larry smut

the filth - 2/4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280872/chapters/2729143

here's part two of the 'you'll breathe me in (you won't release)'

~✰~

He wakes up to Louis pressing gentle kisses all over his face. It makes him giggle breathlessly, before he remembers that he's not supposed to giggle, manly man that he is. Of course the sound bursts out of him again when he feels Louis smile into his cheek.

Louis just kisses him for a while, and then manages to roll him out of bed and have him standing up. It's hard not to wobble; he's still sort of disoriented, and did just have a cock up his arse. Louis' right there to support him, though. He feels like a flower turning toward the sun, eager for attention and care and being indulged with so much of them.

"Is, um. Zayn around?" Harry asks when he realises Louis' pulling him toward the door.

Louis shakes his head and leads him out to the hallway. "Nah, he's at Perrie's place most of the time. The only reason he hasn't moved in with her yet is that she travels so much with the band and we don't want him to be alone."

"Right." The only thing he gets from that is that they have the flat to themselves. So he doesn't necessarily have to curl up around Louis to shield himself from the world as they walk. He does anyway.

They reach the bathroom door, and Louis turns in his arms to kiss Harry deeply. Harry sighs and leans back against the wall, knotting his fingers together behind the small of Louis' back. He notices that Louis' wearing soft pyjama pants and that his skin is damp under his hands, which probably means he's already showered. He also notices that he himself is absolutely filthy and rubbing his bare arse against Louis' wall.

He blushes deep red, but Louis just kisses him harder. When he finally leans back, he's grinning up at Harry. "Get in the shower then. I'll make us some lunch, I'm starving."

He doesn't like the thought of being alone, but he won't ask Louis to wash him. He's not a kid. He kisses Louis one last time and then steps into the bathroom and straight to the shower, not bothering to close the door.

He stands under the spray for a long while, scratching off the come and sweat all over his body. He still feels sensitive, so the mere touch of the hot water on his skin feels good. By the time he steps out he's no more clearheaded. Unlike after his illicit shower from a lifetime ago, this time he's got clothes waiting for him. Not his own, thank god. Louis dropped on the sink a band T-shirt Harry's seen him wear a couple of times and a pair of boxers.

The shirt doesn't fit him quite well, tight on his still-broadening shoulders and growing muscles, but that just makes it obvious that it's Louis', and Harry likes that. The boxers are short enough on him that the beard burn Louis' branded him with is still visible just under them. Harry likes that a lot. He fluffs up his hair with the towel and steps out without looking in the mirror.

They just hang around the flat all day, watching telly and napping and munching and kissing a lot. Louis keeps playing with Harry and lavishing him with attention. He feels like he's walking on air, his heart too big for his chest. But it's starting to fade.

It's a slow thing, but by the afternoon he feels... different. More like himself. Or at least like he won't die if Louis doesn't touch him. It's like coming down from a high, but he's sure he didn't smoke anything last night. Not that he smokes up all the time or anything, just when he's in Niall's basement and they're playing FIFA and the spliff is just sitting there.

Anyway, he stays curled up in Louis' lap. Just because he's no longer sex-high, it doesn't mean Louis should stop playing with his hair.

It's weird, isn't it? Feeling like that just from sex. Not that it was "just sex", it was exceptional, he thinks, from his limited experience. But he's the weird one. He should probably Google it at some point. Should've Googled it before... letting go like that. It was very irresponsible. He should tell Louis, maybe he'll think it makes him bad.

He shakes his head and slowly straightens up. Louis' eyes snap to him immediately and he brushes a hand over Harry's stomach, under the T-shirt. Now that he feels normal, he's starting to feel other things, like how nice it is when Louis touches him casually. "Alright, baby?"

Christ. Harry needs to... put some distance before he actually gets hard again. He doesn't want Louis to think – to know how desperate he is. What if it turns him off? He clears his throat. "Yeah mate, I just thought I'd send my mum a life signal."

He immediately wants to kick himself for bringing up his mum, or the fact he still lives with her. Louis doesn't seem bothered, probably used up all his panic after Harry blew him in the car. He just kisses the corner of Harry's mouth and says, "I'm here if you need anything."

Harry nods and climbs out of Louis' lap. He doesn't flee to the bedroom, more like a graceful gallop. He hears Louis turning up the volume, but he closes the door behind him anyway. He takes a deep, calming breath, and then the smell hits him like a punch to the gut. Sweat and sex and – he did this, he had sex. He had sex with Louis. He had a lot of sex with Louis.

He's more giddy than nervous now, practically skipping to open the window and let some fresh air in. He picks up his clothes and pulls out his phone. There are a few missed calls from Nick, and some texts from various people, but Harry closes all the notifications without looking and calls the only person he wants to talk to.

"You piece of shit, did you sleep until now?" Niall asks after just one ring. It sounds like his mouth is full and it's so familiar.

Harry grins to himself. "Nope, just lost track of my phone."

"Whoa, your voice is weird. Is Nick holding a pillow over your face or something? Did you call me instead of the police again?"

Harry tugs on his lip and starts pacing. "Not at Nick's."

"Oh, you went back home? Couldn't pull? I told you I'd be a better wingman, have you seen my girlfriend – "

"I'm at Louis'," he cuts him off, can't keep it inside anymore. His breath stutters. Saying it to someone outside of the HarryandLouis bubble of the past twenty-four hours is exciting.

Niall curses on the other end. "How did that happen? Please don't tell me you drunkenly stalked him and followed him home until he confessed his love."

Harry frowns. "Excuse you, he brought me to his home. We met at the club accidentally, it was weird."

"Well, did he apologise for being a twat?" Of course Niall only cares about that. Niall's the best best mate ever.

"He did more than that." Ridiculously, he covers his mouth and whispers the rest. "Niall, we did it."

Niall gasps. Or he just chews loudly, but gasping is more dramatic. "Did what?"

"The do."

Now he really gasps. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, he seriously fucked me," he says excitedly.

Niall makes an undignified noise. "Ugh, you let him put it in you?"

"Well, it was technically already in me when I blew him."

"Yeah, but not up your bum," Niall counters quickly. "Did it hurt?"

"Sort of, but by then – " He cuts himself off. There's nothing he won't tell Niall, but right now he wants to keep just some of it to himself and Louis. "It just felt unbelievable."

Niall hums sceptically. "I can't even imagine having a dick inside me."

"Well, you should!" Oh god, he sounds like he's preaching. On second thought, he does wish it on Niall. If anyone deserves to feel as good as Harry felt, it's Niall. "I mean, since you intend to put your dick in your girlfriend. You should always think about what it's like for your partner." He loves not being a virgin. Niall has no choice but to believe him. It's like street cred. Sheet cred. "Louis could give you tips," he adds, just to be a shit.

Niall makes another disgusted noise. "Is that what it's gonna be like now? You're gonna be obnoxious about your perfect boyfriend while I'm still a virgin?"

Harry beams. "Yup."

"At least spare me the sex details, I don't love you that much."

"That is a lie, you are so curious."

Niall grumbles. "Stop it, I'm gonna hang up. Fuck, I can't believe you did it in his love nest."

"Did you think he'd take my virginity in the back of the car?"

"Is he not your driving instructor?"

Harry shrugs, glancing at the rumpled, filthy bed. "Well, he's a lot of things now."

"So why are you talking to me?"

"Clearly because I'm an idiot," he says, rolling his eyes. He should probably go back to Louis and ask for more cuddles. He walks up to the full-length mirror on the closet door to fix his hair, and then gasps when he sees the state of his neck. Louis absolutely went to town. "Oh my god."

"What is it?"

"Are lovebites supposed to be purple?" he asks, leaning closer to the mirror and thumbing over the various marks. He doesn't feel anything, but they're so obvious on his pale skin that he imagines he does. He sticks his finger in the middle of the biggest mark and gulps. "It looks like I was mauled by a wild animal."

Niall snorts a laugh. "You should ask your mum for concealer or summat before you go to school, if you don't want people giving you shit. Wait, can you even tell your mum?"

Oh. Harry didn't think of that.

He doesn't really want to think much, so he returns to inspecting his neck. "I don't know."

"Mate, I think you should talk to Louis."

He's right, of course. Harry flips his fringe to the side and adjusts his shirt collar. "Alright. I'll talk to you when I get home, then. Love you."

"Whatever. Love you too. I'm at B's house now so let's hope I get laid by then, I can't stand you hanging this over my head."

Harry's still laughing after Niall hangs up. When he stumbles back to the living room, Louis' on the phone himself. He supposes he could be respectful and busy himself in the kitchen. So he walks straight to the sofa Louis' lying across and nudges him closer to the backrest with his knee. Louis rolls his eyes, but moves his arse until Harry has enough space to curl up on him. "I'll see you later then," Louis says to the receiver. "I think someone wants attention."

Harry blushes at that, but he can't keep the smile off his face. He tries to bury it in Louis' bare chest but he's obviously unsuccessful, since Louis pokes a finger into his dimple. "Bye, mate."

He drops the phone on the floor and wraps both arms around Harry. "Just wanted to crush me then?" He makes a choking noise for emphasis.

Harry's astounded by the difference in size between them, the way he is crushing Louis, draped over him completely. He wishes he were smooth or coordinated enough to manoeuvre them around so Louis would be on top of him instead, but when he tries to move he nearly falls off the sofa. "Switch then."

Louis makes a long-suffering sound and slides up from under Harry, curling over the backrest before dumping himself over Harry and elbowing his gut hard. He huffs in pain, but Louis just laughs and kisses his nose. He's got his arms folded over Harry's chest and his legs crossed in the air. He's smiling so hard there are crinkles by his eyes. Harry loses his breath for a reason completely unrelated to errant elbows.

"Forgot you're only tiny," he says, running a hand along the knobs of Louis' spine. "Like a pixie. Who even let you be a driving instructor? No authority whatsoever."

Louis headbutts his chin. "Didn't hear you complaining this morning," he reminds him angrily. "I'm not a pixie."

"Of course. You're a man." He emphasises that by squeezing his arse, and then sort of keeps his hands there. Oh god. He lifts his head to look. Louis' got the best arse he's ever seen in his life, defined and curvy and soft and – fuck him, how did he not notice this before? How did he live ignorant of Louis' bum?

Fucking cars. Harry never wants Louis to sit down again. He slips his hands under Louis' pants without asking and rubs over the curve of him, cupping the cheeks perfectly with his big hands. They fit. It was meant to be.

Louis brings him out of his awestruck groping by laughing and shaking his head. Whatever, Louis' totally wiggling. He can't hide anything from Harry when he's sprawled on top of him. Louis slides his own hands up Harry's chest and then plants his elbows over Harry's shoulders so he's propped up, back curved. His fingers naturally tangle in Harry's hair, and he pushes his fringe back so there's a curtain of curls over the armrest Harry's leaning on. "You know I am. You're obsessed with my beard."

Harry nods. He'll admit he's more focused on subtly kneading Louis' arse than the banter. To think he ever called his own bum peachy. He wants to bite into Louis'. Louis rolls his eyes and tugs on Harry's hair for his attention. "Talked to your mum then?"

Harry frowns and slides his hands up to the deep curve of his lower back. He can't talk about his mum with handfuls of arse. "Nah, chatted with Niall."

"Of course. Wanted to brag, yeah?" Louis asks smugly.

"Whatever." If he weren't so charmed he'd put up more of a fight. "So I wanted to ask, um. About my mum."

Louis doesn't magically follow. "Lovely lady, your mum."

"Do we tell her?"

The humour leaves Louis' face. "Oh. I don't think you should," he says hesitantly. "I can't imagine she'll, like, give us her blessing."

Harry pouts and rubs his thumbs into the dip above Louis' arse. "You don't think she'll like you?"

Louis arches an eyebrow. "The grown man she didn't pay to defile her child?"

Oh. Harry pouts harder. "I told you it's legal. Or will be when I pass my test."

Louis kisses him suddenly, soothingly. "I know, but it's still hugely inappropriate and I don't think your mum will care about the sexual offences act."

Harry can see his point. As supportive and awesome as his mum is, it might be a bit much. "That sucks."

"Babe," Louis hums, kissing along Harry's jaw like he's trying to comfort him. "Just a few months till you're eighteen, right?"

Harry lights up at that. He can totally wait a few months. Then he realises what Louis meant by that. Shit, they've been having a relationship talk right under his nose. He beams and nudges Louis' face so he can kiss him again, this time lingering and happy. "Alright. I won't tell anyone then."

Louis strokes through his hair, for some reason less happy than Harry. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

Harry tilts his head and steals another kiss. "What for?"

"Causing... problems. You shouldn't have to – "

"Hey," Harry cuts him off, pulling him closer. By his arse. "It's not a big deal. You're well worth it. So."

Louis gives him a small smile but doesn't seem that convinced. Harry must diffuse this with humour. "I'll have to at least tell her I have a boyfriend though."

"Have to? Why?"

Harry quirks an eyebrow and throws his head back, baring his throat. "I doubt she'd believe I gave these to myself. Or got attacked by a rabid dog."

If he expected Louis to be bashful about it, he was an idiot. Louis grabs the back of his neck and pulls him closer, attaching his lips to the column of Harry's throat and sucking hard. Harry gasps and tightens his grip on Louis' bum. At this rate he won't need concealer, he'll need a ski mask.

"You're my boyfriend though," Louis states resolutely, nuzzling up to his ear.

Harry hugs him closer, no doubt smiling like an idiot. "So you're not mine?"

"Of course not," Louis says, shaking his head so there's hair all over Harry's face. "I'm your manfriend."

He laughs obnoxiously at that. "Oh my god, you're ridiculous, why do I want you to fuck me again?"

Louis perks up immediately, smile more lewd than amused. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hm." He spreads his fingers over Louis' bum again and drags him closer. There's nothing more to say, he's been pretty horny since the moment he found himself with Louis all over him. Of course he wants Louis to fuck him again. Maybe once a day for the rest of his life.

Louis seems on board with it. He crawls down his legs so their dicks line up and then rocks against Harry. Harry does him one better and wraps a leg around Louis' hip.

"Want it like this?" Louis asks, kind of breathless. His hand drifts from Harry's chest down to his thigh, curls it even tighter around himself. "Want it fast in the middle of the living room, where Zayn could walk in any minute?"

Harry grunts, digging his heel into Louis' thigh so he's moving faster against him. "Want it..." He's not sure how to explain what he wants right now. How to say he doesn't want to... lose himself again, that he wants straight-up dick in arse action this time. He suddenly remembers the word Louis used earlier. "Don't wanna play this time."

Louis just nods, undeterred. The bulge in his pants only rubs against Harry's harder, making the friction heavenly. "Don't need to play." His hips stutter to a halt then, and Harry can't help but push his own hips up, frustrated. Louis bites his neck to stop him. Harry just. Makes a noise. "Do need a condom, though."

Harry makes another noise and shifts so Louis' leg slips between his own two. This time when Harry squeezes his leg around Louis, his cock grinds against Louis' strong thigh and Louis bears down, humping him a little. The weight of him sinks on Harry's chest and it's hard to draw in a breath, but Harry's not bothered. Not when Louis' humping his leg. He'd come just from this, right on the sofa.

Now that he's had it, though... "C'mon, I really want your cock now. Do we really need a condom? I told you in the car – "

"Harry, stop moving," Louis says, serious but high-strung all the same. Harry does stop. He's considerate. He keeps his hands on Louis' arse, though. Louis makes sure he's looking in his eyes before he says, "This is different, okay? Not up for discussion."

Harry pouts. Louis flicks his bottom lip with his tongue, as if to say you're ridiculous or I want to fuck you. One of the two. Harry snatches a kiss and starts moving his hips again, so he feels Louis' hard length pushing into his thigh.

Louis clamps a hand on his leg and bites on his lip vindictively. It only sets Harry off. He wants it now. "You're impossible," Louis says before Harry even opens his mouth. "Look, I already have a check-up scheduled in a few weeks. If you still want it by then I'll do screenings. Now, though, get your leg off me so we can move." He ducks down to lick along the shell of Harry's ear and whisper, "I want you to ride my cock and I don't trust this couch to survive it."

Harry is so into it, he doesn't give Louis even a second to reconsider. He gets his foot flat on the floor and then hauls himself up so he's somehow leaning against the backrest with a lapful of Louis. Despite the fact he's just had Louis on top of him for so long, this feels like they're closer. With Louis' knees digging into his hips and his arms wrapped around Harry's neck. He looks up and has another one of those dumb moments, where his brain picks out the fine details of Louis' sculpted face and he can't breathe from how lucky he is.

Louis' fingers trail through his hair before coming to settle on his neck. He tilts Harry's face up, and his mouth even opens for a kiss, but then he starts laughing. And doesn't stop. It's lovely and lilting but totally inappropriate. Harry furrows his brows at him. "What's so funny?"

"Just wondering how I'm going to pry your hands off my bum."

Right. Because they're still there. Harry shrugs, completely unapologetic. "You won't. I actually used hot glue. We're gonna be stuck like this forever."

Louis sighs. "Well that was just irresponsible, Harry. I'm teaching until May. You're in school, you can't join every lesson I have just so I can sit on your hands."

Harry would like to argue – in fact, he's got a few suggestions that will possibly make them millionaires, but Louis slides up his thighs and presses their groins together. Harry's eyes flutter, and he ends up just saying, "Thought we were talking about me sitting on your cock?"

