larry smut

angelcake (you wish i was your poundcake)

So, shaving was how he did that. He would buy bath fizzlers and bombs from cosmetic stores whenever he hung out with Lou or Gemma. He bought soft lotions, cherry blossom and champagne and strawberries. And candles, too. A lot of candles. After a long day, Harry would return to the hotel (or his flat) and fill the tub about three quarters of the way with warm soap and swished it around a little, then lit some candles and put on a heady record, some old love song that would serve as the perfect backdrop. And he'd drop the small ball in the tub and watch the colors diffuse, rich purples and soft greens and bright pinks and blues. He would undress and set out clothes for himself afterwards, and then fall asleep with a nice movie playing on the telly.

The night Louis found out was really like any other night off tour. Louis was hanging out with Zayn, Liam was with his girlfriend and Niall was hanging out with Ed. And Harry was alone, happily and gratefully alone. He loved being alone, sometimes, because it meant that all he had to think about was himself, and making himself happy. He'd had a bit of a stressful day out, paps swarming on him when all he wanted to do was go to lunch with his sister and feel normal for once.

He'd been in the bath for some time already, leg propped up on the edge of the tub as he brought the razor against his skin, smiling at the silky smoothness it left behind. Harry rinsed it out and brought it down again, humming softly. He felt so calm, so happy and at peace with himself and he loved it. He was reveling in the scent in the room - strawberries and cream and a splash of whatever Louis used in the shower - so much so that he didn't hear Louis enter the flat at all. Harry wasn't aware of him until he caught him staring at him in the doorway. Harry's leg slipped back into the tub as he sunk down, face flush.

Louis was already stripping down, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans down his legs. Harry smiled, biting his lip underneath the water. He watched Louis walk over, moving in the tub to make room for him. He keened softly when Louis wrapped his arms around his body, sighing.

"I missed you today, angelcake," he murmured softly, hand dipping into the water. "What have you done today? Hm? Gotten yourself pretty for Daddy?"

"Yes," he whispered, eyes closed. He sighed when Louis ran his hands up and down his thighs, settling on his lap with a soft, gentle smile. "Do you like it?" He'd always feared Louis' reactions to the things he did. Like one day, Louis would look at him and leave him because he was too feminine, or too girly, or not enough of a man for him.

"Of course." Louis started to stroke him underneath the water, but stopped short. Harry's cheeks flushed as he sunk a little, embarrassed. Louis didn't want this, didn't want him, didn't - "Where's the razor, poppet?"

"What?"

"I'd like to shave you, hm? Get you nice and soft."

Harry nodded, panting and breathing softly as Louis dragged the razor against him slowly, nosing at his wet curls and lapping at his skin.

(He rode him after that, and Louis called him his pretty princess when he came. Harry hasn't been able to stop shaving since.)

*

Harry wasn't allowed to play without Louis.

Okay, not that he wasn't allowed, but he didn't like to, because he always dropped so low and felt so sad and depressed and empty afterwards, so he'd imposed that rule on himself. And sometimes Louis was gone for days. Days without Louis' touch, or kisses, or anything else. He whined quietly, rocking down on his two fingers. It was cold outside, and he knew rationally that it couldn't be as hot in the room as he thought it was. He was sweating, hair sticking to his cheeks and temples as he sat in a pile of fluffy white comforters.

Louis had been on holiday with his family for a week.

Harry hadn't actually felt Louis for nine days. Nine. For Harry, who had grown used to Louis cooing and preening at him multiple times a night for what felt like an eternity (though in reality couldn't have been more than a few years), it felt almost absurd. He was grown, kind of. He could take care of himself, and to a certain extent that really was true. Harry was the one who cooked, and cleaned, and kept Louis from starving to death, but Louis...