Louis shivered slightly at the cold of the smooth kitchen floor on his bare feet as he waited for the toast to pop up from their rather fancy and expensive toaster. Why they hadn’t just gotten a normal toaster was a mystery to him; the amount of money they spent didn’t make the toast taste any better.
His ears perked up at the sound of shuffling feet behind him, a drowsy Harry dragging himself to the fridge and swinging the door open. A strange feeling beat erratically in Louis’ chest, making him suck in an uneven breath. The noise must have caught the younger boy’s attention because he lifted his head to peer at Louis, eyes still slightly puffy with sleep and cheeks flushed. He raised an eyebrow quizzically as he reached a hand in the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, unscrewing the cap and closing the door with his hip. A slight smirk twitched at the edge of the boy’s mouth. He crossed the kitchen, toward Louis, eyes losing their drowsy glaze and twinkling.
Louis blinked rapidly but kept his face stoic, what was this? This was Harry, the dickhead he was forced to live with if he wanted to keep his job. This shouldn’t elicit strange feelings in his chest. Maybe it was hunger. But Louis knew that wasn’t the case. He knew that his chest clenched uncomfortably as Harry approached, reaching above his head into the cupboard for a glass, because he couldn’t help but think of Harry’s face as he fucked him, the way his eyes glazed over in ecstasy, how he had kissed the spot on his shoulder where two, small, crescent shaped scars still lingered from the violent bite weeks ago. The skin tingled as he remembered, sending another shiver up his spine.
The toast popped up, nearly causing Louis’ to jump.
"Do you want some toast?" He asked, carefully pulling the bread from the warm machine, dropping the pieces hastily on the plate as they burned his fingers. "And I was going to make some eggs."
"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged, taking both his cup and the carton of milk to the other side of the island in the middle of their kitchen and sitting on the bar stool. Louis slid the plate with two pieces of toast across the counter to him before stuffing two more slices of bread in the toaster.
"We’re running low on food," he said casually, cracking eggs into a bowl. "I was going to run down to TESCO’s after breakfast. Do you need anything specific?"
He whisked the eggs quickly and added some herbs and spices from the rack, along with a handful of cheese, before pouring the mixture into the sizzling pan.
"I’ll go with you," Harry replied, spreading a bit of jam on the top of his toast. "You never get what I actually want anyway, I always end up having to do it myself."
Louis scowled and prodded the hardening eggs.
"You’re the one who can never make up your mind," he snapped. Harry didn’t answer, merely staring down at his toast with a tiny smile, so tiny in fact, that Louis wondered if it was actually a smile at all, or if he was merely imagining things.
He twisted the knob of the oven off, extinguishing the flame, and picked up the pan by it’s handle. The egg slid easily onto Harry’s plate as the second round of toast popped up.
The boys ate in silence, staring at their food with apparent interest. Louis glanced up across the island at his roommate, catching a flash of green before ducking his head down again and shovelling a few more bites in his mouth. Harry finished first, slipping off the stool and carrying his dishes to the sink.
"Give me five minutes," he said before leaving the room. Louis wasn’t far behind him, rinsing his plate of the clinging egg chunks and loading everything in the dishwasher. He finished just as the younger boy returned, shaking his curly hair. "Come on, Tomlinson."
—-
The store was relatively empty, ideal for two world famous popstars to do a bit of grocery shopping. The instrumental versions of famous songs played dully in the background, voices rising from aisle 4.
"No, we need fettucini, not macaroni or spaghetti," Harry shook the box in front of Louis’ scowling face. The older boy hit his hand away, huffing exasperatedly.
"It doesn’t matter! Pasta is pasta."
"It does matter when you’re making fettuccine alfredo and don’t have fettuccine noodles because your roommate is a prat."
"Ugh! Harry, you know I hate fettuccine!"
"Don’t be such a twat, Louis."
"I’m getting spaghetti."
"Well I’m getting fettuccine."
They glared at each other angrily, boxes of pasta in their hands. Louis’ hair stood up on his arm. How could such a stupid argument actually make him feel that tingling sensation over his skin? How was he supposed to live his life when every single thing this boy did infuriated him and made him want to jump his bones? Louis watched Harry’s nostrils flair angrily, green eyes narrowing intensely, curls slipping into his vision. This was not supposed to happen.
"Fine," he said, throwing his box into the basket. "We’ll get both."
He stuck his hand out to take the box from Harry’s large hand, but he evaded him, holding it out of his reach and stepping close, backing Louis into the shelves. The taller boy leaned over, whispering hot air onto Louis’ ear.
"You’re whipped."
