Larry Smut

switching up the roles | unedited

Harry's eating strawberries with slow. Careful. Long bony delicious fucking beautiful fingers. Plump red lips are stained redder and he's got these big green eyes no matter /how/ bright the sun is shining, and he's listening to Liam tell the most boring story Louis has ever heard like it's the most fascinating thing to ever hit those ears that are buried in chocolate brown curls. The ones that are starting to frizz only a little from the humidity and Louis' suddenly wondering why the hell they're all out here on Zayn's back porch when clearly there's a very, very unfair situation going on in the tattered camping chair that's in the form of scrawny legs in skin tight denim, a t-shirt too big for his fit and disgustingly long torso – with tattoos scattered about his arms.

But Louis has to take a moment to smirk to himself. Because he and only he of the four others sitting out here remembers the way those arms looked last night. Pinned up. Only to be tied up. With biceps bulging and twitching. A thin sheen of sweat giving them a glow that Louis had to lick off.

And he did, for the record.

Harry was a pathetic, broken, blabbering mess. Lying on his back just about folded in half with his knees to his chest and his legs hooked over Louis' shoulders. His wrists were tied to the headboard. His arse was assaulted with a thick cock, plunging in and out of it and emphasized by the slap of Louis' balls to his cheeks. By the banging of the headboard to the wall and the creaking of the mattress between them.

Louis' hardly realized he's got baby blue eyes fixed determinedly at the shape of Harry's soft dick in his jeans, as though trying to silently will it to harden under his gaze, until a plastic container of strawberries is shoved in his line of vision.

"D'you want one, Lou?" Harry asks quietly, and Louis drags his eyes up in time to see those massive dimples and white teeth – though they've got a bit of strawberry caught in between them and it just has the older of the two smirking.

"Why, do I look hungry?" He tosses back easily, voice low and happy to tune out whatever it is Niall's changed the subject to while Liam and Zayn chip in opposing opinions.

Harry blinks wide eyes, a blush creeping into his cheeks and he takes a slow moment to lick at the juice all around his lips. "You just can't have that one," he says, pointing to the largest in the container, which he'd obviously been saving for last.

Louis purses his lips, pouty to have his flirting be ignored and immediately reaches out to snatch away Harry's coveted berry. There's a strangled sort of sound in the back of Harry's throat and then there's suddenly a big hand latching on to Louis' wrist before stubby, tan fingers can bring the strawberry to his lips. Louis' breath hitches before he peels into a fit of snickers and he looks up at Harry in time to see those brows furrowed seriously but his lips betraying him in a mutinous smirk. The hand on his wrist is strong – no funny business and Louis shouldn't be surprised. The boy likes his fruit way too fucking much.

"Louiiiis," he whines quietly, all big eyes and puppy pout.

His boyfriend just waggles his brows, trying to bring his hand closer when he realizes Harry isn't letting up. When he realizes this grip is real and strong and fuck. Wow. Maybe Harry was made to be tied up and taking a cock – but Louis sees a potential he's never seen before. It's got his lips parting and his breath catching and he looks from Harry's hand to his face and the younger clearly isn't following. He's just green eyes boring into his skull, telling him to drop the berry or he won't be getting his egg sandwich in the morning.

–

When they get back home after a barbecue that took /far/, far too long, Louis tosses his keys onto the side table at the door and spins around to look at his stupidly tall boyfriend.