• 10.8 ~ Yoga Instructor
A day off. No classes. No internship. Fucking finally. Nothing in the world could spoil Harry’s mood right now. Not the empty banana bowl in the kitchen, not the persistent throbbing in his lower back caused by slaving over a stack of pro bono cases in a dusty research room, not the lack of Louis for another two hours. Well, maybe the last bit. He stared down at the shower drain as hot water pounded against his tense muscles, sluiced down his half-hard cock. Definitely the last bit. He propped his forearm against the tiled wall and rested his forehead against it. He could make it through another hour. He could. Even though they’d skipped morning blowjobs because both of them had slept through Louis’ alarm clock. He bit down on his arm to center himself and shut the water off, shook it out of his hair like a dog. If Louis was here with him, he’d have darted out of the way with a squeal, then deny he’d ever made such a sound. Was it normal to still be so infatuated with one’s future spouse 363 days after their first kiss? Not that Harry was counting or anything. He’d just always been a natural with numbers, all right? All right. He walked out of the bathroom, naked save for the fluffy towel wrapped around his head and dripping water all over the bedroom floor. He bent down to pick up a trail of haphazardly discarded clothing, which Louis had chucked there in a mad search to get dressed in the morning, and threw them in the hamper. For a moment he just stood there and smiled. Louis was all his.
He was just putting his folded up yoga mat under the bed, limbs loose and light, the pain in his back a barely-there twinge, when he heard a vague buzzing sound. Fuck. His phone. The clock on the wall said Louis should have been home roughly fifteen minutes ago. He dived on the bed and swiped the screen with a breathless:
“Finally,” Louis said, relieved, “Let me in, Harold, I am starving!” Not dead or lying in a ditch somewhere then. Harry could stop having a heart attack now. Cool. He scrambled up to his feet, almost dizzy with relief.
“Don’t you have your keys, baby?”
“I forgot them at my desk.” Harry could hear the pout in Louis’ voice and tried not to melt right into the floorboards. “Please come get me, I’m sitting at the curb. Nobody’s been picking up their phone and I’m lonely and I need cereal.”
“All right, stay where you are, I’ll be right there,” he said, one-handedly struggling to put his jeans on. He would have succeeded if his foot didn’t catch on the crotch seam. He saw it before it even happened. He tripped and tumbled down to the floor in a weird half-twirl, his limbs flailing, the phone flying out of his hand. Thank God it landed on the mattress.
“I’m okay!” he called out as he sprang back up to his feet, hoping Louis had heard him. He didn’t suffer any other accident on his mad dash down the stairs, jeans still unbuttoned and flip-flops on. When he unlocked the front door of the flat building and squinted against the autumn sun, he spotted a pair of middle-aged women blinking at his half-naked form from the sidewalk. He gave an awkward wave and smiled his widest smile.
“I need Cocoa Puffs!” was all Harry heard right before Louis bounded up the stairs and crashed right into his arms. “Help.”
“Hi.” Harry pecked his lips once, twice, three times, lingering on the fourth and adding a quick bum squeeze, any onlookers forgotten. Louis tasted like gummy bears he must have filched from one of the six-year-olds in his class and Harry wanted to stand there for a bit longer just to kiss him. First things first though. “Let’s get you some then.”
“I had to sit outside for seventeen minutes. I shall get my cereal, but there will be no getting some for you, love.” Louis nibbled his way up to Harry’s ear and bit down on his earlobe, the bastard. Getting some was all Harry could think of now.
“I’m sorry. Was exercising.” He rucked up Louis’ jacket and T-shirt to touch warm skin. “Didn’t have my phone near me.”
“And now he’s teasing me,” Louis whined and walked Harry past the threshold. “You were doing yoga naked again, weren’t you? You naughty boy.”
“H-how do you-” Louis suckled at the spot behind his ear, fucking fuck, “know?” Louis arched his eyebrow and slid his hand down Harry’s bare torso, fingertips dragging over the butterfly tattooed on his stomach, trailing down, down, down, until he reached the waistband, and tugged at the pubic hair peeking out from Harry’s undone jeans.