The basket dropped with a loud crash, Louis’ hands gripping onto the front of Harry’s hoody, pulling their faces together swiftly. His mouth found Harry’s all too familiar one, sucking his lush bottom lip into his mouth and sliding his tongue along the warm, soft flesh of the inside. His hips jerked forward instinctually, brushing his groin against the boy’s in front of him. The pleasurable contact jolted his brain, reminding him that he was indeed sucking face with his male band member in the middle of the TESCO’s pasta aisle.
He squeaked and pulled his face back, slipping under Harry’s arm that was braced against the shelf by his head. He snatched the basket from the floor and scurried quickly toward the front of the store. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his face flushed as he felt Harry’s eyes on him, boring into him, undoubtedly staring at his ass. The air had become thick and tense somewhere between the pasta and the vegetables, Louis’ heart stuttering haphazardly in his chest.
'Just get to the cash register, get to people, stop thinking of his lips and his hands and his— no. Stop.' He mentally chastised himself, shaking his head. He sucked in a relieved breath as he rounded the corner to the checkout, shuffling to the closest one and beginning to unpack the basket. The blonde girl behind the counter smiled at him sweetly and pulled his items across the scanner.
"Hello," she greeted.
"Hi." She didn’t seem to realize the tension in his body, or the trmbling in his hands.
"How are you today?"
"We’re fine, thanks." Harry had appeared beside him, setting his box of pasta in the pile on the conveyor belt, smiling charmingly at the girl behind the counter, his eyes flashing only for a second. She blushed red. It didn’t go unnoticed that they were famous, but they shopped at this particular store enough that the employees had learned to treat them as normal customers— or as normal as possible when your every move was watched by paparazzi and screaming fans. That didn’t stop her from turning red up to her ears at the sight of the two of them, conversing so casually with her.
"Will that be all?" She batted her eyelashes at them. She was definitely a pretty girl, but a bit small and weak for Louis’ taste, her frame too thin and her face too delicate.
"Yeah, that’s it," Harry answered for him, throwing his arm around his shoulders and squeezing. Louis’ heart raced further.
'You're in public. You're in public. You're in public.' He mentally chanted, collecting their groceries into a bag and smiling at the girl with slight strain that he hid with well-trained ease.
"Have a nice day!"
"You too," both boys chorused, rushing away.
—-
They hadn’t even managed to get to the flat before Harry’s phone rang, Liam calling to tell them that they had a meeting with management and various other spontaneous responsibilities they hadn’t been aware of. Their horny needs were put on hold as they were dragged from place to place for hours. A fitting here, a small interview there, stupid little things that they should have been prepared for.
Louis’ eyes wandered to Harry at every meeting, raking over his body, trying to fight the urge that plagued him since that morning. Green eyes would flash to him often, eyebrows quirking and lips twitching in a smug smirk. It made Louis extremely frustrated knowing that the younger boy could see the power he held over him, but he couldn’t help himself. Memories of the rough fucking against walls — in the shower, in the public bathroom — flitted through his mind, the last making his breath hitch as they climbed out of the car to the building for their final meeting of the day with management for a quick discussion about their second album.
Harry sat on the other side of the room from him when they entered, lounging lazily in a large armchair. Louis joined Niall and Zayn on the couch, Liam perched beside the darkest boy on the arm, leaning his back against the smooth white wall.
A woman in a tight purple dress and dark brown hair entered behind them, shutting the door and looking down at the open binder in her hand. Louis vaguely recognized her from a few other meetings they had about their upcoming album but her name escaped him.
"Hello boys," she greeted with an overly white smile. They returned the sentiment with false enthusiasm, not that she could tell.
"So." She looked down at her binder, licking her finger and turning a page before looking back up at them. "Some good news today. We’ve made a few changes to the album, but I think it’s definitely for the better. We are going to play on the group’s strengths with this one, instead of taking too many chances. With that being said, we’re adding another song written by Kelly Clarkson, since her last one went over so well."
The boys nodded with smiles, that wasn’t bad at all. Kelly’s song was a great contribution to their last album, improving on the overall sound and mood of the songs as a unit.
"However," she continued, setting her binder on the desk beside her and crossing her arms over her chest. "We have to remove a song if we want to add one. The company made an executive decision to remove ‘Hold It In.’"
A ripple of tension went through the air and Louis felt all of the eyes in the room turn toward him. His tongue felt dry and heavy, the moisture moving to his eyes, prickling them dangerously.
"Are you kidding me?!" An angry voice burst through the heavy silence. It wasn’t Louis’; he was far too shocked to manage sounds, let alone words or complete sentences. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Zayn, Liam, or Niall either.
Harry sat up straight in his chair, eyebrows furrowed in anger, eyes blazing. His hands were balled in angry fists on his knees, and his eyes were narrowed dangerously at the woman in purple. She shifted away from him, looking physically pushed by the burning strength of his glare.
