Work Text:
i.
The first time it happens it’s drunk and frantic. Louis and Harry are the only two left in Harry's flat, the other lads having left minutes before. Murky green bottles lay scattered along the floor and coffee table, logic lost somewhere in the back of their minds. Neither knows who started it, who made the first move, but in the end they both end up naked, trailing drunk kisses over each others bodies like shaking hands reaching for another shot. It’s slurred words into necks, alcohol staining chests, staining stomachs, staining thighs and hips and mouths.
It's when Harry wakes up to a throbbing head and purple bruises covering his body softly like kisses, he does so alone, with a cold spot in the shape of Louis’ fragile frame beside of him.
(Louis texts him, though, because he and Harry are best mates and would never let sloppy drunk sex get between them. They have years stacked upon years of friendship and trust, and if anything, they can add this to the adventurous tale of ‘H&L.’
It’s okay. Nothing will happen.)
ii.
The second time, only Louis is drunk and Harry wishes he was. Louis touches Harry better than anyone before ever has; trails his fingers down to all the right places, biting in all the right ways, landing kisses on his body like airplanes roaming over and roughly touching down, making him feel alive. The way Louis murmurs meaningless phrases into his stomach, strokes him with alcohol tainted fingertips, making Harry want more than what he has ever allowed his mind to wonder when it came to Louis.
Harry never wants Louis’ mouth to leave his, never wants his hands to stop bruising his skin, never wants to taste anyone ever again. He wants to feel Louis curled up against his bare skin every night, his soft breathes hitting his neck and back and lips, whether with the smell of mouthwash or vodka. He wants to wake up every morning, finding himself mapped around Louis like commas and apostrophes and watch his eyes flutter open.
Harry falling in love with Louis is like the way leaves fall, and stars fall, and how toast and pages and words all fall. Effortlessly.
When he wakes up - Louis is gone again. He tries to not let it get to him, he really does, but he wasn't drunk and can still feel every place Louis kissed.
He comes back later, though, after Harry anxiously paced his kitchen with tears lining his eyes. Before they could fall he hears the knock at the door and Louis' voice cutting through the thin wood, and he wonders if Louis had ever knocked before or if he is just letting all of, this, get to him.
They hug like best mates, like they always do, not mentioning last night, rather getting ready for their Sunday moviethon.
(Louis is lying in front of Harry on the couch, curled under his arm that’s wrapped tighter than usual around his stomach, keeping him close against Harry’s chest. His fingers tangles with Harry’s, softly stroking over his knuckles.
“Harry, why can’t I pick the movies this time?” he whines, throwing his head back against Harry's chest, nearly hitting his chin but Harry moved just in time.
“You got to choose last week, Louis. It’s my turn.” Harry whines back, trying to fast forward through the previews of other movies. “Shitty remote,” he mumbles into Louis’ neck, reaching out closer in hopes that it will solve his problem.
Louis groans, taking the remote from his hands, “Let me do it, you useless baboon.”
“Did you just call me a baboon?” Harry asks incredulously, pulling back.
“A useless one,” Louis corrects, getting the ancient remote to the ancient tv (because Harry has to level to his hipsterequeness) to work just in time for Harry to shove him off the couch. “Why’d you do that?” he groans, frowning and rubbing at his bum.
“That’s what you get for calling me a baboon.” he mumbles, taking the remote and jamming the ‘stop’ button on it multiple times before it actually works.
“A useless one, get it right.” Louis retorts, receiving a thrown remote to the head.
Back to normal.
iii.
The third time it happens, neither are drunk, just in desperate need and not feeling up for clubbing. Louis texts Harry, then calls:
“We can -” Harry starts, wanting to feel Louis inside him again, feel him trail his kisses over his neck and down his chest, his teeth biting down into his skin so when he goes back out into public everyone can see the marks and know Louis was there. He wants him, he wants every part of him.
“- yeah I mean, it’s not like -” Louis continues slowly, and Harry can just see him rubbing the back of his neck like he does, worrying his lip.
“- we, uh, haven't done it before, yeah.” They both finish, chuckling through the phone line awkwardly.
“So?” Harry starts, biting his lip with anticipation of a yes, trying to keep himself from begging and pleading, anything to feel Louis against and in and coming all over him again.
“Yeah, Ill be - uh - right over.” Then a dial tone.
Harry beams, running to the bathroom to fix his hair up, making sure his curls are not tangled or messy, then he laughs at himself for fixing his hair before sex. This is Louis, though. Louis who he lives and breathes and loves more than anything. Maybe if he looks good enough, he won't wake up alone again. All he wants to do is impress Louis, that’s all he ever wants.
As soon as Louis’ in the door their lips are attached, no talking, no nothing, just rough and hard teeth clacking kissing. Harry pinned against the wall with tiny hands trailing his chest, stopping at the seam of his shirt to hurriedly pull it up and over his head. So much for nice hair, Harry thinks.
Harry's breathing is ragged like water over river rocks, feeling Louis’ fingertips burning into his hipbones, his lips trailing down his neck and over his collarbones, sucking rough and dark lovebites all over. He brings his mouth up to Harry’s ear, nipping at it lightly, his hot breath making Harry shiver as he whispers: “You're allowed to touch me too, babe.”
He whines lowly, letting his eyes flutter as he immediately pulls Louis’ coat off with trembling hands as if he is holding a fault line during a 8.7 magnitude earthquake, feeling so overwhelmed. Louis laughs under his breath, kissing Harry’s jaw line softly before pulling his own shirt off himself, “What's the matter, Haz?” he smirks, watching Harry stare at him with glazed eyes.
Harry flushes, shaking his head quickly before grabbing Louis’ hand in his own and pulling him toward his bedroom. He carefully lays down, breath hitching as he feels Louis crawl on top of him, holding his hips down with his tiny hands as he licks into his mouth, kissing him frantic and dirty.
