• 10.5 ~ Yoga Instructor
“Louis! Get up, you lazy sod!” He was too stunned to even react, just widened his eyes at Harry when the door burst open and Niall came bounding in, stopping dead in his tracks about two feet away from jumping on top of the bed as he did almost every morning. He had earphones in, dressed in wrinkled clothes from the night before, blinking at them.
“Shit.” He shook himself out of stupor, started to twist around in one place in panic like a confused squirrel. Louis would have laughed if Harry’s hand wasn’t still palming his arse, his come sticky on their bellies. Louis was so hard he wanted to cry.
“Niall, do you mind?” His words came out strangled and squeaky and Niall’s face flew right past red and turned almost purple instead.
“Shit, sorry! I- uh,” He gave a small wave then looked at his hand as if it had personally offended him, his expression clearly reading what the fuck did I do that for? He ran out of the room without closing the door.
“I’m going to murder him,” Louis whined into Harry’s neck.
“Do you want me to,” Harry wriggled his eyebrows, his face sweaty and blissed out, “you know.” He made a jerking gesture with his hand in front of Louis’ face. He bit down on Harry’s shoulder, sank his teeth into the warm, pliant flesh and counted to five.
“Can’t. Fucking Niall killed the mood. I’ll just-” Pulling away took almost Herculean effort, but he managed. Couldn’t keep from staring at Harry though, all spread out before him, sated and sleepy-eyed, looking at him back with lazy hunger.
“You’re still hard,” Harry pointed out, licking his lips because Louis had not suffered enough already.
“Yeah, well. Have you seen yourself?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to?” Oh, he wanted to, but. Not when he couldn’t enjoy it properly, not if he had to rush.
“Later, yeah? When the kids aren’t around.” Harry smiled, stretching out on the bed like a cat. “Let me clean you up, yeah?” He didn’t wait for a response and hurried into the adjacent bathroom instead. He was just soaking a towel in warm water when a hand settled on his hip, the other sneaking around his waist to take the towel out of his hand. Louis lifted his gaze to look in the mirror, mouth going dry at the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Maybe he could rush a little bit. Once Harry cleaned himself off, the towel fell on the counter with a damp smack. His solid chest pressed against Louis’ back, fingernails catching on his sensitive nipples on the way down from his chest to the happy trail disappearing into his briefs.
“You’re really, really hot.” Harry’s lips tickled the shell of his ear, fingers dipping beneath the fabric to dance over his length. “Look at yourself.” Louis gripped the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. He looked wrecked, sweaty and flushed. Needy. Couldn’t stop making the little keening noises when Harry closed his hand around him in a firm grip and started pulling slowly.
“So thick,” Harry whispered, his cock half-hard against Louis’ bum. “Can’t wait to feel you stretching me. Want it. Want to be inside you too. Want everything.” Any minute now, Louis’ knees would give out, he was sure of it.
“Yeah, yeah. Want it too. Everything. Please.” Harry thumbed over his slit, mouth falling to the side of Louis’ neck to suck a bruise into his flesh.
“Tommo! What the fuck have you done to Niall, he looks traumat- oh. Hi Harry.” Zayn stopped in the doorway, smirking as if he wasn’t the second person today to ruin Louis’ morning. Did nobody ever knock and wait for an answer? What the fuck. “Can you two stop fooling around and come eat breakfast before it gets cold? I made eggs.”
It may have been Louis’ imagination, but as Zayn strolled out, there was a definite `haha-I-just-cockblocked-you´ spring to his step. Louis was so frustrated he was actually tearing up.
“You better go before Z comes back to drag us out.” Harry’s hand squeezed him tight.
“Go, distract them while I take care of- this.” He looked down at himself, whimpered when Harry pulled his hand out. He pushed a very reluctant Harry out and closed the door. It took less than twenty seconds to finish himself off, his hand braced on the wall, nails digging into the tile when his toes curled with the force of it.
When he sat down to eat and snuck a glance at Harry doing the same as he played footsie with him under the table, he realized it had barely taken the edge off. Niall’s face was still bright red.