“A wild guess.” Harry couldn’t string together a coherent sentence if he tried. He could only swallow hard and whimper when Louis stepped out of his arms and brushed past him to walk up the stairs. He was almost at the top when Harry realised he hadn’t moved an inch because he’d been watching the sway of Louis’ hips.
“Come on, babycakes, we don’t have all day!” Louis called over his shoulder, disappearing from view. Harry tried to lock the front door so quickly he dropped the bloody keys twice. His flip-flops slapped on the concrete as he carefully caught up to Louis. The stairs were short and steep and Harry’s feet were a couple sizes too big, so he held onto the wrought-iron banister, eyes flicking up to stare at Louis’ bum for far shorter than he would have liked in order to avoid falling down and braining himself.
“Hurry!” Once they made it to the third floor, he wrapped his arm around Louis’ waist from behind, bodies flush as he kissed the nape of his neck.
“Here we go,” he said and reached over to unlock the flat with his free hand. They stumbled in together, Harry’s back slamming the door closed when Louis twisted around in his arms to push him against it, kissing him until his lips were tingling.
“You smell like that new citrus shower gel I bought you,” Louis said, rubbing his scruffy face against Harry’s sensitive neck. “I will have to investigate this later.” He flounced away, leaving Harry slumped against the door with his cock straining against his jeans. There was something about Louis dressed in his work clothes that had Harry weak in the knees and wanting to call him `Mister Tomlinson´. It was the black dress jacket. Must have been. In combination with his scoop-neck black T-shirt and obscenely tight jeans, Harry never stood a chance. He was still in his last year of uni and Louis was a proper teacher and it just did things to him.
“Why are you still standing there, babe?” Louis popped out of the bathroom with his hands and face scrubbed clean.
“I’m- um- Lou, do you know there’s a yellow hand print on your bum?” Harry asked as he kicked off his flip-flops and padded up to Louis on the polished wooden floor.
“What?” Harry just grinned and patted Louis’ left bum cheek. When Louis twisted around to look over his shoulder, he started cursing like a sailor.
“Fucking Jimmy! Must have been him, that little bugger. That kid is so-”
“How dare you,” Louis said, one indignant eyebrow raised. “So this is why people kept staring at me on the tube. Bollocks.” Harry just muffled his laughter in Louis’ shoulder.
“You laugh it up, Curly. I see how it is.” He rose up on his tippy toes to whisper in Harry’s ear, “You’re just begging for a good spanking.” Harry bit down on his lip and rubbed his cheek against Louis’ temple. They’d gotten up to 89 slaps before he couldn’t help but come. He wanted to make it to a hundred.
“Later,” Louis said with a teasing lick to the shell of Harry’s ear and disappeared into the bedroom. Their bedroom. In their shared flat. Harry was the luckiest man in the world. Louis emerged, dressed in grey trackies and Harry’s old, long-sleeved Henley, and headed straight to the kitchen. Harry realized Louis could have been wearing a bin liner and Harry would still have wanted to climb him like a tree. It wasn’t the jacket. It was all Louis. Louis, who was currently dancing around the kitchen barefoot, singing the Grease masterpiece `You’re The One That I Want´ to a box of Cocoa Puffs.
“I love you so much,” Harry said, and sat down on the wooden chair to watch him. Louis winked at him and started singing:
“Cereal for me! Cereal for me!” then yelled out, “Big up to Cocoa Puffs!” before shaking a couple handfuls out into a bowl. Harry propped his chin up on the palm of his hand and smiled, not even annoyed that when Louis finally poured milk over his cereal and sat down opposite him, he spilled a little bit of it on a freshly washed tablecloth. It was the one with little daisies on it that Harry had back at his aunt’s flat last year. Louis had bent Harry over this very tablecloth more than once and eaten him out with the same gusto he was now devouring his cereal. He even moaned the same. Harry wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or offended. Louis smiled at him with his round cheeks and patted the spot over his heart with the palm of his right hand.
