Pretty As A Picture - 1D: Harry/Louis - 1/1
Title: Pretty As A Picture
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17 - swearing and sexual explicit situations
Word Count: ~3,400
Warning: Um. Crossdressing.
Summary: For the prompt on the kink meme that was simply 'Harry/Louis, lacy knickers'.
Disclaimer: This is not true, made up and not meant to offend. The beauty of fiction.
A/N: Yep. That was me lol. The prompt just grabbed me and would not let go until I'd written something. I'm now a fan. :p Comments are always love.
It begins purely as a dare. Harry knows Louis is like mischievous putty in his hands when he mentions anything that vaguely sounds like a challenge to his ears. They'd been flicking through a magazine Niall had bought at a service station that morning, thighs pressed against each other, when Harry stopped on a glossy page and giggled dirtily. He pointed at one of the half naked models and then raised an eyebrow at Louis, indicating. It was hard to tell what he wanted from this exactly so Louis grinned and asked, watching as Harry's laugh turned into a matching grin.
"I bet you won't get a pair of these and wear them around our flat."
Louis blinked at him. "That's it? Harry, that's too tame to even be a dare. To be a dare it has to be daring y'know."
There was a pause and then a low noise that sounded suspiciously like an impression of a chicken to Louis' outraged ears. His mouth dropped open, even as Harry started squawking louder, slightly ruined by his breaks to giggle at the look on Louis' face before he quickly stood up, hands on his hips.
"I am not a chicken!" he exclaimed, brows drawn together and a pout to his lips.
Harry switched to a slow smile, leaning back in his seat to gesture to Louis with a lazy finger. "Prove it."
From the look on Harry's face now, Louis senses that he'd forgotten about their little dare or that he thought that Louis had forgotten or indeed chickened out. As if. But they had been on tour when the deal was made and he'd wanted to wait until that was over and they had some decent time in the flat. Today was apparently that day and at first Louis doesn't notice how quiet Harry actually is upon his entrance to his bedroom. Harry is sat in a comfy chair in the corner of his room, the early evening light perfect to stare out the window or use to read through a magazine or the well-thumbed pages of a book.
"Happy now?" Louis asks with a laugh lilting his voice.
He waits a beat when he feels eyes glance towards him but is admittedly a little self-conscious as nothing is immediately said. Not a word. Louis' stepped into Harry's room almost naked (which isn't a rare occurence) except for a pair of royal blue, lacy 'boy shorts'. He calls them that in his head so he doesn't blush so outwardly, which would only intensify with the knowledge that he very rarely blushes over anything. In reality, whichever way he tries to spin it, they are knickers and he's wearing them. Because Harry told - no, dared - him to and he can never refuse those. However, this silent reaction was not what he expected.
"Hilarious, right?" he laughs that laugh again, the one that desperately implies say something before I know this has gone too far and then he finally pays attention to Harry in the chair.
He's lost grip on the magazine, the slip of the pages sliding off his knee and into the crook of the seat, and his gaze is unwavering. That self-conscious feeling builds before a tiny voice in the back of Louis' mind tells him to catch the fucking drift of what's actually going on.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he says lamely instead and folds his arms over his chest, squishing his bare toes into the still plush and springy carpet.
"I must be fucked in the head," he thinks he hears Harry mutter half to himself before he blinks quickly as if shocked out of his reverie and asks aloud, "Like what? I'm not looking at you like anything! Just...looking."
"No," Louis responds slowly, grasping at the ends of the picture as he finally comes to the right conclusion, "you're looking at me, staring at me, like when you want to - oh," he breathes, shoving his thoughts onto the more direct path, "is this - is this doing something for you?”
Harry licks his lips, but he won't quite meet Louis' eyes, "Am I that obvious?"
One arm falls to Louis' side whilst the other clamps over his forearm, his hip jutting out unawares with his grounded stance. He's simply standing in the doorway to Harry's bedroom but how he naturally is is emphasising the fact that he's dressed indecently in underwear that he traditionally shouldn't be wearing and that it feels weirdly good and Harry's eyes fixed on him like that feel like they're going to burn right through his skin, never mind the intricate, flimsy material.
