Liam calms down considerably on the taxi ride to the flat, and by the time he's in the foyer he's gotten enough blood back to his brain to wonder about the time-course of the evening. He has no idea how long it's going to take Louis to finish with the press -- half an hour? two hours? four? he thinks as he hangs his tux in the closet. He's already going to come in about fifteen seconds, after that -- he loses a minute, standing the bedroom in his pants thinking about Louis's face, his voice, Christ, so hot and sharp and needy all once, so ready to ask Liam for whatever he wanted.
Shit, he thinks, rubbing his hand over himself, and then again, and maybe he should just wank off now, before Louis even gets back -- it's not like he couldn't get it up again. His whole body's thrumming at the prospect of shagging Lou, now, again, finally.
Whenre you back, he texts Lou, on the pretty high likelihood he's looking at his phone during an interview. Please let it be soon, Liam thinks at the blank screen.
Getting impatient? ;) Louis replies immediately. It's not helpful at all, but then that's Lou.
Godddd yessss, Liam texts back.
You gonna make it til I get home?
Might have to wank off witout u, Liam texts, typing as quickly as he can so he doesn't have to think about it. Louis won't mind -- he never minds -- but Liam still has to force himself to hit send.
FUCK, Louis sends a moment later. JESUS leaving now DONT U FUCKIN DARE
Is Sam gonna fire u? Liam replies. She'd seemed pretty intent on the whole press thing.
Don't care, Louis texts after two minutes. Leave the door unlocked. Gettin in a cab now
Oh, Liam thinks, over the rushing sound in his ears. Oh.
Okkk, he sends as he flips the deadbolt open. His taxi ride had only taken fifteen minutes, which means Louis is -- shit. Liam's still having a hard time grappling with the concept that he's actually going to be having sex with Louis, probably because all his blood is in his dick, which seems to be having no trouble at all.
It's strange, undressing in someone else's bedroom without them there. Liam yanks off his shirt and pants as quickly as he can, which more or less forces him to lay down, because wandering around with your dick out is fundamentally ridiculous. Well, it's fundamentally ridiculous for Liam; he's sure Louis'd be happy to cook naked or God even knows what else.
It doesn't matter now -- Louis's coming back, any minute now, and Liam's body is slowly winding up at the thought, at all the memories it has of Louis naked, driving Liam out of his fucking mind. There has to be lube around here somewhere.
Liam's just gotten his slicked-up hand around his cock when he hears the door open, and the breath he was taking jolts back out of his lungs. That's Louis, fuck: that's gorgeous, brilliant Lou in his insanely hot suit who's just ditched post-Oscars press to come back here and fuck Liam, and just the thought makes Liam's hips jerk. "Lou," he chokes out.
"Liam?" Louis calls. "Li -- oh holy shit."
"Louis," Liam pants. He's way, way too turned on to stop now; maybe he could if Louis would just touch him, but Lou's currently standing at the bedroom door like he's been hit by lightning.
"Oh fuck, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ," Louis's saying, finally moving, and Liam's vaguely aware that he's missing Louis stripping off his jacket and trousers. "You -- you actually -- holy shit," he groans, and then he's there beside Liam, sinking his fingers into his biceps as he dives in to kiss him.
Louis wrestles Liam beneath him, biting down the side of his neck again until Liam's completely lost track of what's supposed to be happening. He's not touching himself anymore, but Louis's taken over, stroking his delicate hands over Liam's hips. Liam's on fire; he'd beg, but he's rubbish at words in bed, so he settles for arching up under every touch, gasping out Louis's name.
"Look you, Jesus. Look at you," Louis whispers. "Liam, fuck." He's between Liam's knees, now, ghosting kisses over his belly. His tongue comes out to drag over the skin of Liam's hipbone and Liam thinks he might cry.
"Fuck, where's the fucking lube," Louis mutters. "Liam, can I," he says, finally, finallypalming Liam's cock, and Liam's knees come up of their own accord.
"Oh," Liam moans. God, it's good; God, he's going to die if Louis doesn't give him something more than that. "Louis, please." Louis makes a strangled noise, and when Liam opens his eyes Lou's got his free hand clenched around the base of his own dick.