Louis makes a soft noise and lifts his bum up to get even closer to Harry and rub his cock harder against him. Harry gets a good grip on said bum and then climbs to his feet. He doesn't collapse. Louis yelps and wraps his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders, and Harry still doesn't collapse. He is clearly a sex god.

"Jesus Christ, Hazza," Louis says on a chuckle, clearly awed by Harry's divinity. Of course, the tighter he holds Harry the more friction Harry gets on his dick. He's hard enough to nudge the waistband of the boxers, it's ridiculous. They're not even naked yet but he's so far into the mindset of Louis fucking him again that he tightens all up and basically runs to the bedroom.

He wants to throw Louis on the bed and ravish him, fuelled by the macho godliness, but of course he lays Louis down gently on the fluffiest pillows and lets go of his arse in order to fix his flyaway hair. Louis tilts his head up for a kiss and Harry gives it to him eagerly, marvels at the softness of his lips. Little things he was too excited to notice before.

He's too caught up in it to realise what Louis' hands are doing, until they brush over the back of his knees. He squeals way too loudly and instinctively hunkers down, which has him straddling Louis' thighs. So. That works. Still, "You cheated," he complains, tapping Louis' nose aggressively.

Louis seems shocked for a moment by the way Harry chose to express his outrage, and then he throws his head back and laughs. Which is charming and all, and his jawline is like – anyway, it's rude, so Harry takes his shirt off while Louis' not looking. It's nice when Louis' laugh dies down as soon as he looks at him.

His eyes rake over Harry's torso, and Harry bites his lip awkwardly and flips his fringe. When nothing happens, he feels painfully self-conscious, on display like that. Especially considering the fact he spent all day staring at Louis' tattooed and slightly hairy chest. Harry's got bloody love handles.

Eventually Louis, in a stunning show of athleticism, sits up using just his abs and kisses along Harry's already bruised collarbones. His hands come to rest on Harry's sides, warm and comforting. "You're so fit," he mumbles against his skin. "I swear if they arrest me that's all I'll have to say in my defence."

Harry snorts and runs his fingers through Louis' hair. "I'll come visit you."

"Harold, the jailbait doesn't go to jail. I don't think they allow boy toy conjugal visits."

Both jailbait and boy toy in the same breath. Harry liked it better when Louis called him fit. "I could say you're my baby daddy. We could be like Americans."

Louis laughs into his chest. "That why you want me to fuck you raw? Waiting for me to knock you up?"

"Shut up, oh my god."

"Okay, fine," he concedes. He does mutter to himself baby daddy, honestly. "Are you going to keep cracking jokes or get on with it?" His hands slip from Harry's hips to his arse and he gives it a friendly little smack, which.

Harry would very much like to get on with it. He crawls over Louis to look for the lube and a condom, and when he looks back he finds Louis propped up against a mountain of pillows, minus pants, plus a hand stroking himself to full hardness. Harry, of course, reacts by dropping everything and making Louis laugh again. He doesn't stop the lazy movement of his hand on his cock, pulling the foreskin back and generally making Harry's mouth water.

He gets rid of his own boxers and grabs the items again. He doesn't bother waiting for Louis to stop touching himself before he swings a leg over his hip. This time Louis' right in his face, since his back is straight, and Harry decides he likes that. Likes how easy it is for Louis to loop his hands around Harry's lower back, how easy it is for Harry to lean forward and kiss him hard, draw his tongue into his mouth and suck on it.

Louis takes Harry's hands and wraps them around his own neck, so their chests are pressed flush. He gasps into the kiss, imagines he can feel Louis' crazy heartbeat against his own. Louis uses the moment to turn his head to the side, and somehow his mouth finds the tattoo on Harry's inner bicep. Harry should probably, like, keep him from leaving so many marks on him, after seeing the results, but he can't. He loves having Louis' attention on him like this, the way he focuses and looks over the bruise to make sure it's satisfactory.

He starts biting up his bicep, and Harry instinctively moves forward so their dicks slide together. It doesn't even compare to the way it felt when they were both wearing pants. He can feel how hard Louis is against him and it's hot and intense and his knees tighten around Louis.

Louis makes a small noise and lets go of Harry's hips to grab the lube. Harry's not overly interested in it, too busy rocking against his crotch. He stops abruptly when Louis gets a finger against his entrance, though. Like, stops moving and breathing and thinking. Everything screeches to a halt, because it hasn't been that long but he feels sort of removed from the mindset he was in, so he's not really sure what to expect this time.

When Louis slides his finger in slowly, Harry just chokes out a sound and buries his face in Louis' neck, slightly sweaty but familiar. The automatic recoil from Louis' finger just brought him against his cock again, and since Louis' hand followed he's caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Stop laughing, what the fuck," Louis says, but he sounds amused at least.

Harry shrugs helplessly. "I can't. A hard place," he giggles, mostly to himself. It comes out breathy and odd, since Louis hasn't stopped the push and pull of his finger and it's like Harry's throat closed up.

"Idiot," Louis mutters fondly, and starts moving his finger faster. At this point Harry's laughing just because he's sort of... giddy, one finger enough to make him content. He's still loose and pleasantly sore from earlier, so it's not long before he grinds back and asks for more.

Louis gives him three fingers then, and Harry clenches down hard. It's a lot, but he gets used to that too, keeps rubbing up against Louis' cock and down on his fingers. Louis' other hand is playing with his hair soothingly, only not really, tugging hard on it whenever his fingers hit his spot. He's shuddering constantly, like it's too many sensations for his body to take, and he knows he could come from this because he actually did this morning. So he whispers into Louis' neck, "I'm ready, just fuck me."

Louis gives him one last thrust and then pulls his fingers out. He uses his grip on Harry's hair to pull his head back and give him a good look. Harry wants to lean on his shoulder again, but when he looks at the crook of Louis' neck he sees that the skin is wet from his own spit, because he's been panting there for a while, and he feels kind of embarrassed.

He's distracted by Louis suddenly waving a condom in his face. "You do the honours, then. Unless you can't."

Harry rolls his eyes and takes the condom. He knows how to use it, totally practiced when Niall and he bought the batch on the Code Red That Never Happened. The only challenge is to distance himself from Louis' cock to roll it on him. Then again, he guesses he can sacrifice the friction on his cock if he gets Louis to fuck him again.

He's all hot and twisted up, excited and eager and thankful when Louis leans back against the pillows and lets Harry do what he wants. He puts a hand on Louis' shoulder for support when he props up on his knees and angles Louis' cock right. They're both reverently silent when he sinks down on it, slow and steady all the way to the base.

It's. Oh, god. It's thick in him, spreads him open, and he can feel his body adjust. It's so weird that for a long moment all Harry can do is stare at Louis' chest tattoo and try in vain to breathe. "Lou," he mumbles, red-faced, like he's asking for help.

Louis immediately springs into action. Or, well, a speech. "Babe, you're so tight around me, feels so good," he says, breath hitching, and his hands come to settle on his hips. "Start moving a little when you're ready, just fuck yourself on my cock any way you like."

Harry nods to himself, and then buries his face in Louis' neck again and lifts his hips. Oh. The drag in him feels... beautiful, makes him feel full and tight around Louis, so much of Louis, in his arms and around him and in him, and that's beautiful too. As soon as he finds a slow rhythm to get used to, he opens his mouth to ask Louis if that's okay, but all that comes out is a long moan. Christ, it's starting to get good, brushing all the right places.

He starts bouncing on Louis' cock a little, overwhelming himself and drawing groans and praise out of Louis, like he can't help it. "Yeah baby, there you go, so good for me, using me to get off." It's like fire shooting up Harry's spine, every subtle shift of his hips, every new word leaving Louis' mouth.

With Louis' hands on his hips, they're close enough that he has to keep it slow, so he moves in small circles and shudders when his cock rubs against Louis' stomach. He's starting to get that tingly feeling, like he's stuck in some loop, and he wants to change it up. He's got the reins this time.

He uses his leverage to experiment with the pace and angles, leans back instead of moving up. It's so good he feels it all over his body, ends up sinking his nails into Louis' shoulder. It's like his brain shorts out when he finally finds the right angle, a glancing drag against his prostate. He chases it, hazy and desperate, gets up from his knees to his haunches and curses when Louis slips out of him because Harry's an uncoordinated idiot.

Louis doesn't give him shit for it, though, just keeps a steady grip on him and helps guide his cock back inside. "It's alright baby, it's your first time," Louis tells him. Before Harry gets a chance to feel like an inexperienced oaf unworthy of Louis' dick, because of course that's where his brain goes, Louis fucks up into him and adds, "You know how lucky that makes me feel?"

He whines and wraps his arms around Louis' shoulders, works together with him to regain momentum, to find that angle again. When he does he rides him fast, up and down, glorious, makes nonsensical noises into Louis' ear. His thighs are burning but he can't stop moving, focusing only on the way Louis feels thrusting up into him, the way their bodies slide together.

He's getting too sweaty and uncoordinated, ends up slipping again, but he's too close this time, can't think, can't focus. Just makes a desperate noise and presses his nose into Louis' neck. Thank god, Louis gathers him in his arms and topples him over so he's flat on his back. He blinks up, confused by the sudden relief on his calves, and then Louis' right there and fuck. He's sweaty and flushed and wild, gets more lube on his cock and then grabs Harry's ankles and throws his legs over his shoulders.

Harry barely manages to nod before Louis slams back inside him, deep and rough. Harry's back arches up while his legs clench together, but it doesn't stop Louis. He fucks him steady and unrelenting and so, so good, pounding into him and driving him insane. He throws his head back in pleasure but keeps his eyes wide open, transfixed by how gorgeous Louis looks between his long legs, his muscles all bunched up in effort and his hair all over his pinched face.

He's getting closer and closer, his cock spurting pre-come on his belly. He knows Louis is getting there too, from the erratic way he's thrusting, from the way he's chewing on his lower lip. Harry wants it suddenly, releases his death-grip on the sheets to drag his nails over Louis' chest for his attention, squeezing his hard nipples. Louis opens his eyes and fixes Harry with a dark look, gives it to him extra hard.

Which makes it difficult to say anything but ah and variations, but he catches the letters, manages to make a word. "Kiss."

Louis doesn't hesitate before leaning forward and bending Harry in half. It's not really a kiss, more of a clash, a violent thing, biting and grunting at each other. It's the combination of not being able to breathe and the change in angle that finally pushes Harry off the edge, Louis following a few desperate thrusts later.

"Fucking hell," Louis summarises, and stays inside him for another moment. Once he pulls out, he helps Harry stretch his legs, kissing his knees before Harry grunts and makes a grabby motion. Then Louis flops over him happily and lets the cuddling begin.

This time it gets disgusting pretty fast, so Harry's the one who decides on a shower. Louis agrees to join him as long as he gets to pick Harry's clothes again. Like he wouldn't have joined him anyway, or like Harry would've scrounged through Louis' closet to pick something himself.

It's jeans and a T-shirt this time, which probably means he's preparing Harry to leave. And that makes sense, it's quite late and Harry's got, like, homework and parents and stuff. He doesn't pout when Louis dresses him. He'd never waste an opportunity to kiss Louis.

Really, he thinks they're quite cute for an age inappropriate couple. He'd totally visit Louis in prison.

Not that he'd need to. Project Lolita is officially over.

Now he just needs to crack this boyfriend thing.

*

He's still at Louis' place come 7 PM. It's dangerous, because it's like the more time they spend together, the stronger the magnetic pull between them gets. At least, that's his excuse when he ignores another call in favour of making out with Louis on the sofa. It won't be too much to stay over another night, will it? It's not like he slept with Louis last night. He'd like the full experience.

Before he can suggest it, though, they're both jolted by the sound of keys from the front door. They have just enough time for Louis to sprawl over Harry's body, like he could shield him from view. Harry ends up laughing too loudly, because Louis' quite smaller than him. Harry's not even naked, as Louis insisted he kept the jeans on to "avoid temptation". Not that Louis isn't freeballing it in sweatpants. Louis' a topless, hypocritical dick.

"Tommo, why's the dish on the – oh, that's. Oh."

Harry cranes his neck to see Zayn over Louis' shoulder. He's staring at him. Harry clears his throat and then pastes on a smile. "Heeey."

Zayn's eyes widen. "What did he do to you?"

Harry bites his lip. It's swollen and tingly. The last time he looked in the mirror he didn't look that fucked, but that was before the recent snogging session. He kind of... likes it, though. Likes Zayn looking at him.

"Jesus," Louis mumbles into Harry's neck, echoing his last thought. He sighs and then heaves himself up and off Harry. "Hi Zayn, welcome home, remember Harry, he's legal."

Zayn snaps out of his shock at that. "Hi again Harry, I'm also legal. Twenty-four, in fact. Which is younger than Louis."

It's more biting than he was expecting. Harry sits up and fixes his hair fervently, wondering if he should address that as criticism or –

He doesn't need to address it at all. Louis squeezes his knee reassuringly and then gets off the sofa and drags Zayn off to the kitchen.

So far, coming back to reality hasn't been the most positive experience. He should have expected it, Zayn's bound to be protective of his best friend, and he guesses his relationship with Louis isn't exactly normal. Louis himself had reservations in the beginning. It just sucks that he can sort of hear Louis yelling in the kitchen. He's used to charming people, not setting them off.

He sighs and grabs his shirt from the floor. He picks up the key dish he doesn't even remember knocking over, because he's well-behaved. Then he bypasses the kitchen to grab his phone, wallet and used clothes from the bedroom. Then there's nothing left. Should he just slip out? It seems rude, but maybe that's the adult thing to do?

By the time he slinks back to the living room, Zayn and Louis are there. They're chatting quietly, like they're waiting for him, so he clears his throat. Zayn clears his, and then gives him a friendly smile. It's shocking, because he has the most intimidatingly beautiful face Harry's ever seen, but when he smiles he turns into a goofy puppy. Harry's helpless not to smile back. "Alright mate?" Zayn asks.

Harry nods. "Yeah, just grabbed my stuff. Um. Good to meet you? Again?"

"Yeah, you too." Louis, who's been watching the exchange curiously from his precarious perch on the armrest, elbows Zayn's ribs and prompts him to add, "I'm sorry about earlier, I was kind of caught off-guard. I didn't think Louis was serious when we talked, but I guess he was." He grimaces when Louis elbows him again. "Sorry for interrupting and making it awkward."

Louis nods proudly and kisses Zayn's cheek. Harry isn't sure how he feels about that, but he's quick to accept his apology. "It's okay, I get it. I should probably go, like, I'm sure you have plans."

Louis leaps up and wraps an arm around Harry's waist. "I'll give you a ride, come on."

He hesitates before putting his arm around Louis' shoulders, but Zayn just nods when he does. "See you around, Harry."

Only once the door is shut behind them does Harry manage to breathe. "Christ, that was scary."

Louis laughs and nudges his shoulder. "Don't be daft, he'll get over it."

"Right. Um, you don't really have to give me a ride, I could – "

"Harry." Louis curls his finger in Harry's belt loop and pulls him closer. He blinks up at him with an affectionate little smile, practically forcing Harry to lean in and kiss him. He's infinitely calmer as soon as they touch, moulds himself to Louis' chest and waist. They just stand there for a good minute, kissing sweetly.

By the time they separate, Harry's forgotten all about the stressful encounter. He's happy and loose. Louis fixes his fringe for him. "Want me to take you home?"

"Niall's, actually. Can't tell my mum that's where I've been without actually being there."

"What a good boy," Louis says jokingly, making Harry roll his eyes. "Not very practical, though. I've got a feeling you'll be telling her you're staying at Niall's very often." He squeezes Harry's arse for emphasis.

"Fine, I'm hoping not to see her until these fade a bit." He makes the crucial error of stretching his neck to show Louis what he means, which Louis uses to latch his lips to his skin again. He gets flustered, like Louis pressed a horniness button, and he has to shove Louis back and run down the stairs without looking at him.

Niall takes it a lot better than Zayn. But that's to be expected, since he doesn't actually see Harry and Louis together, and Harry gave him frequent updates throughout the day. Niall did the same during his own code red. Louis was a good sport about it, bless him, only whining a little when Harry interrupted round four to answer Niall's call and gush about Barbara's pussy for five minutes.

As soon as Niall opens the door, he gives Harry a good hug, and then hauls him to the basement where the spliff's already been rolled. They just watch Top Gear for a while instead of dishing, because Harry doesn't trust Niall to be respectful to Barbara and Niall doesn't really want to know all that Harry can tell him. They're really bloody awful company, as they keep texting, but it's nice just hanging out and being non-virgins together.

"S'your car, innit?" Niall suddenly asks through a mouthful of taco.

Harry's head snaps to the telly, where he finds Clarkson in a classic car that doesn't look anything like his Merc. "Maybe if it's a transformer."

"Why would a car transform into another car?" Niall wonders.

"I dunno, if it's going undercover. Like if you're a gangbanger."

Niall starts laughing hysterically, spraying salsa everywhere. "Your dad got you a gangbanging car?"

"Hey, I picked it," Harry corrects.

"Right, right. Hey, bro, do you, like, automatically get a license? Since you fucked your instructor?"

Fucked your instructor. It sounds so illicit. Harry loves it. He collapses and plants his head in Niall's lap. "I don't think so. But I could pass the test like, tomorrow, I've been driving a lot with my dad since I got my car and with Louis since I got my Louis."