Louis nods belatedly, his eyes just as hopeless in holding Harry's, "I'd say yes you are, but the semi your sweatpants are failing to hide is the real answer here."
"Fuck."
More silence that Louis is the first to break with a hesistant, "Is this too weird?"
"Don't be stupid," Harry admonishes gently and his gaze travels to finally lock on Louis' uncertain face. "It's not like we're not, uh, y'know."
"Boyfriends?"
Harry lets out a chuckle and scratches the back of his neck, like he's always floored when Louis sounds so damn sincere and yet almost innocent, pure, about the things that matter the most and sit deceptively feather-light in their chests. "Yeah, and it's not like I don't want to have sex with you every second of the day. Including this one. Fuck." he curses heartfelt again then his eyes seem to light up on an idea, "Hey, will you do me a favour?"
"Um, sure."
"Come here."
Louis smiles with a shake of his head and walks towards Harry as requested, pushing his fringe away with gentle fingers when it strays downwards. He's about a foot away when Harry raises a hand and he stops, a shiver coursing through his body at the level of obedience that is mostly borne from unfailing trust.
He sees Harry's pale throat work as he swallows then flicks his tongue out to wet his dry lips. "Half turn and walk eight steps backwards. Please." he adds plaintively when Louis opens his mouth to say something, maybe a cheeky joke.
He finds himself quickly at the foot of Harry's bed and his heartbeat rises when Harry gets to his feet and scrubs a hand across soft curls. He exhales shakily, like he's readying himself or can't control any one of his physical reactions like he couldn't with his erection. If anything that part of his body is fully interested in proceedings now and Louis starts to respond in earnest, his heart jumping to his mouth when Harry turns his finger in a circle in front of him and says with a voice a little rougher, a little deeper than before, "Turn around."
Louis' heart is positively pounding and his breathing quick and shallow when he feels the heat of Harry's presence come up behind him, his whole body paralysed for a split second when big, warm palms settle onto each lace-covered buttock and squeeze his arse with just enough pressure to feel like a real promise. As well as that, Harry's nose nudges behind Louis' ear and his breath trembles out of him again as eyelashes flutter closed.
"Fuck, Louis," he sounds like he wants to complain with that edge of a whine to his tone, "why is this so - why are you - oh god, I can't take it. How do you feel?"
Louis wants to laugh. "How do I feel? Uh...you're behind me, practically fully clothed and I'm wearing knickers with your hands on my arse - I don't have a clue what I feel past my heart going like the fucking clappers."
Harry does nothing to help the insistent thudding as he breathes harshly against the side of Louis' hair, ruffling it, as he presses closer with his hips into the space he leaves as one hand moves from Louis' arse and around, fingertips brushing the uneven edge of the knickers. A shiver jolts through Louis at the sensation of skin on skin properly for the first time since he put the underwear on, no barriers. Harry slips further and Louis thinks about telling him to hurry the fuck up but he feels jittery with the anticipation and suddenly like their height difference isn't small anymore, it matters and he does enjoy having Harry looming behind him. His strangest thought that actually distracts him is the curious well of disappointment he has inside him that he's not a girl and Harry won't feel him as wet as he probably would be if things were different, but then deft, nimble fingers cup right under the outline of his balls and the base of his cock and he twitches from the spark of pleasure that shoots into his stomach and makes him lean back into Harry's unconventional embrace.
As soon as he does that, it seems to be permission enough for Harry to lick at the shell of his ear then he gives a mightily forceful shove with his hands sliding up to push from Louis' hips, sending him face first onto the bed in front of them. The shock of it has him biting into the sheets before he turns his head to gasp and suck a breath of air in simultaneously. He's only half perched on the bed, still standing on his legs even though his knees are slightly bent against the frame and entirely weak. It means his arse is level with Harry's erection and presented to him in the most convenient of positions and before Louis can think to twist around to look at him aghast, Harry's torso is settled on top of him and his socked feet have kicked Louis' thighs that little bit wider.
