddenly feeling too large and somehow no longer completely under his own control. “Hi.”
“Harold, yeah? Niall says you were in sixth form with us at Hall Cross, and now that I see you—yeah, look familiar.” Louis seemed to be attempting to refamiliarise himself with Harry’s entire body with the way he was eying him from his boots to his hair.
Niall nudged him, and Harry cleared his throat. “It’s um—just Harry, actually.”
“Harold with the curls, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Louis grinned with a wink, opening the door wide and ushering them into his dressing room.
This was fine. Louis was just trying to murder him was all.
“Um—” He did not know what to say back to that. Yes, I have curly hair or my name is still just Harry or call me whatever you want but please grab my curls while I suck your —”
He turned to Niall helplessly.
“Harry here’s a big fan,” Niall said, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Thanks for the passes and all and for letting me bring a mate along. Harry’s the one who hired me on at Wavin when I moved back to Donny.”
Louis’ grin deepened, his eyes crinkling. “Good lad, Harold! Hiring on our Nialler! Bet he’s the best at whatever it is you lot do there.”
“Wavin creates innovative solutions for plumbing and drainage systems and is committed to building healthy, sustainable environments with products that ensure cleaner water, efficient energy usage, and resilient infrastructures.”
The three of them stood in stunned silence for a moment.
Niall attempted to save him. “Harry works in HR, but he’s very committed to the cause as you can see.”
Louis raised his eyebrows. “Is that right? Well, Harold, you can rearrange my plumbing any time you like.”
Harry wasn’t sure what he choked on but he was definitely choking now. Niall thumped him on the back.
“Sorry, sorry,” he wheezed. “Just swallowed wrong.”
“Wrong hole , Harold?” Louis could not have looked less innocent. He was flustering him on purpose, and Harry was utterly helpless to stop him.
Niall seemed amused, but he answered Harry’s silent plea. “So line us up a few shots, Lou. Get this pre-game started. Don’t worry, we won’t get you pissed and send you out on stage.”
Louis laughed and headed over to a table along the wall that held a bottle of vodka, a few cans of Red Bull, and some plastic cups. He poured out three shots for them and handed over the cups. Harry peered inside. His cup seemed to hold far more than one shot of vodka.
“Cheers!” They raised their cups in a quick toast as they all threw back a shot. Harry hoped a little liquid courage would help steady his nerves.
“Tsk. Harold! You’ve just taken a sip!” Louis glanced into Harry’s cup. “Look at all that vodka still in there. Go on, lad. Drink!”
“Drink! Drink! Drink!” Niall the Traitor chanted along with Louis, so Harry attempted to take another shot of it, still too much in the cup for him to handle.
He spluttered as the liquid burned down his throat.
It was Louis who gave him a thump to the back this time, letting his hand slide down Harry’s back. It sent a shiver across Harry’s skin, nearly whimpering at the touch. Niall laughed and walked back over to the table to pour himself more.
Louis’ voice quieted. “Aw, Harold. Maybe I could find something better for you to choke on later.”
The vision he had conjured of kneeling between Louis’ legs resurfaced. Lucky for Harry, Louis’ band began trickling into Louis’ dressing room, which eased some of Harry’s tension.
Harry nearly felt relaxed up until the moment Louis’ makeup artist came in to tell him she was ready to do his hair and makeup. Louis stood up and pulled the hoodie he was wearing up and over his head, revealing a scoop necked white vest with a small Givenchy logo on it.
The scoop was so low he could nearly see Louis’ entire chest tattoo. His greedy eyes lingered over every inch of Louis as he walked towards his makeup artist. The navy coloured trackies he’d been wearing had seemed innocent enough. Now, they seemed to imply they came off as easily as they went on.
Niall nudged him back to reality. This was going to be a long night.
The show passed by in a blur of singing along to every lyric from the side of the stage and trying not to ogle Louis’ arse when he had such a good view of it. Before Harry was quite ready, Louis came striding off stage, heading directly towards them.
Louis wrapped his arms around both their shoulders as he walked, toting them along with him further backstage. “Having fun, lads?”
“You were sick, mate!”
Harry’s brain had gone offline as soon as Louis touched him. Louis’ body heat radiated off him, seeping through Harry’s shirt. His musky scent filled Harry’s nose. One word came to mind, and Harry blurted it out. “Breathtaking.”
“Ah, laying it on thick, lad.” Louis cackled. “But thank you.”
They’d reached Louis’ dressing room, and Louis’ arms dropped to open the door. Harry let out a sigh of both relief and regret.
The rest of Louis’ band had followed along behind them, but only Michael walked into Louis’ dressing room as he began chatting with Niall about guitars.
“Louis says you played in school, yeah?”
Niall blushed a bit. “Yeah, still play from time to time. In school, did guitar ensemble, and Harry and I did A levels in music.”
“Wait, Harold, you did?” Louis asked. “I was—”
Harry snorted. “Louis, everyone at Hall Cross remembers you were in music theatre and drama and played the lead in Grease.”
“Niall, come look at the guitars I’ve got for tour. Not always got someone around who will truly appreciate what I’ve got going on over here.” Michael looked genuinely excited to show off his guitars.
