The weekend passed quickly. Harry found himself actually sleeping the night through without problems. His parents sent him pictures of the London Eye and dinner at a fancy restaurant, though, and it made him slightly jealous. He was certain he wouldn’t have enjoyed going away with just the two of them, but it seemed so freeing, to be able to go away for a weekend, leaving everything behind.
Ultimately, he shouldn’t have been surprised when they came home on Sunday evening, fuming. His mum was snapping out words briskly, and his dad was barely able to control his anger, just muttering random words here and there. Harry supposed he was trying not to yell, but the way he was faring didn’t look any better. Harry ignored them, hiking up to his room and turning in for the night.
On Monday, Harry woke up to the noise of yelling. He grunted into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. He briefly wondered what was going on, but then began to understand that it was his parents. They were fighting. Clearly, they hadn’t finished yesterday.
He glanced at his phone. It was almost seven o’clock. If he wanted to make it to the first class by eight, he would need to leave bed and get ready soon. He didn’t move, though. He stayed where he was, duvet cocooned around him until he couldn’t hear anything anymore. When Harry slowly dragged his feet downstairs, it was ten past eight. Both of his parents’ cars were gone, and he supposed they had left for work. He sighed in relief, and sluggishly made a protein shake for breakfast. He pulled on some tapered sweats and a hoodie after his shower, and then began making his way to school.
Annoyed thoughts bristled somewhere within his mind, but as he neared school they slowly faded and fell back to Louis, something they seemed to always do. It was obvious that his text message on Friday hadn’t been a complete misfire. Louis had walked straight into his room, laid down on his bed, and stayed. Thanks to that, Harry now knew two things. The first was that Louis had no intention to share their business. The second was that, yes, Louis was certainly interested in this. If not in Harry personally, then in them, naked together. Harry undoubtedly had an interest in that, too.
Each time it happened, he would find himself lost and drowning in the moment. Before and after, Louis was an enormous grievance, but right then… in the middle of it… Louis did everything right.
Furthermore, Harry didn’t like being an anxious person. Those brief moments of heat were often followed by the feeling of reprieve for some reason. Perhaps everyone felt that, after having sex, but Harry could tell there was something helpful there.
He had texted Zayn after Louis left, sending him several thumbs-ups. Zayn, grinning and nodding approvingly, met him outside school when he arrived. “My boy,” he said. “Got himself a lad.”
“I don’t have a lad,” disagreed Harry, but Zayn kept smirking as though a proud older brother.
As if Zayn’s eagerness and the questions that followed weren’t enough, girls and sex seemed to be a running theme of conversation throughout the day. There was a rumour about someone receiving a blow job in one of the bathroom stalls, which made Zayn joke that Harry wasn’t the only one fucking about at school. Then after lunch, it came forth that the goalkeeper of the football team, Liam, had gotten himself a girlfriend. Harry wasn’t certain how it had unravelled, but all of a sudden it was all the lads were chatting about.
Harry knew who the girl was. Her name was Sophia, and she was in his science and maths classes. She seemed very clever and relaxed, much like Liam. They were both fairly popular, but didn’t seem to care about that sort of thing. Harry thought it was nice.
When it was time for practice that afternoon, Harry entered the locker room along with Jonny, who seemed to be high on the gossip. When he saw Stan inside the room, the two of them instantly started laughing. It was dumb, but Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the two of them retelling the story of how they’d walked around the back of the gym to have a cigarette, only to catch Liam and Sophia snogging there. The rest of the team was slowly gathering, and when Liam finally got there, they were all cheering and chanting childishly.
When they’d finally settled down, Lee was nice enough to hand Liam a compliment. “She’s pretty, though,” he said.
Liam looked almost like he was blushing. “I know.”
“Careful, Li,” Harry heard Louis say teasingly from the other side of the room. Harry watched him remove his shirt, and forced his eyes away. “You already seem whipped. If you don’t watch out, she’ll have you on a leash.”
Harry scoffed at the poor joke, and Liam seemed to roll his eyes. He said, “I don’t really care to be honest.”
It was very sweet, but then Stan laughed loudly. “She’s that good in bed, yeah?”
“Hey,” Harry barked. “That’s rude.” He didn’t like that sort of talk, and he was the captain, supposed to preserve a respectful atmosphere. He slid his shinpads on where he sat, throwing Stan an unimpressed glance.
Stan only snickered at his reprimand, and Lee began pushing at Harry’s shoulder. “Oi, captain. So serious, eh.”
“He says because he hasn’t gotten a good lay in months.” Stan was once again bursting out in laughter. The guy seemed to always have something to say, very much like Louis. Harry wasn’t surprised the two of them were friends. Neither of them seemed to take critique seriously.
“Tell us, Harry,” said Lee, still nudging his shoulder and raising his brows suggestively. He was always looking for a bit of fun and gossip, his dark brown eyes glittering with mischief and delight. “When was the last time you pulled?”