"No," she said, almost like a question.
Harry stood swiftly, pointing toward Louis, his entire arm outstretched in his direction.
"Did you know that that was the only song Louis actually had a solo in? Did you know that you stupid suits managed to cut every other solo he has ever had out of this album?"
"Harry!" Liam’s mouth was open in shock, mirroring both Zayn and Niall. Harry ignored him, walking closer to the large desk the woman was pressed back against, fear flickering through her small eyes.
"You say this is for the better? Do you think cutting his solo will improve the album? Do you even care that he has taken every single blow to his ego with a fucking grin on his face? He never once complained that he’s basically a backup singer. Not one fucking time, and now you expect us to let you take away the one tiny chance he had to establish himself? Really?!"
She was silent, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Harry was towering over her, face red and nostrils flaring. The air trembled with his anger, the boys on the couch stunned. None of them had ever argued with their management, not like this, not yelling and cursing. Yet here Harry was, nearly attacking the poor woman cowering against the desk; and for a boy he hated.
"Fuck this. No. If you cut that song, Louis better get a solo in the new one. Until then, we’re gone. Come on, Louis." He turned on his heel and swept to the couch, grabbing Louis’ wrist and pulling him along behind him. The boy didn’t protest, letting himself be led, stunned by his actions.
Silence settled over the room once the boys had disappeared through the door, the rest of the band and the woman staring at it open mouthed.
"What was that?" Zayn nearly whispered.
"Did Harry just—" Liam glanced at his bandmates, eyebrows furrowed. "Did he just stand up for Louis?"
Niall remained silent, staring at the door, remembering the two liplocked behind the scenes of an interview, hair ruffled and races red, Louis waddling slightly as he walk. Oh hell no. That was just wrong.
—-
The ride to their flat was silent, Harry staring out the window and glowering at the cars that passed, the sun dipping slowly beneath the horizon, hidden behind the tall buildings of London. Every so often a beam of orange light would flash over the younger boy’s strong features, casting haunting shadows over his face. He didn’t say anything when they climbed out of the car together, the other boys still back with their managers, undoubtedly doing a bit of damage control after Harry’s outburst.
Louis didn’t understand it. Harry hated him, he had told him on multiple occasions, usually at least once a day. Sure it had become less frequent, but Louis assumed it was because now he never got the chance, too consumed with fucking him to bother to say it. Yet he had just torn apart one of their managers for something that affected almost no one but Louis himself. He had screamed at her for taking a solo away from the older boy, a solo that would most likely be given to him instead. It made Louis’s head hurt, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Harry wasn’t the ignorant, selfish prat he had always thought he was.
"Harry," he finally spoke, closing the door to their flat behind him, eyes on the boy in front of him, his head hanging down and his shoulders slightly hunched. Louis reached out a hand but stopped, leaving it hovering in the air between them. "What the fuck was that?"
Harry spun around. Louis only had a split second to see his eyes flashing green before the boy’s large hands gripped his face and smashed their lips together. He could see his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his grip on Louis’s head pulling him closer. Fingers curled under the base of his skull, his ears cradled between the long digits. Harry breathed long and hard through his nose, pressing his tongue into Louis’ mouth, forcing his lips apart.
They stumbled back against the door, Louis’ arms wrapping around to Harry’s back, pulling their bodies flush together. All Louis could think was how amazing Harry’s mouth felt against his own, how the low heat began to bubble and boil deep inside him, how there was too much fabric between them.
His hands scrambled for the hem of Harry’s shirt, tugging it up, running his palms against the smooth sides of the boy’s body, not yet willing to separate their lips to tug it over his head. A moan escaped his throat and echoed against the walls of Harry’s hot, moist mouth.
"Harry," he mumbled against the boy’s lips.
"No," Harry mumbled back, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hands moving down Louis’ back to his thighs and pulling them up around his waist. "Shut up, Louis."
His words lacked the usual spiteful bite, instead a mere frustrated and aroused growl. He dropped his head to Louis’ shoulder and bit the exposed skin of his neck, backing away from the door, heading further into the house, toward their bedrooms.
Louis’ heart beat faster in his chest as he clung to the larger boy. They had never had sex in the bedrooms, never on a bed. Bedrooms were off limits, their private places, places the other wasn’t allowed to enter and disturb. The air was thick as he tried to breath, every molecule smelling and tasting of Harry’s sweet scent, suffocating him.
"Harry," his voice squeaked again, his bedroom door opening behind him, Harry carrying him over the threshold.