“Nialler,” Louis said, kicking him in the shin. “What’s with the silent treatment? We’re both dressed now, you can look.” Niall’s gaze flicked up to meet Louis’, blotchy red spots popping high on his cheeks.
“It’s not that. The two of you- it just looked really, really hot, that’s all.” Louis choked on his eggs, glaring at Zayn who was currently laughing so hard he could hardly draw a breath. Niall shrugged and stuffed his face full of food, probably so he wouldn’t have to elaborate on his internal crisis. Harry just scratched his chest and smiled.
The following week sucked, to say the least. Louis hadn’t seen Harry in days, both of them buried up to neck in textbooks and half-term applications for relevant work placement. The last time he’d got to kiss Harry was after his weekly yoga session exactly 106 hours ago, and he missed him. Missed how his skin smelled of mangoes, missed the softness of his mouth, the comforting length of his body slotted to his from head to toe. Missed hearing his voice and his dumb puns in person just so he could pretend he didn’t love every single one. Talking over the phone just didn’t quite cut it.
“Can you stop tearing those napkins, Lou?” Niall asked, sitting cross-legged on Louis’ bed.
“What?” Niall gave a pointed look at Louis’ table.
“Oh.” Louis poked the little mountain of shredded napkins and smiled sheepishly. “Think it’s time for a study break.”
“Fuck yes!” Niall pushed his laptop away and rubbed his eyes. “Where’s Zayn?”
“The studio, I think? Supposed to be working on his modern art assignment.” Louis hoped Zayn had remembered to eat. Maybe he should have texted him. Just as he was about to open his messaging app, feet pounded on the floor outside his room, followed by a slam of the bedroom door. Louis had never been one to contain his curiosity too well, so he snuck out of his room and entered Zayn’s without knocking. They should probably have done something about their terrible habits and lack of personal space, but. Today was not the day.
“Zaynie? You all right, babe?” He leaned against the doorjamb and watched Zayn dart around his room frantically, picking random things up and placing them elsewhere. His hair was all over the place, as if he’d run his hand through it repeatedly.
“Zayn?” Louis walked in and rested his hand on Zayn’s shoulder, drawing him away from a glass full of dirty brushes. “What’s wrong?” Zayn dropped his arms to his sides, nostrils flaring, his lips a thin line. That never meant anything good.
“I kissed him.” He blinked, jolting out from whatever strop he’d worked himself into. “Oh my fucking God, Lou. I kissed him.”
“Wait. Are we talking about Liam?” He stroked Zayn’s tattooed bicep.
“Yes. I just- and he- bloody hell.”
“That bad of a kisser, is he?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Zayn said miserably, shoulders slumped. Even his hair seemed to have wilted even more in sympathy. “He didn’t kiss me back.”
“Oh.” He drew his best friend into a hug and wondered how Liam could have resisted that face, with its long lashed whiskey eyes and sharp jaw line and pouty mouth, the soft heart beneath hard exterior. It just wasn’t right. “Want to watch Avengers again?” Sometimes, there were more important things than getting an essay done. He’d just stay up longer to work on it.
“I come bearing chocolate!” Niall yelled, throwing himself at them both. “It’s coffee flavored, just the way you like.” If Zayn sniffled, none of them commented on it, just hugged him tighter and petted his hair. He never let anyone else touch it. They were just settling down in the living room when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Niall offered, getting off the couch with a loud groan of protest. Sometimes Louis suspected Niall was just a drunk, forty-year-old bachelor in a twenty-year-old lad’s body.
“Where did you even meet Liam? I thought you were at the studio.”
“I may have, um, texted him? To come see me at the uni? Then I just- went for it.” Louis twisted around on the couch to face him, tucked his knees under his chin.
“What did he say? After you- you know.”
“I didn’t really stick around long enough to find out. I kind of- ran.” Louis sighed.
“You can’t just run. Maybe he was too surprised to-”
“Lou!” Niall called. “It’s for you, mate!”
Fifteen minutes later, Louis found himself squished against the armrest as the girl he’d borrowed the top from Perrie ended up in the middle between Zayn and a very entranced Niall, who was currently rubbing her feet. Whenever Louis wanted a foot massage, he always had to bring him food as bribery first. What kind of favoritism was this?