Harry is more gentle, softly trailing his fingers down Louis’ back, rubbing carefully into the dimples at the bottom of his spine. He wants to change this, he wants to make Louis feel how much he loves him so he won’t embarrass himself trying to stutter the words out. He wants Louis to feel the same way. Louis’ sober now, he’s going to remember this. Harry thinks if he makes it good then Louis will think he is good too.
Maybe he won't wake up alone again.
Louis grinds down roughly, both moaning loudly into each others mouths, breaths mangling together. He does it again, except this time Harry grinds up, making Louis whimper above him with fluttered eyelids and bitten lips. He pulls back, pushing Harrys’ curls off his forehead with little breaths escaping his lips. His cheeks pink and pupils blown, “Lube? Condoms?”
“Second drawer,” Harry breathes, watching him dazed, adding in a shy voice because Louis hadn’t remembered (not that Harry expected him to since he was piss drunk), “I'm clean, though, so - I mean - if you’re - you don’t -” He stops himself, closing his eyes tightly, trying to get the nerves to seep out through his careful breaths.
Louis smirks from by the drawer, rolling his eyes. Harry opens his own, flushing red, before standing up and quickly pulling off his sweats and boxers, laying back down to watch Louis do the same, drinking up his golden skin and soft curves and pretty little body.
“Hands and knees?” Louis asks, crawling back on the bed. Harry nods, doing as told, feeling the bed dip behind him as he slowly brings his hand up to stroke himself. He feels one of Louis’ hands kneading into his arse, the other reaching up and scratching softly down his back and over the pert skin, spreading him apart. The pad of one of Louis’ fingers carefully brushes over his entrance, making him whine and push back, looking for more, wanting something inside, but Louis' hand is gone. Instead, it’s replaced with hot little breaths, making his stomach flutter. Then, a timid lick. Harry jerks forward, squeaking in surprise, feeling Louis’ breathy laugh against him. Then stubble is burning his arsecheeks, hot, messy licks going over him again and again, making him moan and whimper and press back wanting to feel more, always more.
“Fuck, Lou, th-” his voice cuts off, feeling Louis’ tongue press inside of him, feeling Louis’ hum of a response vibrate in his arse, and his head falls between his shoulders, fingers digging into the sheets. It’s all he can do to not come already, cock leaking and barely touched.
Louis’ tongue quickens, fast and deliberate, Harry a moaning mess, spewing out words that aren't even words but feel right as they claw up his throat and out of his lips in desperate pants. All he’s able to think is come closer, please.
Then Louis’ hothothot tongue is gone, cold air surprising him as he lets out a quiet hiss. “Fuck Harry,” he hears Louis mumble behind him, and then the snick of a bottle cap, “You’re so desperate for it, aren't you? Want it so bad, huh baby?”
Harry nods frantically, not trusting his voice because it will either sound so wrecked he will want to sink into the sheets and never face Louis again, or he will spew out how desperate he is for Louis’ kisses and cock and love and stinky feet.
He hears Louis laugh quietly, then there is a hand spreading him apart again, a slick finger rimming around him before slowly pushing in. His eyes flutter, looking between his thighs to see Louis on his haunches, biting his lip as he pushes another finger in, slowly, scissoring him open.
He leans in, pressing a hot kiss to Harry's arse, biting softly at his milky skin as he curves his fingers, making Harry tremble and choke out a low, throaty moan. Louis hits him there again and again, adding another finger and watching mesmerised as Harry whimpers and rocks back on his hand, back arched and skin covered in a thin line of sweat already.
“Louis, Lou,” Harry chokes out, “please, more.”
He curves his fingers one last time, listening to Harry sob as he slowly pulls out, kissing Harry’s pert arse one last time, mumbling out something along the lines of, “Yeah, okay baby.”
He quickly slicks himself up, biting his lip as his eyes wander over Harry who is so wrecked before him, leaking precum onto his duvet that they didn't bother to remove, milky skin starting to bruise from his fingertips earlier. Fuck, so beautiful.
No, Louis.
Louis closes his eyes, breathing in deeply, willing himself not to think as he lines himself up. He pulls Harry apart with one hand, circling his entrance with the head of his cock, carefully pushing in when Harry hisses out his name, desperate to be fucked. Harry’s eyes roll back, biting the inside of his cheek at the stretched and full feeling ripping through him again.
Finally, Louis is nuzzled up against his thighs, Harry tight and hot around him, and it takes everything in him not to tear him apart and fuck him hard and rough into the mattress, make him choke and plead to stop. “Tell me when Haz, baby. Tell me when to move.”
“Now,” he breathes quickly, trying to push further back onto Louis, “please, now.”
Louis laughs breathlessly, slowly pulling out only to slam back into him, trailing his hands up Harry's back and to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as he thrusts back in again and again and again. Harry slumps forward, dropping his head into his crossed arms on the mattress, curse words spilling from his lips with his eyes shut tightly and mouth hung open. He bites back a scream when Louis hit just the right place, choking on his tongue and air and fuck.
Louis trails one of his hands down his back to Harry’s hip, gripping it tightly, listening to Harrys muffled screams into his skin, trying to stop them, little ‘ah-ah-ahs’ escaping his own lips. He leans over Harry's back as best he can, trying to get closer to his ear as he mumbles out, “C’mon Haz, wanna hear you.”
Harry doesn’t do anything, keeps biting into his arm as Louis fucks into him, dazed and worried and so overwhelmed by the feeling. Louis digs his fingernails into Harry's hip further, though, pulling out slowly and then roughly slamming back in, hitting his spot and smirking when Harry’s loud and choked scream fills the room.
“Close, close, close,” Harry rambles out, breathless with heavy eyelids and lips, wishing he was on his back so he could see what Louis is like when he’s sober, as he feels him fuck into him again and again and again, Louis’ tightening grip on his skin where he’s sure dark purple bruises will be dancing on his skin for days.
