They’d had a talk, of sorts, he supposed. Personally, Harry didn’t need to know more.
Louis didn’t bring it up again. He’d wanted to discuss it, and Harry had well… just wanted to know if Louis wanted to discuss it. However, whatever this was, it was extremely okay with Harry.
It appeared to be extremely okay with Louis, too. That week flew by, and by Friday the two of them had ended up getting off against each other one more time. Louis had looked delicious in a t-shirt that emphasised his physique and Harry hadn’t been able to keep his hands off his chest. Remembering Louis’ breath against his skin through his shirt, and the sound of his moans from the low of his throat… It was impossible. It was downright unreasonable to refuse himself the feeling of that stupidly fit person against himself when Louis allowed it.
And like that, the weeks seemed to fly by. Louis kept ignoring Harry, and Harry acted as though nothing had changed between them. Except that Harry always thought about touching Louis, and Louis in private perpetually gave him permission to do so. Nothing really had changed between them, honestly, except they were shagging on the regular now. They still didn’t talk to other, and they still fought during practice. Even though Louis was fucking him, he was still the same person and Harry didn’t like him any better. More importantly, the sex simply kept on being maddeningly pleasing, and no matter if Louis was lacking a few brain cells he was certainly getting better and better at touching Harry. It was electric.
Furthermore, there was something immeasurably pleasing about the way Louis melted under him. No matter how much they despised each other during football, it was addictively satisfying to Harry how Louis entirely gave himself away so easily under his hold. The minute they’d touch, Louis was so effortlessly convinced that everything was a good idea. Even if it was inside the Rover, or the locker room at school. The thing was, whenever they touched, it felt good. Harry really liked that feeling.
The first few times they hooked up after the car blow job, it happened at school like most of their previous incidents. However, the first time they ended up at Louis’ house again, it was by invitation. Harry had stridden into the locker room, finding it entirely empty except for Louis, who was organising a pile of papers on top of a bench.
Louis lifted his chin, keeping his head high. “Hey.”
It was a bit surprising that he was saying hello at all. The usual conversation only involved words like fuck me from Harry’s side and Louis’ pointless remarks of how much Harry must love him that were ultimately crushed into dust when Harry made him come and reminded him how much they both enjoyed this arrangement.
“What’s up,” said Harry and dropped his bag on the floor. The last time they interacted, they had fooled around in Harry’s car after footie practice a couple of days before. Louis’ hairline had been wet with sweat afterward, and Harry had needed to bite his lips not to moan too loudly against Louis’ shoulder.
Louis nodded to the other side of the wall of lockers, to the part of the room that was hidden from view should anyone open the locker room door. Harry followed him and ended up leaning back against the wall as he watched Louis.
“This is the quiz.”
Harry raised a brow. “Quiz?”
“To see how much they’ve been listening during practice.”
“How anal,” said Harry, but smirked as Louis’ sent him an unimpressed look.
“You’re funny,” he replied, but there was no humour in his voice. He put the papers down on the nearest bench, but his blue eyes never left him. He slowly walked forward, and grabbed the shirt Harry was wearing, knotting it up in his hand right above his belly button.
“Speaking of,” murmured Harry.
Louis rolled his eyes, but he tugged him in, and Harry willingly fell into his body. His chest pressed into his, and Harry’s face went straight to the crook of Louis’ shoulder. He just smelled so good. And no matter how hesitant Louis was at times, once they were touching, he was in.
While Harry inhaled the other boy’s addictive smell of grass, Louis’ hands slid around Harry’s waist, squeezing his bare skin, under his shirt. The touch sent shivers across his skin. Sometimes Harry wondered if Louis really never had had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. He just seemed to know exactly how to touch Harry in order to have him melt.
Louis’ fingers pushed under the lining of Harry’s boxers, but unfortunately, they heard the noise of the door scraping open. They broke apart, but Louis’ hand remained around Harry’s hip, finger lingering under the seam of his underwear. He looked up at Harry from under his tousled fringe, cheeks a little bit red. “Come over tonight.”
Harry stared back. “Your house?”
“My mum works nights at the hospital. My sister will be asleep if you come late.”
He took a step back as he heard voices on the other side of the lockers. “Text me.”
Louis nodded once, and then Harry turned around and left.
It was five to midnight when his phone buzzed against his pillow. Harry was lying in bed, but his clothes were still on. He wasn’t sure if his parents were asleep, but the rest of the house was silent and dark as he tipped downstairs. He managed to open and close the front door without noise, and then he left the house in a jog. He didn’t want to take the car in case it would wake his parents or Louis’ sister once he arrived.
I’m here, he wrote when he was outside. It took two minutes, and then Louis was opening the front door. He was wearing shorts and a large t-shirt, and very big socks. His hair was a bit fluffed, presumably from lying in bed. He waved Harry forward, but remained silent.
Inside, Harry recognised the hallway and the kitchen he’d seen very briefly last time. The rug was the same, the kitchen had a wooden table, and there was a shelf with many, many tea mugs. He took off his shoes, and followed Louis down the hall. There was a sitting room at the back of the house, but before he could see much of it, Louis was leading him up a set of stairs to the second floor. Halfway up, Louis pointed to one step on the stairs, stepping over it carefully. Harry followed suit, unable to keep from smiling.
