Summary: Harry is a tease during band class.
By: Sterekintheshire.archiveofourown.org
Larry side Ziam
I'll be posting my Larry oneshots soon enough too so ya know and I just love the Ziam in this
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"No! It's an A flat in the flutes!" Louis shouts at the cowering girls in the front row. His last nerve is quickly withering away with this band.
"Sorry, sir," The first one says, slowly putting her fingers on they keys so she's sure not to miss it.
"No, I'm sorry." Louis takes a glance around the classroom, taking notice of the tired faces and the 'kill me now' expressions. He picks his thermos full of cooling coffee up off the podium and takes a sip, continuing his mental roll call.
That is, until he got to the clarinet section.
His second chair player, a curly haired bloke with tantalizing green eyes, was watching him intently, licking his mouthpiece seductively.
Louis clears his throat before raising his baton, instructing the band to start from the beginning of 'Trafalgar Square' yet again.
The rest of the class was okay. He only had to get on to a blonde saxophone player named Niall and a percussionist named Zayn.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Harry liked Mr. Tomlinson. Like, he really really liked Mr. Tomlinson. He has nice hair, not even close to how nice Harry's was, but still, it's pretty incredible. He also has glorious eyes. They're a magnificent blue and they always widen whenever they land on Harry.
Like when he licks his clarinet reed, pretending it's Mr. Tomlinson's di-
"Harry!" It was Niall, his only Irish friend.
He's like a little ball of sunshine.
And then there are his other friends, Liam and Zayn.
Liam, the little ball of fluff that you want to cuddle until he pops.
Zayn, Liam's boyfriend, a big ball of teasing, seductive, lovely asshole.
He is currently poking Liam in the bum with his drum stick. Liam slaps it away and threatens to throw it in his uncle's wood chipper.
"Gee, lads, calm down. I'm sure everything will be alright," Harry says.
Liam glares at him, but it softens when Zayn touches his shoulder gently and pulls him to his chest.
"Let's get lunch, shall we?" Zayn suggests, leading Liam out of the band room and in the complete opposite direction of the lunchroom. "But, Zayn, I thought we were going to get lunch?" Harry could hear Liam say with confusion laced in his voice.
Harry chuckles and Niall leaves to actually get lunch.
Harry stays behind and walks into Mr. Tomlinson's office, where he finds him at his desk, flipping through a book of music.
"Mr. Tomlinson," Harry says, causing the man to look up at him. "Does it bother you when I take my clarinet and do this?" Harry asks, moving his mouthpiece to his mouth so he can lick is oh so very slowly.
Mr. Tomlinson watches every tongue flick, every slow, tantalizing stroke of his tongue across the smooth reed.
"Of course not, Harry," Louis forces himself to say, tearing his gaze away from the sight. "You have to wet your reed or else your clarinet won't play right. It's good you do so, Mr. Styles. But remember, don't lick it too much!"
Harry snorts in disdain. "I see how you watch me, Mr. Tomlinson," He says, slowly walking around Louis' desk. "How you watch my tongue, my bum, the way I gently stroke Niall's face as if he were my lover. Is that why you snapped at him this morning for 'playing too loud', Mr. Tomlinson?"
Louis leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk because WOW this is getting good.
"Harry, I'm twenty three, you're seventeen. I will never be looking at a student like that."
Harry nods, pretending he believes Louis' lie. "Okay. See you in wind ensemble then, Mr. Tomlinson."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Louis couldn't believe the words coming out of Harry's mouth. He couldn't believe how fucking true they were. He's a terrible teacher, daydreaming about one of his students in such a way.
The last class of the day, which is wind ensemble for Louis, came fast. Too fast. Harry is in this class and Louis knows for a fact that he will do something that'll Louis regret wanking over later that night.
Harry comes in before any of the other students today. He prowls over to Mr. Tomlinson's office and opens the door, sticking his head in before walking in as if he owned it.
"Harry," Louis says distractedly, looking frantically around his desk.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry asks, pulling Louis' instructor baton out of his pocket. Louis looks up at Harry, about to tell him about the baton, before dropping all the papers he's taken off of his desk.
Harry hums absentmindedly, tapping the stick against his thigh.
"Mr. Styles give that back."
Harry shrugs and goes to put it down his trousers, but Louis stops him. "What are you doing?" Louis demands.
"I'll give it back when you admit you want me, Mr. Tomlinson. When you say that you want my arse, that you want me bent over your desk so you can fuck me into next fucking year."
"That's inappropriate," Louis sputters.