Louis reaches around Harry, grabbing his hot and leaking and untouched cock into his tiny hand, pumping him quickly, leaning down again and biting into his shoulder, hotly breathing into his ear, “Come on Haz, baby, come for me.”
Harry shudders under the words, feeling his stomach clench as a strangled sob leaves his lips at Louis biting his ear, coming all over his duvet and mattress. Louis bites his lip, closing his eyes tightly at the feel of Harry clenching around him, then falling limp. He slowly pulls out, pumping himself fast, faster, spilling all over Harry back, a line of profanities leaving his lips as he falls beside Harry.
Harry smiles lazily, feeling warm and tired and what he imagines it would be like to be made of honey, smiling wider as he glances over at Louis who has flushed cheeks and glossy eyes and bitten lips, and fuck. He looks even more beautiful than last time. He sighs contently, wanting to wrap his arms around Louis and pull him into his chest. He doesn't, though, instead murmurs, “‘m’tired.”
Louis laughs, shaking his head and getting up. Harry watches him, panic settling in as he shakily and tiredly asks, “Where are you going?”
“Gonna get you a wet flannel, Harold, it’s not good to let come dry on you, yaknow,” Louis calls behind him, walking into Harry’s bathroom and coming back out moments later with a wet towel, smirk still on his lips, “gonna clean you up, dirty boy.”
Harry blushes, hiding his head and his embarrassing, face-splitting grin from Louis, feeling the warm cloth drag over his skin. It’s impossible, he knows, but he can feel his heart swelling.
“Now we can sleep?” Harry murmurs, turning his head out of his arms to watch Louis get up and put the cloth in the dirty clothes hamper.
“Uh, yeah. We can do that,” Louis crawls back into the bed, turning over so Harry is facing his back, ignoring the arms that wrap around him and pull him into a warm chest
When Harry wakes up, Louis is gone and he cries for an entire hour.
(It’s Sunday again, and Harry hasn't spoken or seen or heard anything from Louis in five days. No texts, no phone calls, no surprise stop bys, no airplanes in the sky spelling out his undeniable love. Nope, nothing. Not even a fucking postcard from some foreign country or where the fuck he has fled to.
Harry, just - he feels like shit. He knows he shouldn't have slept with Louis, shouldn't have let him trail his fingers down his chest and hold his cock, and he shouldn't have let him come all over his back, especially when Louis was still completely sober and would remember all of it. All of the moans and whimpers and screams. He knows how Louis is, and he knows Louis will never feel the same way about him, and he knows Louis fucks and leaves people, and he knows he needs to stop wanking to the feel of Louis’ lips ghosting over his collarbones.
He knew he would mess everything up by this, yet, he went and let it happen because somewhere in his mind he thought Louis would realise he loved Harry too, wouldn’t feel the need to leave him. Now, he won't even talk to him.
He has spent the majority of the five days huddled in blankets, skipping out on work, sobbing over Louis and his eyes that are so blue like a mixture of his mouth-cleanser and tears (he’s been writing poetry too, he doesn’t think it’s turning out), and being alone, and thinking about how pathetic of a human he is.
He gets dressed, does his hair, thinks, I’m going to go see if he’s alright. Then, he looks in the mirror and realises how terrible he looks, with puffy eyes and chapped lips, and he stops, curls in on himself and cries more, so terrified he's lost his best friend.
He doesn’t.
At 11:30 in the morning, there’s a knock at his door and Harry pulls himself together well enough to open it. He wipes at his nose and his eyes, clears his throat and straightens out his tattered shirt. He doesn't know what he was expecting but it wasn’t Louis with a box of pizza.
He’s okay with the outcome.
He blinks, staring over Louis, looking to see if he’s changed anything about himself besides shaving. It’s been five whole days, they never go that long without seeing each other, or speaking to each other, or acknowledging one another's existence.
Louis laughs, shifting the pizza in his arm to the other, “Well, are you going to let me in or what, Styles?”
Harry blinks again, opening his mouth and then closing it again, stepping out of the doorway with furrowed eyebrows. “Why - what are you doing here?”
Louis’ face screws up, setting the pizza down on the messy coffee table and putting a hand on his hip. “It’s Sunday, Harry. You know, movie marathon and my week to choose movies - just so you know. Why wouldn't I be here?” he kicks his shoes off, plopping down on the couch and grabbing the remote, looking back up at Harry through his lashes, smiling, and Harry feels himself melting like stars sprinkled with vodka.
“You - you haven't answered my phone calls though, Lou,” he watches Louis pick a piece of pizza up, taking a bite and flipping through the movies as if they hadn't just gone five days without seeing each other, and its hurting Harry because he knows what Louis is doing. He’s giving an out to all of this, he’s making it all seem like it never happened, which is okay, Harry thinks, if he would just stop leaving him afterwards.
Louis sighs, but Harry can hear how fake it is, “My phone was dead, you know how I get, Harry. Now come on, I haven't seen you in five days, stop with the questions and just cuddle me.” He holds his arms out, making grabby fists with his free hand, and Harry, of course, immediately goes to him.
(Somewhere in the midst of one of the movies, Louis turns over in Harry's chest, looking up at him through his eyelashes, whispering: “You look like you've been crying.”
Harry shakes his head, bites the inside if his cheek to remind himself to stay calm and lies to Louis for the first time in years, “Just haven't been sleeping that well, Lou.”
Louis sighs, watching Harry a while longer with worried eyes before placing a gentle kiss on his jaw, then turning back around.
Harry closes his eyes, holds in his tears and sobs and all the hurt he is feeling, desperately wills himself not think about the way Louis was kissing him there days ago with frantic breaths and bitten lips.))
iv.
