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“Can’t you just stand on the fucking table?” Oli groans as Louis shifts on his shoulders. “For a tiny little man, you’re fucking heavy.”
“Fuck you, Oliver,” Louis says, half-laughing. “You’re smaller than me, you ginger leprechaun.”
Oli grumbles as he staggers slightly under Louis’ weight. “Why can’t you look out of the window like a normal person?”
Louis grins. If Harry was here, he’d be lifted easily to the sunroof of the tour bus so he could peer out at the fans, but his boyfriend is off doing important security things apparently, so Oli will have to do.
“Because I want to see what they’re up to without them seeing me, duh. Can’t you get me any higher?”
Oli swears at him for a while and Louis ignores him, but eventually he starts to accept that it’s not working. Oli’s too short to get him high enough to actually look out of the skylight.
Just as Louis’ about to call it a day and get Oli to let him down, there’s a loud sigh from the doorway of the bus’s kitchen area. “What in the ever-loving fuck are you two doing now?”
Harry is glaring at them with the most exasperated expression Louis thinks he’s ever seen, which is impressive given how often he tests the limits of Harry’s patience.
Louis grins and bounces slightly, making Oli groan. “It wasn’t my idea, if that’s not obvious,” Oli says irritably. He staggers over to the sofa along the side wall and leans down so that Louis squawks and falls off his shoulders onto it with a thump.
Louis glares at his friend, who looks between him and Harry with a defiant expression.
“You enable him,” Harry mutters, still annoyed but coming over to check Louis is ok, like he can’t help himself. Louis’ grin gets wider and he flutters his eyelashes exaggeratedly at Harry, who gives him a flat, unimpressed look.
“He’s my boss, Harry,” Oli says wearily.
“Yeah, well, he’s my boss too, technically,” Harry snaps. “But he’s also a little shit who needs people to keep him from doing idiotic things. And I’d like to think I don’t have to do that entirely alone.”
Louis pouts exaggeratedly and Oli rolls his eyes, making a face at Harry before slumping down on the sofa next to Louis. He rubs his shoulder, grumbling about bruising under his breath.
“What were you trying to do, anyway,” Harry asks as he goes to the fridge to find a drink.
Louis explains, at length, his very sensible reasoning for wanting to look out of the skylight, and Harry leans on the small kitchen counter with his lips pursed, frowning as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“I could just go and look at what they’re doing,” he says flatly when Louis has finished. “And then tell you.”
Louis gives Harry a derisive look because he knows it pisses him off and he’s a wind-up merchant. “They know you, Harold. I want to see them in their natural habitat. I want to see what they do when they think we’re not looking.”
Harry sighs deeply and pushes himself away from the counter. “How is this my life?” he mutters, but he does grab the table from the corner of the room, lifting it as if it weighs nothing and making Louis’ mouth water, and positioning it beneath the skylight. “You’re not getting on my shoulders,” he says gruffly but points to the table. “Come on then, let's get this over with.”
Louis lets out a little excited "Yay!" before he gets himself in check, but he can’t shift the pleased grin. Harry scowls at him and gestures impatiently for him to get on with it. He clambers up onto the table, and Harry immediately grabs his hips firmly, holding him steady as he stands up.
“Turn around,” Harry says grumpily, turning him firmly so that he’s facing Harry. The grip on his hips remains, and Louis looks down to find Harry’s face in precise alignment with his dick. Harry looks up at him, and the irritable expression is suddenly replaced with a wicked grin.
“What are you up to?” Louis says suspiciously.
Harry shrugs innocently, grin still in place. “Oli, you might wanna retreat to the bunks,” Harry says casually, and Louis narrows his eyes.
“Oh for fucks sake,” Oli grumbles, but he doesn’t hesitate to get up and practically run to the bunk area, dragging the sliding door shut behind him with a flourish.
“Open the skylight then, baby,” Harry says in a soothing tone. “See what your adoring fans are doing.”
This isn’t quite panning out how Louis imagined – he really did want to spy on the fans – but Harry’s tone and that grin are making it quite clear that his intentions are filthy, and honestly, Louis is too pleased about it to complain about his original plans going off track.
He pushes carefully at the skylight and it lifts a couple of inches easily. Harry’s grip on his hip tightens with one hand, while the other trails the waistband of the joggers he’s changed into after the show. As Louis pushes his head up and peers out of the gap created, Harry swiftly pulls the joggers down.
