#larry stylinson
#lourry
#I Hate You fic
#shibbi
Harry watched with a sort of vindictive pleasure as Louis shuffled around the studio, clearly not very comfortable. He had to work to keep in the grin as Louis lowered himself gingerly into the seat beside him, tucking himself into Harry’s side. The other boys took their places on the couch, giggling and messing around while they waited for the producer to yell for them to start. The bottle blonde woman and her grey haired, man-friend ignored them, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the interview to start.
Harry inched his arm around Louis’ back, being sure to brush the leftover scratches from the night before. Louis turned slightly, glaring discretely at his not-quite-lover. Harry only smirked back, digging his fingers into the other boy’s side. Louis curled his own fingers around Harry’s hand, making it appear as though he was holding his hand, while pressing his index finger into the web between Harry’s own thumb and forefinger.
Harry winced, dissipating the pressure he had on Louis’ waist. Louis in turn released Harry’s hand, though not completely. To any outsider, it would look as though the boys were just being their normal, loving selves. But Harry knew better. That hand was a warning, letting him know that the second Harry tried anything, Louis would be on it.
The woman and her friend turned to them, wide, fake smiles plastered across their faces, as the producer yelled “rolling”. Louis sat up a little more, turning his battered back into Harry’s side, and laced his fingers in between Harry’s. Harry had to restrain himself from jerking away, from grimacing in disgust. Louis was always so much better at pretending than Harry was.
“Today, we’d like to welcome One Direction,” the woman started, clapping lightly as she introduced them, “They’ve just got back from a tour around the UK, and they’re going to be heading off to America in a few months.”
“They’ve also recently released an album,” the man added, a little too excitedly, “And they’re up for a Brit Award! Congratulations, boys! That must feel good!”
“Yeah, it does,” Liam answered happily, “We’ve all just been working really hard, and it’d be a dream come true to win the Brit.”
“We honestly never thought we’d get this far,” Zayn interjected easily, “We’re so grateful to everyone who has voted for us, and who will vote for us. We owe them a lot.”
“The fans are a huge part of what we do,” Niall continued, “We’d be nowhere without them.”
“We love our fans,” Louis exclaimed, “They’re the best part of this whole experience! They’re who we make the music for, they’re who’ve gotten us as far as we are, and they’re the reason we’re able to do what we love everyday and get payed for it!”
“And that we get to do it with four of our best friends,” Harry said, the lie rolling smoothly off his tongue, having been said so many times that it’d become second nature, almost. It’s not that he didn’t like the other three—no, they got on just fine—it was just him and Louis.
“That’s right! You’re all very close, aren’t you?” the woman’s smile widened. Harry nodded, answering for them.
“Yeah, we’re like brothers,” he told her, “Except me and Louis, of course,” He couldn’t help adding. Louis’ fingers squeezed his, warning him against whatever it was Harry was planning to do. The man looked at them, confused.
“What do you mean?” He asked. Harry grinned brightly at him.
“Me and Louis are best friends!” He proclaimed happily. “There’s a—ah—level to our relationship that goes past brotherhood. ‘Brothers’ doesn’t quite cover all that we are,” he finished with a smirk, leaning his head against Louis’, who dug his nails into Harry’s hand in response. The man smiled nervously in response, his female counterpart giggling awkwardly.
“Well, you’re obviously very close,” she remarked. Harry’s smirk expanded wider on his face and he nodded, pushing a kiss into Louis’ hair. Louis jerked slightly as Harry’s teeth tugged gently on his scalp, anger and arousal burning under his skin. Harry released his hair, pulling back to grin innocently at the interviewers from around Louis’ head. Louis kept his eyes staring straight ahead, not allowing any emotions to cross his face.
Harry continued teasing Louis throughout the interview, unable to help himself. He loved riling that boy up—and now he’d found a more effective way of doing it. It was so easy, too. All he had to do was tighten his fingers on Louis’ waist, or blow gently across his ear. Louis’ fingers would clench Harry’s hand each time Harry did something, his short fingernails biting into his skin.
As soon as the interview was over, Louis was up out of his seat, pulling Harry along by his hand. Louis shuffled as quickly as he could out of the studio, small pains shooting up his back with each step. He stopped when they reached an empty corridor, and Louis rounded on Harry.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Louis demanded angrily; Harry just smirked. “You little fucker.What were you doing? What are you trying to pull?”
