here's a little bit of phone sex for y'all ;) enjoy!!
~✰~
what r u doing
Harry looks down at himself. His chest shines with a thin layer of sleep-sweat and his cock is tenting the soft coverlet Louis probably threw over him before leaving. He licks his lips and picks his phone up.
daddy, he sends again. It's a few minutes before he gets too impatient waiting for a response and adds, i'm hard.
daddys a little busy darling
Harry pouts at his phone. He snaps a photo of his face and sends it to Louis. It shows as seen pretty quickly, but no reply comes through. Harry shuffles a little on the bed, fluffing up the pillows and untangling the covers. The soft material drags over his cock making it harden further. He wraps a hand around it, squeezes the head and rubs the covers over himself a little, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting around a sigh. Louis fucked him within an inch of his life earlier that afternoon and when Harry clenches on nothing now he can still feel the sticky mess of lube and come that's left (mostly) inside him. He rips the coverlet off and lets it fall to the floor, quickly getting too hot under it.
The room has been aired, the smell of sweat and sex gone from it and the air fresher and colder than Harry remembers it being before he passed out; he shivers when it cools his skin, damp with sweat, and hits his swollen cock, the head of which is already leaking. He grabs his phone again, takes a photo of himself like that, his cock standing up from his belly, the dark pink of it muted in the harsh light of the flash that comes on automatically. He sends it to Louis, captioning it with please.
Louis' reply comes much faster this time. u kno im in public right? and then a few seconds later, that was very naughty what you did there. i thought you wanted to be good for daddy.
The shift in tone is almost as palpable as it is when Louis is physically with him. Harry's fingers shake as he types back, wsnna b good daddy pls, too riled up to worry about his typing.
wait
Harry bites his lip. He can already feel himself slipping into that calm, fuzzy place where he feels slow and sluggish and floaty and Louis' voice is the only thing that matters. There's a mild undercurrent of nervousness now though, a kind he isn't used to because they have phone sex and Skype sex all the time, sure, don't really have a lot of choice sometimes, but they don't play. Louis is very particular about aftercare and when he's in a rational state of mind Harry wholeheartedly agrees because he would never risk breaking Louis without being there to put him back together either; it's just hard to remember that when he's practically gagging for it.
There's something about the giddiness he feels at this though, because he's nervous, yes, but it's the good, excited kind of nerves he always gets when they do something new. He trusts Louis to know what he's doing and to make it good.
He stares at his phone, periodically touching the screen to keep it lit up so he won't miss the moment Louis starts typing. His leg jumps rhythmically and his cock is leaking steadily over his tummy, but he knows wait always means wait and don't touch. Louis might never know if he touched himself right now but it's not really an option. He wants to be good. His cock twitches at the thought.
He's expecting Louis to text so he nearly drops his phone when it starts ringing. He scrambles to answer it and puts it on speakerphone immediately. "Daddy?"
"I'm here, love," Louis replies. He's talking quietly and there's a rhythmical beat muffled in the background. He must be in a club somewhere, probably hiding in the bathroom having excused himself to Liam and their security and whoever else they're with. Harry imagines he's leaning against the closed door of a toilet stall, hand cupped around his mouth as he speaks directly into the phone, hair damp with sweat and mouth still tasting faintly of alcohol.
"Hiiiii," Harry drawls. He's smiling at the silly image of Louis pulling a face that serves as his contact photo and he can tell he sounds a bit sluggish, so he's not surprised when the question comes.
"Are you with me, darling?"
Harry takes a moment to think about it then says, "Mostly, yes."
"How much is mostly?"
"Um."
"If we stopped right now, would you need me to come back?"
Harry pinches his bottom lip between two fingers and tugs on it. "No?" the static of Louis' breathy laugh covers a couple of voices Harry can distantly make out in the background. There's a short pause from Louis after that and Harry holds his breath while he waits, knowing this is where Louis decides what they do next, if there even is anything to do next. He closes his eyes and holds his breath.
"Have you been good for Daddy, love? Waited like Daddy asked you to?"
Harry breathes out noisily in relief. Louis' tone is the same one that always makes Harry's knees go weak and his heart pick up the pace. He spreads his legs without even thinking about it, like he's expecting Louis to crawl on top of him and fuck him. "Good, Daddy," he replies, "didn't touch."
"Good boy. Are you still hard?"