"They feel so good," he pants, wriggling a hand impatiently between his own body to feel for Louis' arse again, entirely rounded and pert and inviting in the structured confines of the underwear.
It's made of lace all over and it’s just the right amount of rough on Harry's fingertips and Louis' flesh, his cock rubbing into the material as he tries not to thrust down into the mattress before Harry is done. Louis thought Harry might make a glib comment about how the dark, vivid colour made his blue eyes seem brighter but this is a far more visceral reaction than he could've ever dreamt in his wildest, craziest dreams and he has to admit that he's turned on simply from the way Harry is caressing him, like the sight and the feel of Louis in something this ridiculous isn't that ridiculous after all.
Louis moans his agreement for earlier, the noise startling him, as Harry plants quick, open-mouthed kisses down the length of his spine as he toys with the edges of the knickers stretched across his thighs. Losing a lot of his patience, Harry shifts and lifts his body away completely before he sinks to his knees. His palm skates under the trim of one leg and pinches at the underside of Louis' arse as it peeks out temptingly, the line of the underwear at such an angle it doesn't quite cover everything. Beneath his own weight, Louis jerks into the bed from the sting and dislodges the waistband low on his hips so that his cock pokes out obscenely, the head shiny like he's already had a greedy mouth on him. The relief makes him buck and he gasps when he realises that he's rocked forward and then back, straight into Harry's waiting hands that spread his arse open even though he's not free of the lace. He moans as a finger tries to wriggle through and trace his hole, making him clench despite the fact it’ll mean he's too tense to breach.
However, Harry eases off from that as well and Louis feels his frustration become clear, raging at him to speak his mind but all that really comes tumbling out is a decidedly feeble, "Harry,please."
Harry growls and Louis leans his forehead hard into the bed when he's lunged at and teeth clamp into the leg of the underwear, high on the uppermost part of Louis' thigh. Harry's mouth catches on his skin he's sure by accident, but the surge of the tug has him mewling helplessly and scrabbling to clutch at the sheets, swaying his hips to wiggle his arse unashamedly. A hand slapping into his shoulderblades stops him with a hitch of breath, as does fingers trailing down his spine so that Harry's palm rests in the dip of his lower back. Harry parts Louis' arse from one cheek this time, his fingers dangerously close to his hole before Harry's tongue presses flat over the lace, pushing the material closer to Louis' heated flesh and soaking it with saliva. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and his thighs try to shut also but Harry is between them and in the way and Louis feels the sharp point of an elbow dig into his inner thigh before giving up trying to keep his sanity. He had no idea. He had no idea that this would turn Harry on so much, that it would turn him on like it has. His cock feels neglected except for the odd thrust along the cool sheets being quickly dampened by his sweat, but all he can focus on is shapes of delicate lace and the gaps where there is none, patterns imprinting into his skin from where Harry seems to want to brand and stick the material to him until it becomes a part of him forever.
"You look so fucking delicious," Harry gasps, following that up by letting his mouth run from the slope of Louis' arse to the crease of his right thigh, sucking with determination because usually he doesn’t get the chance to mark him with lovebites.
He slides his hands around to the front of Louis' legs and pushes him back towards him as his lips drag to their previous position, kitten licks around the edges of his pinked hole because of the sensitivity there and the lace as an obstacle makes the feeling more unpredictable in its intensity, from barely there to a hot stake of pressure deep within him. Harry bites the curve of his arse, his mouth opened wide against him then his hands come up and with no warning, there's the scratchy sound of material being torn and Louis yelps in surprise. He feels the cold complete freedom around the most intimate place as Harry exposes his hole, framed by the rest of the now jagged and ripped lace before being attacked with a ferocity that leaves him with nowhere to go, moaning loudly when Harry buries his tongue inside him because there is no longer something stopping him from driving Louis out of his mind with pleasure. Harry hums against his skin as he bobs his head like he's sucking on Louis' flushed, needy cock or in an imitation of his hips pistoning into the body beneath him, fucking Louis with his tongue until he starts to babble.