Niall shrugged. “I’ll come look if you’ll let me play them.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” Michael laughed as he ushered Niall out of the dressing room, leaving Harry alone with Louis.
Panic welled up in his chest. What was he supposed to talk about with Louis? His mind raced with one inappropriate subject after another. I once bid on a pair of your braces for charity but lost out to a twelve year old. I’ve already been to three of your tour dates for this tour, but I didn’t tell Niall. When I went to One Direction concerts, I brought binoculars so I could stare at you better, but I had to stop because my sister said I was embarrassing her.
“I figured out I was gay when I saw you play Danny Zuko in sixth form!”
Harry slapped both hands over his mouth as though he could stuff the words back down his own throat.
Louis looked nearly as surprised as Harry felt, but then his face slid into a very smug smirk.
“So you’re saying I’ve been wasting all my innuendos on you all night, when you would have got on your knees for me anyway?”
Harry kept his hands over his mouth, but nodded his head.
Louis let out a choked laugh. “Christ, Harry. I was joking about that, but fuck if I don’t want it. Been thinking about those pretty pink lips wrapped around me since I laid eyes on you tonight.”
Harry moaned a little. He couldn’t help it.
Louis crowded closer into Harry’s space. Harry dropped his hands away from his mouth and concentrated on not hyperventilating. Louis leaned in, his breath feathering over Harry’s cheek. “Mind if I taste your lips first?”
Harry surged forward, wrapping his arms over Louis’ shoulders as Louis’ fingers pressed into Harry’s hips tugging him even closer. Their lips met in a kiss Harry had been dreaming about since he was seventeen, the reality a thousand times better than any fantasy.
He fell fully into the kiss, his mind blissfully empty except for Louis, Louis, Louis. Harry hadn’t known a kiss could even be like this, more intoxicating than any substance on earth. If Louis was his addiction, he never wanted to be sober.
Louis’ body grinded against his, the bulge in his trackies pressing against Harry’s thigh. When Harry pulled away ever so slightly from the kiss, the flutter of Louis’ eyelashes against his cheek nearly had him falling to the floor. God, he was so fucking beautiful.
Harry almost didn’t trust this not to be a dream as Louis panted in small hitches of breath against Harry’s lips. He had to shoot his shot.
His fingers trembled as he began inching Louis’ trackies over his gorgeous arse. “This okay?”
Louis let out a low groan as he backed against the arm of the sofa. “Fucking hell, Harry. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s okay.”
Harry didn’t waste any time shoving Louis’ trackies down right along with his Calvin Klein pants as he dropped to his knees. As he wrapped a fist around Louis’ cock, it filled quickly under his touch. Harry opened his mouth, tongue first, before he curled it around the underside of Louis’ cock, and hollowed his cheeks as he sucked him in fully.
“Christ. So pretty. You’re so pretty like this Harry.” Louis threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair and moaned as Harry sank down further.
Harry let out his own moan as Louis tugged at his curls. He blinked up at Louis’ face. Louis was watching him intently, pupils wide and dark with lust. It was a heady moment. Harry had never felt more powerful in his life.
He swallowed down, his throat catching around the tip of Louis’ cock. Louis let out a strangled shout. “Harry—I’m gonna—Harry—”
Harry slapped both his hands over Louis’ bare arse cheeks, squeezing a bit, as his indication that he wasn’t going to let Louis pull himself out of his mouth. Well, and how could he not take his one chance to hold onto a handful like this?
With another shout, Louis came as Harry swallowed down every drop before releasing Louis from his grip. Harry stood up on shaky legs, the bulge of his own erection jutting against his trousers obscenely.
Louis reached for him, pulling him into a heated kiss, and Harry was sure he must taste himself on his tongue. When Louis pushed back, he did so only to pull his vest up and over his head and kick his trackies off from around his ankles. Harry looked his fill at the miles of golden, inked skin.
Then, Louis’ hand palmed against Harry’s obvious erection. “Looks like you might need my help with something.”
It suddenly occurred to Harry that Niall might walk in at any moment and see Louis nude and Harry with his cock, albeit still clothed cock, in Louis’ hand. Harry’s hesitance must have registered with Louis.
“Don’t worry about Niall. Michael said he’d keep him busy until we’re ready to head out to a club.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “You planned this?” Had Louis told Michael when they were on stage to keep Niall busy? This was mad that Louis had actually been wanting to get in his pants all night.
Louis unbuttoned Harry’s trousers and pulled the zipper down and then looked up and rolled his eyes. “Been planning it, Harold. Guess Niall never told you about the little crush I had on the saxophonist in sixth form. He’d press his pretty lips around that mouthpiece and I’d dream at night he’d do the same to me.”
“Wait—what? How could—? That can’t—” Harry’s brain spun.
Louis giggled a bit at how he’d clearly broken him. “Harry, get on the fucking sofa and let me return the favour.”
“I have many questions, but ehm—I guess they can wait.” Half falling out of his trousers, he dove on the sofa as Louis cackled.
“All the time in the world, love.”