“My favorite is the Hulk,” she said, popping a crisp in her mouth, flexing her toes and nodding her thanks at Niall after she stretched out her legs.
“Mine too!” Zayn said, literally turning his back to Louis. Even though Zayn preferred men, he hardly ever said no to a pretty face, man or a woman. The outrageous negligence of his friends would have been offensive if Perrie hadn’t complimented his masterpiece of a poster of Beckham in nothing but tiny shorts. He reckoned she could stay.
“Cat woman is better,” he heard himself saying, the three heads swiveling to look at him in unison, expressions varying from confusion to fond exasperation.
“So whipped,” Zayn said and ruffled Louis’ hair while Niall provided the whipping sound effect. They were a couple of twats. “You should call Hazza over.”
“He’s working on his presentation today. Said to only call him if my hair was on fire.”
“When are you going to propose to the man?” Niall asked for the third time this week.
“I’ve only known him for a month and two days.” Louis hid his face behind a cushion and flopped over their laps. Neither of them seemed to mind. “Stop making fun. I’m fragile.” Nails that were decidedly too sharp to be either Niall’s or Zayn’s scratched gently down his back. Yeah. She could stay.
“Louis’ future fiance. I’m giving them two more months before they elope,” Niall said. “They’re so disgusting, I swear to God. Last week when Harry was hanging out here, they fed each other ice-cream and had an entire conversation with just facial expressions.”
“Shut up,” Louis groaned, buried his flaming face in Niall’s thigh. “Don’t act like you hate it.”
“Love it,” Niall replied, serious as a heart attack. “Better than watching soaps.”
“With more nudity though. You’re really bloody loud, Louis. You should know that your bathroom echoes,” Zayn added.
“It was only once! And you’re a little shit, you acted like you didn’t know!” Louis vowed to tickle Zayn until he peed himself. “I hate you all.”
“We love you too,” Niall said. Perrie just giggled with her surprisingly deep voice, and continued scratching his back.
Louis had never really cared that much about what he looked like in times of great stress, but even he was reaching his limit. He’d passed `grunge-chic´ and ventured into `homeless´ territory a few hours ago. He shrugged out of his jacket and folded it over his desk chair, a chair nobody could sit on anymore due to the ever-growing mountain of unwashed clothes piled on top of the seat. Just getting to his bed felt like wading through a minefield. Only instead of mines, Louis was tripping over empty candy wrappers and cartons of junk food and more clothes in dire need of a wash.
“Nobody ever puts this in the uni pamphlets,” he muttered, scratching his four-day beard. He really needed a shave and a shower, because his hair smelled like cheeseburgers he’d been flipping about thirty minutes ago. Fuck, he really hoped he’d get that paid internship.
“Lou, is that you?” Zayn halted at his doorstep, eyeing the mess inside distrustfully. “Finished your shift then?”
“Yeah. Still have to finish my essay. Just a conclusion though. I reckon it won’t take long.” Louis flopped on his back on the bed and made grabby hands. Zayn gave in with a sigh and somehow made it on top of Louis without sustaining injury.
“You stink like fast food.” Louis wrapped his arms around his best friend and rubbed his scruffy cheek against Zayn’s, just because he was a little shit.
“Does that turn you on?”
“Think you’re confusing me with Niall, babe.” He slumped into Louis like a rag doll. “So how’s married life going? Have you seen H today?”
“No, just talked to him on the phone in between lectures.” He could his feel his expression contort into what Zayn and Niall liked to call his `sad puppy dog´ face. Louis liked to think of it as slightly-upset-in-a-manly-fashion face. He was so misunderstood. “I miss him.”
“Are you quite finished?” Louis rolled them over on their sides and pinched Zayn’s slightly less stubbly chin. “I might see him tonight if I can finish my bloody essay.”
“Can’t you study at his place?” Louis arched his eyebrow.
“Not sure how much studying we’d actually do. He’s- very distracting.”
“Have you two already done it then?” Zayn wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. Ridiculous. Louis would not indulge such foolishness.
“Done what?” He bit back a grin.
