Summary: Louis unwittingly makes fun of something Harry is insecure about.
Request (kind of) from Sraddamx
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It's beautiful. It's beautiful and simple yet elegant, and it feels silky smooth. The way it looks like it would hug any silhouette in the most flattering way makes Harry curious about what it would look like on him. The black silk dress is almost soft, and Harry thinks he would look hot in it. He slowly takes the dress off of the hanger and starts to turn to look in the mirror, until...
"Hey babe." Louis' nonchalant voice makes Harry jump and almost toss the dress back into the closet.
"You scared me," Harry admits. He glances at the dress, which is now in a black, silky, beautiful pile on the floor.
"Sorry," Louis chuckles. "Whatcha doing?" He wonders, following Harry's gaze to the dress on the floor.
"Um, Gemma left a few things here when he was staying with us." That is not a complete lie; Gemma had left a few things when she spent the weekend at Louis and Harry's house. However, those things happened to be a book and a pair of glasses, which Harry returned to her yesterday.
"So you're just gonna leave that on the floor?" Louis jokes.
"No, I, um, I dropped it. I'll pick it up now..." Harry rambles, still flustered from getting walked in on. He tucks his hair behind his ears as he bends over to pick up the dress, then hangs it next to a short plaid skirt, which is also Gemma's. She originally bought the two items online, but they were too big when she tried them on. So, Harry offered to "return" the items for her. To Harry, "return" is his own little code for "I'm going to keep these and try them on when I'm alone."
"Anyways, Niall invited us over for drinks. Wanna go?" Louis asks, brushing off Harry's awkward, yet not uncharacteristic, attitude.
"Um, sure," he softly agrees. He smoothes his hand over the dress before sliding the closet door shut. He follows Louis to the front door, but his mind is left in the closet with the items he is dying to try on. All he needs is a moment alone...
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"Drinks with Niall" turns out to be a small party with about ten of Niall's friends. They all sit in the backyard around a bonfire, drinking various alcoholic beverages and relaxing and talking. The outside world around them is dark and mostly quiet, so Harry is forced to converse with everyone.
"Oh, Niall, before I forget." Louis sits on the edge of his seat to talk to Niall, who is three seats away from him. "Before we came, I saw Harold eyeing a dress." He speaks with curiosity and mischievousness in his voice, like he is telling Niall something they both have been speculating. Harry's heart stops and his brows immediately furrow; what does Louis think he is going to accomplish by telling Niall this in front of everyone? Niall chortles at the news, looking out into the still night for a few moments before turning back to Louis.
"It was only a matter of time," he playfully hums.
"Hey," Harry whispers, tapping Louis' shoulder to get his attention. "What was that all about?" He sternly asks, trying to conceal his hurt.
"What?" Louis wonders. "Just talking to a friend."
"You do realize there are like, ten other people here who don't need to know the information you so carelessly blabbered on about?"
"Come on, Harry. Lighten up! It's not like we don't know you're a little feminine," Louis says.
"You're just drunk," Harry mumbles in an attempt to convince himself that Louis doesn't mean it.
"Why are there even dresses in the closet anyway?" Louis suddenly asks.
"They're Gemma's, I told you. I'm supposed to be returning them for her," Harry explains.
"Why haven't you yet?"
"Are you interrogating me? I just haven't gotten around to it," Harry sassily replies. "I think I'm gonna go home." He stands up and sets his soda can on the cool grass by his chair, then starts for the driveway. However, Louis' grip on his flannel stops him.
"What about me?"
"Seeing as you're all drinking, you can call an Uber." Harry yanks his flannel from Louis' hand, then stomps away. He crosses his arms over his chest to preserve the warmth from the bonfire, all of Louis' comments running through his head as he escapes the situation. Why would Louis, the only person who has seen every side of him, share something so personal to a group of people? Harry fastens his seat belt and starts for home with one thing on his mind: the clothes in his closet.