“What does it mean?” Harry asked, because some days Louis would come home and teach him something new he’d learned at the classes for special ed kids he had twice a week.
“Mine,” Louis replied, even though he hadn’t swallowed completely and Harry could definitely see the bits of half-chewed soggy cereal in his mouth. There was something bloody wrong with Harry for finding that endearing rather than disgusting. Harry signed `I love you´ and nudged Louis’ feet beneath the table, remembering how he’d sucked Louis off with his hands gripping the edge the second day after they’d moved in together, on a mission to christen every sturdy available surface in the flat. `I love you too,´ Louis signed back, trapping Harry’s ankle between his bare feet and rubbing his foot up Harry’s calf. Since Louis held firm to his belief that socks were evil, his feet were almost always cold. Harry bent down to pick them up and put them in his lap, rubbing warmth back into them.
“Am I forgiven yet?” Harry asked, rubbing the tension out of Louis’ insteps.
“Don’t know,” Louis said, slurping milk into his mouth. “Keep doing that.”
“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me!” Harry wailed, screwed his face up in a mock crying grimace until Louis finally gave in and cracked up.
“You’re silly.” He dug his heel into Harry’s thigh. “Can we watch Gogglebox and cuddle?”
“Okay,” Harry said, beaming.
Sometimes Louis would go pliant and sleepy and make little snuffling sounds into Harry’s chest when they cuddled. He’d always deny this was the case, of course, because no, Harold, naps are for the weak, so Harry had learned not to mention it and to play with the hair at the nape of his neck instead. Today was not one of those days. When Louis shifted around with a huff for about the tenth time in a minute, Harry ran his hand down Louis’ spine and asked:
“You all right?”
“I want to tell you something, but I can’t, and it’s driving me bonkers,” Louis admitted, sharp teeth nipping at Harry’s collarbones. Harry’s hand stilled.
“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise!” Louis folded his arms over Harry’s chest and propped his chin there, looking at Harry face to face and pouting, of all things. Harry was so weak.
“Then don’t tell me?” He resumed rubbing Louis’ back and relaxed back into the sofa. That was, until Louis sat up on his lap and whacked him on the chest with a pillow. Twice. He should probably have worn more than just boxers and a well-worn T-shirt. Maybe a ski gear. It might have lessened his urge to hold Louis down and grind into him. Then again, probably not.
“But I want to! That’s the whole issue.” Louis had no time to style his hair in the morning and it fell softly into his face and all Harry could think of was burying his fingers in it, even though Louis was frowning at him as he did every time they ran out of tea and Harry had forgotten to buy more.
“You’re supposed to try to get it out of me! What is wrong with you?”
“But-” Harry said, playing with the hem of Louis’ Henley, “think how much better it’ll be when you finally get to tell me?” Louis just sighed, long and loud, and wriggled his hips. His T-shirt was threadbare and see-through from constant use, the curve of his waist backlit by the sun streaming in through the windows. He didn’t even seem real.
“You’re no fun.”
“You sure about that?” Harry asked, gripping Louis’ hips and twisting them around to trap Louis beneath him, needing to feel him so bad. He was pretty proud of himself for not tumbling to the floor like the last time he’d tried to do this on the sofa. “Do you want me to tickle it out of you then? Don’t think I won’t.” Rather than answering, Louis stretched Harry’s Rolling Stones T-shirt tight across his chest and smirked.
“What?” Harry glanced down at his chest then back at Louis again. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason,” Louis said before pinching Harry’s nipples, grinning so hard his eyes crinkled at the edges. “I love you. You and your perpetually hard nipples.”
“Lou,” Harry groaned and hid his face in Louis’s shoulder. Partly because he was embarrassed and partly because Louis smelled like home. When Louis snuck a hand under Harry’s T-shirt to rub his left nipple, the groan Harry let out was of a decidedly different nature.