“The do,” Zayn said, seriously.
“Are we twelve now?”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being twelve. You were twelve at one point too, you know.” Louis winced. Not his most shining years, those. Some of the evidence still floated around in the deepest hell of the Internet. It had better stay there. “Please, don’t remind me.”
“Stop beating around the bush and tell me.” And because Louis’s friends were all sadists, he got a cruel nipple twist for his troubles.
“Ow, fuck! Why are we friends again?” Zayn pouted. He was a child and Louis would not stand for this kind of emotional abuse. Absolutely not.
“Just tell me? I need to live vicariously through someone. I’ve decided it’ll be you.”
“Christ, fine. I’m- I mean we- uh, kind of-” he rubbed the back of his neck, “-did not. Do the do. Yet.” He was a 21-year-old soon-to-be-graduate, had a part-time job and a driving license and this was the most eloquent response he could come up with. Okay.
“But,” Zayn started, brows furrowed, “last week?”
“We didn’t get to. People keep interrupting us.” At least Zayn had enough decency to look marginally chagrined.
“Sorry about that.” The next words burst out of his mouth before his brain could filter them out, a very common issue Louis seemed to have had ever since he was a kid.
“What if I suck though?”
“Isn't that the point?” Zayn replied with a shit-eating grin. Louis smacked him over his head with a pillow.
“I’m serious! I bet he’s built up all this anticipation and is expecting me to be some kind of- sex god and I’m pretty good, but not that good, and he’ll probably just end up being really fucking disappointed and decide I’m not worth his while after all, an-”
“Lou.” He yanked the pillow out of Louis’ limp hold and tucked it beneath his head. “He kept humming Ode to Joy after he came out of the bathroom and you didn’t even shag him properly. I’m sure you’ll do okay.” Louis picked at the corner of the pillow and asked quietly:
“Yes!” Zayn patted his cheek and let his eyes fall shut. “As long as you don’t peak too soon, you should be all right.”
“You’re a twat,” Louis said matter-of-factly, sighed when Zayn pulled him into a cuddle and said:
“Yes. Now let me nap here while you finish your essay. It won’t write itself, you know.”
Louis had been wrong all along. Harry wasn’t a wizard. He was actually an angel. An angel bearing homemade food, which he’d cooked himself. Of course. Louis dragged him inside the flat by the lapels of his coat and pushed him against the door. The container of food was squashed between their stomachs, but Louis couldn’t care less, because Harry’s cheeks were bitten with cold and his lips were cherry red.
“I’ve really fucking missed you,” he said, surging up to press his mouth to Harry’s, kissing warmth back into his slightly chapped lips. Harry tilted his head to the side to get closer, deeper, one hand cupping Louis’ cheek so gently he wanted to stand here for hours and melt into Harry’s touch. Their lips parted, a slick sound that left Louis aching for more.
“I’ve missed you too,” Harry whispered into his jaw, one rosy cheek dimpling.
“I can’t believe you cooked a meal for me.” Marry me so I can keep you forever.
“Handed in the last assignment today, thought of you surviving on nothing but shitty junk food.” He pecked Louis’ lips, smiling. “Couldn’t help it.”
“I really, really like you. I might keep you.” Harry’s voice went soft and smooth like honey when he said:
“I like you too.” Louis was aware he was staring, could imagine what he’d have looked like to an outsider right now, just gazing up at Harry stupidly, smiling because his face just did things without his permission whenever Harry was near. He didn’t really care.
“Share it with me?” he asked, taking Harry’s hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb as he pulled him into the small kitchen.
“That’s all right, I ate already. I cooked it for you.” Five minutes after they settled on the couch in the living room, Harry was stealing bits off his plate. Louis didn’t mind. Sharing was caring.