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"Fuck me, fuck Louis, fuck all of this," Harry anxiously rambles. Nerves consume him as he tears his clothing off in the middle of his bedroom. He looks in the full-length mirror at his tattooed skin, the light from the nightstand lamps draping shadows across his muscles. The black dress and plaid skirt lay on the neatly made bed, and Harry bites his lip as he contemplates which to try on first. He finds himself gravitating to the skirt, which has lines of varying brown and nude tones.
When he holds it up to his hips and looks in the mirror, a bashful smile forms on his face. He steps into the skirt and pulls it up his long legs. The skirt starts just under this belly button and it ends at the top of the tiger on his thigh.
Harry hates how schoolgirl uniforms are as sexualized as they are, but he can't help but feel sexy in this--non school uniform--plaid skirt. Maybe a form-fittimg black or white top will match best with it.
He smoothes down the front of it, then realizes that the bottom of his underwear is showing; that problem is easily solved when he takes his briefs off and tosses them aside.
For the next fifteen minutes, Harry poses, takes pictures, and admires every inch of himself in the skirt. When he thinks he has had enough of the skirt for the time being, he goes to the bed to grab the dress. However, something stops him, and it makes his body freeze in fear.
Harry turns his head and sees Louis leaning against the doorway and staring right at him. No amount of lies or covering himself up could hide the scene before Louis.
"H-How long have you been standing there?" Harry wonders. Louis doesn't answer, but be continues staring. His light blue eyes feel like daggers on Harry's skin, and the younger boy almost feels ashamed of himself.
Moments of painstaking silence pass before Louis eventually moves. He slowly, quietly, makes his way over to Harry, which just makes Harry even more nervous and confused. When Louis is close enough to touch, he gently cups the backs of Harry's arms, just above his elbows. Before Harry has a chance to ask another question, Louis leans in and softly kisses him. Harry immediately gives in, and feels butterflies in his stomach. "Louis," he almost gasps when his boyfriend's hands slide down to cup his ass.
"Yeah baby?" Louis says, his voice calm and just above a whisper.
"I thought you didn't like it?" Harry asks, unsuccessfully trying to pull the skirt down to cover himself.
"I was wrong. So, so, wrong." Louis kisses Harry's neck and sucks a love bite on his jaw, making Harry feel dizzy. The combination of Louis' lips on his neck and his hands on his ass, nevermind the flattering skirt he is wearing, creates the most beautiful feeling of security and confidence. Louis really does like it, and his erection is proof.
Without breaking their string of kisses, Louis guides Harry to the bed. He sloppily strips his clothes off before pushing the dress aside. Harry starts to take off the skirt, but Louis hums a disapproving "uh-uh."
"What?" Harry wonders.
"Keep it," he simply responds. While Harry wants to know the catalyst for Louis' change of heart, there are more important matters that need to be dealt with; one of them is standing naked in front of him. Louis spins Harry around, and with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, bends him over the bed. "Fuck...look at you." All of a sudden, Harry hears the plastic cap of a lube bottle. He is still mortified from Louis walking in on him wearing a skirt, so he doesn't know how he feels about getting fucked in it. Harry crawls up the bed and turns around to face Louis, embarrassed by how pretty he feels sitting in his skirt on top of the fluffy comforter.
"Can we talk?"
"I'd rather fuck."
"Louis..." Harry quietly says. Louis looks at him for a second longer before registering the hesitant look on his face.
"What's the matter, darling?" Louis covers his lower half with the comforter as he sits across from Harry.
"Not even an hour ago you were making fun of me for looking at dresses and now you wanna fuck me in one." Harry's confused eyes look into Louis' as he speaks.
"I'm sorry, and I know an apology doesn't make up for it. I should've stood by you and your interests."
"You shouldn't even have brought it up," Harry adds, and Louis nods.
"But look at you now. You don't care what I think, because you put the skirt on anyway. Doesn't that mean something?" Harry looks down at his legs, and how beautifully the skirt is laying across his thighs, and he can't help but smile. Yes, it does mean something.