The fourth time it happens, Harry forces himself to stop feeling.
The lads are all gathered at Niall’s place, Louis and Zayn laying on opposite sides of the couch, legs intertwining, Liam in the arm chair, Niall in the beanbag, and Harry curled up on the ground with a blanket. They all have beers in hands and the footie game is flashing on the TV, Nialls yells overbearing the rest with cheers or grunts. all Harry hears and sees is Louis. He watches the way he sips from the bottle, how he laughs, how his eyes crinkle up, and he counts all the lines between his eyebrows. He’s mesmerised, really, and he hates it.
He only starts paying attention when he hears him and Louis’ names involved, spilling from Niall’s voice, “Come on now, mate, we all know you and Harry have shagged at least once.”
Harry blushes, wondering how and when their conversations turned for the worse, sipping on his beer tentatively, not really looking up. Louis smiles, smirks, “Fine, fine. He's certainly the best fuck I've had, loud thing, he is.” Louis winks at him and the other boys, excluding Liam, laugh and roll their eyes.
Niall looks to Zayn, waggling his eyebrows, “What about you and Perrie, yeah? Gone anywhere yet?”
Harry gets up, though. He gets up and quickly stumbles to the bathroom, feeling his ribs tightening in on his lungs and stomach curdling. Instead of puking, like he thinks he’s going to do, he drops to his knees, tears dripping from his eyes and onto the toilet seat.
All he is to Louis is a fuck, that’s it. He gets it, he gets that he's weird and clumsy and his hair always seems to be a little greasy. He gets that he talks too slow and has a terrible movie taste and falls too fast, whatever. He can understand that Louis sees him as no more than a friend, and he can live with it. But he can't live with just being a fuck to him. That’s something you say about a stripper or a one night stand, but that’s not them. They are best friends who have slept with each other three times already. He could at least call it ‘platonic love making’ or something other than a fuck.
There’s a knock on the door and Harry wants to melt into the bathroom walls, “Harry, mate, Im coming in.” It’s Louis, and Harry would panic but he doesn't have the energy because all he feels right now is heavy. He doesn't even lift his head as Louis comes in and shuts the door softly behind him with worried eyes, kneeling in front of him, “Haz, what's wrong, why are you crying?”
Harry shakes his head, resting it on the toilet seat.
“Is it - is it what I said - out there?” he asks timidly, sitting cross legged in front of Harry, taking his hand in his own and tracing over his fingers.
Harry shakes his head no again because he doesn't know how he would explain it if he said yes.
Louis sighs, entwining their fingers. “If it was I'm sorry. I can tell them it was just a joke, that’s probably what they thought anyway.”
A joke. Thats what it feels like to Harry, too.
Harry shakes his head no again, “Just feeling a little sick s’all, Lou.”
Louis bites his lip, bringing his other hand up to Harry’s face, brushing the curls that fall onto his forehead back again. Harry moves back a little, thinking about how he didn't shower and how his curls are probably greasier than usual.
Louis gives him a confused look, “Okay Harry, babe, what's up?”
Harry shakes his head quickly, again and again, “Nothing Lou, nothing. I swear.”
Louis tries to brush his curls back again and Harry shrinks back, making Louis groan. “Jesus Harry, what has gotten into you. Since when don't you like me touching you?”
Touching, touching, kissing, sucking, biting, touching.
“Lou stop, its noth-”
“Bullshit Harry,” Louis hisses quietly, making Harry flinch, closing his eyes and trying to will Louis to leave him alone. He just wants to be alone to gather his feelings. Being in love was easier when he didn't know what Louis tasted like and what he felt like and the way he sounded when he comes and fuck.
Harry expects him to sigh, question it further, yell, something, anything, but he doesn't expect the rough press of lips against his.
Harrys eyes flutter and then he feels Louis’ hands on his face, on his chest, pushing him back against the linoleum. Louis breaks the kiss, instead trailing his lips down Harrys jaw line to his throat, biting softly, “Lou, sto-”
Louis trails back up, “No, Harry. Let me do this.” He kisses the corner of his mouth, wiping at the tears that are gathering in Harry’s eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks.
Louis’ hands trail up under Harry’s shirt, squeezing into his hips, burning burning burning. He mouths over Harry’s shirt and down to his jeans. Harry whimpers quietly, rutting up, making Louis’ nails dig into his skin. “Stay still, babe.”
He nods, swallowing the lump in his throat, notfeelingnotfeelingnotfeeling.
Louis quickly undoes his belt and pops the button on his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. Harry's cock is already hard and glistening, laying hard against his stomach and Louis quickly wraps his hand around it, squeezing lightly, looking up to Harry to see him looking down with pleading eyes to please move his hand.
He does. Thumb grazing over his slit and then moving back down, slowly. He leans in, placing a wet and timid kiss over the head and Harry bucks his hips up again, whining. “Harry, Haz-" Louis starts in the sweetest voice, daring to make Harry’s body melt, "If you can be quiet I’ll suck you off, okay? But you have to be quiet, alright love, darling?”
Harry nods quickly, don't feel, biting his lip. Louis smiles, pressing his thumb into his hip gently, leaning in to place another kiss over the tip, trailing his lips down the underside and back up, finally wrapping them around his head, swirling his tongue and listening to Harry’s choked and quiet moans.
He finally goes down further, flattening his tongue and pumping his hand for the half he hasn’t gotten to yet. He hollows his cheek, bobbing up and down. He lets one of his hands trail down and up Harry's thigh, eventually taking his balls in his hand, massaging them gently, looking up through his eyelashes to see Harry biting his arm, eyes squeezed shut.
He takes him down further, moving his hand up Harry's stomach and grabbing his free hand, squeezing it gently before popping off, “Want you to fuck my mouth, babe.”