Louis stirred awake some time in the middle of the night and scrubbed his hand down his face, blinking in an attempt to make sense of his surroundings. The living room was pitch black, save for the strip of moonlight spilling into the room through the gap in the drapes, and Louis was comfy. The pleasant weight of lethargy settled over his bones and seeped into his muscles, his body wedged comfortably between the backrest of the sofa and Harry’s sleeping form. The pipes in the bathroom whined, a bed frame squeaked as Niall must have turned around in his sleep. Louis put his head down on Harry’s warm chest, steady heartbeat going da-dum da-dum beneath his ear, chest rising and falling in comforting waves. Louis’ eyelids felt like lead as he pulled the fluffy blanket higher up to his chin and over Harry’s torso, wondered who had thrown it over them. Must have been Zayn, always mothering Louis when he thought nobody was watching. Must have turned the TV off too. If it hadn’t been for Zayn and the curly haired human radiator fitted to him from head to feet, Louis would have frozen his toes off. Careful not to wake Harry, he reached over to tap the screen of his phone, which he’d tossed on the coffee table before they’d commenced a Breaking Bad marathon. It read 3:13 a.m., plus one missed call from an unknown number. Louis set it back down and rested his weight on his elbow as he blinked down at Harry, who was snoring softly, one arm wrapped loosely around Louis’ waist. If Louis hadn’t been as groggy and reluctant to move, he’d have put a biscuit in Harry’s open mouth. As it was, he just watched as the blue-ish light spilled over the smooth curve of Harry’s cheek, pooled around the shadows beneath his soft eyelashes and the bow of his upper lip. With his hair spread around on the cushions and milky skin bathed in blue, he looked almost otherworldly. Distant and unattainable. `I can’t believe you’re mine´, Louis thought, mouth quirking up into a lazy smile when Harry whined in his sleep and pulled him down into his arms again. Louis nuzzled the edge of Harry’s slack jaw, curled around his body and fell asleep to the rhythm of his heart.
When Louis woke up again, he was alone on the sofa, a post-it note stuck to his cheek. He peeled it off and squinted.
You looked so cute I didn’t have the heart to wake you. See you later at yoga. You owe me a good morning kiss. (:
The multitude of x’s on the end filled the rest of the note until Harry had run out of paper. Louis’ boyfriend was ridiculous. His boyfriend. Christ. He definitely did not fold the note up carefully, nor did he sigh wistfully as he cradled it against his chest.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Niall asked, lifting Louis’ feet and putting them in his lap so he could sit down. The TV flickered on.
“It’s doing this weird thing. Like, a bit similar to when we watched that documentary on hedgehogs, but different.” Louis kicked him in the thigh and tried to scowl. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded. The words of Harry’s note were too fresh against his palm.
“Don’t you have classes to go to?”
“Nah. Not yet anyway. Still got an hour before I need to get ready."
"What time is it then?”
“Quarter to ten.”
“Shit!” Louis jumped up, snatched his phone and staggered to his room, fully prepared to brave the mess scattered on the floor, only. There was none. The room smelled like fresh air and detergent, all the dirty clothing he’d been ignoring for the past two weeks washed and hung on the drying rack by his built-in wardrobe, the trash gone. He stood there, gaping.
“Oh, yeah,” Zayn said from the doorway, eyes still puffy from sleep. It always took him at least two hours and a cup of black coffee to fully wake up. “Harry did your laundry and aired out your room. Asked me if he could, so I told him to go for it.” Oh God. He’d probably seen all the balled up tissues on the floor by his bed too. Yup. The floor was clean. Fuck. Maybe he could say he had pre-winter allergies instead of a highly increased wanking issue that had gone rampant ever since he’d first seen Harry?
“Should I not have let him?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I hate doing laundry.” His room hadn’t looked this nice since the last time his mum had come to visit. “Is a month too soon to ask someone to marry you?” Zayn just chuckled and watched silently as Louis dashed into the bathroom to brush his teeth in record time. Thankfully, he didn’t comment on the piece of paper Louis had put into his bedside table.
“Got a lecture?”
“In ten minutes!” Louis called after he spat out the foam. When he came back in to change into less ratty joggers and bundle up for the chilly November day, Zayn was sitting on the edge of his bed, all dressed up and handing Louis his beanie. He took it, pulled it on to cover up his unkempt hair. Shit, he had no time to eat breakfast.
“I’m coming with you,” Zayn explained, following Louis out of his bedroom. “Might as well go to the library since I’m up.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Zayn Malik?”