"Of course." He threads his fingers through Harry's hair. It's nice. "Don't you have a lesson tomorrow though? Every Monday during the free period?"

"You remembered," Harry coos, smiling up. Niall's got food stuck in his braces, but he's still the best thing ever.

"Of course, B's got a free hour – oh Jesus, I actually fucked her."

Harry pets Niall's knee proudly. "You did. Twice."

"Amazing. How amazing are we?"

"The most," Harry agrees, turning to kiss Niall's hoodie. "Should I text Louis about the lesson?"

"You didn't already?"

"Nah, I've been texting Tom. Thinking about another tattoo."

"Yeah? Gonna get something actually hardcore this time?"

Harry mumbles noncommittally, thinking about Louis' pretty compass. Then about Louis' general prettiness. "I'm gonna text him."

"Alright, you didn't smoke that much."

Right, Harry's totally coherent.

*

It's been barely fourteen hours since he's seen Louis, but Harry's antsy when he's waiting for him outside the school. Alexa told him once that having sex releases, like, the hormone or whatever in women that creates feelings, and that's why they get attached to men and find it hard to separate sex from love. He doesn't know how legit it is, and it doesn't apply to him anyway because he's not a woman, but that's what he's thinking about right now. He should text Gemma, maybe, tell her what's going on.

He straightens up when he hears a car approaching, and suddenly his heart's in his throat. It feels like they haven't had a lesson in forever, but Harry's still got marks on him from what they were up to just yesterday. He gulps, rooted to the spot from nerves. He hasn't spoken to Louis since the mortifying texts he sent him while high. Last time they said goodbye, he lost Louis for a week.

It's definitely not the substitute instructor, though. Louis' the one getting out of the car. He takes off his sunglasses slowly, like a fucking movie star, and then gives Harry a bright grin. Harry's instantly soothed. It looks like Louis' about to approach him, maybe sweep him off his feet, but then he makes the trip to the passenger seat and nods his head for Harry to get in the car.

Harry walks to the driver's seat so fast he stumbles. "Hi," he starts, but he sounds breathless and weird, so he clears his throat and says in his normal, morbid pitch, "Hey."

Louis' still smiling wide. "Hi. How are you?"

"Disappointed," Harry blurts.

Louis frowns. "Why?"

"I spent a whole day naked with you and now you're wearing clothes." Jeans. Probably with pants under them. They're lovely and tight, but would look better pooled around his ankles. Harry should stop staring at Louis' lap.

Louis must agree. "Harold, unless I literally fucked your brains out, we start the lesson by starting the car."

So Harry does. Getting them away from the school feels paramount, especially when Louis throws a casual hand over his seat and tangles his fingers in Harry's hair. "Did you make it home alright?"

He bites his lip, embarrassed. "Yeah. Parents didn't catch me. My dad saw me this morning though, thought me and Niall got into a fistfight. I'm, um. Sorry for the texts. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It's alright, you knobhead," Louis says, scratching his head pleasantly. "Turned me on."

Harry glances at him. "Yeah?"

Louis nods, and gives Harry an obvious onceover. "Turned on just looking at you."

Harry's hands tighten on the wheel. The wonderful thing about this is that it's not just sexual frustration talking. They're not there anymore. It's out in the open, how much they're into each other. Harry could just park somewhere deserted and they'll fuck in the backseat.

It was inevitable, probably.

It takes them fifteen minutes to find themselves making out in the backseat. They're in a random car park and they put up the sun shade on the windshield, so they're mostly well-hidden, except for the part where they're in a car outside in the middle of the day. Harry can only hope Louis' getting off on that as much as he is.

He's got his back to the door with Louis sitting between his legs and kissing him hard, hands buried in his hair. Harry can't stop touching him, moving from Louis' hips to his arms to his soft hair, but it's not nearly enough, Louis' treating him too heatedly for it to be enough. So he pulls back and tugs off Louis' T-shirt. His hands immediately go to his chest tattoo, tracing it and fluttering over his nipples.

He goes to shrug off his blazer, but Louis stops him with a harsh tug on his hair. "Want me to fuck you?" he asks quietly.

Harry nods, doesn't even have to think about it. He's rewarded by a delighted smile from Louis. "I want the blazer on. Let's get rid of the pants though." He moves back a seat and opens Harry's belt buckle, the heel of his hand grazing his cock probably on purpose. He's almost embarrassed by how hard he is just from kissing, but he still lifts his arse up for Louis to pull his pants off.

It probably looks weird, that he's naked from the waist down and Louis' naked from the waist up, but it doesn't stop them from throwing themselves at each other again. Harry bends his knee and rests his leg against the backrest while the other one is planted on the floor, so Louis' got room to settle between his thighs and press up against him.

He gasps when Louis' hands bypass his cock entirely to drift lower, brushing and scratching his still sore inner thighs. Harry doesn't even notice pushing up into the touch, until his arse is in the air and Louis gets both hands on it, kneading and squeezing. He's kissing his neck now, licking a long stripe from his shoulder to his jaw and then nipping along that trail.

Harry feels as graceless as usual touching Louis, like his hands are awkwardly big on his hot skin, but he can't stop. Louis feels too good, close like this, the way his heart beats hard, the way his back is arching into Harry's hand. Suddenly he realises that the warm puffs of air on his neck aren't Louis teasing him, but laughing.

"What?" he asks absentmindedly, still busy running his hands all over Louis' back.

Louis drops his forehead to Harry's shoulder. "The radio. Quite a mood-killer."

When they started fooling around it was Top 40 background noise, but it must have cut off at some point because now they're making out to the sexy notes of a Heinz ad. It's unacceptable. "I should switch it, I don't want it to get into my subconscious. Imagine getting hard whenever you think of ketchup."

Louis leans back just to give Harry an incredulous look. "You do talk some shit, Harry."

Harry flaps his hand toward the radio. "Next it's gonna be cleaning agents!"

"Go on then." He lays off Harry but sits down in the middle seat. The car isn't that big, to lean over to the front seat he'll need to – Christ, Louis' smirking at him.

Harry swings his leg over Louis and squeezes himself between the front seats to reach the stereo, painfully aware of the fact he's got his bare arse right in front of Louis' face. Louis doesn't touch him, might not even be looking. Only, a particular noise reaches Harry's ears. Unzipping. He freezes, but Louis clicks his tongue at him. "Just play the CD. I might have nicked your sexy disc."

Right, okay. Harry can ignore Louis' face near his arse, he can ignore Louis getting a hand on his dick, he can ignore imminent bumfuckery. What he can't ignore is when he presses the button and Perrie Edwards' high note from track eight pierces the car. He gets a fucking heart attack. "When did you manage to change it from my mix back to Salute?"

"Harry." He can't decipher his tone, his ears still ringing.

He turns the volume down considerably. "Like, I know it's for Zayn's sake, but – fuck – " He slumps between the seats when he feels Louis' slicked finger prodding between his cheeks. "Lou."

"Harry. Waving it in my face. Should get a slap for keeping me waiting." He pushes his fingertip inside and Harry's back arches, his shoulder blades popping with how he's cramped between the seats. He goes to retreat to the backseat, but Louis shoves his finger in all the way and slaps Harry's arse, more loud than hard, startles him into sagging forward again. "Change the CD, love. Yours is in the glovebox."

God. He has to stretch to reach there, twist around. He doesn't intentionally move his hips back, but then Louis' mouth meets one of his arsecheeks and Harry can't breathe. Louis keeps moving his finger slowly in and out, and Harry would be totally cool with it if Louis weren't sinking his teeth into his arse and making pleased little noises.

He needs... He knows what he needs. He changes the bloody CDs and doesn't bother turning up the volume before he grinds back on Louis' hand, his mouth. In a second they're both gone, though, leaving Harry gasping into his own arm and suspended over Louis' lap. He just wants to sink down and take him in, wants to feel Louis again.

"Facing me," Louis says gently, putting a hand on his hip. "I wanna see you. So lovely."

Harry bites his lip and somehow manoeuvres himself to turn around. His only way of getting it is to ride Louis, so he climbs over his lap and straddles him, knees tucked against the backrests, feet planted against the front seats for leverage. Louis leans up to kiss him, which isn't helping the breathing thing, and then slips two fingers inside him. Which makes him jump and bang his head hard against the roof.

They freeze, staring at each other for a moment, and then Harry says, "Motherfucker, that hurt", and they both burst out laughing. Louis shushes him and rubs his free hand over the top of Harry's head, soothing the pain slightly. "You are an idiot," Louis claims, even while playing with his hair.

"Whatever, you like it." He rocks back against Louis' fingers, which are still inside him. His back arches, but there's no room for it, he has to keep himself under control for this. For Louis. "Can we – "

"Yeah, another sec," Louis rushes to say, slamming his fingers into him and spreading him. It's startling, how the small space makes his voice sound louder even with the music. How his moaning for it is so obvious. He bites his lip but keeps grinding until Louis finally says it's enough and puts a condom on.

Harry sinks down slowly on his cock. There's no other choice, there's absolutely no room for movement. He does manage to bang his head on the roof five more times, but he accepts that because he's got Louis' cock opening him up and he couldn't ask for more. Once he's fully... seated, he tries to bounce up and take some of the pressure off, but Louis' hands tighten on his hips. "Hold still," he asks. Says. Instructs.

Harry squirms, but he manages. There's no slipping this time, or changing positions midway. Harry has to stay in place so he won't give himself a concussion, and Louis' just in so deep, can only give it to him in short little thrusts. Harry bows his head and grips the back of the seats, clenches down when Louis uses his leverage to snap his hips up.

"Fuck," Harry whispers. "Feels so good." They can only grind on each other, torturously slow, so Louis goes from deep to deeper. It makes the motion impossibly continuous, like Harry'll always feel this full, and he's so okay with that. Every time he rolls forward for relief, his cock rubs up against Louis' abs, catching on his own shirt, but that's really all the friction he gets because Louis' got a bruising hold on his hips.

Louis' hands drift up his sides then, sneaking under his shirt and pulling it up until it's caught under his armpits. The rough fabric of the blazer against his bare skin feels weirdly good, but he'd probably say that about anything right now, sitting on Louis' cock. But Louis had a plan, apparently. He leans forward and wraps his lips around one of Harry's nipples, flicking the hard nub with his tongue.

Harry feels the jolt straight to his cock, and has to bite down high on Louis' neck. Louis pays him right back by scraping his nipple with his teeth, and Harry's hips stutter over him, nudging him just right. He curses again and removes his hand from the seats to wrap them in Louis' soft, long hair. He doesn't dare push his face closer to him, but Louis must get the message because he bites him harder. The subtle pain feels electric, like it's just fuelling the pleasure he gets from Louis' cock buried in him. And he has to just take it, because there's no room to move away. Because they're in a car, in public, in the middle of the day, in his school's neighbourhood.

It's like Louis remembers that at the same time. He rocks his hips up harder, grinding right against his spot and making him bounce a little. He lets go of Harry's sore nipple, but makes it up to him by wrapping a hand tight around his cock. He pumps him fast, in a shocking contrast to the slow push of his hips, and it feels so good Harry could scream. He bangs his head on the roof again but barely even notices, it just makes him dizzier. Louis talking dirty certainly doesn't help. "Better hurry up and make Daddy come before someone catches us."

Jesus, Louis calling himself daddy makes heat shoot up Harry's spine, makes him bear down harder. Louis lets out a moan, blowing over his sensitive nipple. "You'd like that? Someone seeing how good you're riding me?"

"Daddy," Harry breathes, grinding faster against him. He's desperate to get off, can't stand the slow drag of Louis' cock or the hot-fast strokes of his hand. "Yeah, fuck, yeah."

It all comes down to Louis twisting his nipple hard with his free hand and whispering, "Want them to know how you're pleasing Daddy?"

He comes hard into Louis' fist, grinding into him so there isn't an inch of space between their bodies and Louis' hand is squeezed between their bellies. He wants him even closer, hugs him with his legs and clenches tight around his cock, until Louis' frantic hips freeze up and he grabs Harry's arse with two hands, spreading him wide for a last thrust before he comes.

He stays in his lap for a long time, trying to catch his breath after Louis slips out of him and chucks the condom somewhere. "That was great," Louis says, his voice still rough.

Harry just nods weakly. "Yeah. You might say... delightful."

Louis stops petting his hair abruptly. He's clearly comedically inferior. "Get it? Afternoon delight?" Louis' still silent. Harry sighs. "Just let me have this, I still can't get over the fact I'm a person that has quickies in the backseats of cars now."

"Sure, babe," Louis concedes, and finally goes back to playing with his curls. "You really like that, don't you?"

"The hair thing? Of course, I feel like a cat. And everybody – "

"Wants to be a cat, don't even say it. But no, I meant the getting fucked thing."

Harry shivers, like a very delayed aftershock. "Guess I do. Is that... not normal?"

"It's lovely," Louis says quickly, kissing his ear. "I've just never... had someone like you. I don't like it that much."

"Oh." Harry's suddenly overwhelmed with mental images of Louis getting fucked, spreading his marvellous arse and squatting over Harry's big cock like Harry is right now. Christ. It's hot, but Harry finds it stressful for some reason, like it'll be too much responsibility. (Like, what if they did it and he couldn't make Louis come? He'd be mortified.) They should probably master this first. He thinks they're well on their way.

Louis pushes Harry back against the front seats and kisses him before he can protest about his aching thighs. He makes Harry spread his arms and then rolls his shirt back down, like he's trying to make him appear more proper. Harry feels oddly groomed. Louis obviously had an agenda. "Oh, look, it's all dirty."

Harry looks down at his clean, albeit sweaty, white shirt in confusion. "No it's not, what – "

And then Louis slaps his come-covered hand over Harry's chest and rubs it around. Harry just. Can't believe it. "You're a little shit, did you know?"

"I've been told, yes," Louis agrees, smirking at him wildly. "Take off your blazer."

Harry widens his eyes. "Don't mess up the blazer, I'd have to ask my mum how to clean it – "

"I'm not messing with the posh blazer, just take it off so you can change shirts."

Harry quirks an eyebrow. "Into what?"

Louis grabs his own discarded T-shirt and waggles his eyebrows. Harry shakes his head, but shrugs the blazer off dutifully. "You're the worst. People will notice I changed shirts in the middle of the day. And it doesn't go with the blazer at all."

"Aw, poor baby," Louis ribs him, pulling off Harry's T-shirt and dressing him up in his black band shirt. "His boyfriend forcing him to wear his clothes because he thinks it's hot."

Well, if it's like that. Harry stretches the shirt over his shoulders and puts the blazer back on. He doesn't think it looks too bad. Sort of rock 'n roll. What a punk schoolboy he is, wearing band shirts and skipping class to fuck his boyfriend. "Alright. I guess I approve."

"Good." Louis leans over to give him another kiss, and then slaps his arse again. Thank god he swallowed the weird sound Harry made at the sharp contact. "C'mon, we're gonna run late. Get your pants on."

It's weird to wriggle back into his clothes in the cramped space, even after Louis hops out of the car to make room. It's weird because he's still sore, still feels vaguely full. He just wants a nap.

When he collapses back in the driver's seat, Louis' already sprawled in the passenger side, wearing a hoodie with probably nothing under it. There's a bright red mark on his neck, which Harry's definitely pleased about. They pull down the sun shade together, and Harry sighs when sunlight floods the car.

"You seem disappointed," Louis comments after a moment. "Is it the clothes thing again?"

"No, I just thought the windows would steam up, like in Titanic."

Louis laughs. "I think in Titanic it steamed up because they were near the coal room. It depends on like, the insulation or air conditioning or if we're smoking."

"Oh. We'll have to try again, then," he decides. When he goes to open the windows and air out the car, Louis stops him. Harry quirks an eyebrow. "It smells like sex, don't you have another lesson?"

Louis shakes his head. "No, gotta go to uni. But you have another lesson."

Shit, he's right. He'll have to sneak to the gym somehow and take a shower.

Or maybe he won't. Maybe he'll go back to class like nothing happened, sit through chem smelling like sweat and sex, like he just called his boyfriend daddy and got fucked in the backseat of his car.

"Start the car," Louis reminds him. Harry shakes his head and starts driving.

When they finally reach the school, Harry's ten minutes late to chem, but he's reluctant to get out. It takes Louis kissing him to get him to unfasten the seatbelt. "Go on already. Call me later."

Alright. That's a plan. Harry can do plans. "Do I, um. I should pay you for the lesson."

Louis laughs, shaking his head. "Not a rent boy yet. You don't have to pay me for fucking you."

"But I did drive. I can't not pay you because you fucked me." It makes sense.

"Fine, pay me for the twenty minutes and book the fucking test already, you know you'll pass."

Harry shrugs awkwardly. Robin actually already booked the test for him when they bought the car, so he's only got a couple of weeks to wait. "Wanted to keep seeing you."

Louis rolls his eyes. "You will, dumbfuck. I told you we're doing this. Pass the test and I'll take you to a pub myself."

Harry stops searching for his phone and gives Louis a hard look. And then kisses the living daylights out of him.