“How much time do we have before the lads get here?” Louis asked, pinching Harry’s nipple gently then moving onto the other one, teasing him relentlessly. Pulling and rubbing and pinching and squeezing. Harry’s thoughts fizzled out, every brush of Louis’ deft fingers making his skin taut and sensitive enough to make him shiver all over. It took Harry a second to process the question, to stop wriggling his hips in the cradle of Louis’ strong thighs for long enough to make his brain work properly.
“Don’t- don’t know. A while? I hope.”
“Okay, good.” Louis slid his hand out and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist to pull him flush against his body. “What are you waiting for? Kiss me, you fool.” Harry was more than happy to oblige. He fumbled up Louis’ jaw blindly until their lips brushed together, slotting and parting again with a slick sound and a sizzle of electricity that sparked all the way down to Harry’s toes. He wondered if it’d always be like this. If each time he’d kiss Louis and have the taste of him on the tip of his tongue, he’d feel like he was kissing him for the first time again. New and exciting and so, so hungry for more. He tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth, let Louis’s tongue lick over the roof of his upper lip and into his mouth before Harry suckled at Louis’ tongue gently. He couldn’t imagine wanting to kiss anyone else ever again.
“Haz,” Louis whispered, thighs tightening around his hips, hands fisting the back of Harry’s T-shirt before he surged up to kiss him again, quick and deep as if he couldn’t even help it. When Harry pulled away to breathe he noticed Louis’ Henley had folded up over his belly button from their wriggling, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He was spread open. Vulnerable. So fucking beautiful Harry couldn’t stop staring like a lovesick idiot.
“How are you so,” Harry gulped, left a trail of kisses down Louis’ arched throat. His skin was like melted sugar. “So- gorgeous. Bloody fit.” Harry loved the little half-strangled whimper in the back of Louis’ throat when he sealed his lips over Louis’ pulse and sucked hard.
“Bet I look like a mess right now,” Louis said, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Thanks to you.”
“I like you messy,” Harry said, pulled away so he could watch the glide of his hand over Louis’ quivering belly. “Want to drip honey all over your cock and lick it off.”
“Christ.” He rolled Harry’s T-shirt up to his armpits, helping him get it off. “Don’t think there’s any honey left.” Harry sat back on his haunches and tugged at the drawstring on Louis’ trackies, let his knuckles brush over the wet spot at the front.
“Still want to suck you off anyway.” Louis threw his arm over his head and thrust his hips up with a smirk curving his kiss-swollen mouth. The effect was somewhat ruined by the flush on his cheeks, the breathless quality to his voice when he said:
“Come and get it then. It won’t suck itself.”
“I don’t know,” Harry said with a thoughtful purse of his lips and grabbed Louis’ hips to pull his bum over his lap. “You’ve gotten quite flexible.” Louis giggled and threw a pillow at Harry’s face.
“I reckon I could. At least get the tip in.” He shoved Louis’ trackies down and under his bum, watched his cock slap over his belly and tried not to feel smug when Louis’ mouth dropped open on a moan.
“Shit, Harry. Don’t say that or I’ll-”
“What?” He fisted Louis’ length and rubbed his thumb over the spot right under the head that always made Louis squirm and jerk in his hold. “Don’t think I can?”
“Stop teasing. AH” Harry opened his mouth to let saliva dribble down over the head of Louis’ cock and smoothed it down with two tight tugs. Louis’ thighs squeezed his waist to the point of pain. “Can I- can I come to your class tomorrow?”
“Obviously,” Harry said, because any time Louis came to watch him, he always tried just that little bit harder to do his best. Sneaking glances of Louis’s bum when he was in the downward dog position made it all that much better. “Think Liam’s there tomorrow as well.”
“Ugh,” Louis said, canting his hips into Harry’s touch. “Can you not mention Payno right now? You’re killing my buzz here, love.” Harry scooted down on the couch and bit Louis’ hipbone, sucked a bruise there just so he could press his fingers into it later tonight and know he was the one who had left it there.
“This better?” He pulled Louis into his mouth slowly, had to close his eyes and palm himself over his pants. He loved the stretch of it, the ache in his jaw and the pulsing weight of Louis on his tongue, the way Louis knotted his fingers in his hair just enough to border on the right side of painful.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this. What a good boy.” Harry let out an involuntary whine. It was completely out of his hands at this point. Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Open the door, lovebirds!” Harry snapped up and met Louis’ panicked eyes. Well, fuck.