"And that's why you love it so much, Mr. Tomlinson. Isn't it? It's the thrill of knowing you shouldn't think this way, but you do. The sick thrill that somebody could walk in on us. That you could be fired."
Harry had somehow gotten up so close to Louis. His finger hooking around Louis' bow tie and his hand wrapped around his braces. "That you could be fired, for this," Harry leans in and licks a stripe up Louis' neck. "The thought of being caught just gets you off, doesn't it, Mr. Tomlinson?"
Louis couldn't control himself. He nods.
Harry smirks triumphantly, leaning in again to only get caught by the bell.
"Well," Harry murmurs, "looks like it's time for class." Harry walks out of the office and over to his band locker, leaving Louis to palm his dick, which had become hard from Harry's close proximity and body heat.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wind ensemble was torturous, to say the least. Louis had a sorta-kinda erection all through class. He knew people noticed because the flutes up front kept glancing there and giggling. Harry, for one, smirked proudly knowing that he's the reason the band director is hard.
Harry.
Louis continually got on to him for little things, such as: whispering to the girl beside him or for being out of tune (which he really wasn't).
Relief flushed through Louis when he saw what time it was, knowing the bell will ring soon. He dismissed his class and they began to take their instruments apart and putting their cases in their lockers.
Harry stayed behind in Louis' office. He had closed the door behind him and locked it, eyeing Louis expectantly.
Louis has this curtain, it's really a bed skirt, but whatever, that he hangs in his office window. It's navy blue and the word 'BUSY' is written on it with spray paint. He always hangs it up when people really need to know that he is working and is not to be disturbed. He pulls it up when he knows the band room is clear and that he and Harry are the only ones left.
"Mr. Styles," Louis says calmly, walking over to his desk chair and sitting down, getting comfortable. Harry smiles, revealing a cute dimple that Louis has noticed before. Louis undoes his braces and unzips his trousers, pulling them down a little past his thighs. Harry licks his lips without thinking. "I do believe there is something you can do to get back on my good side after those horrendous accusations earlier."
Harry nods eagerly and rushes over, falling to his knees in front of Louis. He takes the elastic band of Louis' boxer shorts and pulls them down as well. Harry groans at the sight.
"Call me Louis," He tells Harry after a second. 'Mr. Tomlinson' would seem too weird.
Harry nods and leans down, taking Louis into his mouth.
He's skillful, Louis will jealously give him that.
He bobs his head down more, making Louis thread his fingers through his curls.
"Harry," He groans.
Both Louis' and Harry's faces are flushed, feeling pleasured by the certain sin that is a romantic rendezvous between teacher and student.
Louis feels his pleasure seep through the floor quickly when there is a loud pounding on the door. He stops mid-moan, holding Harry's face in his hands so he'll stop.
"Yes?" He calls out feebly.
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Tomlinson, but there is a message about your package," An office assistant calls from the other side.
"And?" He says.
"It's... It's on the slip of paper, just come on out!" He shouts to Louis.
Louis shoves Harry under his desk, knocking his head in the process but too much in a hurry to care. He grabs his large jumper off of his filing cabinet and throws it over his lap, successfully hiding his skin and Harry from view.
"Just unlock the door and come on in!" He calls out to the assistant.
The assistant does as he says and walks over to his desk.
"What is it, Geraaaaaaaaaaaaaard?"
Harry puts his mouth back on him.
Gerard lifts his eyebrows in confusion.
"Sorry, just scratched myself on accident," Louis lies, moving his hand out from under the desk to accept the note from Gerard. The note tells him that his music won't be delivered until next week.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
"Thank you, Gerard," Louis says and points towards the door, silently telling Gerard to leave. He does.
Once the door clicks, Harry is throwing the jumper off from over his head and grabbing Louis' hips, which begin to jerk frantically.
Louis tugs Harry's curls and moans loudly as he comes. When he comes down from a certain type of high, Louis buckles his braces and zips his trousers back up.
Harry leans up and bravely kisses Louis, which he returns without thinking. He couldn't find himself regretting it either because Harry's lips are just as red as they are after a day's rehearsal.
"Goodbye, Mr. Tomlinson. Perhaps we could do this again."
Louis nods. "Perhaps."
Just before Harry leaves, watching Louis get out of his seat and take his 'busy' sign down, he says, "By the way, Zayn and Liam fuck in the percussion closet every other day."
Louis freezes before jerking the curtain down just in time to see Zayn Malik and Liam Payne exit the percussion closet with red cheeks and hair sticking to sweaty temples.
"Oh, God," Louis mutters.
This is his life.