"Fuck me," he begs, strung out with want as the vibrations from Harry's busy mouth make him shudder all over. "Please, Harry, please, do it, fuck me now,"
Hands and lips leave him and for one suspended moment Louis has the realisation that he's practically sagged over the edge of Harry's bed with his arse in the air and a ripped pair of blue lacy knickers clinging to his slippery, golden skin. It feels too amazing to be ashamed or embarrassed, to be anything other than achingly aroused. He feels the intrusion of a sizeable, long finger then as Harry’s hands are broader than his own and quivers even though it’s such a cliché to connect it to what was constantly pressing into his buttock before Harry dropped to his knees. Louis moans and tightens every muscle from his fists to his toes, ready to plead for more as it’s not enough when Harry pulls his finger slowly from him before clenching restriction tells him that he’s forgone the second finger and clearly feels like he’s added three all at once. Louis’ head lifts up from the bed, his neck straining as he gasps, his mouth perpetually open and his eyes swaying unfocused when he can blink the running sweat from his eyelashes. He rubs his foot along the soft carpet, gaining warmth from the smooth friction that otherwise concentrates around his arse and his trapped cock until he loses his footing with a harsh sob when Harry sloppily licks over his own moving, slick fingers and catches on the puckered, wet skin of his hole.
Quickly, Harry steadies him and withdraws as Louis just about hears the pooling thump of thick sweatpants which tells him what Harry is going to do. Overcome, he pitches forward so that his weight is all on his shoulders and pressed to his kneecaps as he moves his hands to his arse, keeping himself open, and wordlessly demands Harry fuck him with a bossy whine ripping from his throat.
“Jesus,” Harry spits, sounding as overwhelmed as Louis feels, on the precipice of letting go, “don’t - don’t do that,”
He guides his cock in, Louis moaning gratefully because really he knows this is what he wanted all along. He likes doing things for Harry that get him hot and flustered then yanking the control away from under him when he’s too engrossed by strong muscle and hot, liquid heat. However, this time Louis is too far gone to do much but let him just take what he wants now that he’s inside him as the trembling in his bones rocks his body and Harry decides to talk.
“Want you to come first,” he grunts and swears profusely because the way he’s thrusting his hips at a steady, measured pace is pulling him impossibly further into Louis with every push inside. “can you do that for me, baby?”
Louis swallows past the dry throat and watering mouth and is about to speak when Harry leans over him slightly and shoves in deep and all that comes out is a cry and writhing limbs that stand taut before releasing with a snap, his cock pulsing wetly into the sheets and stickily onto his hidden torso. Harry stops; his balls nudged close so that he’s completely buried in Louis weakening around him, and softly kisses the nape of his neck, mostly tasting sweat and a phantom hint of the fruity smell to his shower gel.
“You’re so unbelievably hot, spread open, taking my dick,” he mumbles breathily, nuzzling there as his hands move from clutching hard at Louis’ hips to flutter along the still intact waistband of the knickers.
They’re thrown into sharp focus again because, in the haze of his orgasm and the feel of Harry’s cock fucking into him, Louis had almost forgotten he was even wearing them. He twitches with overstimulation as Harry uses the lace as perilous leverage to thrust to find his end. A handful of forceful rutting and a litany of yes and so good later, Harry slows pointedly and pushes himself to jab at Louis’ prostate for the final time, before pulling out completely. Louis can’t catch his breath or his brain cells for long enough to ask what’s going on, then in the next second doesn’t have to as he feels Harry jerk his cock to come on the knickers, dripping across the ruined lace and down between his buttocks.
Louis lies there afterwards, panting, with his face too hot in the rumpled mess of sheets but too boneless to move just yet. He senses Harry swaying behind him as if he’s trying valiantly not to fall on top of him and Louis grins as he curls his foot around Harry’s calf so he lands half sprawling instead with his forehead rested against his shoulder. He sighs as Harry runs a gentle hand down the other half of his back, soothing, thanking and communicating everything that his body hadn’t already said (which admittedly wasn’t much).
“So I guess you liked them then?” Louis questions in a muffled voice, the buzz of the afterglow fading into amused contentment.