*

Harry passes the test on the first try. He's so happy he actually hugs his examiner and thanks her for five minutes, making her drop the tough act and smile at him. When he comes home, both his parents are there with congratulation streamers and strawberry shortcake. He might be crying for joy. Niall swings by in the afternoon and insists Harry drive him around for an hour. It's so weird doing it without Louis, but hey, Harry passed his test on the first try, he must be qualified to do it.

They're just starting the trip back home when Louis finally texts him. Not that he's been waiting, but he totally was. "Read it to me," Harry asks, slurping on the ice cream Niall's holding in front of his mouth while he drives. Expertly.

Niall stuffs the rest of his tortilla in his mouth so he has a free hand to pull Harry's phone out of his pocket, giving him a good grope for his trouble. Harry glares at him but Niall is, as always, unrepentant. "It's from Louis New Instructor," he informs him.

"I know. I sensed it."

Niall snorts. "Can I change his contact name, since he's not your instructor anymore?"

"Sure. I trust you," he adds pointedly.

Niall beams. Harry only peeks at his phone, like, twice. He's totally trusting. Niall's never failed him, bundle of joy that he is. "Alright, new text from Louis BF emoji emoji." That's fine. That's lovely. "Sorry, was at class all day. Congratulations exclamation mark."

"Send him a smiley. But an emoji, not a creepy colon-parentheses." He's totally ready for his English final.

"I can't find an emoji for your face right now. I'll just write grinning into ice cream like a knob."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Aw, he's sending back x's."

Harry licks some more ice cream to contain himself. "How many?"

"Three. Proud of you."

"For not choking on ice cream?" Harry asks, furrowing his brow.

Niall shoves ice cream into his nose. This was a terrible decision. "No, that's what he wrote. X x x, proud of you." He bursts out laughing so suddenly Harry's leg jumps on the gas pedal. Niall doesn't even apologise, tries to explain through his laughter, "He says he hopes you didn't have to seduce the examiner too. He's funny!"

Harry likes how approving Niall sounds, even though it's at his expense. "He is. And I didn't. Tell him what happened between me and the examiner is private."

"Won't that annoy him?" he asks, but starts typing anyway.

Harry doesn't know how to explain that he's just trying to rile him up. "Let's see."

"Oh, he's already typing. Ha, he says at least he knows who you'll be celebrating with. D'you think he'll come to terms with how you'll always love me more than him?"

Harry laughs and takes a bite of his cone. His whole face is a sticky mess, but he loves ice cream and he loves Niall and he loves driving, so. "I don't think he meant celebrating with you, mate. Tell him – "

"Wait, he's still typing. He says and how. Did you make plans or summa – oh, he's explaining, wait. I'm gonna spread – Jesus Christ," Niall exclaims, dropping the phone between his knees and making a show of wiping his hand. Harry nearly chokes at the look on his face. "H, don't ever involve me in your celebrations again."

"He's gonna spread Jesus Christ? I didn't know he was religious."

Niall shakes his head violently. "That was unnecessarily graphic."

"Was it? Someone stopped before the good stuff."

Niall's a little red in the face, it's adorable. "Fine, I'll read you more, but I have to wipe your face, you look ridiculous."

Before he can do either, Harry's phone starts ringing. Niall picks it up reluctantly, and Harry sneaks a glance down to the screen. Louis BF peach emoji banana emoji. "Oh my god, Niall, I trusted you."

"What, it's funny. D'you want me to answer?"

"Yeah, put it on speaker."

Niall throws the rest of the ice cream in the bag and accepts the call. "Hi Louis this is Niall, I'm with Harry, you're on speaker," he starts, very loudly.

Louis' laugh sounds lovely even on the phone, how amazing. "Hi Niall, Hi Harold."

Harold? Niall mouths to him. Harry just shrugs, smiling to himself dumbly. "Hey Lou."

"Are you driving?"

"Yup. I passed my test. Did you hear?"

Niall and Louis snort at the same time. "Yeah, I got your thirty texts. It doesn't mean you should distract yourself while driving."

"You're the one who called," Harry points out.

"Well, I just wanted to congratulate you. And ask if you wanted to get together tonight."

Niall clears his throat obnoxiously. Harry bites his lip. He sounds very chill when he says, "Yeah, sure, I guess. The pub I wanted with the open mic?"

"Actually, there's a nice place a little more... private? There's still an open mic, don't worry."

"Oh. Like... out of the way?"

"Yeah, exactly."

Harry's stomach sinks a little. "It's not like anyone at the pub will tell my mum, you know."

Louis sighs. "Harry, I'm getting a certificate to teach teenagers. I can't be caught fucking one, it'll look bad."

He knows it makes sense, but still, a little hurt creeps up his chest. Before he can reply, Niall pipes up. "Wey hey, Louis, I heard you like footie! Which club do you support?"

If Louis notices Niall's overt save, he doesn't say. "Hey, Niall, yeah, I'm for Man U, of course. Harry tells me you're a Derby lad?"

"We might get promoted this year, we're having a great season," Niall boasts. "Unlike some, I suppose."

"Watch it," Harry and Louis warn at the same time. "You're not even in our league," Harry whines for what must be the hundredth time.

"Relax, bros," Niall laughs. "You win some, you lose some."

"You're alright, Niall," Louis says, smile clear in his voice. "And at least you're not for City."

"What, support the scum of the Earth?" Niall gasps dramatically. Harry pats him on the back. He's taught him well.

"We'll make a proper Cheshire lad out of you yet."

Harry tunes out the conversation then, concentrating on the intersection. Louis says he'll talk to him later just when Harry reaches Niall's house. He stops the car but keeps a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. Niall nudges his shoulder lightly, and Harry immediately whirls on him. "Do you think I'm being dumb about this?"

"I think there's no way I'm stepping into that. You know me, free-spirit, no-judgment Nialler. Unless we're talking about eating fruit you found in random places, because once is too many times, Harry."

Harry pouts. "It was just an orange, the peel is there to protect it from harm. Just... help me think about this."

Niall sighs like Harry's forcing him to put nail polish on him again. "I think maybe it doesn't really matter where you go? And seeing the state of your neck, I doubt you actually left the bed since you hooked up three weeks ago, so it'll be your first date, innit? Think about that."

Oh. His stomach twists with a wave of nerves so intense he thinks he's going to throw up or piss himself. "That's exciting, right?"

"Chill out," Niall says, reading him perfectly. "You'll go out for a couple of hours, get pissed, and then go home and do whatever you do. I can join if you think it'll be awkward."

Harry just pulls him into a tight hug.

As soon as he gets home, he calls Louis to apologise, and then spends the next few hours obsessing over his hair and clothes. At some point, he just gives up and sends Louis pictures, asking him to choose. Of course Louis' less than helpful. 'Naked please.'

Eventually he goes for a red button-down rolled up to his elbows and his tightest jeans, which aren't really that tight at all. Maybe he should finally invest in nice fuck-me jeans. Not that Louis won't fuck him in these, but. He wants to make an effort. He decides to leave the blazer behind, since the point is to look older. Fluffing his hair into submission takes more time, but that Harry's sure is worth it. Anything that will encourage Louis to run his fingers through his hair.

He can only sigh dramatically when Louis pulls up outside his house and steps out. Those are tight jeans, hugging his perfect thighs and perfect arse perfectly. There's also the situation where he's wearing Harry's Ramones shirt. It's slightly big on him, dipping past his collarbones, and it's Harry's favourite shirt. He doesn't even remember leaving it at Louis' place, but he'll be happy to never wear it again if it'll hang off Louis like that. There's also his perfectly trimmed scruff, and his shaggy hair is styled in a swooping thing instead of the usual spiky fringe.

His biggest problem with all these things isn't that he's overwhelmed, but that he's seconds from dropping to his knees right here in the driveway and calling him Daddy. "I can't believe how much time I spent on my outfit and you're just shitting all over it with your face," he blurts, accusatory.

Louis throws his head back and laughs, making his hair bounce around a bit. Harry's throat is bone-dry. "I've got a fancier shirt if you think it's inappropriate – "

"No, nope, you're good," Harry says quickly, and shoves Louis to the passenger seat. For a moment he's tempted to just sit in his lap and close the door, but they're a bit too close to home. So he rounds the car to the driver's seat. And then turns and kisses Louis, deep and dirty. "Looks better on you," he mumbles.

"Your shirt or you?" Louis asks, rubbing his scruff all over Harry's jaw.

"Stop that. Won't be able to sing with a dick in my mouth."

"You stop touching me, then."

Ugh, right. Harry untangles his fingers from Louis' long hair and kisses his lips one last time before starting the car. "You look really good," he clarifies.

"You too, babe. It's so great you passed the test, congrats."

Harry nearly forgot about that. He looks over to thank Louis, but stops short when he notices that Louis' folded his legs over the seat. It could be a trust thing, showing him he won't use dual control pedals, since it's officially not a lesson. It could also just be a horrifyingly cute thing, Louis folding himself up and leaning his scruffy chin on his knees. "You're horrifying. Where am I even driving?"

Louis responds by spreading his knees wide, knocking one against the door handle and one against the gear. He looks open and relaxed and amused, and his hands come to rest on his thighs, and Louis should really stop touching himself if he expects Harry not to. He should set an example. He's a teacher. "Start by pulling it out. The car. Out of the driveway."

The place is really out of the way, but Harry's being Zen about it. The long drive allows him to brag about his ace driving test, and Louis' still being cute with his legs and his dumb anecdotes. The place itself is really nice, a cosy little pub mostly dominated by a stage. The place Harry knows is basically a shitty karaoke joint, but this is, like, for serious artists. "How did you find this place?" Harry asks, charmed by every little thing. Starting with Louis wrapping an arm around his waist without hesitation.

"Me and Zayn used to play here. Well, I played, he sang."

Oh. It suddenly hits Harry that Louis being a grown man isn't so much an obstacle as it is endlessly fascinating. There's so much for Harry to learn about him, and he wants to know it all. "Were you in a band?"

"Not really," Louis says quickly. "Just something we did to blow off steam when we first started uni. It was his idea, really, I went along with it because I was high most of the time. Zayn, though. Voice like an angel."

Harry doesn't know what to address. First started uni, because Louis already started and finished Harry's oncoming nightmare, and is now wrapping up a bloody postgrad course. Wow. Also, got high a lot, that's worth investigating. Also, voice like an angel. Fuck. Harry's suddenly grateful they're in the middle of nowhere, because singing on this stage will surely be different from singing in the back room of the bakery. Harry hopes he'll be able to deliver.

"Let's start with drinks," he decides, nervous. "What do you want?"

Louis smiles at him mischievously. "Shouldn't I get them? What makes you think you'll get service?"

Harry shakes out his hair and flutters his lashes. "I can get drinks, Lou."

Louis' face hardens instantly. "You sit down where I can see you. I'm getting beers."

"Alright," he agrees, giggling. Harry grabs them a table for two near the stage and makes sure there's a candle on it. He's going to ace this date. Super romantic.

Louis comes back with two pints, and of course the first thing he notices is the candle. "Really?"

Harry grins at him. "Candles are very calming. I have a collection of scented candles at home. Cinnamon."

"Calming?" Louis asks, then takes a swig of his beer. When he puts the glass back down, he runs his damp fingers over the back of Harry's hand, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. "Are you nervous? You don't have to go up and sing, you know."

"No, it's not that." He's excited about that, loves singing. Instead of explaining further, he takes a swig of his own beer, comforted by the smooth, bitter slide of it down his throat.

When he opens his eyes again Louis' got an eyebrow raised. "Are you nervous about, like. This?" He points between them.

Harry bites his lip and nods. Louis turns Harry's hand and clasps their fingers together, then leans forward, careful of the candle. "You really shouldn't be, it's not an awkward first date. Think of every driving lesson as a mobile date." In a whisper, he adds, "I'd have to know you pretty well to lick you out like I did two nights ago."

"Suppose you're right," Harry says, totally not shuddering at the memory of Louis' wet tongue jabbing inside him. "This is different, though. Official."

Louis leans back in his seat with a nod. "Alright, let's do an official date thing. Ask me something about myself."

Harry smiles, remembering Louis first introducing himself so long ago. He relaxes a bit (totally thanks to the candle, it's got nothing to do with the smile Louis' giving him). "You said you went to uni with Zayn. What'd you study?"

"Drama, of course," he answers, swinging his head around. "Have you thought about what you want to study?"

"Nope. Rock stars don't study, Lewis." He waggles his finger at Louis for emphasis, and Louis knocks his hand aside before he burns himself on the candle. Thank god for Louis' life-saving instincts. It's probably what got him in the driving school. And might buy Harry a few more years on this Earth.

Niall's appointed two hours fly by with them just talking and drinking, Harry's nerves reduced to vague butterflies. Even when he doesn't have anything to say, he's content just looking at Louis, pretty and animated in the candlelight, always with a story to tell. He loves it.

The practice school's got Louis really excited. It's not Harry's school, much less posh. Louis dominates it, of course, made all the teachers and students fall in love with him on his first day of the Teacihng Practice phase of his course. "I guarantee they all wanna fuck you," Harry comments, sucking on his beer begrudgingly.

"There have been seduction attempts from one girl, a transfer from Manchester. What can you do when you're the hot young teacher?"

Wait. "Seriously?"

Louis shrugs. "Yeah, you know. Pushing up perky tits and asking for a personal touch. Bit tacky in my opinion."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I prefer the low-key version. Inviting me to a pool party of one or making me jealous of other men or forcing me to listen to sex songs."

Harry's pretty shocked. They never actually talk about what got them here, so Harry didn't know his failed attempts were the ones that broke Louis. "None of that was intentional."

"I'm sure it wasn't."

Harry glares at him until he gets a kiss. It's pretty effective.

The performers come and go, until suddenly someone drops by their table to tell Harry he's up next. He wasn't even aware of Louis signing him up. "Will you both be performing?" she asks, not even acknowledging their clasped hands.

Harry's so happy his heart feels like it's ready to burst. He squeezes Louis' hand. "I dunno," Louis says eventually.

She just nods kindly. "Well, you've got a fifteen minute slot. Do whatever you want."

Harry waits for her to leave before punching Louis' shoulder. "Fifteen minutes? What the fuck am I gonna do for fifteen minutes?"

"Relax, it's only three five-minute songs."

"Yeah, or five three-minute songs!"

Louis snorts. "Don't Arctic Monkeys songs have a four minute minimum?"

Harry hopes his delighted smile doesn't cover up his rising panic. "Why'd you think I'd perform Arctic Monkeys songs?"

"Because your voice is deeper than the Earth's crust and raspier than sandpaper?"

Harry really hopes his manic burst of laughter doesn't cover up his hysteria. "You just want me to sing something sexy."

"Obviously. Like an acoustic version of Do I Wanna Know."

Which brings up another problem. "Shit, I didn't bring Niall's guitar."

"Ask for someone to play for you then. Since you can get drinks, apparently."

"Is that a challenge?"

Louis shrugs, jutting his chin out.

Ten minutes later he's on the stage with a guitar player and a bass player. Louis can suck it. The place isn't packed, but twenty-five punters are more than enough to get Harry antsy. He likes the pressure, though, thrives on the unsuspecting eyes looking at him. He drags the stool to the edge of the stage and chooses to stand instead, dragging the mic stand between his knees.

"Heeey everyone. I'm Harry, and this is my first time here," he confesses, pasting on a sweet smile. His eyes automatically drift to Louis, who gives him a supportive thumbs-up. "So, um, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to perform, but my boyfriend asked for something sexy, so." A few people laugh, but Louis just rolls his eyes. No one cares that he has a boyfriend. No one knows how old he is. He shakes out his hands and nods to his players.

And then they start playing an acoustic version of a Christina Aguilera song. He chose it mostly for shock value, and as soon as people recognise what he's singing they clap and hoot. Harry smiles and drops his voice even lower, so the connection between his raspy baritone and Christina fucking Aguilera is even more flimsy. Louis' laughing his arse off in the front row, clapping helplessly, and Harry's ridiculously pleased with himself. "He had tattoos up and down his arm, there's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm."

Harry isn't inconsiderate, though. Per Louis' request, he did pick one of her suggestive songs. He's definitely not laughing when Harry fixes him with a heavy-lidded look and wraps his hands around the mic to sing slowly, "By now I'm getting all bothered and hot, when he kissed my mouth it really hit the spot. He had lips like sugarcane, good things come for boys who wait."

He feels high on the adrenaline and the cheering, confident enough to assume that Louis leaning forward and sucking his lip into his mouth means someone is getting bothered and hot. So he suppresses every urge to throw his hands up and dance like an "embarrassing dad dancing at a barbeque", and instead grinds on the mic stand shamelessly and moans for, "He's a one stop, got me hot, making my ah pop."

It's not the people whistling and reaffirming his potential as a rock star. It's Louis' jaw dropping and reaffirming his potential of getting fucked out of his mind tonight. That's what carries him through the song. He doesn't even look at anyone but Louis.

()

He's especially pleased with himself when it ends and the audience actually claps for a while, most of them stunned. Harry loves that no one expects a kid like him to have such a deep voice. He never expected to do what he just did to that violated mic stand. His cheeks ache from smiling and he can feel himself blushing furiously, from the rush and from the lights on him. He pops open a couple of buttons, smirking when someone actually wolf-whistles. "Well, was that sexy enough?" he asks, while the guitar-wielding angels behind him tune their instruments. He gets a loud yes. It might be the best night of his life.