Harrys eyes flutter open, a throaty moan escaping his lips before he can think and Louis’ hand flies up, shoving his fingers down Harry's throat to shut him up, making Harry’s eyes widen, pupils dilating even more. Louis feels breathless, feels Harry suck his fingers, hot in his mouth.
He shakes his head, taking Harry back into his own mouth, Harry's fingers tangling into his hair, pulling softly. Louis goes to move his fingers from Harry's mouth but Harry bites down, mumbling out somehow a ‘no,’ and Louis thinks they probably look really fucking weird right now but he’s too turned on to care, stomach pooling with heat as he flattens Harry's tongue with his digits.
Harry sucks on them, slowly pushing Louis’ head back and then pulling up again. Then Louis’ humming around his cock, making Harry buck up, hitting the back of Louis throat, making him choke and out of nowhere come in his jeans, fingers shaking in Harry's mouth and jesus, he just came completely untouched because Harry gagged him with his fucking cock.
Harry sees the way he’s shaking, the way his eyes flutter, and he fucks harder and faster into his pliant mouth, coming in moments down his throat and biting down on Louis’ fingers to keep from screaming out his name.
They stay laying there for a few moments, listening to the other lads screaming at the TV, and Harry realises, Louis can't leave him this time. He cant.
He can’t.
Louis groans finally, sitting up and looking at his jeans and Harry laughs lazily with drooping eyelids, looking at the wet spot. “Didn’t even - didn’t even touch you.”
Louis glares, lets out a fake laugh and flips Harry off before he allows himself to smile again, rolling his eyes. “C’mon now, Haz, put your dick away. Lads probably wondering what the hells been taking so long to get you outta here.”
Harry pouts, turning his cheek against the cold linoleum. “You got it out.”
“Jesus Harry, fucking child,” he mumbles, but still he reaches over and tucks his dick back into his pants, pulling and buttoning his jeans up for him. Harry’s trying really hard not to feel right now.
(Louis places a gentle kiss to his hip where his shirt is riding up, and his entire body flushes.)
(The lads don't say anything when they come back out, but Louis’ pretty sure Niall’s choking on laughter because he can see the wet spot in the front of Louis’ jeans that he’s trying very hard to cover up with his hands.
Harry curls back up on the ground with a blanket and Louis lays beside him, taking the blanket to cover himself and pretending he can’t feel Harry’s lazy smirk pressing into the back of his neck.
When Harry wakes up the lights are turned off but he can see the digital clock on the wall flashing 2.47, he can also see the outline of a body on the couch and another on the floor across the room. He feels warmth against his chest and soft breathing hitting his arm.
Louis’ still right beside him.
Right when Harry thinks he's falling asleep again he feels Louis stir in his arms. He untangles himself from his arms and stands up, and Harry thinks he’s just going to the bathroom, he’s just going to the bathroom, but then his voice is quietly cutting through the silence of the room, “Sorry, Im so sorry. Harry, fuck, Im so sorry.”
He thinks he might feel a teardrop on his cheek, but he’s not sure if Louis is actually crying or if it’s his own as he hears Louis quietly slip out the door.
He’s alone again.)
v.
Harry is not avoiding Louis.
Everytime he calls, he doesn't pick up. Louis texts and asks if they can hang out and Harry tells him he’s tired from work. Louis shows up to his job on his lunch break, Harry sneaks out the back door and has it at a hole in the wall cafe. He pretends he’s busy, or not home, or tired, or dead.
Harrys is not avoiding Louis.
He’s just tired and in love with his best friend who uses him for a good fuck and then leaves him to wake up alone and then has to face him and pretend like he’s not in love with him and none of it ever happened and Harry’s never had someone kiss him so, so soft.
Harry’s hurt, and complicated, and just really fucking hurt.
Whatever.
“Yeah thanks. How much did you say that would be?” He asks, flipping through channels. It’s Sunday, the second Sunday that Louis and Harry haven’t spent together for their weekly moviethon. “14.75? Alright, thanks. Yeah. Bye.”
Harry puts his phone down, sighing. Quite frankly he’s too paranoid to even leave his house because Louis is everywhere, and every face, and every person with burnt caramel hair and blue eyes (blue in the way water flickers onto the horizon in rolling hills and shimmering specks; his poetry is improving slightly, now if he could only write about anything but the colour blue,) and soft curves.
He hears three knocks at the door and glances to the clock, ten minutes.
“Just a sec.” He yells out, grabbing his wallet.
“14.75, right?” He says as he’s opening the door, but then there are hands on his chest and the door is getting slammed closed.
“Or you can have me for free.”
Harry swallows, looks up to see Louis with puffy eyes and bitten lips and messy hair. “What are yo - how did -”
“I’ve been sleeping outside your door for 2 days. You haven't even walked out once.” Louis’ hands are holding his hips now, pulling him closerclosercloser and Harry is trying to back away.
“Louis, I-”
“Why have you been ignoring me, Haz?” Louis whispers, looking up from Harrys lips. "I had to fucking wait for you to order some shit food before you’d even open the door."
Harry opens his mouth just to close it, feeling tears well in his eyes because Louis’ holding his hips so tightly like when he was fucking him into the mattress, “Louis you le-”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Louis ignores it, digs his nails into Harry's skin, trying to rip the words from him.
“You le-”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Goddamn it, Louis you le-”
“Are you guys gonna get your pizza?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake.”
Louis lets go of Harry, opening the door and throwing a twenty at the pizza boy, muttering a thanks and shutting the door after taking the pizza. When he turns back around Harry's gone and he mutters more profanities under his breath. “Harry, where the hell did you go?”
Louis puts the pizza down, going to the bathroom. “Harry?” He tries to turn the doorknob but it’s locked. “Fuck, Harry. Just open the door.”
“No.”
“Harry, stop being such a fucking baby and get out here.”
Harry wipes frantically at his cheeks, murmuring to himself to stop crying but he can't.
“Harry, please.”
“Why?”
Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to stop himself from crying too, “So we can talk about this like ad-”
“Not that.”
“What?” Louis asks confused, overwhelmed, leaning against the door and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
Harry bites his lip, resting his head against the door. “Why'd you leave?”
“Leave? Harry what are yo-”
“You know what Im talking about Louis,” Harry yells, hitting the door, hand turning into a fist.
“I- I- I don't know, Harry, I- I didnt kn-”
“I felt you leave me,” Harry whispers, more to himself than anything.
“What?”
“I felt you leave me, Louis, I was awake. I felt you unwrap my arms from around you and leave.”
Louis’ mouth fell open, tears overwhelming his eyes, “Harry, I- I- I-”
“No, Louis, why? Why'd you leave, why do you keep leaving? We are best friends, can you not handle waking up next to me?”
“Harry it was just - just, it was just sex Harry I-”
Harry's ears ring, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as he slowly slips to the floor, “Don't say that,” he pleads.
“Harry, what? Say- fuck- Harry, come out here what did I say?” Louis asks frantically, so, so worried. Crying.
“It’s just sex, it's just sex,” Harry rambles, “it’s not just sex, Louis. I- I I felt you. I felt everything, I-”
“Haz, please. Calm down, please, please love. I did too, please come out here, please.” Louis’ cheeks are wet and he’s so confused and he hurts so much and he wants to see Harry and touch and hold him and let him know its not his fault.
“No, no. Louis, I’m in love with you, and I slept with you, and I was only drunk one time - only once - and - and it’s not just sex to me, Louis. It’s not. I thought it was more for you.”
It’s quiet, and Louis slips to the ground, wrapping around himself, silent tears dripping down into his palms.
“You could have at least just stayed, Lou. You could have just stayed and not have made me feel so used. Fuck, you're my best friend and you left me.” After Harry says it he hears a choked sob through the door and his heart cracks, more tears falling down.
“I know, Harry. I know.” Louis whispers.
“Then why, Louis?” he asks.
“I was so scared.” he whispers back, “I was just so scared and I- I-”
“What, Louis?” Harry urged desperately, pressing against the door, feeling his tears stain the wood. “Why were you scared, Louis, Lou?”
“Please come out here. Please, I- Hazza, “ Louis trailed off, hugging himself tightly.
There’s a click and then the door is quickly opening and Harry crawls out, seeing Louis curled around himself, head in his knees and trembling. “Louis?” he whispers, completely shocked at how affected his is. He quickly wraps his arms around him, pulling him into his chest.
Louis clings to Harry’s shirt, crying loudly and disgustingly.
“Please don’t cry,” Harry whispers with furrowed eyebrows, “it’s okay. We’re okay, I - please, just don’t cry.”
“I was scared because I didn't want to fall in love with you, too.” he finally manages, voice breaking off from tears.
Harry swallows, eyebrows scrunching up, “What- what do you mean?” he asks feeling himself crumble.
“I- I- I have this weird thing. I dreamed I was waking up next to you and-” Louis closes his eyes, shaking his head, “That light was hitting your face from the curtains and I- I-” Louis wipes at his nose, not looking up at Harry, “and I thought if that happened in real life then I would fall in love with you.”
Harry sits up a little, holding Louis, not sure of what to say, but he still hurts. He doesn’t know why he hurts, but he does, so much.
“I’ve never felt anything for anyone, Harry.” Louis cries, tears spilling over his cheeks, “I've never liked anyone before like this, and- and I thought waking up would make me feel all of this for you but I didn't realise I already did. I already fell in love with you and I'm so scared, Harry. Please, I’m so scared.” Louis buries his face into Harry's chest, sobbing loudly and-
and
and
And Harry doesn’t know why he is still hurting so much, but he is. He is. He doesn’t want Louis to be scared, he doesn’t want Louis to feel scared to love someone, especially his best friend. Harry loves him back, Harry loves Louis. He loves him so much it physically hurts him.
And this is the fifth time:
He kisses him. He hooks his finger under Louis’ chin and kisses him so softly he's not sure Louis feel it, but he does. He feels it so much, more than he has ever felt anything in his entire life. Harry kisses him, lets his fingertips rub gentle circles against his body, letting his tongue trace his lips and slip inside. He feels Louis' tears on his own cheek and he feels Louis’ fingertips trail over his own skin, over his collarbones and behind his neck.
Harry tries picking Louis up, stumbles a bit but he thinks he’s doing pretty good and Louis’ still licking into his mouth, his fingers tangled in his hair and legs wrapped around his waist and he does it. When he makes it to his bedroom he sets Louis down gently, treating him like a delicate porcelain doll because goddamn it he’s so in love, never breaking the kiss as he crawls on top of him, rubbing his thumbs across Louis cheeks soft, softer, softly.
He feels Louis shake beneath his hands as he kisses down his jaw line to his throat, gently biting there, circling his tongue around the skin, feeling him sweat like ocean tears. He softly nudges his shirt up, waiting for Louis to lift his arms before carefully pulling it off his head. He sits ontop of him, staring at how beautiful he looks, how beautiful and perfect, and he needs to touch him.
He does.
He does so much. He slowly and softly rubs his thumbs into Louis’ stomach, glancing up to see Louis watching him with furrowed eyebrows and his lip between his teeth. Harry leans down, kissing the bite away, murmuring, “Are you okay?”
Louis closes his eyes, tears slipping out of the corner, “No,” he whispers, “but the good kind.”
Harry laughs breathlessly, nodding his head as he presses his thumbs harder into Louis’ sides, trailing up to his chest and to his shoulders, brushing over his collarbones and then coming back down. “You’re really beautiful, you know.”
Louis chokes, nods, and Harry thinks it’s amazing. Amazing that a confident and suave Louis, who is smooth smooth smooth like water, can break so easily like waves. It’s beautiful and amazing and never in all their years of friendship has Harry seen him quite like this.
He loves it.
He loves him.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
Louis opens his eyes, looking up to Harry and nodding his head, slowly grinding up against Harry's arse, a small moan escaping through his lips and Harry eats it up. He scoots further down Louis so he’s straddling his thighs, pulling at the string of his sweatpants, pulling them just a little bit down, watching Louis harden beneath him. A small patch grows in the front of his boxers, his cock noticeably twitching, he’s so mesmerising. He swallows, looking back up to Louis who looks completely wrecked and he hasn’t even done anything yet.
“Please touch me, Harry.” Harry listens to the sound of his voice, catching on his name and breaking off on the ‘touch.’ He does though, carefully fits his hand over Louis’ cock, hard beneath the fabric, and pushes down lightly, wrapping his fingers around the edges, squeezing gently, the heat of it seeping through the fabric and soaking into his hand and his veins and he absolutely bathes in it.
Then he’s getting up, yanking Louis’ sweats and boxers down, crawling back up to straddle him again, carefully taking Louis in his hand and thumbing over his slit, listening to Louis’ breath hitch. He smears the precum around the head and down his length, trailing his fingers across the veins bulging out, making Louis whimper and shake. “Stop teasing, Harry, Haz.”
Harry glances back up from Louis’ cock, bottom lip between his teeth as he nods slowly, flicking his thumb over the tip one last time, hearing Louis gasp before he fully wraps his hand around him, giving nice, paced strokes. He leans down, licking over the tip, sucking on it until it’s red and swollen and Louis’ moans are becoming choked and hushed. Then he’s going down on him, flicking his wrist at the base and bobbing up and down, feeling Louis shudder beneath him.
“Harry, gonna - gonna come,” he whispers, voice deep and breath ragged, “too much - all’ve this - too much.”
Harry swirls his tongue, slowly popping off, a trail of spit following his lips as he peers up through his lashes at Louis who is red-cheeked and glossy, pleading eyed, and he just looks so, so beautiful. He places his hands on Louis’ hips, rubbing his thumbs over his hipbones, leaning down and ghosting his lips over his chest and collarbones, breathing over them, murmuring against his skin little nothings that make Louis tremble with fluttered eyelashes, and fluttered breathing, and a fluttering heart.
“I- can I- I'm going to fuck you, okay?” Harry murmurs, feeling Louis’ hands rub softly over his back and under his shirt, “I’ll make you feel so good, Lou. So good, I promise.”
Louis nods, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he replaces his careful fingertips with nail scratching down Harry’s back to the edge of his shirt, tugging it up. Harry sits up, clothed leg brushing against Louis, making him whimper as he strips himself of his shirt. Louis’ hands sweep over Harry’s bare chest and wrap around him, pulling him down ontop of him and grinding up against him as his hands trail down under his sweats and over his arse, squeezing lightly and rolling his hips up.
Harry’s lips find Louis’ and he kisses him roughly, murmuring over his lips, “Have to take my pants off, Lou.”
Louis thinks he laughs, rolling his tear-brimmed eyes before pushing against Harry's chest. Harry quickly stands up, rolling them down along with his briefs, watching the way Louis’ eyes trail over his body, his hand drifting down his stomach and taking his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly, mouth falling open as he makes his way back to Harry’s eyes.
They stay like that, looking at each others bodies, flushed faces and blown eyes, the way their skin shimmers and cocks leak and eyes spell ‘thirst’ and ‘fond’ but mostly ‘thirst’ in the white splotches around their pupils. Breathtaking, and beautiful, and perfect.
Finally, Louis pats the bed, motioning for Harry to come back and it knocks Harry out of his daze, nodding quickly before looking to his drawer, opening it to pull out a bottle of lube. “Spread your legs for me, Lou,” Harry murmurs, crawling back onto the bed, lifting Louis’ thighs onto his shoulders and sitting between his legs. “Gonna make you feel so good, I promise, Lou. I promise.” he rambles quietly, lathering the lube onto his fingers.
He trails his pointer finger down Louis’ crack, brushing over his hole and watching the ring of muscles flutter, a small gasp falling from Louis’ lips. “Ive missed you so much, you know, so, so much,” Harry continues, distracting Louis as he slowly pushes one of his digits in, nice and slow, feeling Louis’ tightness close around it. “Im so sorry I never answered. Im sorry I left you alone,” he whisperes quieter, moving his finger in and out, pushing in a second one until they are both in up to his knuckle, scissoring his arse open, slowly curling them up to graze Louis’ spot, making him rock back in surprise, choking on a dry sob. “I’ll never do that again. I'll never leave you, Lou, I promise,” He murmurs, adding a third finger and curling it up to hit that sweet again, making Louis moan loudly, tears spilling out over his cheeks, shaking as he tries to fuck himself on Harry’s hand, desperate for that feeling again and again, Harry's words ringing in his ears.
“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, forcing his eyes to stop staring at Louis’ cock that’s red and leaking all over his golden skin. Harry wonders how long he would have gone without speaking to Louis, wonders how long he could have lasted before he realised there were places of Louis’ body he had yet to kiss and he would go pleading to Louis to fuck him, silently praying he wouldn't wake up alone even though he knew he would.
He doesn't have to, though, because Louis loves him too, he said it. He loves him too.
Harry bites his lip again, looking up to see Louis’ eyes shut with furrowed eyebrows and his mouth hung open, focusing on rocking back onto Harry's hand. Harry cautiously leans down, placing a gentle kiss to Louis’ hip, murmuring to the spot how soft it was, trailing his lips up to Louis’ neck, murmuring against it how much he loves to bite and suck on there, softly placing his mouth against Louis’ bitten ones, murmuring how much he loves to taste him and all Louis can do is cry from how overwhelmed he feels from Harry's fingers fucking into his arse and his sentimental words sinking into his skin and veins, making him feel a way he’s never felt before.
