A/N: Second update this week!
Warning: sexual content (save me from myself)
When I opened my eyes it was still dark out. Harry was up and fully dressed.
"Rise and shine."
My whole body ached from sleeping in a sitting position. "What time is it?" I groaned.
Harry pointed to the clock on his nightstand. "It's four. Come on. It's time to go to work."
I was NOT a morning person. And anyway, four A.M. was not morning in my book.
I crawled under the covers. "You're insane."
He yanked the blanket off of me. "Get up. We're late."
"According to who? Owls? Bats? It's the middle of the night!"
"You have five minutes. I'll put on a pot of coffee."
"Okay, sure." As soon as he stepped out of the room I fell back asleep.
The next thing I remembered was a hard smack on my bum. "Ow! Bloody hell!"
"Up!"
I was roadkill. I couldn't get up even if I wanted to. I made a little fortress around myself with Harry's fancy pillows.
He switched up his tactics. I felt his lips on the back of my neck. "Oooooh."
His feather-light kisses trailed down my spine and dipped at the small of my back. He flipped me over and mouthed my length through my cotton boxerbriefs.
"What do I have to do to get you up?"
I was wide-awake now.
My eyes open, I took in the sight of him. His hair was neatly tied back and he was wearing a floral button down and black skinnies that accentuated his curvy thighs. God, how did he manage to look so good at this hour? I looked like an angry possum.
Presumptuously, I slipped out of my boxers.
Harry raised his eyebrows.
I was a little embarrassed in case I misread the situation, but if I had I knew Harry wouldn't be mean about it.
I hadn't misread the situation.
He picked me up in his hand, his slender fingers wrapped around my length. Very slowly his hand moved over my shaft. His touch was exploratory, like he was trying to understand what every inch felt like, understand it's contours and ridges, understand me.
I sighed contentedly, widening my thighs.
"You like my hands?" he said.
"I like your mouth more."
Harry's cheeks dimpled.
It occurred to me that we hadn't done this yet. I had gone down on him but he had never gone down on me. I had never been inside him at all.
Normally I wouldn't be so demanding, but he was making me get out of bed at four-in-the-fucking-morning!
I brushed a thumb across his bottom lip. "Take me in your mouth."
Harry's breathing hardened. "I want that."
He stared down at me, his brows knit.
"You have done this before, right?" I was joking but Harry was acting so strangely I had to wonder.
"I've done it."
Harry kneeled before me on the bed as though in prayer. He closed his eyes. I felt his breath on my inner thigh and I thought I might come then and there.
I reached behind his head and took out the elastic in his hair, unleashing his dark curls.
"Why'd you do that?" He said jumpily.
"I just like you with your hair down." I really didn't understand why he was so anxious. "Harry we don't have to..."
"I want to. Stay still."
I huffed. This wasn't going to work if Harry had to have complete control all the time and I had no say and—
He kissed my slit.
"Harry!" I gasped.
He licked his lips. "I want to do this," he repeated like a mantra. Then he shut his eyes and kissed my slit again, this time letting his plump lips linger.
I bit down on the pillow.
His hand was around me again and he was stroking me.
"Your mouth, your mouth, I want your mouth," I begged.
Harry's face flushed red. I could see the outline of his own erection tight in his pants.
I felt his tongue on me, hot and wet.
"I like this." He was talking to himself. "This is good."
He kept licking me. I was going to come but this wasn't what I wanted.
"Take me in your mouth. I'm going to come soon. I want to come in your mouth."
Slowly Harry opened his red mouth. I had to force myself not to thrust between his lips.
He batted his lashes and delicately slipped his lips over my tip and down my shaft.
I fisted his curls. "Oh, God Harry, your mouth, your gorgeous mouth."
This was heaven. It was like being dipped in liquid satin. His mouth was so wet, so unbelievably soft. He didn't even take me all the way before I came. I held the back of his head and spilled long and hard down his throat, his pillowy lips cushioning my rough jolts of pleasure.