The rest of his set is as Louis expected, Arctic Monkeys and Cage The Elephant. When he's being signalled to wrap it up, though, he feels that he needs to accomplish at least one romantic gesture. Twelve different love songs cross his mind at once, but looking at Louis right now, when he's smiling so hard his eyes crinkle, when he's all dressed up for Harry, when he's nodding proudly and making a ruckus, he knows that he shouldn't even think about the word love because he feels it so fiercely he might faint.

Fuck if he'll pass up an opportunity to be a sappy ridiculous idiot. He can't believe he even has such an opportunity. This place is bloody awesome. "For the last song, I'm gonna try to sing something special. The problem is that the song is quite fast and I'm quite slow, so we'll see how it goes. You'll bear with me, yeah?"

"Just play, Harold," a distinctive high-pitched voice yells.

"Alright love, I'm getting there." He waits for the players to nod, and then he looks back out at the audience. Then promptly looks down at his shoes. "So, to wrap this up, I'm gonna dedicate a song to my boy." His head snaps up when he hears a girl aw. He wants to move in here. "I know it's sappy as shit, but it's our song."

Louis looks on curiously. And then Harry sings a mellowed-out version of Salute.

He's basically the best date ever.

*

Harry thinks he's growing on Zayn. It's been a month and Harry's been spending at least two nights a week at his place, so if Harry hasn't grown on Zayn, it's got to be awkward as shit. Most of that time Zayn isn't even there, but when he is, he does tend to smile at Harry. They've chatted four whole times.

Zayn's really quite awesome. The first time they found themselves without supervision, Harry panicked and started talking to him about art, which went alright because Harry has many friends who know many things about many things, so he faked his way through it. Then the second time, Harry was making breakfast and Zayn shuffled in, wearing Marvel boxers and thick-rimmed glasses. Zayn was 80 percent asleep, so Harry hurried to pile eggs on his plate and then talked to him about comics, because that was something he actually knew about without six degrees of separation. Also, he was hoping to distract Zayn from the fact he was naked.

So after the revelation that Zayn is a huge geek, they got along swimmingly. Harry doesn't know if it's because Zayn pretends that Harry's twenty years old or if he's making a conscious effort for Louis' benefit, but either way, Harry's turning on the charm. In the form of food, mostly.

Anyway, all of this is to say that Harry's getting quite comfortable in Louis' place. Enough so that he's happily cuddling Louis in front of the telly with Zayn reading in the armchair. It's so cosy he's being lulled to sleep by Louis' clever fingers stroking his hair, and he snuggles closer into his chest. He can hear Louis and Zayn speaking softly, something about cats, but he tunes it out.

He's jolted awake by Louis kissing his neck. His eyes snap open and he looks around, but Zayn must have fucked off at some point, and it's just Louis crouching over him on the sofa. He smiles up sleepily and kisses Louis' answering grin. It's instinct, he could do it in his sleep by now. Louis kisses him back and stretches out so he's lying on top of him, hands over his chest. Harry's chest is his favourite place to be, he's said so on multiple occasions. Couch snogging sessions are the best, especially when Louis cuddles up to him and kisses all over his neck.

Harry wraps his arms around Louis' waist automatically, dipping his hands under his tank top and rubbing his smooth skin. "Where'd Zayn go?"

Louis sucks on his skin particularly hard and then lets up with a pop. "Went to his room. Said you were being too cute."

Harry giggles and scratches along Louis' spine. "I'm alright."

Louis nips along the column of his throat, scratching him with his beard. "You're more than alright, Harold. Get your top off, I wanna play with your nipples."

"Jesus." Harry heaves himself up and tugs off his T-shirt, throwing it somewhere unspecified. Louis laughs at his eagerness, but really, he's fully responsible for this. Harry didn't know how sensitive his nipples were until recently. It's unfair that Louis uses it to his advantage. Harry kisses him hard just to shut him up, and Louis shoves him against the armrest and grinds his hips down, his cock obviously tenting his boxers.

Louis pulls on his hair to tilt his head back, and then trails bruising kisses down his neck, between his collarbones, until finally reaching his pecs. Harry spreads his legs so he's got his cock against Louis' stomach. A rush flows through him when Louis licks over his nipple, then rubs it to hardness between his fingers.

It's just. God, it's just... Harry wouldn't even feel it if he weren't turned on, if Louis weren't digging his nails in or using his teeth. Without this sharp feeling, the hurt, that turns him on even more. Louis swirls over his nipple with his tongue and teases the other one with his hand, rubbing and pinching. Every time something clamps over him, Louis' teeth or lips or nails, Harry's back arches into it and he lets out a tiny, breathless sound.

A noise.

It takes him a second to realise what he's just heard wasn't his own noise, nor Louis'. It was a door opening. Harry shrinks immediately, but Louis must not mind Zayn walking around the flat, because he scrapes his nipple with his teeth uninterrupted. Harry has to bite down on his lip to stay quiet, highly aware of Zayn's unknown whereabouts and highly... affected by it.

Louis starts sucking hard on the wet skin but he's not covering his sharp little teeth, something he'd never allow in a blowjob. It's just this side of too rough, and Harry loves it, stretches his body all out. He gasps when Louis suddenly lets go of both his nipples, staying close but not touching him. He pushes his chest up, but Louis keeps the exact maddening distance, just blowing air on the tight skin. "Please," he mumbles, not bothering to keep his voice down. Nothing matters but getting Louis' mouth on him again.

"Please what?" Louis asks in a harsh tone, keeping a heavy hand on Harry's sternum to stop him from squirming.

It's a good job, since as soon as Harry understands what Louis wants, he shudders and bites out, "Please, Daddy."

He jerks up and nearly headbutts Louis when they hear a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by Zayn cursing loudly. Louis bursts out laughing, completely distracted, but it's a bit harder for Harry to shake it off. He ends up kind of nuzzling Louis' neck and repeating to himself, "Please, please, don't stop, please."

So Louis helps pull him up from the sofa and drags him to the bedroom to finish what he started.

Harry wakes up from his nap alone. He's disoriented for a second, cold, until he realises he's at Louis' flat and it's already dark. He should probably drive home soon. He thinks it's his second or third night here in a row. Something (well, someone) always convinces him to stay. His mum is probably getting worried. Ever since they watched Breaking Bad together, she's been sure he's one poor decision away from cooking meth.

He stretches his arms up until he can grip the headboard, his back muscles popping like he's seventeen going on seventy. By the time he finds his pants and phone, Louis' still nowhere to be found. He resigns himself to looking for kisses instead of just getting them like a normal person.

He opens the closet door to peek at the full-length mirror, just to make sure he got all the come out of his hair, and then sneaks out of the room. A cold breeze hits his skin, and it's only a second before he realises why: the balcony screen doors are open. Zayn must be outside smoking. Harry's about to duck into the kitchen and make some tea when he finally hears Louis, also outside.

A crossroads. He should probably make his cuppa and leave, or turn back to the bedroom, or. Tiptoe to the balcony and eavesdrop. No, he mustn't. He was raised better than that. It's dumb and childish and wrong. He resolutely turns to the kitchen to brew three cuppas and make up for even considering –

And then he hears his name. Lovely. The kitchen has windows facing the balcony. Harry just can't win morality points here.

"It's not an issue," he hears Louis press. If he looked outside he'd see his silhouette, leaning over the railing and sharing a smoke with Zayn. "It's just something that came up and we both liked. He's a good lad. Nice little body."

It's not hard to guess what they're discussing. Harry should probably go. "Right," Zayn says, sounding doubtful. "What else does he like?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. I'm a gentleman."

Harry rolls his eyes, the way Zayn should be doing right now. "Fine, whatever."

There's a pause, either because they're taking a drag or because they've exhausted the topic. Harry wrings his hands and even turns around, but then Louis adds, "He's proper hung, though."

"Yeah?"

"Massive. Bigger than Liam, even."

"Shit, even limp?"

He can practically hear Louis' smirk when he says, "I've never seen it limp."

Which is a lie, it's such a lie, Harry has so much self-control. He can't believe this slander. And it continues. "Fuck, Tommo. Did his jailbait dick hurt going in?"

"That is wildly inappropriate. And he hasn't fucked me yet."

Yet. Harry has so much self-control he totally doesn't blank out just to wrap his head around the concept of fucking Louis. He doesn't.

Zayn makes a surprised noise. "He calls you daddy and he hasn't fucked you yet?"

"We're working up to – you know what, it's none of your business," Louis snaps.

"Harry Styles is the only thing you've been talking about for months, you can't just shut me out because you got to the sexy bits."

So basically Harry's standing around in the kitchen and smiling like an idiot, unabashedly eavesdropping on Louis and his best friend talking about him. He is truly corrupted. He'll be cooking meth in no time.

"Well, then no, he hasn't fucked me yet because I think it might be a big deal for him and..." he trails off, and Harry hears glass clinking, probably one of them putting down a beer bottle.

"Hey, babes, it's alright," Zayn says softly, and something twists in Harry's chest.

"I just. I want so much with him, all the time, but I'm his first and only, like. I don't wanna freak him out. I'd die if I hurt him."

Harry feels his stomach drop. Thank god for Zayn. "I don't think you're taking more than he wants to give you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Lou. For one, he looks at you like you hung the bloody moon. And for another, he's got you wrapped around his little finger."

Louis sighs loudly. "That's the worst part, I think. I'm like a schoolboy crush to him, but to me he's – I just – "

Harry has half a mind to leap through the window and drape himself over Louis' lap and kiss his stupid gorgeous face.

"Come on. If what happened with Liam taught me anything, it's that sometimes you get it right the first time, and sometimes you don't get it right at all."

"So you're saying I could do worse?"

"No – well, yeah actually, anyone willing to waste their youth and charm on a twat like you is a keeper – but I meant that you just have to let it be. It might blow over, but it might be more than a crush."

In what universe does Harry have crushes? He might be young, but now he's at the age when he knows what he needs, and Louis' it. He doesn't think there's anything schoolboyish about this (when they don't roleplay, at least). He should probably tell Louis. After the eavesdropping session is over.

"He's great, though, isn't he?" Louis asks suddenly. Harry perks up. "He's so sweet and nice and delighted by everything, but he's cheeky too, and sexy, Christ."

Well, Harry's definitely delighted now. He never considered himself to be particularly sexy, definitely not since acquiring Louis Tomlinson as a boyfriend, but he must have done something right to earn said acquisition.

"Bro, stop, you're getting sappy. Go wake him up with a blowjob or something."

Harry stumbles back to bed so fast there's probably a cartoonish dust cloud forming behind him.

*

Contrary to what Louis might believe, Harry does actually go to school. He wouldn't be spending so much time with his arse up if he didn't get good grades. He still gets his shit done, preparing for exams and working at the bakery and babysitting for everyone. Right now he's being an exemplary student, poring over textbooks with Niall in his bedroom. He automatically goes to text that to Louis, but then remembers that he and Niall put each other's phones down their pants to actually get some work done.

"Fuck, I keep rereading the same words," Niall whines, burying himself in Harry's beanbag chair. He doesn't even remember why he has a beanbag chair, but he'll probably never get rid of it. It's nice. Purple. "I wish we could smoke up."

"But we can't, that's the whole point of doing this here. To focus," Harry reminds him, throwing a paper airplane at his head. It was a strategic mistake, seeing as Niall throws it right back at him. Harry makes it easy; his head is resting on Niall's stomach.

"Right, of course. Just because you're done with GSCEs and one whole year away from A Levels doesn't mean you should slack off. I just don't understand teachers. If we don't slack off in May of year twelve when the fuck are we gonna slack off?"

Harry can't even argue with that. "Who cares, it's half-term soon. I'm gonna do nothing."

"As if, you're gonna be knee-deep in cock when your parents fly off to Majorca or wherever it is this year."

"Jamaica," Harry corrects. And actually, he hadn't thought about that. His parents always go on vacation for their anniversary, but up until last year he always had Gemma around to take care of him. Now she's in New York and he's old enough to have the house all to himself. And Louis, maybe. Wow. "Jesus, you're right."

"When am I not?" Niall asks, petting Harry's hair.

As if she was activated by them talking about her, his mum knocks on the door, like, sixteen times, and then comes in with his laundry. She gives them a long look, and Harry wants to offer her to join them on his fantastic beanbag chair, but he will never forget the year Niall spent lusting after her. Best to keep them apart.

"Alright, sweetheart?" she asks finally, piling up his clothes on the bed.

"Yeah, just doing a bit of homework," Harry says, waving his textbook around. "D'you need help with the laundry?"

"No, it's fine," she says quickly, still looking at them weirdly. "I understand."

Harry raises an eyebrow, but before he can ask her what that meant, she whirls around and leaves the room. Instead of closing the door behind her, she opens it even farther.

"The fuck was that?" Harry asks, thoroughly confused.

Niall starts laughing uproariously, bouncing Harry's head until he has to sit up and glare at him. "What?"

"She thinks – oh Jesus, she thinks I'm your boyfriend!"

Harry stares from Niall to the door and back again. Oh god.

It's not that hilarious to him, he must admit. Because his first instinct is to run after her and explain, but what will he say? I'm actually dating Louis Tomlinson, you know, the driving instructor eight years older than me? He can't say shit about Louis. After the tenth time he'd avoided telling her about "this mystery boy", she stopped asking and he just sank into this whirlpool of avoidance and lies. He hates lying to anyone, let alone his mum.

Despite the fact he can't tell her the truth, after Niall leaves he makes sure to hang out with her and make dinner together. He tells her about school and where he's been driving, and she tells him Gemma stories. And if it's a bit awkward, Harry guesses he'll just have to accept it. And if he gets a bit weepy when she asks him if he'll be sleeping home tonight, no one has to know.

The problem is that he loves his mum. He'll do anything for her and Gemma. It's like his whole teenage rebellion has skipped the "hate your family" phase right to fucking his driving instructor. And it's hard, keeping something so huge from her.

"It's just the fact it's a secret, innit?" he says quietly when he talks to Louis on the phone, late that night. "It's frustrating."

"I know, love, it's hard for me too," Louis replies softly. "Sure you don't wanna come over?"

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for cancelling, I just couldn't do it to her after today, y'know?"

"Of course, don't worry about it. I know I can't keep you stashed away all the time."

Harry snuggles into his blanket. He's used to wrapping himself around Louis, it's pretty weird just talking to him in bed without feeling him. "Maybe this weekend we could go to that pub again? With the open mic?" Where I could call you my boyfriend and sing to you?

"How about I do you one better and we stay in?"

"Lewis, we always stay in, you just said – "

"I meant, have Zayn and Perrie over. Like a double date. But casual, where we watch telly and dick around."

Harry smiles into his pillow. "And be boyfriends?"

"Yeah. Lazy boyfriends."

"I'd love that. But leave the food to me, please."

Louis snorts. "My desperate housewife. You realise I'm twenty-five, yeah? I can make dinner. Like, chicken. And stuff."

"Chicken and stuff doesn't sound like something I'd put on a menu."

"I'll stuff you if you don't stop mocking me. You can be in charge of dessert."

Harry huffs. "Deal."

"See? All you have to do is cooperate."

I love you.

Fuck. He shoots upright in bed, heart pounding. He nearly just said it. Why did his brain just say it, casual as anything? Should he say it? After overhearing Louis' insecurities maybe it's what Louis needs to hear, but Harry's shit scared to say it. He needs to stop being awake. "Um, do we do it on Thursday?"

"Can't, class. We'll do it on Friday, and then you could spend the night."

"Sounds good," he mutters.

Louis' instantly onto it. "You alright there?"

"Yeah, of course, why not?"

"You sound weird. Are you making the frog face or the sad face?"

Oh my god. He settles back down in the bed, shoves his face in the pillow petulantly. "Neither, shut up."

"Alright. Are you tired?"

"Not really." He was, before the minor heart attack. But if Louis suggests he come over again –

"Wanna wank together?"

"Um. On the phone?"

Louis laughs, but it's low-pitched, suggests maybe he's already started without him. The rush of adrenaline from the earlier panic is turning into something different altogether. He doesn't wait for Louis to answer his dumb question before he says, "Alright, I'm in. How?"

So Louis explains. At length.

Until this moment, when he's grinding on three fingers and rubbing his cock on spilled lube, fucking into the mattress, it hasn't fully hit Harry how gone he is for Louis. He sort of already learnt how much power Louis has over him when he fingered himself for the first time and came as soon as he heard Louis' voice. But this is something else entirely, this is Louis panting in his ear and fucking his fist so hard Harry can hear his fucking balls slapping against him. This is Louis telling him how hard Harry makes him, because he can't show him. Whispering dirty things, how he's fucking Harry from behind right now, keeping him pinned down and not letting him up. It's so vivid in his head, the way Louis would grip him around the wrists so tightly it'd bruise, the way he might push his face into the mattress and –

Fuck, Harry comes holding his own breath, and he'd feel like a fucking perverted weirdo if he didn't have Louis still in his ear telling him how beautiful and special he is, or if he couldn't remember the soft touches Louis gives him whenever he needs them. He grabs some tissues to clean himself and then curls up in his blanket, completely drained.

"Should tide you over until Friday, don't you think?"

Harry mumbles something completely incoherent into the phone, clumsy fingers already hovering over End Call. "Maybe," he manages to drawl.