“Went to bed early yesterday,” Zayn said with a shrug.
“And again, I’m asking the same thing.” Zayn rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Go put your shoes on, babe, I’ll grab us some food.”
“I love you,” Louis said, pulling at Zayn’s arm at the last second. “Wait.”
“Your trousers are falling down, you slob.” He gripped the belt loops of Zayn’s jeans and yanked them up then patted his hips. “There, much better.”
“Welcome. Now go get the food.” It was a good thing they lived five minutes away from campus. Louis had made it with a minute to spare. Just enough time to finish his banana and turn off the sound on his phone. When it started vibrating with an unknown number a moment later, he ignored it and pulled out his notebook instead. He may have ended up zoning out halfway through the lecture, several stick figures with curly hair and headscarves doodled in the corners.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, wriggling around as he glanced down at Louis’ handiwork. The gym had emptied out five minutes ago, so it was just them, sitting down on the floor on Harry’s bubblegum pink mat.
“You forgot to pin up your sleeves today.” He rolled the cuffs of Harry’s sleeves up to his shoulders and tucked them in so they wouldn’t roll down so easily. “I’ve missed your arms.” Harry got that smug smirk on his face, the one that made Louis want to pin him down and snog it off his face. With a kiss to his own bicep, Harry gave him a decidedly not-sexy wink and said:
“Welcome to the gunsho-”
“No,” Louis said. “I can’t believe you did that. You’re awful. Absolutely horrible.” He shoved at Harry’s shoulder, sneaking in a quick tickle to his ribs. “So lame.” Harry grinned as he twitched away from Louis’ hands, his eyes sparkling.
“Let me tell you a joke.”
“Why did the baboon ask the giraffe `why the long face´?”
“Why?” Louis asked, warily.
“Because he thought his neck was his face!” He collapsed into giggles against Louis’ shoulder, snorting and slapping his thigh, because of course he’d be the kind of person who laughed at his own jokes.
“Oh no. It’s even worse than I expected.” And it was, so why was he laughing too? Oh God, what was wrong with him?
“Wait, I have more!” Harry stretched out on the floor to reach his bag, rummaging through it. Louis was too distracted by the tight, round swell of Harry’s bum and the strip of pale skin above his yoga leggings to be too worried by what Harry would pull out. It was a leather journal, the cover worn and scratched up, words Louis couldn’t read scribbled on the spine.
“What is this, then?” Harry rolled over onto his back and cracked the journal open, flipping through the pages until he let out a victorious:
“Aha! Found it.” Louis lay down next to him and snuck a peek. It wasn’t until he saw the pages filled top to bottom with hand-written knock-knock jokes that he realised he was head over heels for this boy. Fuck.
“Knock, knock,” Harry said, delighted already. Louis caved in, because really. Where Harry was concerned, Louis couldn’t say no to anything.
“Cows who?” Harry started giggling before he even got the punch-line out.
“Cows go moo, not who!” Louis was in love with a dork. He was in love. God help him. He took the journal away from Harry’s unresisting hands and put it down on the floor carefully before he shuffled on top of Harry and kissed his still grinning mouth. He gave in easily, hands skidding over Louis’ back to knot in his hair, tilting his head to the side to kiss him deeper. Harry’s tongue tasted like peppermint, his lips soft and sweet like cotton candy. Louis could kiss him for hours without getting bored, without it having to go further. He just liked feeling close to him, having Harry’s fingertips press into the nape of his neck and the dimples at the bottom of his spine, hearts beating faster with every brush of their lips.
“That one was a,” he breathed into Louis’ mouth, eyes dazed and glassy, “crowd pleaser.”
“The only pleasing I’m interested in right now is this kind.” Louis smacked a loud kiss on Harry’s lips before licking out to taste the bow of Harry’s swollen mouth. “Definitely could do without a crowd.” Harry coaxed him down, open mouth pressed against open mouth, hot and slick and breathless, when someone cleared their throat. They sprang apart at the same time, Louis rolling to the side. At the entrance of the gym stood a group of women, maybe a dozen, most of them trying to seem as though they hadn’t been looking. The rest just openly stared.