“Just having a bit of fun,” Harry said innocently, “The interview was boring as fuck.”
“Yeah, okay, a little bit of fun,” Louis rolled his eyes, “That’s all it was.”
“What are you talking about, Louis?” Harry asked mischievously. Louis shot him a glare.
“You know too fucking well what I’m talking about,” he growled, “The touching, the squeezing—the biting. It was irritating.”
“You didn’t like it, Lou?” Harry smirked, inching closer to the other boy, who didn’t notice. “It seemed like you enjoyed it.”
“Fuck you, Styles,” Louis spat.
“Again? I know I’m irresistible, Tomlinson, but you could at least try to make it seem like you don’t always want in my pants,” Harry teased. Louis’ face flushed and he glared harder at the curly-haired young man.
“Shut it, Styles,” he seethed, “You act like you know everything, but you don’t. You don’t know my life, you don’t know my struggles—you don’t know me.”
“I know you better than you think, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry said roughly. They stared each other down, neither willing to break eye contact. Louis’ face was a mask of anger, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glittering. Harry only smirked, mirth and mischief dancing in his irises.
And then they were kissing. If one could call it that. Harry’s hands gripped Louis’ face tightly, where Louis’ clung desperately to Harry’s curls. Their mouths moved angrily, teeth clacking and noses bumping as they stumbled around the empty corridor. Harry decided to take control of the situation, turning Louis and shoving him into the wall. Their mouths separated briefly, and they both breathed in deeply, before coming back together.
Harry moved his hands down to grip at Louis’ hips, which bucked up at the contact. Harry smirked into Louis’ mouth, shoving Louis’ hips back into the wall forcefully. Louis let out a hiss and a groan as the scratches hit the wall, unsure whether or not the pain in his back was arousing. He thought maybe it was.
In response to Harry’s brutality, Louis shoved his hands harder into Harry’s hair, yanking the curls and scraping his scalp. It was Harry’s turn to moan—he had a thing for people pulling his hair. He bore his hips down into Louis’, tearing groans and whimpers from his partners mouth. He swallowed them greedily, shoving his tongue further into Louis’ mouth to lick the sounds from the opening.
Louis tilted his head back, accepting Harry into his mouth with little pants of encouragement. He canted his hips into Harry’s in response, desperately searching for something he knew he shouldn’t want.
But with Harry all around him, it was hard to think coherently, and he ignored the part of his brain that screeched at him to stop, grinding harder into Harry instead.
“What the fuck?” The boys wrenched themselves apart, Louis forgetting to remove his hands from Harry’s hair and Harry his from Louis’ hips. The stared at Niall, in a state of shock, unsure of how to handle the situation they had unknowingly stumbled into. Niall shook his head, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna walk out, and come back again. We’re going to pretend I didn’t see what I just saw, because you two hate each other, and you totally don’t make out—ever. We’re also not telling Liam or Zayn about this, unless you two become a thing… You’re not a thing, are you?” Louis and Harry shook their heads frantically. “Right, so that’s that. No telling. And don’t ever let me catch you at it again, got it?” They nodded, watching with wide eyes as Niall turned on his heel and walked out of the corridor, mumbling “good Lord” under his breath.
Harry and Louis breathed identical sighs of relief—thank god for Niall. Liam or Zayn would have wanted answers; luckily for them, Niall likes being clueless. The two boys finally released each other, Harry shuffling away awkwardly, both of them adjusting their pants. Harry’s hands went up to fix his hair, and Louis righted his skewed t-shirt.
Niall came back in cautiously, breathing his own sigh of relief when he saw Harry and Louis on opposite sides of the corridor.
“Car’s here,” he told them, “Liam’s getting impatient, so we’d best be going.”
The three of them left, Louis still shuffling slightly. Niall turned around to say something to him, but noticed his awkward gait.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, “What did you two do?”
“I fucked him,” Harry stated. Louis yelped, glaring brilliantly at him, and smacked him on the chest.
“Harry!”
“Well! It’s true!” Harry reasoned. He turned back to Niall. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“I don’t,” Niall answered, “I just wanted to be sure you weren’t into the kinky shit—like, don’t injure each other, yeah? The fans will notice.”