“You better not be shagging in there!” Niall’s positively gleeful voice sounded through the door. Harry climbed off Louis so fast he almost knocked his knee into the coffee table.
“Buggering, fucking fuck,” Louis muttered as they tried to sort themselves out the best they could. Harry threw on the discarded T-shirt and hurried to open the door before Niall could decide to call out any more inappropriate things. Their closest neighbour was an 87-year-old lady who was half deaf, but Harry didn’t want to risk it. He quite liked their weekly baking dates together. He opened the door and ushered Niall, Zayn and Liam in with a hiss of:
“Can you please keep it down?” Zayn arched his eyebrow and threw his arm over Niall’s shoulders.
“Can you?” The amused once-over with a deliberate glance at Harry’s tented crotch had all the blood rushing to his face in two seconds flat.
“We were just- um.”
“How did you even get inside the building?” Louis came to the rescue, his hand resting on Harry’s lower back. It wasn’t helping with Harry’s pants situation at all.
“This ginger kid let us in,” Niall said, and bopped Harry’s nose on his way to park his arse on the sofa. “Is it safe to sit here?”
“Unfortunately,” Louis sighed, stealing Liam’s hat while he was too distracted trying not to stare at either Harry or Louis for too long out of misguided sense of courtesy. They’d all been friends for months now, once Liam and Zayn had got over the awkwardness of the kiss. Niall still laughed his arse off every time someone mentioned it, mostly because Liam had been dating his girlfriend since sixth form and Zayn was so smitten with Niall at this point that it was disgusting to watch. Zayn had even picked Niall’s nose for him last week. Harry was still disturbed.
“Hey!” Liam reached out to get his hat back, but Louis was too quick, darting out of the way just in time. Only, Louis didn’t count on Zayn swiping in and taking it away from him with exactly zero effort before planting the hat back on Liam’s head.
“I’ve been betrayed by my best mate,” Louis said dramatically, covering his face with his hands as he pretended to cry.
“I ordered pizza!” Niall called out just as Zayn pulled Louis tight against his side and kissed him on his temple. If Harry tugged at the back of Louis’ hastily thrown on Henley to get his attention, well. That was completely unrelated.
“I’ve got beer,” Liam said and lifted two six-packs in his hands.
“Knew I liked you for a reason,” Louis said and took one off his hands. Then promptly turned around and deposited it in Harry’s arms, beaming. “Put them in the fridge, baby?” As if Harry could say no to anything when Louis called him `baby´.
“You two are so cute together,” Niall said, his chin propped up on the back of the sofa as he watched at them.
“Thanks!” Louis beamed, scuttling over to the sofa and leaping over the backrest to tackle Niall with a violent hug. Niall looked like Christmas had come early. Harry could relate, and had to forcibly take his eyes away from Louis so he could go put the beer in the fridge. Louis was so bright and magnetic that sometimes Harry felt as if he’d lived his life in muted colors until the day he met him. It wasn’t long before arms wrapped around his waist just as he was bending over to put the beers in the fridge. It would have been romantic if Louis hadn’t ground his half-hard cock into his arse.
“Do you know what tomorrow is?” Harry snorted, straightened up so he could turn around to look at his boyfriend properly. Did he know? He’d had the date marked in his calendar with heart-eyed emojis and kisses for months. So yeah, he did know.
“Maybe. Do you?”
“Mhm,” Louis hummed noncommittally before he pulled Harry into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss by the back of his neck. He had to lean against the fridge to keep his knees from growing too weak.
“Might do. Hypothetically.”
“So, hypothetically,” Harry started, slipped his hand under Louis’ shirt to caress the dip of his lower back, “We might do something to commemorate the occasion?”
“And what would you have us do?” Louis asked, mouth pressing short kisses down Harry’s neck before resting against his collarbones. “Hypothetically speaking.”