He’s pleased and relieved when Harry laughs.
fin.
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17 - swearing and sexual explicit situations
Word Count: ~3,400
Warning: Um. Crossdressing.
Summary: For the prompt on the kink meme that was simply 'Harry/Louis, lacy knickers'.
Disclaimer: This is not true, made up and not meant to offend. The beauty of fiction.
A/N: Yep. That was me lol. The prompt just grabbed me and would not let go until I'd written something. I'm now a fan. :p Comments are always love.
It begins purely as a dare. Harry knows Louis is like mischievous putty in his hands when he mentions anything that vaguely sounds like a challenge to his ears. They'd been flicking through a magazine Niall had bought at a service station that morning, thighs pressed against each other, when Harry stopped on a glossy page and giggled dirtily. He pointed at one of the half naked models and then raised an eyebrow at Louis, indicating. It was hard to tell what he wanted from this exactly so Louis grinned and asked, watching as Harry's laugh turned into a matching grin.
"I bet you won't get a pair of these and wear them around our flat."
Louis blinked at him. "That's it? Harry, that's too tame to even be a dare. To be a dare it has to be daring y'know."
There was a pause and then a low noise that sounded suspiciously like an impression of a chicken to Louis' outraged ears. His mouth dropped open, even as Harry started squawking louder, slightly ruined by his breaks to giggle at the look on Louis' face before he quickly stood up, hands on his hips.
"I am not a chicken!" he exclaimed, brows drawn together and a pout to his lips.
Harry switched to a slow smile, leaning back in his seat to gesture to Louis with a lazy finger. "Prove it."
From the look on Harry's face now, Louis senses that he'd forgotten about their little dare or that he thought that Louis had forgotten or indeed chickened out. As if. But they had been on tour when the deal was made and he'd wanted to wait until that was over and they had some decent time in the flat. Today was apparently that day and at first Louis doesn't notice how quiet Harry actually is upon his entrance to his bedroom. Harry is sat in a comfy chair in the corner of his room, the early evening light perfect to stare out the window or use to read through a magazine or the well-thumbed pages of a book.
"Happy now?" Louis asks with a laugh lilting his voice.
He waits a beat when he feels eyes glance towards him but is admittedly a little self-conscious as nothing is immediately said. Not a word. Louis' stepped into Harry's room almost naked (which isn't a rare occurence) except for a pair of royal blue, lacy 'boy shorts'. He calls them that in his head so he doesn't blush so outwardly, which would only intensify with the knowledge that he very rarely blushes over anything. In reality, whichever way he tries to spin it, they are knickers and he's wearing them. Because Harry told - no, dared - him to and he can never refuse those. However, this silent reaction was not what he expected.
"Hilarious, right?" he laughs that laugh again, the one that desperately implies say something before I know this has gone too far and then he finally pays attention to Harry in the chair.
He's lost grip on the magazine, the slip of the pages sliding off his knee and into the crook of the seat, and his gaze is unwavering. That self-conscious feeling builds before a tiny voice in the back of Louis' mind tells him to catch the fucking drift of what's actually going on.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he says lamely instead and folds his arms over his chest, squishing his bare toes into the still plush and springy carpet.
"I must be fucked in the head," he thinks he hears Harry mutter half to himself before he blinks quickly as if shocked out of his reverie and asks aloud, "Like what? I'm not looking at you like anything! Just...looking."
"No," Louis responds slowly, grasping at the ends of the picture as he finally comes to the right conclusion, "you're looking at me, staring at me, like when you want to - oh," he breathes, shoving his thoughts onto the more direct path, "is this - is this doing something for you?”
Harry licks his lips, but he won't quite meet Louis' eyes, "Am I that obvious?"
One arm falls to Louis' side whilst the other clamps over his forearm, his hip jutting out unawares with his grounded stance. He's simply standing in the doorway to Harry's bedroom but how he naturally is is emphasising the fact that he's dressed indecently in underwear that he traditionally shouldn't be wearing and that it feels weirdly good and Harry's eyes fixed on him like that feel like they're going to burn right through his skin, never mind the intricate, flimsy material.
