Sidelines

Part title

He's hit with another article of clothing a minute later, Liam and Zayn both groaning to Louis who is only in his pants now.

"You're kind of a whore," Harry says as he pushes Louis' jeans to the side, smoke curling out from his lips and nostrils as he speaks.

"Looks who's talking," Louis mutters, giving Harry's lap a pointed look. Harry pouts.

"Hey. Happens," He grumbles, snatching a pillow from under Liam's legs and dropping it on top of his crotch. It's just meant to cover his growing boner, but if he angles it right he can get the subtlest bit of friction.

"Try not to to jizz in your jeans, Styles," Louis mutters, his eyes on the pillow. Harry makes a garbled noise that he passes as acknowledgment. Someone throws a crumpled beer can at his head.

Harry manages to sit still for all of two minutes before he's pressing the pillow harder down, moving it slowly over his clothed cock. That earns him a collective groan and two more beer cans. He's so hot he can't even feel it.

"Okay, Styles, get a room," Zayn says.

"Point me in the right direction," Harry grumbles, still moving the pillow.

"There's a bathroom, closet, and Louis' room in that hallway over there," Zayn responds, Louis squawking in protest, and Harry's pelted with a handful of chips as a final word of confirmation.

"Cheers," Harry nods, throwing the pillow at Louis' face before grabbing his bottle and making his way to the hall. A round of catcalls follows him down the hall, and he stumbles ungracefully through the first door he sees.

It's Louis' room of course, full of posters of David Beckham and other hot British football players. There's clothes all over the floor and it smells faintly of come and Harry thinks his bed looks like the perfect place to have a wank.

Louis throws open the door not a minute later, whining something about making Harry leave, but he's already flat on his back with a palm over his dick.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Louis breaths, his eyes wide and a bit panicky when he catches sight of Harry.

"You wanna leave," Harry states without looking at him nor pausing his movements. He's not sane when he's horny.

"It's my room," Louis snips childishly, his arms crossed over his bare chest, his lip pouting out. Harry grunts and tugs his shirt up his abdomen, fingers wiggling under the band of his sweats. It makes his throat dry and his stomach twist, having someone watching him like this. The fact that it's Louis, the absolute bane of his entire existence, should probably change some things, but the urge to put on a show is strong as ever.

"Harry," Louis croaks, his voice cracking. If Harry was in the right mindset he'd realize this is the first time Louis has ever called him by his name, but he's not so he just grabs his cock in his hand and let's out a small moan. He's so hard, cock heavy against his palm, and he forgets for a moment that Louis' even there when he gathers the precome bubbled at his slit and pumps slowly to spread it around, get himself wet.

"Get your fucking pants off," Louis finally says after watching Harry wank himself for a minute, stepping closer to the bed. Harry's eyes flutter open and he smirks, flicking his thumb under the sensitive head of his cock.

"You're so easy," He slurs, voice slow and syrupy. Louis growls at him, hopping onto the bed and straddling Harry's stomach, pulling the boy's hands up by his head. Harry can't help it, he giggles. There's too much substance in his veins for him to act normally.

Normally, he'd lay flat and just take it, render himself useless under the control of someone else. Actually, normally, under these exact circumstances, he'd shove Louis away and tell him to fuck himself. Now, though, he's chuckling while he wrenches his wrists out of Louis' grip and splays them over his bare chest, flipping him onto his back. Louis glares up at him, his eyes dark with lust and his pupils blown.