The second floor was cutely decorated with photographs and knickknacks. There seemed to be several bedrooms, but they couldn’t be very big. The house wasn’t newly renovated, but from what Harry could see in the dark it was very homely. Louis went left atop the stairs and opened the nearest door. Finally inside, he turned on the light.
It was everything and nothing like Harry had expected. There was stuff everywhere. Clothes, a football, shoes, a laptop on the nightstand, and a couple of posters on the walls. Messi. A pamphlet from the Manchester academy. Harry registered that, and glanced over at the bed. It was of medium size, fluffed up with a thick duvet and pillows. There was a window on the opposite wall, but it was covered by blinds.
“You’re messy,” he pointed out and felt a light knock on his shoulder.
“At least my house doesn’t look like the set of a movie.”
Harry turned and looked at him for a long moment. It was a bit funny he said that because Harry very often felt like his house had become a stale picture of something it used to be. His parents’ absence and the housekeeper’s meticulousness certainly contributed to it.
He didn’t really want to think about that.
“Wanna’ fuck?” he asked.
“It’s why you came, no?” Louis shrugged.
Harry shrugged, too.
The bed was comfortable. The duvet was extremely fluffy, and between Louis’ body and the scent of the sheets, Harry found himself in a cloud of what felt like strawberry and green apple. Louis fell asleep instantly when they were finished, disappearing between the pillows. His lightly tanned skin looked delectable against the white of the sheets. It was very late, and Harry wanted to fall asleep, too. It would be so simple. The bed was soft and inviting, and he felt tired and his body spent. Louis’ shoulder was very close to his face, and he smelled good. If Harry simply closed his eyes, he could stay right there. His own room seemed too cold and lonely at that moment.
But he couldn’t stay there. Of course not. The thought was stupid.
He got up and began fetching his clothes. Louis didn’t move a muscle where he was. Harry found his socks at the end of the bed. One had landed across an old DVD cover. Who still had DVDs, honestly? He almost laughed when he saw what film it was. Grease. He faintly recalled Louis playing Danny in a school play in eighth grade. It hadn’t been great, but he did have a nice singing voice, to be fair.
Harry glanced at him again, his hair splayed out over the pillow. He could’ve been drooling, but it was hard to tell from a distance. When Harry turned the light off and slipped downstairs and out of the house it was almost two in the morning.
His parents hadn’t noticed a thing it appeared the next day, and they continued not to notice as he went over to Louis’ a few more times during the coming weeks. A couple of months came and went quickly like that. Football training, hanging out with Zayn, sexual excursions with Louis Tomlinson… It became a routine. But it was not always a blur of friends, sex, and footie. There were other things, too. His parents would fight often. Then they’d be quiet, and he’d barely see either of them. Some days they would look happy, and Harry would feel relieved for a few days until it started all over again.
Louis and his fits of passion during football were becoming less difficult to handle, but Jas didn’t appear to cease her attempts to disturb him. He still made an effort to make sure he didn’t run into her. He wanted her to get over it, to leave him be, but kept feeling her unsettling presence at school. It was hard to stomach.
There were good days at school as well, though. There was an especially gleeful day in November when the boys began talking about old movies during lunch. Harry listened as Zayn mentioned a musical, and his eyes fell towards the other side of the room, knowing that Louis was right there with his friends. It made him think of Louis’ Grease DVD, and he began singing a song from it, the guys at his table joining in with laughter. Feeling inspired, he stood up on the table. He pushed his hands into his pockets and began moving his hips side to side. He couldn’t help but look over at Louis as he enacted a scene from the movie, grinning as he did. Louis looked extremely pissed off, and it made Harry laugh even more. Louis was very easy to wind up. In many ways. Harry was learning how.
He noticed when Louis stalked down the aisle nearest them, fringe in his eyes and brows furrowed aggressively. Harry began dancing more. When Louis didn’t say anything as he passed, he found himself oddly disappointed. He called out, “Hey!”
Louis spun around. “Please don’t speak to me, you’re disrespecting the entire Grease community with your dancing, and I am repulsed.”
He was so serious that Harry couldn’t help but laugh at him. He jumped down from the table, and began making dance moves towards him. He had started liking getting a rise out of him when it was on purpose. He knew Louis’ energy and agitation could be redirected with a little help.
“I am going to gag. Please stop, you’re embarrassing the entire school.”
“Why don’t you show me how to do it then?” he suggested, and he heard some of the people at the table laugh behind him. He hadn’t exactly meant for it to be a joke, but it was surely suggestive. He leaned a little closer, voice very quiet. “I know you can roll your hips.”
Louis looked absolutely disgraced, and quickly jerked away from him. “And if you don’t stop, you won’t know what that feels like anymore.” He turned around and sped away.
Harry watched him leave, entirely enjoying the way Louis’ cheeks had turned absolutely scarlet. Had he not realised that Harry knew that he liked this? They were regularly sleeping together! Harry had been in his bed on multiple occasions, all right. Louis had to have understood that Harry knew he enjoyed it, right?