"Go to sleep, baby. Text me tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, love you," he mumbles, mostly to himself, and passes out without another thought.

*

"Puppy!" Harry exclaims, completely shocked.

He spent all day obsessing over the double date, what he should make and what he should wear and what he should say, but no scenario prepared him for opening the door to Perrie Edwards holding a tiny doggie. Harry's a cat person through and through, but only hopeless cynics can ignore a fluffy tiny doggie held by a gorgeous woman. To think his biggest worry was what to do with his hair. Even a quiff was considered, but eventually he let the riot of curls stay, so it doesn't seem like he's trying too hard.

"Yeah," she says, smiling wide at Harry. It's probably just an automatic response to Harry's puppy grin, but it's lovely. "This is Hatchi."

"Hi," Harry tells them both excitedly. "I'm Harry."

Hatchi barks at him. He's adorable, even if Harry's kind of scared of petting him.

In comes the hopeless cynic. "Darling, you brought the fucking dog?" Louis yells from the kitchen door, slightly muffled by the oven mitt in his mouth.

Hatchi yelps excitedly and scrambles from Perrie's hands, running so fast to Louis his tiny little paws slip on the floor. He jumps up Louis' leg and keeps barking until Louis sighs and leans down. Harry can only stare helplessly when Louis picks up the tiny puppy and cradles him in his arms, burying his face in his soft fur.

"Cute, innit?" Perrie asks with a grin, elbowing Harry and finally making it past the doorway. "Hatchi's in love with Louis."

"You are, aren't you?" Louis asks in a baby voice, grinning wide at the panting dog. "Everyone's in love with Louis, aren't they?"

Of course he looks up at Harry, the bastard. Harry rolls his eyes pointedly and closes the door behind Zayn when he finally comes in after his fiancée. "Hey mate," Zayn says to Harry with a warm smile, and immediately runs up to hug Louis and his dog, as if he hadn't just seen Louis this morning when they strategized dinner.

"I hope you're not allergic or something, we couldn't leave him with anyone. He's an adorable little shit," Perrie says, drawing Harry's attention back to her. Right. Conversation. It's happening. Double date.

"It's okay, really. I grew up with two cats. How old is he?"

"Oh, just six months. Please tell me that's younger than you?"

Harry bursts out laughing, surprised. He thought they'd have to skirt around the subject all night, but apparently Perrie's direct. He likes that. "Promise I'm legal."

"Good," she says, petting his shoulder. "Wouldn't want Tommo in jail. He likes to think he's too posh for it." She mouths the word Yorkshire and Harry decides he's in love.

They all converge in the kitchen to check on dinner, and Harry's slightly surprised to find himself in an easy conversation with Perrie. Not that it should have been surprising, she's funny and sarcastic and bullshit-free. Harry already loves someone like that.

"You know, I was going to audition for X Factor last year," he tells her while sneaking some sauce for her to taste, right from the pot.

"Yeah? Why didn't you?"

"Got cold feet, I guess. I probably wouldn't have gotten in," he admits.

Louis nudges his shoulder suddenly, wrapping an arm around his waist. There's red sauce all over his lips and chin. He's really the least subtle person ever. Harry's mum would have had his head for eating from the pot, let alone not covering his tracks.

Apparently he's been listening in on Harry and Perrie. "Are you kidding? Of course you would've gotten in. I told you you're gonna be a rock star." To Perrie he says, "He's got a great voice."

"You have to say that," Harry counters, getting embarrassed. Who the fuck is he to talk to Perrie Edwards about great voices?

"Shut up," Louis says, pinching his hip. "We go to open mic nights every other week. He sings to me."

"Aw, that's cute," Perrie says, ruffling Harry's hair. "What do you sing? I Got You Babe?"

"Actually, I sang Little Mix the first time," he says proudly. She looks like she's waiting for an explanation, so Harry goes for broke. "It's sort of our snogging music? Because it's the only thing Louis' car plays?"

"Oh my god, you're shameless," she says, clapping her hands. "Let's go to the living room and set the table, I wanna hear all about it."

Harry wouldn't say he charms her pants off, but he does keep track of the number of times he makes her smile, and they're well into the double digits. He just has fun, drinking beer and talking about him and Louis like it's all a cute anecdote and not some illicit affair. She tells him about being a singer and life on the road, and Harry laps it up. When Zayn and Louis join them it only gets better, because they bring funny stories out of each other, and Harry just lets himself be entertained without feeling excluded.

There's only one instance where it gets significantly awkward, when Hatchi paws at Perrie's knees and she pushes him away and says, "Mummy's eating now, go to Daddy," and Louis perks up. He and Harry stare at each other wide-eyed, until Zayn starts laughing hysterically and Perrie demands to know what's so funny. Thank god, no one tells her.

They're all fairly buzzed by the time Harry brings out his gorgeous spotted dick. He announces the dessert as such, not surprised at all when everyone giggles like schoolchildren. It's his favourite thing to make. "See, it's both pudding and a joke!"

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls Harry down next to him, almost in his lap. "Put your dick in my mouth, then."

Harry dutifully feeds him a piece of pudding. Louis gives his fingers a friendly nip, so Harry's morally obligated to lean in and kiss him sweetly.

"Oi, knock it off. I want some of Harry's dick too," Perrie interrupts loudly, making Harry laugh into Louis' mouth. He cuts up more slices and passes them around, accepts various creative compliments on his delicious dick.

Just as intended, it's the perfect ice-breaker. And they say Harry can't tell a joke.

It gets a bit weird from there, though. Because kissing Louis once makes Harry want to kiss him again, lean into him more, but as soon as they finish dessert Louis goes to Zayn's side and they talk about whatever Louis and Zayn talk about. Perrie tries to engage Harry in conversation about travel again, but this time Harry can't focus on her, keeps glancing over at Louis and Zayn huddled together.

He tries to remind himself that the possessive streak is Louis' thing, that it's Louis' dumb thing. It doesn't help. When Zayn puts a causal hand up Louis' thigh and makes him laugh, not even an overexcited puppy in Harry's lap can diffuse his death glare. He holds Hatchi carefully when he moves to sit on Louis' other side, touching his thigh casually for attention.

He thinks Louis doesn't notice at first, as he just pets the dog's head and keeps chatting with Zayn about some cartoon they watch. Knocking his knee against Louis' doesn't seem to have an effect either, but then Harry notices a smirk creeping across Louis' face, even as he leans closer to Zayn. He's doing it on purpose.

Harry digs his nails into Louis' thigh and that seems to do it. "We'd better clear the dishes," Louis says suddenly, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention and startling the dog. Harry apologises to Hatchi on his behalf and kisses his head. Louis' a dick. Harry should just take the puppy and leave. "Harold?" Louis asks, halfway to the kitchen.

Harry instantly puts the dog on the sofa and trails after Louis.

"What's up?" Louis asks as soon as Harry corners him against the sink.

"He keeps touching you," Harry whispers, and pulls Louis against him smoothly so he can get both hands on his arse.

Louis has the audacity to roll his eyes. "Yeah, but like. It's Zayn. We've been mates since school, it doesn't mean anything. No need for the laser eyes."

Harry just pouts. Louis rolls his eyes again and tugs his own shirt collar to the side, exposing the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Harry stares at his tan skin and actively wants. "Go on then," Louis says, Adam's apple bobbing.

"What?" Harry asks, distracted.

"Do what you wanted to do," Louis clarifies.

So Harry pins him against the sink and sucks on his neck for so long it bruises purple and his lips are tingling. When he looks at it after, looks at Louis' flushed face, he gets why Louis likes it so much. It's interesting.

He's smug as all fuck when they walk back out, and Perrie and Zayn wordlessly make room for them on the couch. Harry pulls Louis right to his lap and hugs his middle. He knows it's obnoxious and rude, but Zayn just rolls his eyes and Perrie talks to him like nothing happened, so it's probably alright.

An hour later, after they leave with hugs and kisses, the first thing Harry does is high-five Louis emphatically for a date well done. Then they take off their shirts and change to sweatpants (no underwear, of course. They're there), before finally lying down on the sofa as usual. They've been together all day – like, Louis even fucked him fast before Zayn and Perrie came over – but Harry feels relieved just to have Louis all over him, and all to himself.

He knows Louis sympathises, can feel it in the way he kisses Harry for a long time.

"It feels like that went well," Harry comments, lying on his side with Louis pressed to his front.

"It did. I'm very proud."

Oh. Sounds like Louis wants to play. Harry's definitely game. He stretches up to give Louis the option of kissing his neck. "I didn't embarrass myself?"

"No. The polite, innocent princess routine works for you."

Harry isn't sure how he feels about being called a princess. He tries to take it in a positive context. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty like one?"

"No." Before Harry can protest, Louis adds, "You are much prettier. With your big eyes and dimples."

"And you like that?" He knows he's pushing it, but they never talk about what Louis likes. Somehow it's always about what Harry wants and what Louis is willing to give him.

"Yeah." He finally takes Harry up on the silent offer and kisses his neck, gently, not leaving a bruise for once. "I like that I'm the only one who knows how obscene you are. Anyone could think you're still a twinky virgin, with your preppy clothes and sunny smile." He's still just barely fluttering his lips over Harry's skin, a painful contrast to what his words are doing to him. His hand, though, drifts down from Harry's side to his arse, still sore and tingly despite the soothing lotion Louis has used. "They couldn't know how you begged me to spank you a little when I fucked you earlier."

Harry just makes a needy noise and starts rubbing his hard dick over Louis' stomach. He's always hard around Louis, it's probably unhealthy. Louis doesn't stop him for now.

"Maybe Zayn knows, though. Whenever he sees you around the flat, you look fucked out of your mind." Christ. Harry grinds harder, and Louis' hand dips under his waistband to scratch the still-raw skin of his arse. "You like that? Zayn knowing that your lips are red and puffy because you always try to get them around my cock? That your pretty eyes get glassy and unfocused after we play? How stunningly messy your hair looks after one of us pulls on it when we fuck?"

Harry can only gasp when Louis slips a finger between his cheeks, just brushing over his rim before taking his hand away completely and making Harry's body sag. "Please, Daddy."

"Answer me."

"I do, I like it, I want him to know how good you make me feel."

Thank god, Louis goes back to petting him. He also keeps talking, which is frankly devastating. "That's why you don't like wearing clothes around the house, baby? You want him to see how much I like leaving marks all over your body?"

Harry nods, already sweating. "It's also – I always want you to put more on me. Wanna give you the option."

"Greedy boy. Bet you'd let me put a collar on you."

Oh god. Oh fucking god. The tip of Louis' finger dips inside him dry and Harry can't breathe. "Would you, Daddy?"

"Maybe. It'll have to be as pretty as you. But it'll keep me from kissing your neck."

"But you could – " His whole body sways into Louis when he twists his finger. He's playing him. Harry's hand scrambles down Louis' spine to pull on his sweats, just to get them down to his thighs, just to see him. "You could tug on it, you could tug it back when you're fucking me from behind or tug it down when you want me on my knees or – ah – "

Louis' fucking in and out of him now, still dry and burning and fucking teasing. "Jesus, you'll wear it everywhere, won't you?"

He thinks they're looking at it differently – Harry's into the physical aspect of having something snug constantly around his throat and making it hard to breathe, while Louis' much more into the symbolism of collaring and claiming Harry, and maybe they're both insane but at least they have each other.

It's getting to be too much, Louis touching him and talking to him like that, turning him on so much he gets a headrush. Mustering all his willpower, he dislodges Louis' arm and then tugs his own sweats down to his thighs and turns over carefully, so he's pressed to Louis back to front. It must feel as precarious to Louis as it does to him, because his arm wraps around Harry again lightning-fast to keep him from falling to the floor.

It leaves him plastered to Louis' body, leaves him breathless when he feels Louis' hard cock against his arse. He's so needy for it he trembles, like his body's twisting in knots, trying to take Louis before he's even in. They're so close Louis could just – oh, oh, Harry wants that. He licks all over his own palm until it's nice and wet and then reaches around and gropes for Louis' cock.

Louis makes a low hum behind him and ruts up into Harry's hand. The force of it just has him knocking against his arse, and Harry feels like he's burning, feverish with how much he wants him inside, bare, wants them to be close and connected with nothing between. He stops pumping Louis and instead takes hold of him and aims by feel.

Suddenly, a strong hand stops his, and Louis bites his shoulder viciously to get his attention. "What are you doing?" Louis asks harshly.

The disapproval in his voice makes Harry whine, bury his face in Louis' bicep under him. "Need you," is all he can say. "You fucked me before they – I'm ready, I know I'm ready – "

"Harry, breathe with me," Louis interrupts him, splaying his hand over Harry's chest.

Harry tries to focus on his hands, his words, his puffing cool breaths on Harry's nape. It helps a little, tones it down, but Harry still feels an itch. "Green, green, I promise, fuck me Daddy."

"I'm not fucking you dry, and I'm not fucking you raw. I told you already. Let's go to the bedroom."

And Harry thinks, no. He doesn't want it like the other times. He wants to feel Louis inside him now, however he can get it. So he rolls off the sofa to the floor, but before Louis gets to his feet, Harry stops him and crawls between his legs. Louis freezes, and Harry takes the moment to breathe deep again. It doesn't really help this time. He's kneeling for Louis, his cock heavy and obvious, curving toward his belly. He feels so hot it's like he doesn't know what to do with it.

That's what Louis' good at, though. He hooks a finger under Harry's chin and lifts his face up. "Hands behind your back and lean forward," he instructs, his voice calm and his face expressionless and everything Harry wants.

He clasps his own wrists together and curls over the sofa. Louis makes no effort to move closer to him, just looks. There's something about this, though, Harry having to strain for it, stretch for it. Once he gets Louis in his mouth he sucks him deep, doesn't waste a moment to use all the tricks Louis' taught him and that he's taught himself. He's so relieved just to have him inside, it's absurd.

Louis moans for him and threads his fingers through his hair, pushing up just a little, nudging in in in. Harry grinds against the sofa and has to scratch his wrists to focus. It doesn't take Louis that long, though, not with Harry this determined. "Close, baby, you're so good for me," he says, but his hand only clenches in Harry's hair like he doesn't intend to let him up.

But this time, Harry wants him to. He's breathless and so hard it hurts and he wants Louis to come, but he wants it different, wants to feel it stay. He pulls off of Louis' cock but keeps hovering over it, not close enough to breathe on it but close enough. Louis gets the idea and starts pumping his cock to finish off, but no, he gets his other hand to cover the head of his cock and catch –

Harry whines, and his hands still have to stay behind his back, so he can only shove his face down and bite Louis' knuckles, using his nose to move his hand away. Louis makes a frustrated noise and grabs Harry's face roughly, tilting it up again. His eyes are searching, but Harry just can't get himself to say it, doesn't know how to say come on my face, Daddy. So he just opens his mouth wide.

He can tell the moment it dawns on Louis, because his dark eyes widen and he curses loudly. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back down, just when Louis shoots his load.

Harry's brain whites out for a long time, feeling the warm spurts covering his lips and cheeks, over the bridge of his nose but miraculously not in his eyes. Well, not miraculously, Louis probably aimed. Louis does nothing if not deliver. Harry swallows what landed in his mouth and opens his eyes carefully. He looks up from Louis' spent cock to his face.

It's like they're both in shock, staring at each other, Louis flushed and come-dizzy and Harry with Louis drying on his face. Fuck, they've done some pretty weird shit before, and Harry found that the driving force behind it has always been, on some level, his need to please and to be praised for it afterward.

They've done some pretty weird shit but he's never felt more exquisite than in this moment, covered in come with Louis staring at him like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on. He gets every raw part of it, actually feels made beautiful, painted on by Louis, claimed again and again. He doesn't even need Louis to verbally praise him because he already knows.

"Fucking god," Louis says finally, voice rough and awed. "What was that for?"

Harry blinks up at him slowly, hazy and completely overwhelmed, like he's the one who's just come. He doesn't know what to say. It's hard to find words right now, thinks his brain might have gotten scrambled along the way. "Wanted it," he thinks. Says. "Wanted to feel you." No, no, that's not the right word at all. He scratches his wrists again desperately, and Louis' so tall like this, with Harry kneeling for him, having to crane his neck up to show him his messy face. "Wanted to feels yours."

Louis gulps, still staring in disbelief. "How does it feel?"

A bit like crying. But really, deeply, existentially satisfying. "Incredible."

Louis raises a hesitant hand, but leaves it hovering in front of Harry's face, like he's reluctant to disrupt whatever just happened. Eventually he breathes, "Baby."

It's like the trigger they both needed. Harry grinds against Louis' leg, touch me touch me touch me, and Louis launches himself at Harry, laying him out on the carpet carefully and sucking him off. He swallows around him when Harry comes two seconds later, thrown over the edge by Daddy's mouth on him and Daddy's come drying on his face, fuck fuck fuck, he comes so hard he doesn't think it'll ever stop.

In a way it doesn't. The spike of pleasure ends, but he's riding the high for a long while after, when Louis curls around him and holds him protectively, adoringly, whispers all kinds of loving things in his ear, like mine and mine and mine. He cleans him up painstakingly, still awestruck for some reason, and Harry can't help but preen. He feels taken care of and groomed and loved.