“Can we- can we see how long we can snog without stopping? Break a world record? That would be sick.” It might have been an excuse to get Louis into bed just so Harry could snog him for hours on end. Until their lips hurt and their breath synced up, so wired up that breaking apart for even a second would seem impossible.
“Love,” Louis wrapped his arms around him tight, warm and strong and steadying, “I think we’ve probably broken that record a few times over by now.” Louis’ back was warm and smooth and right above the tempting swell of the world’s number one bum, so if Harry’s pinkie dipped beneath the edge of his trackies, that was very much a happy accident.
“Maybe there’s a record for breaking a record several times over? We should try that. Get someone to officiate it all and give us the plaque.”
“Is that what you want?” Louis tugged at what he loved to call Harry’s `springy bits´, his thumb grazing the shell of Harry’s ear. Harry had trouble getting his thoughts back on track. His hand slipped down, low enough to fully cup the firm roundness of Louis’ bare bum cheek beneath his trackies.
“Ah. Have someone watch?” He pulled Louis forward, bent down a little to press his lips against Louis’ jaw. “On second thought, no. I’d rather have you all to myself.”
“Getting jealous there, Styles?” Louis asked, so fond Harry’s lips twitched into an involuntary smile. “I’ve got something planned already anyway.”
“The surprise?” Harry grinned so hard his face actually hurt a little.
“That and you can request anything you want from me. A Louis voucher, one might say. Sexual or not, it’s your choice.” Louis pulled at his hair, pressed up against his body impossibly close. Harry’s blood was sizzling under his skin, the cotton of Louis’ trackies turning itchy against his bare legs, but. It gave him an idea.
“Lou?” He sounded half-strangled even to his own ears, cheeks burning.
“Harry,” Louis said with a teasing quirk of his eyebrow. He seemed quite proud of the little huff of a laugh he’d got in return.
“Will you maybe- will you put on my yoga leggings? Just, like, for a bit?”
“Hmm.” He ran his hand down Harry’s spine, made him shiver as he dipped just beneath the waistband of his pants. “Any particular reason why you want that?” Harry’s teeth left little red indents in the curve of Louis’ neck, warm breath puffing over damp skin as he said:
“Just want to check something real quick, pal.” He was the epitome of casual. Cool as a cucumber. The little whimper he was trying to choke back at the thought of Louis’ bum in tight black leggings was nothing but a fluke.
“Then I reckon I could, bro.” Harry giggled into Louis’ neck, his entire body leaning into Louis and fuck. He had to go back into the living room in a minute and pretend he wasn’t thinking about bending Louis over the edge of the couch, peeling leggings under his bum and spreading him open enough to lick his way inside and turn Louis into a helpless, quivering mess.
“Lou,” he whined, the friction of Louis’ hips grinding into his making his head all fuzzy.
“Fuck, Harry, you’re getting me all wet again.” Louis grabbed Harry’s free hand and pressed it right over the growing wet spot at the front of his trackies. “Gonna have to change.” His tongue flicked out to brush over the seam of Harry’s lips, retreated just as Harry was about to suckle on it. Mean.
“Gonna have to change into something a little less grey and a little more,” he bit the edge of Harry’s jaw, shivered when Harry curved his hand around his cock, “black.” And, oh. Oh. Fuck.
“Can you two stop doing whatever you’re doing in there and bring us some snacks already? You’ve been there for ages!” Liam called.
“Have you quite finished?” Louis called back and reluctantly untangled himself from Harry’s arms. “We’ll be right there!” To Harry, he whispered:
“Bring them those snacks while I get changed, will you, love?” Harry could only nod dumbly and watch Louis rush through the living room with a quick excuse of, `need to piss!´ before disappearing in their bedroom. He had to walk over to the kitchen sink and splash his face with cold water. Repeatedly.
Louis in yoga pants hell yeah.
En natuurlijk werden ze weer onderbroken in hun moment,
wanneer nou niet hahahaha, ik kan hier echt om lachen.
Hierna nog één stukje voor deel 10