Harry only preens a little at the praise. He lifts the phone off his chest and looks down at where his cock rests against his belly; it softened a little while he was waiting, but he's still mostly hard and quickly getting more so now that Louis is talking to him. He lets go of his lip and puts his hand on his tummy, close but not touching. "Yes, Daddy," he says, the words barely more than a sigh. He can see his chest rising and falling quickly with increasingly shallow breaths.
"Have you showered?"
Harry shivers all over. "No," he replies quietly, his cheeks heating up as he clenches his hole feeling the slickness between his arsecheeks. "Woke up like this and texted you."
There's a thump on the other side of the line like Louis just hit his head against the door and then, "Listen to me very carefully, baby. Are you listening?"
"Mmhm."
"You're gonna touch yourself for me now, okay? Get a hand around that pretty cock of yours and give it a few strokes. Nice and slow, keep your fist tight, the way you like to touch me." Harry lets out a little whimper as he obeys, more turned on by Louis telling him what to do than the actions themselves. "How does that feel, hm?"
Harry takes a deep breath, stroking up his cock once more, twisting his fist at the head. "Good," he says. "Hot. Hard."
"Yeah? Are you wet?"
Harry whimpers, moving his fist over his cock. He holds himself at the base and drops his phone on his chest so he can use his other hand to pull the foreskin down and reveal the head. It's flushed red and shiny with slickness; a drop of precome beads at the slit as he watches and he swipes it off with his thumb, spreading the wetness around. He fucks up into his hand, grunting.
There's some commotion on Louis' end, but it cuts off almost immediately after it starts, as if Louis is covering the mic with his hand. When he comes back his voice is quieter. Still, he sounds no more rushed and no less in control. "Harry," he warns.
Harry's whole body shivers at the tone, arse tingling with the phantom ache of Louis spanking him. More come and lube slips out, slicking his cheeks and crack. "Yes, yes, yes, Daddy," he whines, "'m all wet and messy."
"Why are you messy, darling?" Louis asks. Harry can hear the smirk in his voice.
He blushes and bites his bottom lip, his hips lifting off the bed and his hole clenching. "Messy," he repeats.
"I know you are, love. Are you messy because Daddy fucked you earlier? Filled you up and left you like that? Can you feel it leaking out now?"
Harry puts a hand over his mouth and whines when he tastes the faint saltiness of his own precome. He pulls on his cock faster, hand twisting over the head every few strokes and hole twitching every time he feels Louis' come threatening to drip out. He wants to keep all of it inside. His own cock is leaking steadily; the fingers he has wrapped around it are sticky with precome that eases the way and his tummy is smeared with droplets of it that land on his pale skin. He strokes up, pulls the foreskin almost entirely over the head of his cock and watches as the wetness pools at the tip. He swirls his thumb around in it, pushes the foreskin out and watches the precome spill over the shaft. He whimpers when he digs his thumb into the slit, muffling the sound by shoving two of his fingers into his mouth and suckling on them. His cock pulses with the beat of his heart. His nipples throb, puffy and red from the clamps Louis used on them earlier, a dull ache spreading through his chest. He pinches one of them harshly with the hand wet with spit as he continues to tug on his cock; the pain makes him gasp, but he rolls the swollen nub between his fingers anyway, twists it until his vision blurs with tears. His cock kicks and blurts more precome over his already wet hand.
"Are you playing with your nipples, baby?" Louis asks sweetly. "Do they hurt?"
Harry pinches his other nipple and digs his thumbnail into it. The muscles in his thighs jump and he fucks up into his hand again, groaning. "Hurt, Daddy," he mumbles.
"Mmm, bet they do. Would you let me put the clamps back on?" Harry twists his nipple and circles the head of his cock with his thumb at the same time. His harsh breathing fills the room and carries through the phone as loud static. Louis talks right over it. "I'd play with them for so long. Could you come just from that? I'd bite them and suck on them. Pinch them so hard you're crying." Harry almost feels like crying right now just thinking about it. He pinches both his nipples harshly in quick succession; he arches off the bed and chokes on a few whimpers that escape his throat. He has to squeeze around the base of his cock so he doesn't come when he hears Louis moan on the other end. "You've made Daddy hard, love," Louis coos. "What are we gonna do about that?"
Harry lets his legs fall open further, the cool sheets on his overheated skin making him hiss. His toes curl at the thought of Louis leaning against the door of a club bathroom somewhere across town, his small hand rubbing over the big bulge of his cock, hard because of Harry. He moans. "Anything you want, Daddy."