It wasn’t a question he wanted. Of course, it wasn’t.
He looked down at the floor, shaking his head. “That’s none of your business.”
First of all, he was gay and closeted. Secondly, he naturally couldn’t tell them about Louis. He still had no clue what Louis’ thoughts on his sexuality were, but it was clearly nothing he talked about. Harry wasn’t very interested in sharing such a thing, either. He grabbed his training jersey and pulled it on, hoping they would let it go.
Jonny joined the fray. “Please… It’s just us lads,” he grinned invitingly. He placed a hand on his arm.
“I said,” Harry repeated slowly, voice serious, shrugging the hand off, “it’s none of your business.”
“Don’t be such a puss, Harry.” Stan. Again. Harry wasn’t normally the type to fall for peer pressure, but at that moment, he just wanted to make them shut their faces and stop asking questions about his sex life.
“Come on!” they all chanted.
“Fine!” he finally burst. If he said something, maybe they’d all just shut up. “Last week,” he announced. “And it was a fucking good shag as well.”
He didn’t mean to look at Louis. Cross his heart and hope to die. Still, his eyes flew across the room, and then he was met by Louis’ gaze. Blue, and utterly surprised. They both held the stare for a long second before their teammates began to tug at Harry’s shirt, jumping around him as if to celebrate.
“Get your arses to practice,” Louis yelled, voice fierce and loud. “We’ve got drills to run!”
The boys began grumbling and throwing Louis disappointed glares at that, but they all obeyed and started heading out to the pitch. Harry was indeed appeased by Louis’ swift switch of conversation, but he couldn’t help feeling anxious about what he had just said. He hoped Louis thought nothing of it. He didn’t, right?
As the team moved towards the pitch, he caught up to Louis, who was the last of the boys out of the locker room.
“You’re not a good lay,” he declared to him quietly. It was just something he had said to get the lads off his back. Clearly.
Louis didn’t believe him. His brows were high on his forehead, and his eyes leered at Harry. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Not at all,” he said. Walking next to Louis he was taller, but Louis walked with poise and character. Confidence carried him.
“Glad you think so,” he said. “Tell me that the next time you attack me.”
Harry swallowed. Next time. That could be interpreted as an invitation. If Louis could be confident, then Harry could be bold. “My place,” he told him. “After practice.”
He jogged away after that, definitely noticing Louis’ surprise by the way he completely stopped fucking walking. His confident stroll had been turned to dust, and Harry really, really liked that. It was a feeling of pure satisfaction, making Louis speechless. The guy who constantly seemed to one-up Harry definitely looked rumpled, even if just for a moment.
Harry made himself ignore Louis after that, and spent the rest of the hour fully focused on the lads during practice. It was Louis’ day to be in charge, and as they went through the drills he appeared a bit less dictatorial than he would on a normal day. Harry wondered if Louis was thinking of the afternoon to come, or something else. He was beginning to feel rather certain that Louis would turn up. He had last time, yeah? And he was the one who kept saying words like again and next time. Still, one could never really be sure of what went on in his head.
Louis disappeared instantly after practice. Harry didn’t really consider that to be an issue; Louis had been leaving immediately after practice for a couple of weeks. Harry hurried off to the locker room and had a shower, ignoring the way the lads were once again talking about girls and sex. He showered quickly, deep down eager to hopefully get to feel Louis’ firm body against his again after practice. Finally at the car, he opened the door to the back. He was pushing his training bag onto the seat when a sudden movement flashed in his periphery, and he jerked upright.
“Jesus fuck, Louis,” he groaned, hand clutching his chest as his heart jumped like a bouncing ball under his ribs. Out of the freaking blue, there was Louis Tomlinson. He’d shot out from behind the freaking car like an assassin.
“You,” hissed Louis aggressively. “Talk. Now.” He grabbed Harry’s shirt and dragged him around the car until they were hidden from view.
Harry pushed his hand off his chest, fixing his now very crumpled shirt. “What are you doing?” he complained.
Louis’ hand flew up and pinched Harry’s ear, tugging painfully downwards. Harry felt instantly flustered and slapped his fingers off his ear. What was he doing?
“This thing going on between us,” said Louis agitatedly, eyes wild and hair still fluffed and sweaty, “is not going to be a thing. I don’t even know what it is we’re doing here. One day you’re all up on me, and the next those green little eyes of yours are sending daggers into my skull.”
Harry couldn’t help but sigh at his dramatic rhetoric, but as he did that, he instantly felt a flaring pain in his foot as Louis’ shoe stomped down on his with vigour. “Fuck!” he groaned, gasping as his head filled with questions as to whom this fucking guy thought he was.
“This is weird — no, this is wrong, and we need to talk about it.”
Harry was still crouched into a pained slouch, his foot aching dully. Louis had serious problems. His erratic behaviour had to be some kind of diagnosis, for God’s sake. As he was bent down, Harry considered Louis’ words, and then realised all of a sudden that Louis was talking about them.