Even after Louis' done, Harry's skin still feels sticky and tingly, kind of tight. He licks his lips and the sides of his mouth, like he needs to make sure the feeling doesn't go away. He's drifting. Drifting out of his mind, drifting to the bedroom, drifting in Louis' arms, drifting to sleep.

Wonders how it'll feel like when Louis comes in him, rather than on him. How it'll feel when Louis cleans him up then.

*

It builds from there.

It's not that Harry's obsessed, but when he's after something, it's usually hard to persuade him otherwise. And this is something he's wanted for weeks, it's not like he's springing this on Louis when he sits in his lap and says, "I want you to fuck me bareback."

Louis blinks up at him and sets his beer aside. He hasn't even been drinking it for the past ten minutes, Harry just thought it would be hot to suck Louis off on the couch while Louis keeps watching footie and drinking. And it was hot. Harry's convinced that five seconds after coming in his mouth, Louis will surely see reason.

"What?" Louis asks, still a bit dazed.

Harry grinds against him and leans down to kiss him. "I want you to fuck me hard and fast and raw," he says in his ear.

Louis grunts, and then lets out an almost nervous laugh. "What porn have you been watching?"

Harry frowns at him, but before he can answer, Louis kisses him again and lifts his knees so Harry slides forward against him. It must be a tactic. Harry slides his hands to Louis' shoulders and pushes him back, nuzzling along his magnificent cheekbones. Louis sighs. "Why do you want it so much? It'll be messy."

Harry squeezes his legs around Louis. "Exactly. I want you to fill me up and then drip out of me." He closes his eyes for the rest, buries his face in Louis' neck. "I want you to make me dirty."

He's got more points, he can recite a whole barebacking manifest, but Louis suddenly lays him out across the sofa on his belly and kisses down his back, until he hitches Harry's hips up and eats him out eagerly. Harry has no idea what he did to deserve this particular treat, but his squirming and sobbing must be winning Louis over. Or at least getting him hard again.

Harry doesn't see or hear anything, too involved in his own heartbeat and desperate whines, but when Louis pulls his tongue out of him and straightens up, Harry looks over his shoulder with glassy eyes and sees that Louis' wanking furiously. Harry's legs spread for him in invitation, throat seized up like he'll never catch another breath, but instead of sliding into his spit-slicked hole, Louis wanks faster and faster and then comes all over Harry's arse and thighs.

Harry comes untouched when he feels it, keening and shoving his hips back like Louis might still fuck him. He doesn't, but Louis rubs his hands over Harry's arse, like he's rubbing the come into his skin. Harry feels so filthy he can't take it.

So yeah, talking Louis into it during sex turned out to be a losing battle. His next attempt is more fateful. Not that rimjobs aren't inherently fateful, but. Anyway, it's a couple of days later, in his car, when Louis drops him off at home after a date.

He thwarts Louis' kisses with a hand on his chest and a Serious Face. "Lou, can we talk?"

Louis huffs and rolls his eyes. "Is this about barebacking again?"

Wow, he actually sounds annoyed, like Harry's nagging him with this, what the fuck. "Whatever, nevermind," Harry scoffs and opens the door to escape.

"Wait, H, I'm sorry," Louis says immediately, grabbing Harry's hand with both of his. "I'm sorry, I'm listening."

Harry shakes him off, but he does stay in the car. He pierces Louis with a look. "Why won't you even talk about it? I just don't get what the big deal is."

Louis looks... defeated. Harry wants to fold immediately. "I told you we'll talk about it after I take the tests."

"But that was weeks ago," Harry reminds him, searching his face for whatever's really going on.

Louis doesn't give him anything. "Well, I had to push it back, you know school's keeping me busier right now."

It just sounds like an excuse. Harry knows the basis of this relationship is that he's so much younger than Louis, but he's never felt quite as young as he does right now. He just doesn't understand, and he hates feeling like he's throwing himself at Louis. Like, he doesn't, but he does when Louis isn't receptive. "Why don't you wanna have that with me? Am I – " A dark, nasty thought creeps up his mind. "Were – are you fucking someone else?"

Louis actually gasps in shock. He grabs Harry's face with both hands and looks deep into his eyes. He looks frantic and apologetic and disbelieving. "Of course I'm not, Harry, I haven't since I met you, let alone since we got together. Don't think about that again."

Harry feels a tiny bit lighter, but still like something's sinking in him. He lets Louis kiss him, sweet and loving but holding back, keeping something to himself.

When Harry leaves the car, he doesn't have an answer, but he's too tired to argue about it. He can't count what just happened as a big huge fight, so he couldn't have anticipated the fallout. Which is Louis ducking his calls. For, like, four days.

So they're officially fighting, somehow without even interacting, and it's bloody awful. Louis only ever punished him in bed, so what's happening right now means he's boyfriend-angry, not daddy-angry. (And he never thought he'd have to make that distinction in his first relationship, but Harry Styles was always meant for greatness.)

That's why Harry finally snaps. He hates that Louis' defence mechanism is to bury his head in the sand, he hates feeling this helpless, and he still doesn't even know what he did wrong. He won't cry this time. It's not on him. He spends their designated date night in Niall's basement with a spliff in his hand, and lets Niall text Louis 'you know what, fuck you' from his phone.

If he'd known that's what would break Louis, he would've done it the second Louis screened his call.

*

He doesn't even recognise Louis at first, since he's in the automatic car instead of the manual one. Embarrassingly enough, it's Niall that says, "Yo, you wouldn't happen to know the driver following us since we left school, would you?"

Harry turns to the road and, yeah, there's Louis. Hunched over the wheel so he can stare at Harry with puppy eyes. Harry frowns and considers ignoring him, but then Niall adds, "Look, I know he's a bastard, but it looks like he's a proper pedo right now, so either we make a run for it or you go hear what he has to say."

Harry pouts at Niall, but it's the I know you've got a point pout. "Fine. But if he pisses me off and I jump out of the car, it's on you to pick me up."

"I got your back, bro," Niall says, thumping his own chest.

Harry shakes his head and says his goodbyes.

He's still disgruntled about getting in the car, and shuts the door harder than necessary. It might feel petulant, but for once in this relationship he'd like not to feel self-conscious about his fucking age. It's Louis who's been dodging him like a child. Because of a condom.

"Hazza," Louis starts, but they're still close enough to the school that they can hear the bell ring, and a new wave of students spills from the gate. Louis backs out quickly and drives silently for a few minutes.

Harry caves. Of course he does. "What are you doing here?"

Louis lets out a breath and signals that he's about to pull over. They're on some side street that's deserted at this time of day, kids in school, parents at work. It feels like too random of a place for a big huge fight. Harry missed him too much for a big huge fight. Finally, Louis talks. "Open the glove compartment."

Harry shakes out his hair nervously, and does. A few papers slide out, and – it's a medical file. Oh. Results for Tomlinson, Louis.

So he finally got the tests done. Harry thumbs through them, not even reacting when he sees Louis' negative for everything. He folds the papers carefully and puts them away. "Well, congratulations."

Louis puts the car in park and turns to look at him. "Thanks."

It's weird, it's just weird to be fighting. Barring the crisis after Harry blew him the first time, they just clicked from the start. By now, it feels like they've been friends forever. Harry feels miserable. Louis looks miserable, bags under his eyes and dishevelled hair.

One of them has got to start. Harry sighs. "Are we going to talk about how you've been a complete tit about this?"

He still expects Louis to brush it off, so he's surprised when Louis puts a hand over his knee and says, "Yeah. So I should start with an apology. I shouldn't have strung you along like that, and the past few days were complete shit and it was all my fault. Do you at least believe that?"

Harry shrugs. He can see Louis' sorry, but he's still not decided how forgiving he feels. Louis forges on. "This – " He gestures to the test results. "Was a bit of a big deal for me. Like, what it means." There it is. Finally. "Because doing it raw is a relationship thing, a very big relationship thing. And you couldn't see that because you've never been in shit relationships, and of course I don't resent you for it, but I also couldn't explain it. Like, someone probably could, but I'm shit at this in general. So I just kind of panicked and I took it out on you and I'm sorry about that too."

Harry has no idea what to say to that. It wasn't what he thought Louis was going to say at fucking all. "I. We don't have to do it if it stresses you out this much."

"No, but I got over it!" Louis stresses, looking at him pleadingly. "This is a big relationship. I did it." Ridiculously, he points to the papers and looks at Harry, like he's waiting for Harry's approval for once. "Zayn had to kick my arse, mind you."

An uncontrollable smile spreads over Harry's face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, he said he keeps forgetting who the teenager in this relationship is, and that I should pull my head out of my arse and tell you about my feelings." He kept gesturing wildly, but at the last word he settles down and puts his hands back on Harry's knee. His eyes are wide and honest and beautiful. "So. This is me. With my feelings."

Harry instantly tangles their fingers together, can't take Louis looking so unsure. He should probably comment on the Feelings thing. "You mean Zayn didn't know you're the overgrown child here?"

Louis frowns and elbows Harry. It hurts, but it's the best, it's going back to normal. Or a semblance of it, at least, something Harry can manage when the word feelings is ringing in his ears and his heart's caught in his throat. Louis scoffs. "Are you quite finished?"

Most certainly not. "Like, he lives with you. He knows how much time you spend on the PlayStation. You need me to cook and clean for you. Last week you convinced me to spend a full hour drawing smiley faces on every pair of Vans in your flat. And I had to convince you not to order a life-sized functional Iron Man suit."

A tiny smile is starting to form on Louis' face. It's not the sunshine smile Harry's come to expect where he's concerned, but it's a start. "Are you just trying to prove you're boring and unworthy of my shenanigans?"

Please. "You have a van you call the Mystery Machine unironically. You still use Facebook – "

Louis elbows him again. "What's wrong with Facebook?"

Harry sighs. He could start to explain the virtues of Twitter and Instagram, but now he's alarmed by the thought of Louis erasing his Facebook account and all the gems within it. Like whole albums of Louis from when he was about Harry's age, twinky as all fuck and covered in cake on multiple occasions. Not that Harry wanked furiously to those pictures when he Facebook-stalked Louis months ago. "Nothing, love."

Louis looks impishly pleased. He flicks Harry's nipple casually and smiles wider. "Good. I am supposed to be the mature adult here, darling."

"Of course." Louis narrows his eyes at him like he knows he's being sarcastic. It's a weird thing to get hung up on, but Harry likes the fact Louis can read him. Harry's bright smile can conceal almost anything, but Louis... discerns. "Will the mature adult expand on the feelings-having?"

His hand drifts up to Harry's hair, like always, and his smile is warm and soothing and familiar. "Songs say it's okay to call it love, mate. You should know that, as a fellow mature adult."

It's a point he's trying to make. It's important. It's a relationship step, like having dinner with Zayn or fucking without a condom, which, holy shit, is going to happen, holy shit. Louis probably wasn't expecting the kind of kiss Harry ends up giving him, tongue and teeth and heat between them. He makes a surprised noise into Harry's mouth and then grabs Harry's hair more firmly, brings his other hand up to settle on his jaw. Harry won't relent, though, he hasn't kissed Louis in like, days, and Louis just said he loved him. He uses every trick he's got, subtly manoeuvring Louis closer, almost into his lap.

Harry only stops nipping Louis' lip when Louis' hand sneaks up his thigh, along the inseam of his jeans. Harry keeps their foreheads touching and tries to breathe. "Missed you," he mumbles. His hard-on probably says as much, but still.

"Me too," Louis says readily. "I love you quite a lot." Before Harry can say something sappy like I've been in love with you since the first time we sat in a car, Louis palms Harry's crotch and says, "You too, big guy."

Jesus. Louis just talked to his dick. And this is the man Harry's managed to trap in a loving relationship. It's disgusting. "We should have sex."

Louis just laughs while rubbing him over his jeans. "I'm not gonna fuck you raw in the backseat of my car."

"I don't need a bed of roses, Louis." He's going to pout. Louis won't be able to take it.

"Not because you're so delicate," Louis expands, mocking, but in the hot way. As in, he's rubbing Harry's cock and whispering in his ear. Everything is hot. "Because I'm going to make an absolute mess of you and I don't want you to have to clean the seats after."

He will, he will clean them with his fucking tongue if Louis tells him to. He's been thinking about this for a month, there's no need to be bashful about it. His hips snap up and into Louis' hand. "Take me home then."

Louis gives him a considering look, and then a kiss. "It's a fifteen-minute drive. Think you can keep from coming until then?"

"Why – " Louis grinds the heel of his hand down and Harry's breath hitches. He's going to jerk him off while driving. That's. Alright. "What a multitasker."

"Perks of fucking a driving instructor," Louis says, smirking.

"Knew that would come in handy." Harry pauses. When Louis doesn't instantly burst out laughing, he points to his lap. "Get it? Come in? Handy?"

"For fuck's sake." Louis even takes his hand away to cover his face in horror and despair. "You're unbelievable."

"Hey," Harry whines and grabs Louis' hand back. "Whatever, you're in mad love with me. Can we get back on track here?"

"Remind me?"

Like he can't feel how hard Harry is under his palm. Harry simply must lift Louis' hand to his mouth and kiss his fingers, teasing with little licks before slipping them past his lips, one at a time. He looks up through his lashes when he sucks on Louis' middle finger, tonguing at it until it's dripping.

Louis' nothing but serious now, staring at Harry intensely and inhaling sharply when Harry scrapes his teeth over his knuckles. After his pinky Harry licks circles on his palm, in a way that would have tickled him if he weren't turned on.

He knows Louis' more than wet enough for a handjob, but his fingers are just there and he's giving him such a dark look, it's like Harry has to wrap his tingling lips around two of his fingers and suck them into his mouth. He snakes his tongue between them and Louis parts them wide, stretching his mouth like – like he's scissoring him open. There's spit running down Harry's chin and he feels dirty, moans with it. Keeps thinking about Louis making an absolute mess of him.

"Stop," Louis instructs in a rough voice, and Harry immediately pulls off with a pop. "Get your cock out."

Oh. He thought Louis would ask him to spread his blazer over his lap or something, so he'd have something covering him, but the instruction never comes. Louis just starts the car with his dry hand and looks over at Harry with one eyebrow quirked. Waiting.

Harry looks outside at the deserted road and back at Louis. Still nothing. Of course, if he said he was uncomfortable, Louis would call the whole thing off, but the fact Louis expects him to just pull his cock out at 2 PM in the middle of the street, the fact he knows it makes Harry feel like his skin is burning – it's overwhelming on its own.

His dick is straining against his zipper now, and it's like he can already feel Louis' sticky wet fingers wrap around his length, getting him off where anyone who'd look through the window could see. Possibly getting caught doesn't concern Harry as much as coming too soon. Possibly getting caught is the reason Harry won't be able to hold off.

He makes a desperate noise and unbuckles his belt, much too loud in the tense silence of the car. Louis' proud smile makes him shiver, is all the encouragement he needs to unzip and pull his erection out through the opening in the front of his boxer briefs.

"Good, good boy," Louis praises him, drawing another noise out of Harry. He pulls out of the parking spot where they were vaguely hidden. It strikes Harry that if Louis doesn't intend on touching him soon, he'll just be completely exposed. His skin is burning. He's staring out the window unblinkingly, just waiting to catch someone's eye. He has to tuck his hands under his thighs to keep from touching himself.

The past few months can be summarised as "a whirlwind of Louis and horniness", but he's pretty sure this is the most aroused he's ever been without anything touching his dick. It could just be another aimless drive to Louis' flat, only he's sitting here with his hard cock out.

He's so worked up over it that when Louis finally trails his fingers along the curve of him, Harry outright moans, and Louis accelerates sharply and then brakes. "Shh, baby," Louis soothes. "If you want me to keep going you'll have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?"

Harry bites hard on his lower lip and nods, looking in Louis' eyes through the rearview mirror. Louis hums and then starts touching him again, almost painfully slow. He doesn't even wrap his hand around Harry proper, just flutters his fingers over him, pressing down along the thick vein from the base to the tip.

His first mistake is looking down at his lap and seeing himself, completely dressed other than his cock being loosely played with by Louis' delicate fingers. It looks so obscene Harry snaps his head up, and makes his second mistake – looking at Louis. His profile is as stunning as ever, cheekbones prominent and his blue eyes squinting at the sunlight. His flat hair is long enough to curl over his ear and Harry wants to bury his nose in it, the way he wants to bend over and blow him while he's driving, the way he wants to thrust up.

Louis would seem as cool as ever, if it weren't for how hard he's gripping the wheel, how his muscles flex when he steers with just one hand. Harry doesn't know what he's struggling with more, keeping quiet or keeping still. Somehow he manages, and Louis rewards him by rubbing faster with just two of his fingers.

This must be the most excruciating handjob of all times. Harry should probably thank him, since it's helping him stave off his orgasm, but no, he bloody shouldn't, because Louis chooses to finally wrap his wet hand around Harry and start pumping him only when they hit a red light and there's a car with random people lining up next to theirs. Harry throws his head back and snaps his hips up, but his eyes stay wide open, staring out like he's expecting the other driver to look over, daring her to turn her head just slightly and see Louis tearing him apart with just his hand.

She doesn't, not by the time the light turns green, but it almost doesn't matter. It's the possibility that has Harry shaking. The angle of Louis' strokes is awkward – usually Louis' either on top of him or draped over his back, not beside him – and obviously Louis has to at least partially focus on the road and, well, drive. But Harry's so close already, he just needs it tighter, faster, needs it like Louis means it.