“Let’s stop talking about this,” Louis said hurriedly. Harry snorted, curling himself around Louis and pressing himself into Louis’ back.
“Aw, is little Louis embarrassed?” he chuckled into his ear. Louis grunted, his cheeks flushing slightly as Harry’s waning erection brushed against his back. He nudged Harry off of him, limping over to fall into step beside Niall, who gave Harry an incredulous look. Harry raised an eyebrow.
“What?” He asked. Niall shook his head.
“You have no idea how weird it is to see you guys touching each other voluntarily,” he mumbled. Harry just rolled his eyes.
Liam and Zayn looked up from where they had been pacing by the car as the three lads approached. Well, Liamhad been pacing—Zayn was leaning against the car, watching his friend amusedly.
“What have you been doing?” Liam shouted. “I sent Niall to get you guys fifteen minutes ago!”
“They were arguing,” Niall told him, “It took me a while to get them to shut up and listen.” Harry winked at Louis discretely, going unnoticed by the other three boys. Louis, on the other hand, blushed bright red. He rushed, as best he could, to the car, flinging the door open and shouldering Zayn out of the way. He scooted across the seat, sitting by the window. Zayn raised an eyebrow, but slid in next to him. The other boys piled into the car, Harry sitting across from Louis.
Louis was tense the entire way back to his and Harry’s flat, his muscles taut with anticipation. He was sure the other boys noticed his odd behavior, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was waiting for Harry to pull something else, and he couldn’t get out of the car fast enough when it rolled up to their flat.
Harry followed Louis in, closing the door behind him and smirking. This was too easy, and too much fun. He slipped off his shoes, wandering into the kitchen where he could hear Louis making tea. He sauntered over, pressing himself up close behind Louis, grinning evilly as Louis tensed underneath him, his hands stilling on the counter. Harry rolled his hips, his dick rocking against Louis’ ass.
“Harry,” Louis moaned, “Stop it.”
“You don’t want me to,” Harry rumbled into Louis’ ear, pushing his rapidly hardening cock into Louis’ ass. Louis whimpered pitifully, pushing his sore bottom back against Harry. Harry grinned, seeing his win for what it was, and moved his hands, trailing them down Louis’ torso to the waistband of his trousers. He slipped his hands around Louis hips, undoing the button and zipper, and yanking the pants and boxers down in one go. A soft thump sounded as they hit the floor, and Harry quickly reached down to undo his own.
“How loose do you reckon you still are?” Harry breathed against Louis’ neck. Louis groaned in response, pushing back against Harry impatiently.
“Loose enough,” he said, and Harry grinned, spitting into his palm and coating himself. He didn’t bother with finesse—this entire affair was a messy one—and just shoved in. He burned a little at the bare friction, but once he was in the tight heat of Louis around him overrode the minimal pain he had previously experienced. Louis cried out, not expecting to be penetrated so swiftly. The pain was still there from last night’s endeavors, and this pain added to it. What was weird was, Louis found it oddly arousing.
Harry paused a moment, as Louis adjusted around him, before ploughing forward. Louis gripped the counter under him, groaning and whimpering with each thrust. Harry reached around, attempting to brace himself on the counter, but instead finding Louis’ hands. In the heat of the moment, he clung to them, knocking Louis’ into the countertop with each plunge of his hips.
The kitchen was full of hot, humid air, and desperate little gasps and moans as the boys slowly brought each other to their finish. Harry leaned down, sweaty curls dripping into his face, and bit into Louis’ shoulder through his shirt—hard—as he finished. The sensation of Harry emptying himself into him, along with sharp contrast of pain in his shoulder, was enough to send Louis’ splattering his ejaculate over the kitchen cabinets with a broken “Fu—ck”. Harry pulled out, releasing Louis’ hands—now white from the pressure—and leaned down, pulling his pants back up around his waist. He watched amusedly as Louis awkwardly did the same, wincing at the increasing pain in his lower back and backside. Louis turned carefully to look at Harry.
“This is not going to be a regular thing,” he told him sternly. Harry could see the lie shining in his eyes, but he nodded anyway—the game of breaking him was part of the fun of it.
“Sure,” he agreed easily. Sure, his ass.