So… he must have spent time thinking about them, too. At least as much as Harry had been thinking about them. Huh.
If not more, he gathered, as he glanced up at Louis’ anxious face. His eyes were blue and hard, but flickered around nervously. His eyebrows were pushed down into a heavy frown. Louis wanted them to talk about it. And… that simply answered all the questions that Harry had been wondering. He didn’t need to discuss it anymore.
Still, some of Louis’ words had taken a second to register.
Harry lifted a brow, feeling offended. “Gay is wrong?”
Louis looked at him as though he was stupid. “No,” he hissed. “You are wrong.”
Harry looked away, annoyance beginning to wake again. The guy standing before him seriously never stopped being offensive. And anyway, Harry had already received all the answers he needed. Louis was into it, and Harry was into it. Settled.
“This thing that is not a thing between us is wrong. It’s insane is what it is!” Louis kept rambling, but all Harry could see was the tense vein in his neck, the intensity of his blue eyes, and the sharpness of his cheekbones. “Somewhere there are dead kittens going batshit crazy in their graves — this is absurd and needs to be talked about —”
Louis abruptly stopped ranting. He stopped talking because Harry had taken a severe step forward and slid his hands down his waist and around his arse. Their stomachs were slotted against each other, and Harry could feel Louis’ body right up against his own, along with the faint smell of his natural scent. Sweat, warmth, grass. Heavenly.
Louis seemed about as shocked as those kittens he was ranting so annoyingly about. His breath stuttered, jaw locked as he said, “Styles.”
Harry didn’t move. Louis was as surprised, if not worse, than he’d been out there on the football pitch. Harry liked it even more. Knowing that Louis had been considering all of this, thinking about it, made his own body turn warm and fill with instant want. Louis had been thinking about them… This. About Harry. He had also shown up on Friday and bought lube, and… Had he spent the entire weekend fixating on Harry’s body just as much as Harry had been ruminating over Louis’ stomach?
“Tomlinson,” Harry murmured, his lips leaning in to just barely brush against Louis’ jaw. Louis’ hands tightened around him, and he could feel Louis’ exhale against his mouth. It was… hot.
“This is not a thing,” said Louis in a severe tone, but he didn’t try to move away. He stayed against Harry, chest heaving up and down. Harry almost smiled, confidence in his recent estimations growing with every second Louis stayed folded into his body.
“Yeah, yeah, Miss Principles.” If Louis wanted to make sure this wasn’t a thing — fine by Harry. This wasn’t a thing, and they were not a thing. Still, both of them held a great interest in the things they did together. “Now,” said Harry, smiling at Louis’ flushed face, his own chest falling heavily with every heated second that passed, “get in the car so I can blow you, yeah?”
His sigh was so obviously a yes. Harry easily opened the door to the backseat of his car, fitted his hands behind Louis’ thighs, and lifted him into it. They fell back against the seat, pushing Harry’s bag to the floor in the movement, breaths rushed as their hands slipped in under clothes. Louis jerked his footie shorts down, already flushed and hard. His mouth was ajar as Harry leaned against him, heart racing as their gazes met for a brief second. Louis was already breathless, eyes glassy with desire, and as they both looked down on his cock, straining up and against Harry’s thigh, Harry noticed the briefest of smiles on the guy’s face before Harry moved down and wrapped his mouth around him.
His hands remained on Harry’s shoulders and neck as he sucked him off. It was easier than he’d expected, and with Louis’ thumbs pressing into the spots right behind his jawline he could feel nothing but tight pleasure. Louis’ hisses promised he did everything right, and Harry couldn’t help but enjoy the pressure of Louis’ fingers against his neck. It didn’t take longer than minutes before he was being dragged up and off, feeling Louis’ hot breath through his t-shirt as he came, moaning into Harry’s shoulder.
Harry’s heart pounded heavily, overwhelmed and caught off guard by the mere satisfaction of getting Louis off. The weird thrill of feeling him groan against his own chest, shaking as he came. Fuck. God.
Why was every single time different, and just kept getting better and better?
Louis’ face disappeared from Harry’s chest, and he silently grabbed the end of his own jersey and dried them off with it. First, his own lower stomach, and then, the side of Harry’s tee and a slither of his skin next to it. He was entirely quiet, and Harry could say nothing as his heart beat heavily. Finished, Louis pulled up his shorts. He still said nothing, but as he jumped out of the car he stopped in the middle of his movements and glanced back at Harry.
Harry raised a brow as he watched Louis consider him, his eyes trailing from Harry’s face and down his chest and back. “What?” he said, voice unintentionally soft. Perhaps it was because Louis’ face was so uncharacteristically gentle that he couldn’t muster up much strength in his tone.
“Nothing,” Louis said, and subsequently jumped out, grabbing his stuff off the ground and disappearing.