"Can we continue?" Louis asks as he gently brushes Harry's hair behind his shoulders. He slowly leans forward, silently asking for permission. Harry closes the gap between them and attaches their lips, wanting Louis too badly to cringe at the taste of alcohol on his lips. One of Louis' hands slide up to Harry's curls and gently tugs on a fistful, causing the boy to moan into Louis' mouth. "Want you on your knees, pretty boy." Louis leaves him with the simple instructions so he can coat his cock with lube. Harry turns around and gets on all fours on the bed, peering over his shoulder to watch Louis. "So beautiful, Harry," Louis hums. Goosebumps form on Harry's legs when he feels Louis lift up his skirt, and he clenches his hole when he suddenly feels drops of cool lube falling between his cheeks. "Are you all prepped?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Harry clears his throat. Despite doing this for years, answering the disguised question of "we won't have any surprises, will we?" never gets any less awkward.
"Need my fingers?" Louis asks, massaging Harry's hips to comfort him.
"No," Harry breathes. "Come on." He pushes his bum back, letting out a small giggle when his cheek grazes Louis' erection. Louis runs the length of his cock over Harry's hole a few times, just to tease him. He gently slaps his hole with his cock as well before slowly pushing in. Harry exhales for the entire duration of Louis sliding in, taking it upon himself to start rocking his hips on Louis' dick when he gives him more time than he needs to adjust. "Fuck..." Harry sighs.
Besides getting eaten out, getting fucked by Louis is one of Harry's favorite feelings. He loves the way Louis grabs his hips and pulls him back to meet his thrusts. He loves feeling his cheeks on Louis' hips when the older boy pushes in as far as he can. And when Harry gives up on propping himself up with his arms, Louis either lifts him up and holds him close as he continues to fuck him, or he does what he is doing now.
As Harry's arms give out and his head falls to the mattress, Louis pins Harry's arms behind his back. Harry can feel his skirt getting yanked around as Louis pounds into him; he almost wishes he were in front of a mirror so he can see what Louis gets to see.
"You're so fucking hot in you're skirt, H," Louis admires.
"Yeah." Is all Harry can think to say, because he already feels his orgasm creeping up. "Harder," he whines, and Louis delivers. With each harder thrust, Harry is jerked forward, and so is the bed. "Fuck..." Harry moans. Since his hands are being pinned behind him and Louis is busy keeping his hands and hips in place, the only thing causing friction on Harry's leaking cock is his skirt. It delicately touches the hip of his cock each time Louis pulls out, and it is driving him insane. "Louis," Harry desperately moans.
"I got you, love." Seemingly reading Harry's mind, Louis releases one of Harry's hands, almost laughing when it flies straight to his cock. He could have kept Harry's hands behind him and made him work for his orgasm, but he feels he has been cruel enough to Harry today. "Can't believe I ever made fun of you for this," he grunts.
"Bet you're sorry now. Harder." Harry's hand works furiously on his erection as Louis slams into him as hard as he can, squeezing every last centimeter into him each time. Harry's skirt is all messed up and will surely have cum stains on it in the morning, but neither boy seems to care. Harry twitches and squirms, and Louis can feel him shuddering beneath him. He finally allows himself to let go as well, folding over on top of Harry in the process. Louis kisses along Harry's shoulder blade as he slowly recovers from his orgasm. When he pulls out, Harry stretches his legs out and collapses onto his stomach.
"So beautiful," Louis softly says to himself, smiling as he gently pulls Harry's skirt back down to cover his bum.
"You really just fucked me in a skirt, huh?" Harry gives a lazy smile to match his boyfriend's, then lays his head on his chest.
"I would do it again a thousand times," Louis playfully says. He combs his fingers through Harry's disarrayed hair to get it out of his boyfriend's face, leaving his hand tangled in the long curls when he grows tired of moving.
Every couple of minutes, Harry looks down at his legs and smiles; he feels like a princess in his skirt. When he first laid eyes on it, he never would have thought that a simple piece of plaid fabric could make him feel so special and magical. Then again, he never thought Louis could either when they first met. It looks like he was wrong about both.
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The way I put out 6 one shots between the time I started and finished this one 😳
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