He let me fall from his lips. His wide eyes met mine like he was shocked by what just happened.
I pulled him down against my chest and kissed his head. "That was incredible." I felt like he was mine now, like he'd finally given me a piece of himself. I growled with approval and kissed him again.
He was quiet and motionless.
"Harry," I said gently. "I care about you. You know that, right?"
He lifted his head. He was emotional and wiped his eyes. "I know."
I didn't understand why this made him so emotional but it intrigued me. It made what we did feel meaningful. It made him feel more mine somehow.
"Hold me," he said. I held him against my chest and he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His cheeks were wet with tears.
I held him fully dressed against me. I was naked.
"I should put some clothes on."
"No. Let's just stay like this for a while."
I smiled. I loved this. I loved him being vulnerable. I loved that he needed me. However, as I rubbed his back, I knew we needed to talk. I didn't mind that Harry was a little hesitant about certain sexual acts but I think I deserved to know what those things were and why.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked carefully.
"Talk about what?" he answered, burying his head deeper against my neck.
"Harry, we've had sex a dozen times and this is the first time you've... and we still haven't..."
He curled his fingers around my wrist pleadingly. "I told you, I just need a little time."
This was of course a reasonable request but it wasn't one that I'd encountered before, and it wasn't something I thought Harry in particular would require. When we were in school he was very trusting. Even though we had only kissed the one time, he was docile as a lamb and gave himself to me without question. Every relationship has a natural rhythm and that was ours. Now he kept that trusting boy locked inside him. Simply having me in his mouth felt like surmounting a huge wall.
"Do you not trust me?"
"I trust you!"
"Do you not like it?"
"I liked having you in my mouth," he said, blushing furiously.
"What about..."
He rolled onto his back beside me. "I don't know."
"You don't know? Have you done it?"
"Yes!" he said defensively. "Can we please not talk about this anymore."
I leaned on my elbow and draped my arm over him. "I'm not trying to put you on the spot but if we're going to be lovers I need to know these things so I don't cross some invisible boundary."
Harry looked up at the ceiling and I could sense the fury burning inside him. "I don't like it, okay! Is that what you want to hear? I've never liked it and I'm not sure I ever will! I'm not going to be the perfect lover for you. I'm not Jeffrey. I can't be all the things you want, all the things you deserve. Sorry I'm such a disappointment."
I was stunned. "You're not a disappointment."
"Are you saying that it doesn't bother you?" I heard the cruelty slipping into his voice, pushing me away. "That if I never let you fuck me, you'd still want to be with me?"
I felt so selfish, but I had to be honest. "It does bother me, Harry. I want to have you. All of you. But..."
"But?"
"You're my best friend! I could have a hundred Jeffrey's that let me do whatever I want but they still wouldn't be you."
Harry ground he teeth. "I'll do it if that's what you want."
"I want you to want it," I whispered, reading his face hopefully.
His expression was impassive and his body cold.
He didn't want it, it was clear to me now, and it broke my fucking heart. It was not the act itself I cared about but everything the act represented. He wouldn't let me give him the most intimate of pleasures. He wouldn't make himself completely vulnerable to me. Unfortunately, this didn't make me want him any less. I wanted him more than ever.
Harry threw an arm over his head, sad and lethargic. I climbed on top of him and started kissing him. I took out all my frustration on his lips. I roughly kissed his mouth until he couldn't breathe, until he was desperately sipping the air from my lungs. I started to take off his clothes. He let me. I unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Then I undid his pants and yanked them off of him. I smoothed a hand over his silk boxerbriefs and yanked those off too. He didn't seem nervous, more resigned. He was like this sometimes: dead inside.
"There are condoms in the nightstand," he said.
"I'm not going to fuck you!" I said angrily. "Is that the kind of person you think I am?"
"I don't know, Louis! You tell me? This is obviously a big deal to you!"
"Yes, it is a big deal! I'm in love with you!"