"Yeah? Would get on your knees for me right here, wouldn't you, baby?" Harry moans through his teeth. His hand makes a slick sound as it moves over his cock quickly and with less finesse now, only his thumb running over the head every once in a while. He wonders if Louis can hear the obscenely wet sound of it. "Would you bend over and let me fuck you? Again? Be as loud as you were a few hours ago and not care if anyone hears?"
"Oh fuck," Harry curses. He wishes he were there with Louis right now, wishes he had Louis' cock down his throat, wishes he were pressed up against the stall door with Louis' fingers playing with his nipples, Louis' breath on the back of his neck, Louis' cock up his arse. He twists his wrist at the tip of his cock, moans as he feels heat swirling in his belly, his muscles tensing—
"Do not come." Louis' voice interrupts his thoughts. "You hear me? Be a good boy and do not come until I let you."
Harry freezes, letting out a pitiful whine as he fights off the orgasm. He turns sideways on the bed, his phone landing in the tangled sheets, and buries his face in the pillow to cover up the sob that rips out of his throat.
"Harry?" Louis asks. His voice is muffled and distant so Harry can't be sure, but it sounds concerned. Harry pats the bed with one hand, looking for his phone in the sheets, his other hand still holding tightly at the base of his cock. Even after he's managed to fish his phone out and lay it on the pillow next to his head he still needs a few seconds to catch his breath.
"Won't come, Daddy, won't, promise," he says as soon as he is remotely capable of speaking, needing to let Louis know he's still being good.
He hears Louis take a deep breath before answering. "You're being so good, baby. Can you tell me your colour?" Harry closes his eyes and hides his face in the pillow, blushing and whining. Louis rarely has to ask for his colour in the middle of playing anymore and he can't help but feel like he's failed somehow. "Hey, none of that, love," Louis chides. "Daddy needs to know."
Harry tangles his fingers in his own hair and pulls on it for something to focus on. "Green," he pants out. The pillow is wet with spit under his cheek when he leans closer to the phone. If Louis were there he'd sweep his thumb over Harry's lips and call him pretty boy. Louis likes it when Harry's too overwhelmed to keep track of himself and everything happening with his body. Harry blushes and pulls on his hair so hard his scalp burns.
"Good. You'll tell me if that changes?" Harry nods. It takes longer than it probably should for it to click that Louis can't see him, but the question must have been rhetorical because Louis doesn't ask him for a verbal response before continuing. "Are you still touching yourself?"
"No," Harry says at the same time as he squeezes around the base of his cock. "Yes," he corrects. He can still feel the tingling pleasure in his belly, the itch just under the surface; he's still so close he could come just from Louis' word at this point.
Louis laughs quietly on the other end, the kind of breathy, fond thing that usually has him covering his mouth with his hand; Harry can almost see him in his mind. "Which one is it then?"
Harry chews on his bottom lip and pulls on his hair almost absently; he watches a drop of precome bubble up at the slit and whines. "Daddy, 'm gonna come."
"No you won't, love. D'you know why? Because Daddy says you won't." Harry buries his face in the pillow, muffling the sobs that spill from his mouth. He gives the base of his cock another squeeze before letting go of himself, afraid any more contact will have him coming too soon. "Still with me? Still being good?" Louis asks.
Harry's cock twitches against his belly. He takes a few shallow breaths. "Good?" he repeats.
"Yeah, sweetheart, you're being very good for me," Louis confirms. "Doing exactly what I tell you, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Harry replies, his voice unusually high-pitched. He can feel his cheeks burning. He tugs on his hair absently and scratches up his belly and chest, gasping when his nails brush over one of his sensitive nipples. His cock blurts more precome, smearing sticky wetness over his tummy.
"Good boy," Louis praises. Harry feels a little burst of pride in his chest. "Can you get on your hands and knees for me, hm? The way you did when you begged for my cock, remember?"
"Shit," Harry breathes out, fingers tightening around one nipple and in his hair instinctively.
"And then you're gonna take a few photos, yeah? Show Daddy how pretty you look like that."
Harry sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. His legs are shaking and his arms feel too weak to support him as he gets onto his hands and knees in a few halting manoeuvres. It's one of his favourite positions to be fucked in (and one of his favourite positions to fuck Louis in too), makes him feel perfectly slutty and submissive. He moans brokenly when he feels cool air brush over his wet crack and come dripping out of his hole, stretched a little with the spread of his legs. He clenches, trying to keep whatever come's left in him inside.
