one night stand || l.s.

i've got no control

harry

i take louis to my bedroom. it seems like the right thing to do. especially since i'm kind of into him already. the minute i saw him i felt something fire up inside of me that could only be put out if i got a taste of him

i don't know what i'm doing if i'm being honest. i figured once we made our way to my room he would take the lead since i'm kind of inexperienced.

he pushes me onto my bed, unzipping my pants and pulling them off, then his own, and tosses them across the room. i can tell through his underwear he's hard now, and so am i. i can't take it anymore, so i rip off my shirt and boxers before he can do that for me. he follows suit with his own, eager for this to begin.

"i'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for a week," louis whispers in my ear, making me giggle.

"i doubt that," i say as he leans in to kiss my neck. i let out a low moan as he makes his way up to my face.

we make eye contact and stare into each other's eyes for sometime. after a few seconds he kisses me. i kiss back and place my hand on his nape, bringing him closer to me.

his lips are so soft and sweet. they taste like sweet cherries that were freshly picked. it's such an intoxicating flavor and i cannot get enough of it.

"you're hot as hell," i tell him when we pull apart.

he smiles at me. "not as much as you," he replies.

his hands are all over my chest. next thing i know he has his hands on my dick. his touch almost makes me melt.

"fuck me already," i moan out, already feeling like i'm about to cum.

"just wait a little bit longer, princess. it'll be soon. don't worry."

he sticks his dick inside of me, raw, almost dry, and without any warning. his dick is covered in precum, but it isn't enough for me. it feels so painful that it brings tears to my eyes. he's already thrusting into me when i cry out, "why didn't you prep me first?"

"i didn't think it was necessary." he caresses my cheek. i know he can feel the sweat that's dripping down my face mixed in with my tears.

"if you want me to stop, just tell me," he says, slowing down.

i cum all over my sheets. he still hasn't, but he seems unfazed by it.

"no. keep going, but this time with some lube please. i don't like it raw. it hurts me too much."

"fine," he agrees, almost grumpy.

he grabs some lube from my nightstand and squirts some on his hand, then proceeds to coat his dick with most of it.

"ready?" he asks me.

he starts thrusting again before i nod or say yes. i don't know how much time has passed when he speaks again.

"this isn't enough," he says out of the blue.

i'm about to cum again. how the hell is he not satisfied?

out of nowhere, he picks me up off the bed and pushes me up against the wall. my legs are wrapped around his hips. i feel his dick sliding in and out. he's making me moan so loud i start to worry about liam hearing us.

my nails are digging into his back. i feel my body bouncing up and down as he grips me by the hips and continues to shove himself inside of me. he must be tired because i hear him panting now.

"i can't take... anymore," i say to him, hoping he'll put me back on the bed.

i hear and feel a loud popping noise coming from me. i yelp, while louis grins from ear to ear. he hits the same spot again and again until i cum all over him.

he puts me back on the bed and goes back to thrusting into me before he cums too. fucking finally, i think to myself.

"round two?" he asks me, still smiling.

i scrunch up my face. "that would feel like round ten for me. not a chance. i'm tired and so are you."

"so?" he raises his eyebrows. "don't pretend you weren't having fun."

i bite my lip to keep myself from smiling and shake my head, furrowing my eyebrows. he pouts, feigning sadness. i don't bat an eye.

"this was fun," he says, going under the covers. he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. poor guy must be exhausted after he put in all of that work.

i go under the covers too. i spoon him so he won't get too cold. i don't fall asleep as quickly as he does. i lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to process everything that just happened between the two of us.