"The fucking death of me," Louis says, reverent. His wet fingers come back to Liam, stroking his dick a few times before they slide down behind his balls, shit, yes. Louis always liked to make Liam insane, and evidently that hasn't changed: he's just rubbing the cool, slick pads of his fingers in gentle circles over Liam's hole until Liam's entire body feels like it's an inch from combusting.
"Lou," Liam whines. He's always been good at holding back, at getting his partners off first, but all he can think about now is getting Louis the fuck inside him.
"Yeah?" Louis asks. He slowly presses in, one finger and then another, and Liam lets his legs splay out as he clings onto the sheets and tries not to fly away.
Louis's swearing -- vulgar gibberish and Liam doesn't care, doesn't care about anything as long as Louis doesn't fucking stop -- and his fingers are working into Liam harder and harder, crooking against his prostate until Liam's vision flickers. It's like they never stopped, or like they've just been waiting to get back to this; he can't believe he's spent the last four years not having incredible, brain-melting sex. He must be an idiot. He's certainly an idiot now: Louis's fingers feel impossibly large inside him, every thrust shutting down another section of his brain until Louis presses his thumb hard just behind Liam's cock and Liam's world goes white.
It's possible that he yells, or curses, or dies and is brought back to life. Any of that is possible. All he's really sure of is floating back to reality to find Louis kissing him, insistent soft shaky touches over his ribs and chest.
"Hnh," Liam says, sort of. Louis's still sliding very gently in and out of him, and it feels so, so good.
"You're so fucking hot," Louis groans. Liam's glad to hear it, given that he had no choice in the matter. "You're so fucking hot, how the hell," and then Louis's hand is gone.
Liam opens his eyes as Louis's rolling the condom on, and Jesus Christ, he's been too far gone to really look at him until now. He's a little taller than he used to be, maybe, and he's got a bit more muscle under his skin and about a hundred more tattoos.
"When -- what are all those from?" Liam slurs, curiosity overtaking him. Louis gives him what would be a withering glare if he wasn't naked and holding his dick.
"I seriously just --" Louis sputters. "You didn't notice?"
"Shut up, come here," Liam says. He's feeling substantially less frantic now he's come so hard that he lost time, but Louis hasn't and there's also the very important fact that Liam's barely even gotten to touch him.
He hoists himself up on his elbows, pulling Louis down to kiss him as Lou lines himself up, and then he's pushing in and oh, oh God, Liam's never getting enough of this.
Yes, is all he can think as Louis folds down over him, his hips picking up a rhythm that's making Liam's gut clench even though he just came. "God, I've --" Liam starts. God, I've missed your cock, his brain suggests, blindsided. Yeah, he's not saying that.
"What's that," Louis says, his breath hot against Liam's ear -- it's too much, Liam can feel the familiar heat coiling in his stomach, oh God. "What," Louis gasps doggedly; Liam doesn't know how he's even still talking. "God, you've -- never come -- so hard?" Louis asks, levering up to grin down at Liam, eyes glinting with mischief, and Liam's head rolls back against the pillows. "God you've," Louis's mouth falls open. "Liam," he moans, blessedly, briefly unable to make a sentence. "Liam, what," he persists, and fine: Liam grabs Louis's shoulders and rolls them.
Ha, he thinks, sort of amazed he pulled that off. Louis's lying under him, chest heaving, flushed almost to his navel. Liam thighs protest as he lifts up and then back down, but it's worth it to watch Louis's eyes flutter and his face go blank.
Liam's not far off, either: it's insane that he's hard already, but fuck, he is, working himself back on Louis's cock until he finds the right angle. Lou's making these amazing noises, higher and higher and Liam could probably -- he starts jerking himself off, and oh Jesus, he is going to come again.
"Oh holy fucking shit," Louis whines, his mouth so incredibly red.
"God I've missed you fucking me," Liam blurts, extremely thankful his brain decided to censor that even slightly. "Fuck," he moans. His legs are shaking, burning with the exertion; Christ, he needs -- Louis goes rigid underneath him, his hands clamping down on Liam's hips as he grinds into him in tight little circles, and Liam comes again, weak pulses that seem to go on forever.
It's good that this is Louis's flat, because Liam is now functionally dead.
He seems to be lying next to Louis now, which is probably a good place to keep his corpse for the time being.
"Damn," Louis murmurs some time later. It would take more than death to shut Louis up, Liam thinks idly. He doesn't mind.