He gives in and folds his arms, buries his face in the bedding. It still smells of sex. He sinks his nails into the pillow, a fresh layer of sweat breaking out over his skin when he gets lost in the memory from just a few hours back of Louis fucking him just like this, fingers sunk into his soft hips and thighs slapping against skin that was still raw from a spanking. His arms had given out then too; Louis held him up by his hair, yanking on it so hard he pulled a few strands out when he came.
"Baby?"
For a moment Harry almost expects to feel the gentle touch of Louis' fingers on the inside of his thigh or maybe the bite of Louis' nails down his back, a kiss to his shoulder or a skilled tongue slipping into him. He snaps out of it, grabs for his phone blindly and holds it out in front of himself. He's not sure what kind of photo Louis wants so he just looks up enough that his eyes are in the frame and he can see how much of a mess he looks, with his hair wild and tangled and his arse up in the air, still tinted red. He quickly snaps a photo and sends it to Louis before letting his phone drop next to his head and burying his face back in the pillow.
He knows the exact moment Louis opens the photo, hears the intake of breath and the quiet moan that cuts off quickly. A shiver runs down his spine at the obvious effect he has. "Look pretty desperate there," Louis says. "Always begging for it, aren't you? Greedy boy."
Harry blushes. "Sorry, Daddy," he mumbles, words barely intelligible.
"That's alright, love. Daddy likes it. Fucked out and horny is a good look on you."
Harry whines. "Daddy," he repeats, feeling almost like that's the only word he still knows, the only one that matters. He arches his back and pushes his arse out further even though there's no one there to see him. A couple of drops of sweat tickle down his back and chest
"Can you do something for Daddy, baby?" Louis asks. It's a weird question, Harry thinks; he'll do anything Louis asks. "Want you to take one of the pillows and put it under your hips. No touching yourself though."
Harry gurgles a weird sound as he lifts up enough to move the pillow from under his head to under his belly and then crawl forward a bit. "Did," he informs Louis after taking a minute to arrange an answer in his head. His cock throbs between his legs so hard it should be uncomfortable, but he's only dimly aware of that. The desperation he felt probably only a few minutes ago seems distant now.
"Good boy. Can you tell me your colour now?"
Harry vaguely thinks he didn't like that question last time Louis asked. Now he just answers, "Green." The word feels like it takes forever to leave his mouth, slurred and slow as it is.
"You're gonna suck on your fingers a bit, alright? Get them good and wet," Louis says. His voice sounds a bit strained, words a little clipped and tone higher than usual. Harry wants to say something to let him know he's doing what he's told but he already has three of his fingers shoved halfway into his mouth so all that comes out is an indistinguishable wet mumble."Don't stop until you're proper messy, yeah? Want you to have it running down your palm and chin." A soft little oh escapes around Harry around his fingers. They're thick enough that he can feel the stretch of his lips around them, the slight tug in the corners; if he pushes them in farther and presses down, they almost fill his mouth enough to remind him of how Louis' cock feels going down his throat. He chokes a little when he starts drooling at the thought. It's been too long since Louis' fucked his face; his eyes slip shut and he moans a bit, fucking his fingers in and out of his mouth roughly.
He switches to the camera app on his phone, makes his best pleading face at his phone and snaps a photo. He's surprised to see how pale he looks with the flash and how big his eyes appear; his lips are obviously red and shiny with wetness and there's a drop of spit running down the side of one of his fingers. He darts his tongue out to chase it automatically, even though it's long slid too far for him to reach it. The rest of the room is too dark to make much of it out, but the curve of his back and his bare arse are still visible. He sends the photo before his arms can give out again.
"God, H," Louis groans, his words followed by the distinct sound of a zip being pulled down. Harry moans loudly, imagining Louis leaned against a stall, hard and turned on enough to give in. He sucks on his fingers so hard his cheeks hollow and he ends up slurping. He wonders if Louis even put on underwear before he left, if he's palming himself through cotton (or maybe silk or maybe lace) or if he's got a hand on his cock already. His hips buck forward uncontrollably, cock brushing over the pillow underneath; he arches up, mumbles no touching to himself, the words too garbled by how full his mouth is to be even remotely distinguishable. "You like that, don't you, babe? Putting your mouth to good use? Always look good doing it."