“Shit, sorry, Helen!” Harry said, staggering to his feet and helping Louis up before gathering their things. He held two water bottles in one hand. Louis was so turned on. “We lost track of time.” The woman in a white belted kimono just smiled indulgently.
“Can’t say I didn’t enjoy seeing that, H. Now scoot though, I’ve got a class to teach.” Even though she was tiny, Louis was pretty sure she could crack his spine without breaking a sweat.
“Advanced Taekwondo class,” Harry explained, heaving his bag higher onto his shoulder and handing Louis his as they walked out. “That woman could kick my ass. Well, any of them could, probably.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second.”
“Hey,” Harry started, nudging his fingers in between Louis’ and swinging their arms as they walked, “Do you want to, like, hang out? At mine?” Of course I do. I love you.
“Um, yeah. Yes. Sure. Let me just text the boys so they know where I am.” Harry didn’t live too far off campus, so it only took them about ten minutes to get there. They climbed two flights of stairs, Louis lifting Harry’s hand to his mouth to press a quick kiss to the back of his hand before letting go so Harry could unlock.
“Are you sure your mum isn’t coming around today?” Harry chuckled, blush creeping into his cheeks as he stepped inside the flat and dropped his keys into a little banana-shaped bowl by the door.
“What about your sister though? Step dad? Grand parents? Cousins? Bloody Jehovah’s witnesses?” Harry closed the door, toed off his shoes and walked up to Louis, leaving barely an inch of space between them.
“Just us,” Louis repeated dumbly, licking his lips. “Nice.”
“Very nice.” Harry nuzzled his temple, knuckles brushing over his cheek so gently Louis swayed on his feet a little. “I’m starving. Want some food?” `The only thing I want in my mouth is your cock´, Louis thought, but nodded instead.
“As if I could ever say no to your cooking. Or you cleaning up after me and doing my laundry. Did I say I really, really appreciate it?” The smile on Harry’s face was almost bashful.
“Only about two or three times.”
“Not nearly enough then.” He padded after Harry to the kitchen, socked feet slipping on the polished wooden floor.
“I like doing that. Cooking and cleaning and stuff. It’s relaxing.”
“You’re the strangest nineteen year-old I’ve ever met.” One of the sleeves Louis had so painstakingly rolled up unraveled when Harry shrugged.
“I’m very domestic.”
“Looks like we’ll get on very well then. Because I’m pretty much helpless when it comes to taking care of myself.” Harry’s smile was blinding and Louis was helplessly drawn into his orbit. He shuffled closer and closer until he was right by his side, nervous fingers flicking up to fix Harry’s sleeve. It was totally an excuse to slide his fingertips down the smooth skin of Harry’s arm, but whatever.
“I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo,” Harry said, eyes following the slide of Louis’ palm down to his elbow. “What do you think?”
“I think,” he stroked the inside of Harry’s elbow, swallowed hard when a shiver danced over Harry’s skin, “it looks cool. Not for myself, I don’t think. But, on other people. Yeah, it’s cool. Zayn’s got loads. You could ask him about it if you want.”
“Sick! I’ll do that.” Louis leaned against the counter and watched Harry move around the kitchen. He knew he was in trouble when he drifted off thinking about having Harry preparing them both lunch ten years and a lot more face scruff and tattoos down the road.
“By the way,” Harry said as they sat down to eat, “I totally know what you used those tissues for. You don’t have any allergies.” Louis choked on his mouthful.
“Is there something on my face?” Harry asked with a barely suppressed smile, his attention never wavering from the TV.
“Nope.” Louis stretched his body out along the length of the sofa and planted his feet in Harry’s lap, tucking two pillows under his head so he could watch Harry watch the film. So much more entertaining.
“Just so you know, your feet are in my lap. I might get a sudden urge to tickle you.”
“I will kick,” Louis threatened, wriggling his toes. Unconcerned, Harry just wrapped his fingers around Louis’ ankle, his thumb stroking the side of Louis’ instep.
“Maybe I like it rough.”