"Mm?" Liam replies. Louis's right there when he opens his eyes, so Liam shifts in for a kiss.
"You're so fucking fit," Louis giggles. Liam can feel a blush spreading up his neck.
"Yeah, well," he kisses Lou again, "I've grown."
"You were always fit, don't be stupid," Louis says. "I just didn't get to see you."
"Now you do." Liam tucks himself closer, finding Louis's hand.
"Can't believe I gave this up," Louis says, very softly.
"Yeah," Liam chuckles. "That was brilliant." Lou's going to be intolerable if Liam compliments him too much, but, hell: that wasbrilliant.
Louis's brows come together; he's not gloating. "No," he says. "I mean, I can't," he shakes his head, catching Liam's eyes, "I can't believe I fucking left you."
"Lou," Liam says, but Louis cuts him off.
"It was stupid. I was stupid," he snaps. Liam can practically see his hackles rising. Only Louis would get angry at his own apology, Jesus.
"Louis, I was awful, too," Liam says. Louis's not wrenching his hand away, at least, which is a good sign. "We were awful together, and we didn't know what we were doing. Or, I didn't." He hadn't, he really hadn't: for one thing, he'd thought that being married to Louis Tomlinson could or should resemble a 1950s sitcom marriage, instead of a circus. He'd thought that simply trying would be enough to keep Louis happy, that brute investment in the concept would be the glue that stuck them together.
"You wanted it to work, and I didn't," Louis says. He looks brittle, his eyes hard and his jaw set, and Liam would kiss him again if he didn't think Lou would get up and leave.
"I wanted the marriage to work," Liam admits, because, yeah, he did. "I don't think I knew what that meant. At least you had the sense to figure out it was a bad idea."
"What's," Louis bites down hard on his lip, mauling it as he stares past Liam's shoulder. He flips onto his back. His hand's still in Liam's, and his foot is brushing Liam's calf under the sheets, but he looks about a million miles away. "What's different, this time?"
There's a lot different about both of them, but Lou's not just being obtuse. Liam's still uptight and boring and Louis's still mostly mad and now there's the added stress of Louis being world-famous and terrifically busy.
"I can talk to you now," Liam says. "We can talk to each other. That's what's different, Louis." Louis swallows; his eyes are still fixed on the ceiling. "Lou, I promise," Liam starts, which is the wrong thing to say.
"You promised, before," Louis says sharply, pulling his hand away to sit up. "I did, too, and look how well that went."
"What do you want, Louis?" Liam asks. He's not getting out of bed for this. They're not having a row about this, not unless Louis's really bloody determined. "I think it'll work this time. I don't know, but I'm ready to try."
"How the fuck can you be --" Louis huffs. "Are we going to fuck this up? Because I don't think I want to do that again," he says, looking everywhere but Liam.
That's it then. That's the problem, but Liam can't solve that.
"You did okay last time," Liam jokes weakly. He'd gone off to London and become an Oscar-winning actor; it can't have been that bad.
"Well, I won't do so well this time," Louis grits, his voice strained. When Liam lifts onto his elbow, Lou's staring intently at his clasped hands, his eyes glittering suspiciously.
"There's not going to be a this time, Louis," Liam says as firmly as he can. "I'm not going anywhere, and you're not, either. Alright? I love you," he says, just to watch Louis's eyes dart up to meet his, "and I'm not going anywhere." He can't make Louis do this, but, Christ, he doesn't know what he'll do if Louis stands up and says, I don't want to risk it.
"Fine," Louis says. His mouth is still tight, but he doesn't look like he's on the verge of tears anymore. "Fine, but if you break my heart, Liam Payne," he snaps, and then he deflates into nothing but a harsh line between his eyebrows. "Then I guess I'll deserve it." His smile is like a blade.
Liam never knows what to do with this Louis. All he ever wants to do is hold him, wrap him up in love until he stops thinking such bullshit.
"I'm not going to break your fucking heart," Liam says. "Don't break mine either, yeah? I love you," he repeats, because even if he won't accept a hug, Louis isn't ever actually immune to emotion. "I'd do anything for you, Lou," he presses a kiss to the back of Louis's perfectly still hand. "Will you -- will you come here, already?"
Wonder of wonders, Louis nods and folds himself into Liam's arms, and that -- that's different, too.