Louis nods belatedly, his eyes just as hopeless in holding Harry's, "I'd say yes you are, but the semi your sweatpants are failing to hide is the real answer here."
"Fuck."
More silence that Louis is the first to break with a hesistant, "Is this too weird?"
"Don't be stupid," Harry admonishes gently and his gaze travels to finally lock on Louis' uncertain face. "It's not like we're not, uh, y'know."
"Boyfriends?"
Harry lets out a chuckle and scratches the back of his neck, like he's always floored when Louis sounds so damn sincere and yet almost innocent, pure, about the things that matter the most and sit deceptively feather-light in their chests. "Yeah, and it's not like I don't want to have sex with you every second of the day. Including this one. Fuck." he curses heartfelt again then his eyes seem to light up on an idea, "Hey, will you do me a favour?"
"Um, sure."
"Come here."
Louis smiles with a shake of his head and walks towards Harry as requested, pushing his fringe away with gentle fingers when it strays downwards. He's about a foot away when Harry raises a hand and he stops, a shiver coursing through his body at the level of obedience that is mostly borne from unfailing trust.
He sees Harry's pale throat work as he swallows then flicks his tongue out to wet his dry lips. "Half turn and walk eight steps backwards. Please." he adds plaintively when Louis opens his mouth to say something, maybe a cheeky joke.
He finds himself quickly at the foot of Harry's bed and his heartbeat rises when Harry gets to his feet and scrubs a hand across soft curls. He exhales shakily, like he's readying himself or can't control any one of his physical reactions like he couldn't with his erection. If anything that part of his body is fully interested in proceedings now and Louis starts to respond in earnest, his heart jumping to his mouth when Harry turns his finger in a circle in front of him and says with a voice a little rougher, a little deeper than before, "Turn around."
Louis' heart is positively pounding and his breathing quick and shallow when he feels the heat of Harry's presence come up behind him, his whole body paralysed for a split second when big, warm palms settle onto each lace-covered buttock and squeeze his arse with just enough pressure to feel like a real promise. As well as that, Harry's nose nudges behind Louis' ear and his breath trembles out of him again as eyelashes flutter closed.
"Fuck, Louis," he sounds like he wants to complain with that edge of a whine to his tone, "why is this so - why are you - oh god, I can't take it. How do you feel?"
Louis wants to laugh. "How do I feel? Uh...you're behind me, practically fully clothed and I'm wearing knickers with your hands on my arse - I don't have a clue what I feel past my heart going like the fucking clappers."
Harry does nothing to help the insistent thudding as he breathes harshly against the side of Louis' hair, ruffling it, as he presses closer with his hips into the space he leaves as one hand moves from Louis' arse and around, fingertips brushing the uneven edge of the knickers. A shiver jolts through Louis at the sensation of skin on skin properly for the first time since he put the underwear on, no barriers. Harry slips further and Louis thinks about telling him to hurry the fuck up but he feels jittery with the anticipation and suddenly like their height difference isn't small anymore, it matters and he does enjoy having Harry looming behind him. His strangest thought that actually distracts him is the curious well of disappointment he has inside him that he's not a girl and Harry won't feel him as wet as he probably would be if things were different, but then deft, nimble fingers cup right under the outline of his balls and the base of his cock and he twitches from the spark of pleasure that shoots into his stomach and makes him lean back into Harry's unconventional embrace.
As soon as he does that, it seems to be permission enough for Harry to lick at the shell of his ear then he gives a mightily forceful shove with his hands sliding up to push from Louis' hips, sending him face first onto the bed in front of them. The shock of it has him biting into the sheets before he turns his head to gasp and suck a breath of air in simultaneously. He's only half perched on the bed, still standing on his legs even though his knees are slightly bent against the frame and entirely weak. It means his arse is level with Harry's erection and presented to him in the most convenient of positions and before Louis can think to twist around to look at him aghast, Harry's torso is settled on top of him and his socked feet have kicked Louis' thighs that little bit wider.