Harry whines, loud and high-pitched; his mouth is watering so much he can feel it running down his palm. He swirls his tongue between his fingers before holding them all together tightly and suckling. They're not quite the right shape but with a little fantasy, he can almost imagine that he's sucking on Louis' cock instead. He circles the tips of them with his tongue; he opens his mouth further so he'll have more room, ends up drooling all over himself and the sheets underneath. "Daddy," he mumbles. He hears Louis spit in his hand and can't help the moan that comes out or the jerk of his hips.
"Let me hear you, sweetheart," Louis asks through gritted teeth. He must be touching now, his small veiny hand wrapped around his thick cock, probably flushed a deep pink and wet at the head. Harry feels his own cock pulsing almost as if in sympathy. When he looks down he sees a string of precome connecting the head of his cock to the pillow under his hips. He sucks harder on his fingers, lets the wet slurp and gurgle of spit carry for Louis to hear. "That's it, there we go," Louis praises. "Fuck, I wish I had your mouth on me right now. Got me so hard, baby, I'd come down your throat in no time."
"Oh, God," Harry garbles. He brings his thighs close together, clenches his muscles when he feels his cock jumping against his belly. For a moment, he panics, afraid he might disobey and come; he sinks his teeth into his fingers as hard as he can, the pain a temporary distraction as much as it sends another wave of arousal through him.
"Are your fingers nice and wet?"
Harry hums an affirmative as well as he can while more spit dribbles out of his mouth and down his hand.
"Good. You're gonna spread your legs wide for me now, yeah? Want you to hump the pillow."
Harry collapses forward into the bed again, fingers still pulling his mouth open, and sobs. He feels overheated and tense, his skin slippery with sweat and strands of hair sticking to his forehead and temple as if he spent the last hour running. He can feel tears prickling his eyes.
"You're gonna ride your fingers while you do it too."
"Can't," Harry whines, finally slipping his fingers out. His legs slide over the sheets until the head of his cock is resting in the folds of the soft cotton pillowcase. "I can't, Daddy, I can't," he says between whimpers even as his runs his fingers over the line of his lower spine and down his crack, prodding at the tensed up muscle there. He feels like every breath he takes brings him closer to coming despite the fact that he's actively trying not to.
"You can," Louis assures. "And you're gonna. For me. You're gonna do it for Daddy, won't you?"
Harry whines as he pushes all three fingers inside himself slowly. There's not much stretch or burn once he relaxes, he's still open and slick, but he can feel the stickiness of come still inside him and the residual lube smeared between his arsecheeks all the way down to his balls. His fingers make a wet squelch as they go in. His legs fall all the way open, his hips coming down to rest in the pillow and his fingers slipping out.
"I can't," he mumbles into his forearm. "I'm gonna come, Daddy, please."
"Are you that close, love? Can't be a good boy for Daddy?"
Harry grunts as he lifts up on one arm. He rolls his hips a few times, grinding his cock down into the pillow and pushes his fingers back inside himself, careful not to even graze his prostate. "Wanna be good," he mumbles.
"Yeah, there we go," Louis says, drawing out the words. He sounds breathless and tense; Harry can't make out the sound over the static and the underlying background noise of the club, but he's seen Louis wanking enough times to know exactly what he's doing, how his hand moves and twists at the tip, how he fucks forward into his fist, the faces he makes. "Wanna tell me how it feels?"
Harry thinks he might start crying if he has to describe it out loud. He rolls his hips forward then back again a few times, alternating between rubbing the underside of his cock against the pillow and pushing himself back onto his fingers. The position is awkward; the muscles in his arm are bulging with the strength needed to keep him up and his thighs are already twitching. He moves slowly, trying to find the right angle, the right rhythm. It's hard when he's mostly focused on trying not to come and his mind is already fuzzy. The folds of the pillowcase are soft, their touch too light on his cock, teasing more than anything, but he's afraid to put more power into his thrusts and grind down harder lest he come too soon. He spreads and curls his fingers rhythmically for the feeling of his hole stretching around them and doesn't dare do much more. When he looks down, his cock stands out starkly against the white pillowcase, thick and dark and leaking steadily. His hips buck forward uncontrollably, pressing his cock into the pillow harder and he can't resist fucking his fingers in and out of himself harshly a few times. He can hear Louis breathing shallowly on the other end and he knows he can't sound much better, huffing from the effort and letting out mewling little sobs that he can't control. His arm shakes when he grips the sheet. His fingers brush over his prostate and his knees give out, making him settle down into the pillow and clench around his fingers instinctively.