Louis isn’t wearing underwear, and his cock is already half hard from guessing what Harry has planned. It only takes a few seconds of Harry’s big hand wrapped around him, pumping slowly with a perfectly tight grip, for half-hard to become fully rigid.
“Keep looking at the fans, Louis,” Harry says when Louis looks down, his mouth hanging open as Harry twists his wrist just right. Louis’ eyes jolt back to the skylight, trying to focus on the car park and the mass of fans that have gathered there.
They haven’t seen him, thankfully, because he knows he’s now bright red and panting, and he’s pretty sure Harry isn’t going to stop any time soon. He tries to stay still and quiet but it’s near fucking impossible when you’re being wanked off by a man who knows exactly how you like it and employs every single bit of that knowledge with studious commitment.
“Tell me what they’re doing, baby,” Harry says, and Louis groans. He considers telling Harry to fuck off, but what he’s doing feels so amazing that he can’t bring himself to be a brat for once.
“Oh, they’re, um–” Harry’s hand starts to move a little faster, and Louis whimpers and tries to order his thoughts. “They’re just – fuck – they’re just chatting among themselves at the moment.”
“Keep talking,” Harry says, and suddenly Louis’ cock is surrounded by warm, wet heat. Harry sucks him down and Louis all but cries out, managing to keep the noise to a plaintive whine rather than a full shout.
It’s enough, though. The fans are starting to look his way, and it’s only a matter of time before they spot him.
“Harrrrrry,” he whines quietly, breathless and desperate to look down but too keen to be good to give in to the urge. “They’re looking this way.”
Harry’s mouth pops off his dick with a slurp. “Are they? Keep looking at them, baby. Tell me when they spot you.”
He sucks Louis back into his mouth and Louis groans. “Oh god,” he says under his breath. His hips want to buck into Harry’s face but the grip is too strong and he’s held in place, intense suction around his hot, throbbing dick and his eyes watering as he tries to train them on the crowd outside.
Louis can’t really concentrate on anything except Harry’s mouth, but a noise from the crowd pulls his attention for a second, and when he spots a fan pointing in his direction, he knows they’ve spotted him.
“They’ve seen me, Harry,” he says, panting. Harry just hums around his cock and keeps sucking, bobbing his head determinedly. Louis feels a hand around his balls, squeezing gently and rolling them in long fingers. He’s getting close, and he has a feeling Harry’s going to make him come just like this, while the fans are looking at the top of his head.
Harry stops for a moment. “What are they doing now? Keep telling me,” he says, slightly hoarse but no less stern.
“They’ve got their phones out.” Harry licks a long stripe up Louis' weeping cock and sucks it back into his mouth with one smooth move. “Oh, fuck. They’re – uh – taking photos of me.”
This seems to make Harry double his efforts and Louis starts to babble slightly, trying to be obedient and keep talking so Harry doesn't stop, but at the same time not really able to string coherent sentences together.
As the pleasure starts to pool in his body and his breathing becomes more erratic, he tries to smile at the crowd, who all have their phone cameras trained on him. He tries to look mischievous and cheeky, but somewhere in the back of his pleasure-addled mind, he’s aware he probably looks wrecked. Thank god they can’t see him close up.
“Fuck, fuck, Harry,” he says as the orgasm starts to peak. “Gonna come.”
Harry hums again and sucks harder, and Louis’ orgasm crests. He would lose his footing and crash off the table if Harry weren’t holding him so firmly. As it is, the effort to keep his eyes from rolling back with pleasure and to stop himself crying out as he comes down Harry’s throat is enough that he almost whites out with overwhelm.
Louis’ starting to recover from the ridiculous high, floppy and spent, when he feels himself being carefully scooped up into Harry’s arms. He lets himself be put back on his feet, but before he can process using his actual muscles again, he’s being pushed down onto the tabletop.
His face is pressed into the plastic covering on the table, a strong hand pressing down between his shoulders to keep him there. He turns his head to the side enough that he can peer back at Harry, and what he sees makes his soft cock twitch again, too soon after an intense orgasm to be entirely comfortable.
Harry looks wild, and with the hand that’s not holding Louis down, he pulls a lube sachet out of his jeans pocket and quickly undoes his flies, pulling his big cock out of his jeans and pumping it a few times.
“Shut the fuck up,” Harry says gruffly, and Louis huffs as the pressure on his back increases.
“I didn’t say anything!” Louis tries for indignant but his cock is getting harder by the second, and he really just wants Harry to fuck him senseless, so indignant is quite hard to achieve.
“You were going to,” Harry says, low and mean. “So just don’t. Need to fuck you.”