"Lou," he gasps out, so quiet and broken Louis might not have heard it. He almost hopes Louis didn't, both because he was told to be quiet, and because he doesn't actually want Louis to give him what he needs. He likes this too much.

He did hear it. "Five more minutes, Harry. Be good for Daddy."

Harry whines, body twisting but trapped by the seat belt. Louis squeezes under the head of his cock and starts tugging faster, completely counterproductive. Harry shuts his eyes and closes his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palm in the vague hope that the tiny points of pain might distract him. It's even working, until Louis says proudly, "There you go. Want you to come just from my cock," making Harry's toes curl in his Converse.

He probably could, Christ. He could come untouched just from Louis kissing him right now, let alone fucking him without a condom for the first time. He lifts up to release his hands so he can bite on a knuckle, can't possibly trust himself to stay quiet. His lips are bitten raw, and chewing on his finger now feels fucking amazing, randomly sensitive. There's so much pressure building in his lower stomach, there's no way he could – he has to –

When Louis takes his hand away suddenly, Harry sort of wants to cry. He's desperate and horny and fucking up into air, has to shove three fingers into his mouth and bite down to stay quiet. Louis curling his fingers in Harry's hair and yanking isn't helping anything. It takes him a few seconds to register Louis saying, "We're here."

His eyes snap open and he reaches a wet, shaky hand to the door handle, almost opening it before Louis pulls his hair again in warning. "Baby, tuck first."

Never, not during his biology final, not even during his driver's test, has he been more careful than he is right now, when touching his cock for just long enough to tuck it back into his boxers. And not shooting his load. He zips up, but can't bring himself to buckle his belt, turns pleading eyes to Louis instead. "Daddy?"

Louis looks over at him for the first time since starting the car (probably not really, but Harry's been too busy losing his mind over a fucking handjob to notice), and Harry feels another rush of heat at how dark Louis' eyes are, how his cheeks are flushed and his lips are bitten-red. He's so beautiful, fuck. And then he smiles at Harry approvingly and leans in, close enough to kiss, and whispers, "Good enough. I'm so proud of you. Let's go up."

Harry sighs, unbelievably relieved, and somehow manages to unbuckle his seat belt and stumble out of the car. He actually gets a headrush when he stands on his feet. Louis' right there to steady him, though, with a small hand on his hip.

Their first stop is the shower, and Harry finds himself completely useless, just leaning against the wall and letting Louis kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. He loves it when Louis showers him, takes care of him like that, because it's like he's peeling off the layers of school and home and anywhere Harry's been that Louis hasn't.

He melts under his touch when Louis starts washing his hair with one hand and grabs his bum with the other. "Won't be this clean for long," Louis whispers, words echoing in the shower. Harry nods weakly and spreads his legs, nearly smacking his head against the wall when Louis rubs one finger between his cheeks and presses it against his rim.

Louis lets up before really thrusting in and Harry just makes a small noise, but he doesn't mind. Some time ago he must have crossed that line, where urgency melts into this achy buzz in his bones, where it doesn't matter when he comes, as long as Louis tells him it's okay to do it. Apparently now really is just about getting clean. And ravishing Harry's neck, because they haven't seen each other in days and it had an unfortunate effect on Harry's permanent lovebites.

He's just boneless when Louis attacks his throat and collarbones, sucking bright marks into the skin and biting all over him. Even when he's done with one and moves to the next, it's like Harry can still feel it throb because the hot water keeps running over his body. An extension of Louis, not that he needs one, with Louis' hands slip-sliding down his sides and shoulders and stomach and thighs.

Harry maybe hasn't breathed in a while. Louis bites his shoulder particularly viciously, and then gives him a sweet kiss on the lips and shoves him out of the shower. He wraps an old bathrobe around himself and hands Harry a towel. Before he can drape himself over Louis again, Louis holds up a hand, stilling him without even touching. "See that?" he asks, pointing to the beat-up Spiderman radio clock. Harry nods, confused. "I want you to dry off, and then play with yourself for five minutes. I'll be in the bedroom."

"Lou," Harry says before he can stop himself. He can't think of anything to say that won't be out of line, so he just angles his body toward Louis, hoping he'd see how hard he is – has been – and take pity on him. His fingers are drumming over his own legs, itching to touch Louis again. After getting so little and then so much, he feels a little lost without Louis in his arms.

Louis doesn't take pity on him. He arches an eyebrow, and fuck how he manages to look this aristocratic and authoritative and gorgeous when his long hair is sticking out in wet clumps. "Yes?"

Harry bites his lip and looks down at himself. "Five minutes."

"Good," Louis says, and leaves the room without even kissing him. Harry bites his lip harder, enough to hurt, and then turns to the clock to know when to start his count. His eyes catch on his reflection in the mirror, though, and he pauses. The bruises Louis left on him make a complete row, almost artful, all along his collarbones like Louis' chest piece. Harry walks his fingers from a pretty red one to a harsh purple one, weirdly awestruck. It's not that he's never obsessed over his... souvenirs before, but now is different. Now is after a week of deprivation. Now is after Louis told him he loved him. He thinks they mean more. He thinks he's going to have Louis' come doing much of the same soon.

He pinches himself hard then, digging into the mark at the hollow of his throat, slightly pressing on his windpipe. It gets a weird sound out of him, which bounces off the walls and startles him into action. He can do five minutes. Louis didn't specify what play meant, but Harry's got one goal in mind. He props one foot on the edge of the bathtub and sticks two fingers in his mouth, just enough to drool on them.

There's only so much he can do without lube, but he manages to get one finger inside without falling over and cracking his skull, so that's a success. He grabs the metal towel rack hard with his free hand and starts moving back, riding his finger a little. It burns, of course it does, he hasn't had anything in him for a while, but he loves it all the same. He remembers trying it for the first time and getting so technical, overthinking every twitch. Now he's come to associate this – anything – with Louis, he fingers himself and thinks about finishing what Louis started when he soaped him up, thinks about Louis waiting in the bedroom right now.

He tucks the tip of a second finger along with the first and hisses, tosses his head against the cool tile of the wall. He's grunting, might even be saying Louis' name, but he doesn't really register anything but the motion of his own fingers and the tight squeeze around them. He thrusts in and out, until his wrist hurts a bit but it won't matter once –

Oh, god, there it is. Harry moans loudly and squeezes his eyes shut, bearing down on his fingers to brush over his prostate again, and again, because he's gotten better at this, too, Louis had him practice. It's too rough but it's so fucking good, scratching the itch after a week. He twists his fingers around, spreading them apart at different angles, doing his best for Louis. Louis, Louis. It's like he suddenly feels the phantom touch of Louis' hand on his dick, an echo of his words from the car ride over here.

And it's so much, he has to grab his cock, has to get there, but Louis didn't tell him to come. He cracks an eye open and, thank god, it's just been five minutes. He pulls his fingers out carefully and then runs the towel over himself, praying that's dry enough. He's so hazy he just leaves the towel behind and wanders out of the bathroom with his hard cock out and his new lovebites on display. Even if Zayn were there, Harry wouldn't have noticed.

In the bedroom, Louis' stood facing the window. He's left the blinds partially open so some light gets in the room, and Harry sees that he's set one pillow by the headboard and one in the middle of the bed. He doesn't know what it means but he's sure Louis will tell him soon enough.

He closes the door behind him and Louis turns around. Of course his hair has dried artfully around his face. Harry just stands there and stares at his naked body and no one on planet Earth could blame him.

Louis' face doesn't give anything away, but that's how it usually starts. Harry needs to earn his smiles, touches, kisses, words. He waits for so long, Harry's heart is hammering in anticipation, his hands scratching his legs again. "Get on the bed, face down," Louis says finally.

Harry knows he's awkward with it, his cock bobbing and his arse fingered open, but it doesn't matter as soon as he lies down, his face buried in one pillow and his hips propped up by another. Heat curls up in his gut when he remembers the last time Louis had him like this, when he ate him out for so long there were tears staining this pillow.

He's almost relieved not to feel Louis' tongue this time, two slicked fingers instead, pushing into him smooth and fast. Harry turns his head to suck in a huge gulp of air, clenching around Louis. No matter how much practice he gets, he'll never compare to Louis' sure strokes, his clever hand. He doesn't need to think about it or look for anything, just has to lie here and take it. He trusts Louis completely. He's rewarded.

He feels it when Louis crouches over him, the heat of his body almost palpable against Harry's back. "Five minutes?" he asks, voice as steady as his hand. Harry's a complete wreck in comparison, shivering and hot and flushed. But that's what Louis does to him, takes him apart and always, always puts him back together.

"Yes," he manages to bite out.

Louis thrusts his fingers harder at that, makes Harry jerk up. "How many fingers?"

It's hard to – remember. Think with Louis giving it to him like this, fucking him fast. "Two."

He responds by adding a third finger of his own, and fuck, Harry loves how full he feels, the slick drag of Louis' fingers sending sparks up his spine. "Good. Going for four."

Harry barely has a second to twist his hands in the sheet before Louis slips in his little finger and drives them all in deep. A sound he doesn't even recognise escapes him – they've never made it this far before, and it's so much, stretching him almost like a cock, but so different, because there's one finger circling deep in him but another curving so the knuckle is right against his prostate. It's too tight a squeeze to move around or even thrust, so there's no relief, just this constant pressure that makes Harry writhe against the pillow.

Louis stays inside him, grinding unbearably slowly against his spot but not doing much else, even though Harry can feel him hovering over him. The wait is too overwhelming, Harry has to bury his face in the pillow and whine, but. He's good. He doesn't try to speak, doesn't even move his hips when he spreads his legs even more, to give Louis room to take him wherever he wants.

That's what breaks him. Harry's so relieved he sighs when he feels Louis kiss his nape, hears him start whispering, "Fuck, love, you feel so tight around me I'm almost glad I kept you empty for days." Satisfaction blooms in him at Louis' compliment, makes him even warmer. "Think I could keep them in when I fuck you? Stuff you full of my cock and my fingers? Bet it'll be easier after I come in you and get you all wet."

He gets a headrush just thinking about it, whines again and shoves his hips up, silently asking for more. Louis doesn't give him anything but whispers, and Harry's hands crawl up the bed to tangle in his own hair and pull hard, like a contrast to the slow push of Louis' fingers. Louis quickly smacks his hands away, and then smacks his arse for good measure, and fuck, Harry rocking his hips makes his fingers move inside him, a hard jab against his prostate. He's going out of his fucking mind with it, craving more, but Louis doesn't spank him again.

Then he pulls his fingers out altogether. Harry's whole body rolls with it, tries to follow, arse high in the air, but Louis doesn't even go near it, actually curves his body away. He does grab a fistful of his hair and yank up, breathing in his ear, "Mine. I give, you take. Get your hands behind your back and be good."

"Yes Daddy," Harry says instantly, ashamed that he let himself get like that. His hands fly back and he holds his wrists tight enough to bruise. This way he has absolutely no leverage, no choice but to take. It feels like... he's starting to drift again. Doesn't care about anything except Louis' next move. The angle of his neck makes it harder to breathe.

His muscles flex when Louis kisses his shoulder blade, then the other. "I love what this does to your back," Louis admits, voice softer than before, so Harry thinks he's pleased. He's so happy his toes curl. "Your muscles all bunched up. You're so strong, aren't you?"

Currently Harry feels like a stringless marionette, so he doesn't know what to say. "Weak for you."

"No," Louis corrects, but he keeps kissing him, down the knobs of his spine, so Harry figures he's still good. "Strong for me. Enough to show me what you want, enough to let go like this. I love you so much, Harry."

God. Harry squirms from pleasure, feels lighter than air. "Love you."

Louis bites his hipbone, lovingly, and then Harry feels the head of his cock at his entrance. He lets out a long, throaty sound, wants to cant his hips up, but digs his nails into his wrists and manages to stay still. Maybe as a reaction to that, or just a natural progression of things, Louis doesn't tease him anymore.

He pushes into him, slow and smooth, doesn't stop before Harry feels him bottom out. Feels his hips settle against him. Feels his cock, without a condom, feels him bare and fantastic and as close as physically possible, feels Louis' chest heave against his arms and back, feels so much he could scream. Louis' cursing in his ear, keeps a firm grip in his hair as he starts pumping his hips, small movements that drive Harry fucking insane.

Once he's got enough momentum, he pulls out almost the way and then slams his hips down, shoving Harry against the pillow. The sudden friction on his cock after ignoring it for so long hits him like lightning, and it's too much, he's too caught up – overwhelmed – he can't – "Daddy, I'm gonna – "

He can't say it, doesn't want to disappoint Louis, so he shakes his head instead, as much as he can when he's pressed against the pillow. Louis just grunts, like he can't say anything, and tightens his hold on Harry's hair. The pain only tingles now, like there's a direct link between his every nerve and his cock. Harry shakes his head again, and Louis yanks hard enough to actually stretch his neck back. He can only take in choked breaths, and he's getting dizzy-perfect, and he wants more. Harry has no idea if it's his subliminal messaging or Louis going off script, but the next time he pounds Harry's arse, he tilts his head back down and shoves it into the pillow.

It's only for seven seconds, but they might be the best fucking seven seconds of his life, feeling nothing but absolutely everything, breathless but needing air so much, when Louis fucks against his prostate and pulls on his hair, when Harry comes the hardest he ever has. The only thing keeping him from screaming is the pillow stuffed in his mouth, and the pillow stuffed in his mouth might be the very thing that makes him feel like screaming.

After seven seconds, Louis lets go of his hair and forcibly lifts his head. He stops fucking him altogether, just making sure that Harry's head is tilted again and he can pant freely and get some oxygen. Harry sees lights flashing and it's like his brain still hasn't kick-started properly, like his body won't recover. Maybe he'll be this high and giddy forever. There's something, though, that won't let – oh, it's Louis. The ringing in his ears finally subsides enough to hear him say, "Baby, colour. Colour right now."

"Neon green," he says without thinking, marvels at the drugged quality of his voice. Blissed-out. "Fucking wicked witch of the West."

Louis' laugh startles both of them, Louis because he was probably trying to be considerate and Harry because, fuck, Louis' still buried inside him and rocking just right. Not that right even means anything now. He's so overwhelmed he can't think what's so funny, can't think at all, and Louis fucking him through this has him whimpering. It's so much, it's too much, raw like this, Louis slamming against his prostate after he's just come his brains out. But it's perfect because of it.

Louis' hips snap fast, fucking him hard and winding him up again. Harry can't do much of anything in this position, considering he feels beyond sensitive and overworked, but Louis doesn't really need that much persuasion. It's only a few thrusts later that he comes, and Harry's floored by the feeling, the knowledge that Louis' coming inside him, filling him up. Louis' still thrusting weakly, even though his cock is softening and must be a bit sore from how tight Harry is, but something makes him keep going, punching soft little sounds out of Harry.

It takes him some time before he actually feels it. "Fucking god," he whispers, dreamy to his own ears. Louis' cock is pushing out some of his come, and Harry can feel it sliding down his balls and the backs of his thighs and it's completely unbelievable, he feels – outside of himself, feels disconnected from everything but where he's still connected to Louis.

He stays this way, because even after Louis pulls out of him he starts talking, telling Harry how fantastic that was. He sounds amazed and fascinated and pleased, so pleased with him, Harry thinks his heart is about to burst from his chest. "So messy now, all this come, all of me in my boy," he whispers, almost reverently, and Harry can't believe he was able to give this to Louis. "My beautiful boy, my good boy, all full of me."

Suddenly he feels Louis' thumb run through the come dripping out of him, fluttering around his sensitive rim, and it's so good he can't take it. He melts into the mattress, helpless not to let Louis' words, Louis' touches, wash all over him. Then there's – fuck, there's Louis' tongue, licking around his thumb, wet and persistent and tasting...

"Yours, yours, Daddy," Harry mumbles, no real intent behind it, just groans into the pillow and takes it, because he wants to be good.

Louis pushes his thumb into him, just twisting it around and keeping his mouth close, sucking bruises into his messy thighs. Harry still isn't prepared for Louis to replace his thumb with his tongue, pointed little jabs that make Harry whine into his sweat-soaked pillow. Harry feels something at a level he never has before, wrecked or taken over or control-free. He bends one knee so his legs are spread a little wider, because no matter how sensitive he feels, he never wants Louis to stop.

Louis helps him along by grabbing his knee and hitching his leg even higher on the mattress, licking even deeper into him. It's so intense he feels breathless again, feels this immense pressure that must mean, oh, he's hard again, he should tell, he should... he can't hold on to a single thought, everything reduced to Louis' tongue flicking over and inside him, to Louis eating out his own come and getting Harry all clean again.

He must be making helpless noises again, because Louis suddenly takes Harry's hands, still clasped obediently behind his back, and separates them. He puts one of Harry's hands on the bed and one he holds. Harry's so grateful he could cry – or maybe he already is. He squeezes Louis' hand hard, but it's not really enough, not when Louis' got his face buried in his arse. Harry tugs his hand up to his mouth and bites wetly at his knuckles, just to feel something, to sink his teeth in.

Louis' fingers dance over his lips, and then he slips two of them into his mouth, at the same time he slides two fingers alongside his fucking tongue and curls them deep. Harry comes again, untouched and fucked and messy and clean and whining and breathless and so completely Louis'.