"They feel so good," he pants, wriggling a hand impatiently between his own body to feel for Louis' arse again, entirely rounded and pert and inviting in the structured confines of the underwear.
It's made of lace all over and it’s just the right amount of rough on Harry's fingertips and Louis' flesh, his cock rubbing into the material as he tries not to thrust down into the mattress before Harry is done. Louis thought Harry might make a glib comment about how the dark, vivid colour made his blue eyes seem brighter but this is a far more visceral reaction than he could've ever dreamt in his wildest, craziest dreams and he has to admit that he's turned on simply from the way Harry is caressing him, like the sight and the feel of Louis in something this ridiculous isn't that ridiculous after all.
Louis moans his agreement for earlier, the noise startling him, as Harry plants quick, open-mouthed kisses down the length of his spine as he toys with the edges of the knickers stretched across his thighs. Losing a lot of his patience, Harry shifts and lifts his body away completely before he sinks to his knees. His palm skates under the trim of one leg and pinches at the underside of Louis' arse as it peeks out temptingly, the line of the underwear at such an angle it doesn't quite cover everything. Beneath his own weight, Louis jerks into the bed from the sting and dislodges the waistband low on his hips so that his cock pokes out obscenely, the head shiny like he's already had a greedy mouth on him. The relief makes him buck and he gasps when he realises that he's rocked forward and then back, straight into Harry's waiting hands that spread his arse open even though he's not free of the lace. He moans as a finger tries to wriggle through and trace his hole, making him clench despite the fact it’ll mean he's too tense to breach.
However, Harry eases off from that as well and Louis feels his frustration become clear, raging at him to speak his mind but all that really comes tumbling out is a decidedly feeble, "Harry,please."
Harry growls and Louis leans his forehead hard into the bed when he's lunged at and teeth clamp into the leg of the underwear, high on the uppermost part of Louis' thigh. Harry's mouth catches on his skin he's sure by accident, but the surge of the tug has him mewling helplessly and scrabbling to clutch at the sheets, swaying his hips to wiggle his arse unashamedly. A hand slapping into his shoulderblades stops him with a hitch of breath, as does fingers trailing down his spine so that Harry's palm rests in the dip of his lower back. Harry parts Louis' arse from one cheek this time, his fingers dangerously close to his hole before Harry's tongue presses flat over the lace, pushing the material closer to Louis' heated flesh and soaking it with saliva. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and his thighs try to shut also but Harry is between them and in the way and Louis feels the sharp point of an elbow dig into his inner thigh before giving up trying to keep his sanity. He had no idea. He had no idea that this would turn Harry on so much, that it would turn him on like it has. His cock feels neglected except for the odd thrust along the cool sheets being quickly dampened by his sweat, but all he can focus on is shapes of delicate lace and the gaps where there is none, patterns imprinting into his skin from where Harry seems to want to brand and stick the material to him until it becomes a part of him forever.
"You look so fucking delicious," Harry gasps, following that up by letting his mouth run from the slope of Louis' arse to the crease of his right thigh, sucking with determination because usually he doesn’t get the chance to mark him with lovebites.
He slides his hands around to the front of Louis' legs and pushes him back towards him as his lips drag to their previous position, kitten licks around the edges of his pinked hole because of the sensitivity there and the lace as an obstacle makes the feeling more unpredictable in its intensity, from barely there to a hot stake of pressure deep within him. Harry bites the curve of his arse, his mouth opened wide against him then his hands come up and with no warning, there's the scratchy sound of material being torn and Louis yelps in surprise. He feels the cold complete freedom around the most intimate place as Harry exposes his hole, framed by the rest of the now jagged and ripped lace before being attacked with a ferocity that leaves him with nowhere to go, moaning loudly when Harry buries his tongue inside him because there is no longer something stopping him from driving Louis out of his mind with pleasure. Harry hums against his skin as he bobs his head like he's sucking on Louis' flushed, needy cock or in an imitation of his hips pistoning into the body beneath him, fucking Louis with his tongue until he starts to babble.