Louis wriggles half-heartedly, if only to make Harry press him into the table harder. He’s fucked up like that, OK?
Harry obliges and the air is pushed out of Louis as Harry leans forward, one hand pushing him down hard and the other guiding his lubed cock into Louis’ hole.
It feels incredible. The stretch is a lot – Harry lubed himself but not Louis, and it’s just slightly on the dry side. It burns deliciously, and although Louis knows deep in his bones that his arse is going to regret this in the morning, he can’t find it in himself to care.
Because Harry is splitting him open with his big, rock-hard cock, and he’s in the sort of mood that even if Louis genuinely objected, Louis isn’t one hundred percent sure that Harry would be able to stop himself. And honestly, Louis fucking loves it.
“You should shave your head,” Louis says, partly to make Harry even more irritable and partly because that brilliant idea just came to him in a flash of inspiration.
“Told you to shut the fuck up,” Harry grunts, bottoming out. “I’m not shaving my head.”
Louis moans as Harry starts to move, slowly at first but increasing speed with every thrust. “You should. You’d look hot bald.”
Harry smacks him then, hard and sharp on the outside of his butt cheek, before ramming into him deep. “Your bald-man kink is not my problem,” Harry grunts, fucking him faster and smacking him occasionally. Harry’s in full animal mode now, and Louis loses the ability to continue with his bald-Harry fantasy in favour of the feral-Harry fantasy that is his current reality.
And what a reality it is.
It doesn’t take long, sadly. Louis would happily get fucked to within an inch of his life for hours and damn the arse-related consequences, but Harry’s obviously in a selfish mood, and he takes and takes until Louis can tell he’s about to come.
Because Louis’ a good boyfriend, and not because he’s pretty close himself, he clenches down hard around Harry’s cock, and it’s enough to send his boyfriend over the edge with a shout. Louis snakes a hand down between his body and the table and manages to grip his own cock. It only takes a few pumps before he’s coming too, all over his hand and dripping onto the bus floor.
Harry stays inside him for a few long moments as they both get their breath back, and when he eventually pulls out, Louis makes a pained noise. He’s going to be horribly sore, but fuck, was it worth it.
“Shit, baby,” Harry says, pulling him upright and holding him close, nose nestled in his hair. “M’sorry. You just drive me insane sometimes. You OK?”
Louis briefly considers making Harry feel guilty but decides against it pretty quickly because he really doesn’t want Harry to stop himself from losing control next time. It’s the absolute hottest thing Louis has ever seen, and he definitely doesn’t want to discourage it.
“M’fine,” he says instead, lifting his head and pursing his lips for a kiss. Harry gives him what he wants, and they stagger over to the sofa, still kissing. They manage to position themselves, lying on the small sofa so that they’re relatively comfortable and entwined.
“Should probably clean up,” Harry says after a while of just quietly cuddling and kissing. He nods towards the table, and Louis cranes his neck to look. There’s jizz down one of the table legs and a bit on the floor.
“Pffft.” Louis rolls his eyes and snuggles back into Harry. “No one will notice if you don’t mention it.”
“Oli will notice,” Harry says, but he sounds amused rather than worried, so Louis just shrugs and hums.
Later, when they’re in the bunk and Harry’s spooning him close, Harry’s semi-hard cock is poking Louis’ back even though there is zero chance Louis’ arse can take another round after that onslaught.
“Is that why you like the bald security guards?” Harry asks after a long period of silence.
Louis snorts a laugh. “What are you on about?” he says, grinning to himself. Louis always gets his way eventually, and Harry really is so fucking easy to manipulate.
“You and your bald kink,” Harry says rather grumpily. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you always seem to get friendly with the bald ones we hire into the security team.”
Louis chuckles and decides not to bother answering, wondering how long it will take for the inevitable to happen.
It’s a while later, when they’re both sleepy and Harry has stroked and kissed Louis everywhere he can reach and Louis is sated and happy, that Louis’ victory is finally confirmed.
“I’m not shaving it bald,” Harry says petulantly into the back of Louis’ neck. “But I could shave it short, I suppose. Always wondered what I’d look like with a crew cut.”
Louis’ grin cannot be contained despite his tiredness. “God, yeah, Haz,” he says quietly, making sure his voice sounds reverent and awed. “You’ll look so fucking hot.”
Harry hums behind him and Louis can feel the smile against the back of his head. Louis holds back the triumphant laugh and forces himself to stay quiet.
So. Fucking. Easy.