Harry didn't respond.
I curled my naked body around his and held him tight. I wanted to feel his skin against my skin. If I couldn't have him I wanted to get as close to him as possible.
Harry placed a hand on top of mine. "I'm sorry I can't be who you want."
"Stop it. You're exactly who I want."
We stayed like this for hours. I watched the sun come up out the window and felt it warm our entwined limbs.
Even though we'd argued, and we were both frustrated, this mess somehow brought us closer. Making love is intimate but so is fighting. Harry had revealed another part of himself, and like all parts of him, it was precious to me.
We got dressed and had coffee. Harry took his painkillers, which was an unspoken agreement that we would be sleeping together again that night.
Harry would have walked or taken the tube to work, but because of his knee I stood on the curb and flagged us a taxi.
He rested his head on my shoulder the whole way to the opera house.
I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to stay in bed and kiss and talk. I wished I could read his thoughts. Did he love me too? He didn't say it when I said it. Of course, I said it way too soon. I didn't blame him for being reticent. Still, I wondered if he loved me. I hoped he did.
The entire company had gathered in studio A to meet the new choreographer. Harry and I entered the studio together. A hush fell over the room as we walked in. Harry was used to being feared and hated by his colleagues. I wasn't.
Undeniably, we made a powerful pair. While we weren't liked, we were respected. Corps dancers quickly scattered to let us have a spot near the front of the room. I was going to sit beside Harry when he pulled me between his knees. I leaned back against his chest and he began to rub my shoulders, tenderly kneading the knots with his fingertips. Harry didn't care for PDA but he was uncharacteristically affectionate when we were around other members of the company. He was proud that I was his. I don't think anyone had ever stuck up for him the way I had. It meant something to him. For the first time he had someone who was unreservedly on his side.
Everyone knew we were together, though it was hard to know what they thought of it exactly. It couldn't have been anything good. I had gone from being Harry's greatest adversary at the company, to being his lover and greatest champion practically overnight. They probably thought it was a sign of the apocalypse.
Gigi, Zayn and Eleanor stood in a row on the opposite side of room. I gave them a half smile. They shook their heads.
Harry looked down at me and cradled my head. "Don't worry. They'll forgive you," he said.
I frowned. "I'm not so sure."
"Well, I am. You're irresistible." He kissed me as the entire room watched with a mix of shock and horror.
Just then, Kenneth walked in followed by Liam in nearly identical grey suits. Liam who was Kenneth's doppelganger in every way seemed out of step with him today. There was obvious tension between them. They didn't engage in their usual congenial banter. Liam handed Kenneth some papers from his clipboard and Kenneth took them silently.
I pressed my lips to Harry's ear. "When will you talk to Kenneth about Liam?"
"I'll do it today," he said, noting the hostility between them.
Kenneth cleared his throat and took his position at the front of the room, crossing his arms sternly as he addressed the company.
"Before your new choreographer arrives, I just want to acknowledge all of Maurice Charrat's hard work." Everyone clapped. "His departure was a huge loss to this production." He shot Harry and I a reproachful look.
Harry drew his knee up and yawned, content as a cat. He was so bad!
"We were very, very lucky to find someone to replace him on such short notice. More than that, the choreographer we found to replace him happens to be one of the most esteemed members of this industry. He's staged numerous productions of Swan Lake across Europe and has danced the ballet, as both Siegfried and Von Rothbart, fifty-two times over the course of his illustrious career. It is a huge honor for me to welcome him here today."
Liam looked at his watch.
The clock struck nine and the studio door flew open. Standing in the doorway was none other than Alexander Beauchamp.
Every dancer in the room rose to their feet.
I broke away from Harry and ran into Beauchamp's arms.
A/N: Beauchamp is back.
I'm so excited to get to this part of the story. As much as I love writing the happy chapters, angst is my lifeblood!
The Beauchamp chapters are tricky. This is the first time you get to see him through Louis' eyes.