"I said shut up, Louis," Harry growled, dropping him violently down on his own bed, Louis bouncing slightly as he attempted to right himself on his messy covers. The taller boy removed his shirt hastily, struggling with the button on his trousers, face scrunched up in frustration.
"Here," Louis whispered, reaching out and undoing the clasp for him, pulling down both the trousers and boxers beneath in one sweep. Harry pushed him back against the covers, capturing his mouth again, hands yanking at his shirt and pushing it over his head. His body slid down the bed and gripped the bottom of Louis’ joggers in his hands, whipping them off in one fluid motion, reaching up to tug down his briefs.
Louis watched his face, eyebrows still furrowed and forehead creased. His eyes were dark and intense, but not like they usually were. His mouth was missing its usual smirk, he hadn’t swore at him or called him a whore or scratched him at all. This was wrong. This wasn’t Harry. It made Louis’ heart skip a beat, watching this other person, this person he didn’t know, crawl up the bed and hover above him, skin just millimeters from his own, tiny hairs brushing together.
"Mine," Harry whispered against his ear, tugging at his earlobe with his teeth. Louis shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin. There he was. This was his Harry.
A gasp escaped Louis’ throat as Harry rolled their hips together, watching the face below him contort in pleasure. He wedge himself between Louis’ thighs, pushing two fingers between Louis’ pink lips, the boy coating them in spit, heart rate increasing and skin prickling in anticipation of what he knew was about to happen. He waited, bracing himself for Harry to violently flip him on his stomach to face away from him as he always did, but it never came. Instead, Harry scraped his teeth along Louis’ tan chest to his naval, nipping at the top of the indent and pinching it in his teeth, sliding his wet finger inside of the slimmer boy.
Louis squeaked at the contact, startled more by the fact that Harry was burying his face in his stomach than the feeling of his finger inside of him. That he was used to, that burning pleasure was something he was familiar with, but Harry’s curls tickling the exposed skin of his chest? That was a completely new feeling. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, he didn’t know how to breath when there was no more air in the room. He didn’t know how to think as his mind went blank at the sight of Harry’s mouth against him, teeth scratching at his skin.
His hips rolled and thrust back against Harry’s fingers, his hands gripping the sheets hesitantly. Green eyes found his through luscious eyelashes, pupils blown wide and colour dark with lust. There was something swirling beneath the surface, something deep and instinctual, something dark and frightening.
"Ahh—" Louis gasped in, mouth agape as Harry slid himself in roughly, blinking and looking at Louis’ chest, hands gripping his hips to keep him steady.
The angle was so different, so new, that Louis whimpered, nearly sobbing at the burning ecstasy that seared through him as Harry continued to push in.
"Oh fuck—"
"No," Harry grumbled, bending down to bite into Louis’ neck again. "Don’t— don’t ruin it."
Louis bit his lip firmly, heart swelling in his chest. What was this? This new side of Harry, with just enough of his Harry peeking through to remind him of all those other times, those amazing times, that Harry had fucked him senseless. This was all to different, too new. It set his skin on fire, burning in every place Harry’s skin touched his own.
The boy’s fingers scraped up his sides, leaving harsh red marks in their wake. He pulled out slowly, Louis back arching and his hand flying to Harry’s hair, nails gripping into his scalp.
When he slammed back in, it was anything but slow, anything but gentle. A cry of pain flew from Louis’ mouth, water pricking his eyes and legs wrapping around Harry’s slim waist. He gripped the sheets in one hand, Harry’s curls in the other, mouth alternating between panting — wide and open — and biting his bottom lip with violent force. High keens vibrated in the back of his throat, his chest covered by the sweaty body of the boy on top of him, skin rubbing against skin.
It was too much, too fucking much, and he couldn’t take it. The feeling of Harry inside him, rubbing his flesh anew, and the feeling of his own erection rubbing between them, made him roll his eyes back in his head, dry pleasure-sobs cutting through the air. His body squirmed beneath the weight on top of him, unable to control it any longer. His muscles trembled as the hot, coiled pleasure became tight and dense low inside him. His skin felt too tight against his body, his lungs deflated, useless.
Both hands flew to Harry’s skull, yanking at his hair, pulling his face from the crook of Louis’ neck. Green and blue combined in a swirl or ecstasy and sweet, sweet pleasure. The heat exploded from within them, burning the sheets, setting the bedroom alight with passion and anger and utter bliss.
Harry collapsed on top of him, both boys panting heavily in exhaustion.
"Harry," Louis whispered, hands relaxing in the younger boy’s hair. He felt him tense and shift up, slipping out of him and removing the weight from his chest.
He brushed his hair from his forehead as he stood.
"Goodnight, Louis," he said, turning on his heel and leaving the flushed, sweaty boy sprawled across the sheets, chest heaving and mind reeling.