“Promises, promises,” Louis singsonged and crossed his arms behind his head. Harry must have been waiting for an opening, because he immediately lunged on top of Louis with a victorious cry. The weight of him pressed Louis into the sofa, with no place to hide and no means to escape as he latched onto Louis’ neck and blew a raspberry and kept blowing them.
“Are you ticklish?”
“Harr-” He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop giggling, hands shooting out to fist in the back of Harry’s soft white T-shirt, his heels digging into the cushions. “Harr-”
“I just need you to tell me if you’re ticklish.” Harry’s fingers delved beneath Louis’ T-shirt and fluttered over his ribs, blowing another raspberry just beneath his jaw. Louis was going to piss himself. “Come on, Lou, just tell me.”
“I’m-” Louis hooked his leg over Harry’s hip and tried to roll them over, but Harry didn’t even budge. Just laughed into Louis’ neck then licked his cheek like an overeager dog. All this was definitely not making Louis’ pants grow tight, because what the hell. Since when was tickling a turn on for him?
“Oh God.” Harry who was currently nipping the edge of his jaw stilled. The tickles turned into caresses, a slow, deliberate slide of his soft, strong hands down to Louis’ waist as he pulled away to kneel between Louis’ spread thighs. His thumbs almost met in the middle, right above Louis’ belly button. Louis was more than a little overwhelmed by the sight. Harry arched an eyebrow and glanced down at Louis’ crotch, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Seriously?” Louis hid his face behind a very convenient throw pillow, his heart pounding like a drum.
“You were on top of me and you were all handsy!” He peeked at Harry above the edge of the pillow before hiding again. “It’s like a bloody Pavlov reflex.”
“So,” Harry started, thumbs stroking over his tummy. “Is that what you’re thinking of when you’re wanking then? Me being handsy?”
“Nah.” Louis shrugged, the very paragon of casual and aloof. “Think about Niall shoving a giant burrito into his gob, to be honest. He’s got the worst gag reflex in the world. Gets me all hot and bothered” Harry laughed, fingering the edge of Louis’ waistband. It was a testament to Louis’ great taste that Harry didn’t take things too seriously. That he could play Louis’ body like a finely tuned instrument. Louis most definitely wanted Harry to pluck his strings and by strings, he meant his penis.
“Maybe I like competition. Makes me work harder to get what I want.” Louis squeaked into the pillow and bumped his knee against Harry’s side.
“And you want me?” He knew. Of course he did, but. He liked being told that he was wanted. That he was so hot Harry’s bottom lip was bitten raw and the intense look in Harry’s eyes would have him wary of becoming a homicide victim if he didn’t know any better. Harry’s next words were breathed into Louis’ skin, his lips barely brushing over the soft fine hairs beneath Louis’ belly button.
“Would deepthroating a banana in front of you to prove my intentions? My gag reflex’s pretty much nonexistent.” Fuck.
“Only if you look me in the eye while you do it.” Harry tugged at the waistband of Louis’ jeans with his teeth, stared at him back almost insolently.
“Is there any other way?” Louis dropped the pillow to the floor and watched Harry rub his cheek against his bulging crotch, hands wedged beneath the couch and his bum. When he cupped each cheek and kneaded, Louis had to bite down on the inside of his cheek, hips canting up to get closer to Harry’s heavenly mouth.
“Off. Take them off.” Harry opened his mouth over his clothed cock and sucked so hard his cheeks hollowed out. He pulled away, hovering, meeting Louis’ eyes with a wicked glint in his own.
“Nah. The movie isn’t over yet. I want to watch.” Then he sat up and relaxed into a sofa with a self-satisfied smile, hands folded behind his head as if he hadn’t just made Louis so hard there wasn’t enough blood left to make his brain work properly. Harry was a little shit and Louis was not having it. It took him a moment to recuperate, to smooth down his T-shirt and resist the urge to yank Harry’s jeans down and swallow him down. Two could play at this game.
Dus ja Niall kwam binnen gelopen,
en Zayn erna ook nog eens.
Wat hebben ze toch telkens pech.
En dat wordt Louis ook nog eens geplaagd door Harry haha.
Dit is echt één van mijn favoriete delen voor zover (: