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Summary
“Mhm,” Louis makes, and sneaks the hand at Harry’s side under her shirt, rubbing her thumb into her belly, teasing along the waistband of her jeans. “In front of all our friends? Right here?”
Harry whimpers and presses her face into the crook of Louis’ neck, kissing where she left off, probably deepening the mark that has been stuck there for days. They don’t actually fuck in front of their friends, even if the possibility has come up more than once and all five of them have expressed curiosity, but at the moment it’s a fantasy that gets them going like nothing else.
Or: Louis and Harry approach sexual discomfort by fantasising about being watched.