"Fuck me," he begs, strung out with want as the vibrations from Harry's busy mouth make him shudder all over. "Please, Harry, please, do it, fuck me now,"
Hands and lips leave him and for one suspended moment Louis has the realisation that he's practically sagged over the edge of Harry's bed with his arse in the air and a ripped pair of blue lacy knickers clinging to his slippery, golden skin. It feels too amazing to be ashamed or embarrassed, to be anything other than achingly aroused. He feels the intrusion of a sizeable, long finger then as Harry’s hands are broader than his own and quivers even though it’s such a cliché to connect it to what was constantly pressing into his buttock before Harry dropped to his knees. Louis moans and tightens every muscle from his fists to his toes, ready to plead for more as it’s not enough when Harry pulls his finger slowly from him before clenching restriction tells him that he’s forgone the second finger and clearly feels like he’s added three all at once. Louis’ head lifts up from the bed, his neck straining as he gasps, his mouth perpetually open and his eyes swaying unfocused when he can blink the running sweat from his eyelashes. He rubs his foot along the soft carpet, gaining warmth from the smooth friction that otherwise concentrates around his arse and his trapped cock until he loses his footing with a harsh sob when Harry sloppily licks over his own moving, slick fingers and catches on the puckered, wet skin of his hole.
Quickly, Harry steadies him and withdraws as Louis just about hears the pooling thump of thick sweatpants which tells him what Harry is going to do. Overcome, he pitches forward so that his weight is all on his shoulders and pressed to his kneecaps as he moves his hands to his arse, keeping himself open, and wordlessly demands Harry fuck him with a bossy whine ripping from his throat.
“Jesus,” Harry spits, sounding as overwhelmed as Louis feels, on the precipice of letting go, “don’t - don’t do that,”
He guides his cock in, Louis moaning gratefully because really he knows this is what he wanted all along. He likes doing things for Harry that get him hot and flustered then yanking the control away from under him when he’s too engrossed by strong muscle and hot, liquid heat. However, this time Louis is too far gone to do much but let him just take what he wants now that he’s inside him as the trembling in his bones rocks his body and Harry decides to talk.
“Want you to come first,” he grunts and swears profusely because the way he’s thrusting his hips at a steady, measured pace is pulling him impossibly further into Louis with every push inside. “can you do that for me, baby?”
Louis swallows past the dry throat and watering mouth and is about to speak when Harry leans over him slightly and shoves in deep and all that comes out is a cry and writhing limbs that stand taut before releasing with a snap, his cock pulsing wetly into the sheets and stickily onto his hidden torso. Harry stops; his balls nudged close so that he’s completely buried in Louis weakening around him, and softly kisses the nape of his neck, mostly tasting sweat and a phantom hint of the fruity smell to his shower gel.
“You’re so unbelievably hot, spread open, taking my dick,” he mumbles breathily, nuzzling there as his hands move from clutching hard at Louis’ hips to flutter along the still intact waistband of the knickers.
They’re thrown into sharp focus again because, in the haze of his orgasm and the feel of Harry’s cock fucking into him, Louis had almost forgotten he was even wearing them. He twitches with overstimulation as Harry uses the lace as perilous leverage to thrust to find his end. A handful of forceful rutting and a litany of yes and so good later, Harry slows pointedly and pushes himself to jab at Louis’ prostate for the final time, before pulling out completely. Louis can’t catch his breath or his brain cells for long enough to ask what’s going on, then in the next second doesn’t have to as he feels Harry jerk his cock to come on the knickers, dripping across the ruined lace and down between his buttocks.
Louis lies there afterwards, panting, with his face too hot in the rumpled mess of sheets but too boneless to move just yet. He senses Harry swaying behind him as if he’s trying valiantly not to fall on top of him and Louis grins as he curls his foot around Harry’s calf so he lands half sprawling instead with his forehead rested against his shoulder. He sighs as Harry runs a gentle hand down the other half of his back, soothing, thanking and communicating everything that his body hadn’t already said (which admittedly wasn’t much).
“So I guess you liked them then?” Louis questions in a muffled voice, the buzz of the afterglow fading into amused contentment.
He’s pleased and relieved when Harry laughs.
fin.