That was the last thought he wanted right now, especially while he was fucking someone who was most definitely not Louis.

He came thinking of Louis. Specifically cumming inside Louis.

Harry wasn't someone who picked up people at a dingy bar to bring them home. But after the previous encounter with Louis, it was pretty difficult to sit still with his cock throbbing in his pants imagining Louis bent over the bar.

He discarded the half consumed glass of whiskey and made a beeline for the restroom. Originally he'd decided to just wank off to his wild and pretty imagery but the moment he stepped into the bathroom, his eyes landing on the young man in a floral shirt and a glass on the sink, he knew what he had to do.

It wasn't too flattering, he'll admit. But it was for a greater cause. It was a bit tricky to explain to someone how having sex with a random man was for a greater cause but you'd have to take his word for it.

The moment his eyes had locked with Louis', his pants tightened with a desire he was afraid he'd lost while driving home with the man.

He's had sex before, he's no virgin mary. And everytime it's been mediocre. He just feels like there's something missing. But of course being the gentleman he doesn't tell the person under him that.

He tiptoed out of the guest bedroom after making sure it was safe to slip out without waking up his- partner is a big word . I'd rather call him sex beneficiary.

He closed the bedroom door, tossing the clothes aside and opting to sleep in his boxers. He opened the bedside drawer, picking up the cigarette pack and lighting one. He cupped his hand around it, taking a long drag before tilting his head up to release the smoke in hopes of liberating tonight's memories with it.

Of course that was not how memories worked. On the contrary, the bliss of his muscles relaxing, mind relaxing, the memory became vivid in his head.

His hands twitched with want, groaning as he remembered the curve of Louis' ass pressing against his crotch.

He hesitated, flicking the lube open. His boxers rolled down to his ankles as he spread his legs a little, he dragged his fist at a slow pace. Giving himself a brief moment to think this over once but it seemed his brain had given up on rationality.

His breaths became ragged, one hand now fisting the sheets under him as the other worked on pumping his cock at a steady rapid pace.

Meanwhile his mind produced obscene images of how Louis' perfectly curved waist had fit right into his hand. How enticing it was to squeeze his golden, smooth tanned skin between his rough, mostly ruthless hands. Those hands that had done foul work other than holding measly chalks over blackboards.

A deep guttural moan escaped his lips at the memory of Louis' sweet scent enveloping him when his nose pressed behind his ear in an attempt to whisper filthy words to him.

The room was filled with sounds of gasping breaths, the lube squelching against his palm and cock and the low guttural moans that escaped him involuntarily at the sheer ecstasy and pleasure this was bringing him .

His toes curled inward, heat coiling low in his abdomen as Louis' dainty frame encapsulated his thoughts, his fragile yet sweet voice making filthy noises rang in his ears.

The remnants of his senses fled his body, a loud moan eliciting from his lips as cum painted his abdomen and hand. He fell back onto the linen sheets, staring at the ceiling.

"The things you do to me Louis Tomlinson"

|∆|

Hate would be an understatement of what he felt for the stupid uniform his work place made him wear. It's not that he hated wearing dresses, he loved them. But this one in particular made him feel like his name should be Bertha and he should be a 60 year old grumpy librarian in the 1950s

It was black and white striped skirt with a similar shirt. A golden name tag and a pink frilly apron on top. The cherry on top was the giant- ' EL'S YOGURT' plastered on the chest of the apron and matching cap.

He unlocked his cycle, keeping his bag in the basket and bottle in the small carrier.

His gaze shifted as he heard a door open, and a very obnoxious laughter coming through it. He dared a glance in the direction only to regret it. Harry was smiling at the door, the man who he took home yesterday leaving his house, in Harry's pastel shirt.

Isn't he embarrassed? Jeez at least give the shirt back you asshole.

He'd have happily minded his business if the dude hadn't shown the audacity to laugh when he saw Louis.

"Is there a problem?" Louis raised a brow, shooting daggers into his skull.

"Sorry mate, 's just a silly thought"

Oh you're brave.

"Please enlighten me, I love silly thoughts" Louis grinned excessively.

The guy shifted his weight and leaned on the car. "you look like your name's Linda and you're a grandmother of 4"

Louis was furious. If he was a cartoon, smoke would be coming out his ears.

"Nick" he heard Harry speak warningly.

Why the fuck are you still here?

"I had a silly thought too, mind if I weigh in?" He sneers, saying his name like it was venom.

"Your jaw looks like a giant fucking hippo yawning when you laugh. I feel like punching it but you'd have to thank me for it because I would be fixing your goddamn face for you"

He saw a multitude of emotions going through his face as he glared at Louis.

"What the fuck mate?! What's got your panties in a twist?"

"The lack of panties on you" Louis spat, strutting past a baffled Nick and- and a proud Harry?

He was smirking, that annoying smirk of his. But it looked more like an amused smirk.

Whatever. Hope he has fun fucking Mr. Hippo jaw.

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