"Daddy," he whimpers, freezing when he feels his balls drawing up. He tenses all over, suddenly hyperaware of everything he's feeling, from the spit still slicking his lips and chin to the sweat running down his back and chest to the prickling pain in his nipples to the ridges of his fingers holding him open. His cock throbs, precome gathering at the tip as he watches, and the urge to just give in and hump the pillow until he comes is so strong he almost does it. "I can't, I'm so close, please," he whines.
"Yeah? Feel good? I know you like being full."
Harry fucks his fingers deeper into himself and ruts against the pillow a few times before he can stop himself. Even just that is enough to make him shake with how much he needs to come.
"But it's not as good as when I'm there is it, hm? Do my fingers feel better?"
Harry rocks his hips back and forth, unable to stop himself though he can't decide if it even still feels good. The pillow's warmed from his body heat and it's soaked in sweat and precome and it almost, almost feels like he has Louis under him, like he's rubbing off between Louis' thighs or arsecheeks, like it is Louis' fingers he's riding.
"Because I know my arse feels better than that pillow you're fucking," Louis continues, like he can read Harry's mind.
Harry gasps and grinds down onto his fingers and into the pillow. He fucks forward in aborted little thrusts, his fingers curling inside him despite how his wrist is beginning to cramp from the position. He presses them against his prostate, doesn't even move them as he humps the pillow, too lost in how the pleasure turns into discomfort and pain from being too much. "Daddy, please," he whispers. He almost feels like he can't come, doesn't remember how to, like he's been on the edge for so long that he's forgotten, but he knows the only thing holding him back is Louis' word. He chews on his lower lip and shuts his eyes tight, a few tears spilling over and running down his cheeks. He lets his arm give out and falls forward onto the bed; his fingers slip out and though he tries he doesn't have the presence of mind to push them back inside so he brings them up to his face and sucks them down, moaning at the faint bitter saltiness of come and imagining he's tasting Louis' cock instead. He has more room to move now, grunting as he starts rutting against the pillow harder, long but quick drags of his cock against the pillow making the muscles in his thighs and arse tense. His cock presses a hard and hot line against his lower belly, the wet head of it painting over his skin. He pushes his fingers all the way into his mouth and sucks as hard as he can, not even bothering to hide the overwhelmed little sobs he's making.
"Fuck, baby, you sound so good," Louis moans. He's breathing hard through his nose, obviously trying to stay as quiet as he can and thumping his head against the wall instead of being loud like he normally is. Harry shudders at the image of Louis with his cock out and his hand around it, swallowing down his sounds so people on the other side of the door won't know what he's doing. He whimpers, hips fucking into the pillow faster. The pressure on his cock and balls feels amazing, but the friction and the heat is almost too much. "Do your fingers taste good?"
Harry feels his cheeks burning in embarrassment even as a zing of arousal travels down his spine and the ghost of a spanking smarts over his arsecheeks. He pulls his fingers out enough that he can talk. "'m sorry, Daddy, couldn't, sorry, please," he stutters, the most coherent that he can get at the moment.
"Should punish you for that, shit," Louis grits out. "Shouldn't let you come at all now. Is that what you want?"
"I'm sorry, sorry, Daddy, 'm sorry," Harry cries, humping the pillow so fast now that the bed frame is starting to shake. He shoves his fingers into his mouth and sucks on them before more words can spill from his mouth.
"It's alright, love, you did-- fuck, you were good, it's alright," Louis assures quickly, stumbling over the words. "You're such a good boy for Daddy, gonna make Daddy come, oh, oh God; gonna come thinking about that big cock of yours buried in a pillow while you pretend it's my arse, imagining how you're sucking your fingers to get the taste of me--"
"Daddy," Harry warns, fingers curling into the sheet and behind his teeth as he feels the pleasure building in his belly.
"Fuck, yeah, H, you can come, baby, come now."
Harry melts into the bed sighing as relief floods through him. He doesn't even have the strength to ride it out or make any sound beyond an overwhelmed little sigh, just lies there suckling on his fingers while his cock pulses, come soaking into the pillow and smearing over his belly. The orgasm rolling through him in waves feels secondary to the pleasure of having relief at long last. He only grinds down into the pillow a few times when he hears Louis grunting on the other side, remembers how Louis likes to play with himself after he's finished, drag it out and milk it for everything he can.