He can't- he can't handle it.
“Harry, please. Fuck me, fuck me now, please.” And Louis’ never been one to beg and plead so much, always been the one to take control and make the other person whimper beneath him, but he cant bring himself to care because Harry is making him feel so damn good and it only feels better to finally not to be the one doing all the work, just getting taken care of. Harry's taking care of him in just the right ways, too, so good.
The fingers buried in his arse are removed and he watches with hungry and desperate eyes as Harry quickly slicks himself up, watching the way his hand moves over his flushed cock. Then he’s between Louis’ legs again, spreading them open, looking up to Louis for reassuring eyes before he nudges the head of his cock against his entrance, slowly slipping inside. It makes Louis gasp and moan in both pleasure and pain until Harry's hips are nuzzled against his arse. Louis’ legs are bent up to his chest, getting use to the full and stretched feeling.
“Move,” os all he whispers, eyes closed and head turned into the pillow. Harry ignores the tight and hot feeling of Louis around him, wanting to make Louis feel so good. So he barely pulls out, rocking back in at an agonising pace, the head of his cock always there and rubbing against Louis’ spot as he makes teeny, circular hip movements.
Louis is moaning loudly, eyes squeezed shut, gripping at the sheets as he pleads to Harry to move, to go faster, to really fuck him. Harry just keeps himself nuzzled right against Louis’ hips though, feeling the way his clenches around him, hot and whimpering. “Move, ple- fuck. Please move.”
He doesn’t, though, instead leans down, kissing Louis’ lips softly, moving his own slowly and deliberately overtop Louis’ and feeling him tremble beneath the sentiment, tasting like ocean-sweated droplets as actual tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and drip down his cheeks. “Harry.” He pleads.
Harry rocks his hips in a little more now, properly pulling out and thrusting back in, one hand on Louis’ hip, holding him there and the other brushing away Louis’ tears as he carefully parts his lips with his tongue, lapping into his mouth so, so gently. Their teeth scrape against each others lightly, Louis’ arm wrapped around Harry's shoulder whilst the other one digs fingernails into Harry's hips, running down over his arse to try and make him go faster, begging with each whimper and digging of nails.
Louis’ head flies back into the pillow, his back arching when Harry thrusts in harder and faster. He screams out Harry's name at each thrust, trying to rock his hips up but Harry's hand is so fucking big sprawled over his side and keeping him still as he works him so well, biting and sucking on his exposed throat, getting faster, faster faster, until Louis isn't even moaning, just choking out random noises, eyes fluttering and mouth hung open, feeling Harry pound into him relentlessly. Toes curling and hands tangled into the sheets, spit dripping down his mouth and throat because if he closes his mouth he’s sure he will choke, only hearing Harrys muttered out words sinking into his skin, “So pretty, Lou,” “God so tight, so hot, my Lou,” “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Louis feels the pooling in his stomach, the tight, tight, tighter feeling overcoming his entire body and he lifts his head just as Harry brings his hand up to wipe his messy and sweat-stained fringe off his forehead, looking into Harry’s green and glazed eyes and he whimpers, coming all over his stomach, eyes blacking, and body shaking. Harry slows down, moaning out Louis’ name along with a string of curse words, pulling out and pumping his cock quickly, looking at Louis’ eyelashes and cheekbones and collarbones and come covered stomach.
Then a hand is grabbing at his bicep, Louis looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and hooded eyes, little breaths escaping his bruised lips as he murmurs ever so gently, “I love you,” and just like that Harry is shooting his load all over Louis’ thighs and arse and senstive cock, Louis’ name slipping through his lips like a prayer.
Louis pulls Harry down next to him, grabbing at Harry’s duvet and wiping the come off his stomach and arse, thinking about wiping it on Harry for making him such a mess before turning back to look at Harry who is watching him with a small smile and uneven breaths escaping through his lips. Louis smiles too, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on top of Harrys lips, letting them linger there long enough for Harry to pull at them with his own.
He properly rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he stares down at Harry who is laid on his back, and he traces his fingers along Harry's stomach in no particular pattern. “You're beautiful when you're coming.”
Harry smiles up at him lazily.
“And when you're naked and drunk and tired and crying and especially when you're trying to get that god-awful tv to work - and I've been keeping these things trapped inside of me because I've been so scared.” he spills, blushing lightly.
Harry bites his lip, lifting his hand back behind Louis’ neck and pulling him down for another deep and gentle kiss, moving his lips slowly before murmuring, “You know I’d never hurt you, right Lou? Never. You don't need to be scared with me.”
Louis nods with closed eyes, accidentally bumping their noses.
“I really do love you, Lou, so much.”
Louis nods again, biting his lip as more tears brim his eyes. “I don't deserve you.”
“I know.” he whispers jokingly.
“But I really want you?”
“Is that a question?” he laughs quietly, tracing circles into Louis’ arm.
Louis frowns, “I’m trying to ask you to be my boyfriend.”
“If you're still here when I wake up.”
(When Harry wakes up, it’s to the feeling of fingers tracing over his lips and eyelids, a warm body pressed against his chest and soft breaths hitting his face. His hearts in his throat when he slowly opens his eyes to see Louis tracing over his body and face, tears in his eyes.
“What's wrong, Lou?” Harry asks, panicked, sleepiness wearing off.
“This, you- its better than what I could have ever imagined.” he whispers quietly, brushing the eyelash away that flutters onto Harry's cheekbones. “You and- and- I’m so sorry.”
Harry's heart clenches and he smiles so wide he thinks his face is breaking as he pulls Louis into a smiling kiss. “Yes.” He murmurs over his lips.
“Yes what?”
“Yes Ill be your useless baboon, what do you think?”)