He's still coming when Louis asks, "Harry?"
He pulls his fingers out, whimpers at the weak twitches his cock is still giving and mumbles a response. "Daddy?" His voice is deep and raspy and he can tell he sounds a bit drunk, but he's too out of it to care. He gasps when his cock pulses once more, a few drops of come adding to the mess between his legs.
"Colour?"
"Green."
"Good boy," Louis slurs back at him. Harry preens at the praise, burying his face in his arm as a huge grin and a light blush spread over his face. He's shaking with aftershocks, skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the subtle pleasure that spreads through him irregularly and the tickling thrills that warm his belly. He lies in the cooling wetness, letting the light breeze dry his skin while he listens to Louis catching his breath on the other end of the line.
He's almost drifting off, letting the rhythm of Louis' now relatively steady breathing wash over him, when the sound suddenly cuts off. He gives it a bit, thinking it's just a disturbance in the connection, but when nothing changes he feels a bubble of anxiety bursting in his chest. "Daddy?" he calls out, rolling over on his back and out of the wet spot. He wipes his hands in the sheets and picks up the phone. The line still shows as connected.
"Yeah, love, 'm right here," comes Louis' voice a mere second after Harry takes the phone off speaker and presses it to his ear instead. The sound of the club is louder now, the music almost recognisable and nearly enough to drown out Louis' words. Louis must be walking out, heading to the car and then back home. The thought not only calms Harry, but makes warmth spread through him from his chest down to his fingers and toes. He grins giddily at the ceiling and curls his toes while he waits for the music in the background to die down and be replaced by the whistle of the wind outside. "Hey," Louis greets then.
"Hi," Harry replies.
"You alright, babe?"
"Mmhm," Harry hums. He's so tired it's hard to keep his eyes open, his muscles are sore and twitching all over and there are a few kinks in his back from the uncomfortable position he was in, not to mention the sticky, itchy mess of come that's drying over his belly and softening cock, but it's a good satisfying kind of tired, the kind that makes him all smiley and relaxed. He runs a finger absently through the come smeared over his front while he listens to Louis getting in the car and the door shutting behind him.
"I'll be home in ten minutes. Fifteen, maybe. Think you can wait for me?" Louis asks. His voice has gone all soft and quiet, the fondness in it seeping into Harry's bones. "Wanna draw you a bath, yeah? We can throw in one of the nice glittery bath bombs you like and soak in it. I'll wash your hair for you."
Harry feels a little silly for giggling at that, but he does. It's just that Louis makes him so happy sometimes that he can't contain it and right now his mind is too cloudy to think much. He feels a bit like he's floating on a cloud somewhere and Louis' voice is the rays of sunlight warming his skin.
"Yeah? You like that? You were so good today, sweetheart, Daddy's so so proud of you. Gonna take good care of his baby."
Harry's nose scrunches up from how wide he grins. He stretches out, his toes curling when he works the tension out of his muscles. He makes a weird mewling sound before falling back against the bed; Louis' laugh in his ear feels almost as good as Louis' arms around him would right now.
"Okay there? Nothing hurts, got something to drink?"
"Okay," Harry repeats. There's a bottle of water somewhere next to the bed if he can be bothered to reach out for it. For now though he doesn't care about that.
"Good boy. Will you be alright on your own or do you want me to stay on the line?" Louis asks.
Harry licks his finger clean while he thinks about it. He knows Louis is on his way back and will be there soon and he could probably wait it out on his own, maybe have some water or even stumble into the kitchen for a banana or a snack, but there's something soothing in the hum of the engine that underlines Louis' deep breaths, the perceived connection of having Louis only a word away. "Stay?" he suggests.
"Whatever you want, baby. You deserved it," Louis agrees. "I'm right here, yeah? I'll be with you soon."
Harry turns on his side and scratches gently at the sheets the way he likes to play with Louis' chest hair while he comes down. The room feels cold now that he's cooled down a bit and he wishes he had Louis' body warmth to lean into. His head is clearing faster that usual, the transition a bit too harsh, but Louis' voice makes it easier, calms him, keeps him just fuzzy enough to enjoy. He drifts to the steady hum of the car and Louis quietly calling him a good boy and saying he's proud over and over again. "Daddy," he breathes, more to himself than for Louis to hear.
"I've got you, babe," Louis replies anyway.