Fill Your Empty Skies
Fill Your Empty Skies
Louis/Harry | R | 4624 words | a/n: This happened because of the Olympics! Also, we wanted to write about Eleanor being a good person. That’s about it. Also boys having sex. Title from I’m Yours Tonight by The Academy Is... [AO3]
The whole night feels like a blur of bright lights and loud music, familiar faces and warm hugs and boisterous laughter. It feels like crippling nerves and hands squeezed tight and heads together in a huddle, and like seven billion pairs of eyes on five boys on a lorry.
-
After the ceremony, the massive group breaks off, families headed back to hotels or for late night tea, too wired to sleep yet. Gemma hugs Harry tightly for a good solid minute, and he just basks in it, Louis standing off to the side by El and smiling widely. Anne is next, grabbing Harry and petting his hair, tugging a few unruly curls back into place and then holding an arm out for Louis. He goes, quietly pleased, and they shuffle around trying not to step on each other’s feet but still get as close as possible.
Anne wipes at her eyes as they pull away, “Make sure this lovely young lady makes it home safely, boys, yeah? It was lovely seeing you again, El.” She pulls Eleanor into a quick hug, mumbles a thank you close to her ear and Eleanor nods.
“Remember breakfast in the morning, yeah? If you don’t feed me I’ll have to destroy your kitchen,” Gemma warns, pokes at Harry’s ribs but dodges his retaliation.
Louis is thankful for the comfortable silence in the car, for the way the driver doesn’t think much of the way Harry’s the one with his head leaning on Lou’s shoulder while Eleanor taps at her phone. She’s been texting a friend on and off all night, but it’s late now, and it’s obvious that she’s tired. Louis squeezes at her arm briefly before reaching over to settle his hand on Harry’s knee.
They get off the cab with Eleanor once they reach her flat because they know better than to ride in the same car the whole night, have been warned against it countless times. When the driver is out of sight, Louis dials up a new cab, and they settle on the stairs to the flat entry to wait.
“Boys,” Eleanor says, almost too loud in the lamplit night, shy. “Can I take a picture of you two?”
And it’s- not even Anne herself had, not of just Harry and Louis, which isn’t bad, but. It catches Harry off guard, still buzzing with energy. Louis simply smirks up at her.
“You don’t wanna forget tonight,” she shrugs, tentative, and steps closer to where they’ve folded themselves up close on the steps. “On three, yeah?”
Louis throws an arm around Harry, leans into him and smiles up at the tiny eye of her phone camera, and she’s laughing now, “Cheesy,” and Harry smiles too, tired but- this is easy and it’s a relief, after resisting the urge to touch Louis all day long.
El cups her hand over the screen to check the photo, says, “Hold still, one more-” and Louis reaches up with his free hand, the one not curled at Harry’s shoulder, and pulls Harry’s face down to him, pushes his tongue into Harry’s mouth. It’s quick, but El laughs, again, brighter, says, “It’s a good thing my email or computer or whatever wasn’t actually hacked the other day.”
Harry grins and waves her over, leans his head on Louis’ shoulder again as El sheepishly sits next to him on the steps and holds out her phone for them to see. The street light casts shadows over their heads and across their shoulders, and although there’s a shade running across their faces, Harry’s cheeks look dark and flushed, both in surprise and from the light chill.
“That’s... really, really great,” Louis laughs, reaching across Harry to pat her knee. “Probably a good idea if we don’t email it, either way,” he adds.
Harry speaks up for the first time, “I want it, though,” he says, “Would you send it, El?”
“Of course,” Eleanor nods and pulls up Harry’s number on her contacts. She hasn’t ever had to text him before, but she adds a message to the attachment, on top of the world x, before hitting send. When Harry’s phone buzzes with the message he grins and downloads it, head still resting on Louis’ shoulder.
As headlights turn into the street, Eleanor gets out her keys and unlocks the door to her complex, waves as the two of them slowly move back to the curb.
When their cab pulls up, Louis gives the driver directions and adds, “Please do make it quick, we’ve had a long night.”
They give him too big of a tip when they get back to the flat, Louis leaning on the window frame and smiling at him largely. And- it’s dangerous, maybe a little stupid, but when the cab pulls out into the street, he grabs Harry’s hand.
Harry doesn’t hesitate to lean into Louis’ side and intertwine their fingers. “Feeling daring, are we?” He mumbles, but knows better than to push it. The street seems deserted, and yet getting to hold Louis’ hand as they cross the road and enter the combination at the gate means the world to Harry after an incredible night at the center of the universe.
Louis’ hand is a little sweaty in Harry’s, but he clings tight as they make their way up to the flat, and the second they’re inside, pushes the door to with his foot, presses Harry up against the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night,” he mumbles, presses his face into Harry’s neck. They’re both sweaty and smell like stage make-up and exertion and adrenaline, but to Louis, it’s just home.
“You,” Harry begins, but he’s not entirely sure where to take it- the beers from earlier are still weighing his limbs down a tad, and he’s been craving Louis’ touch all night, sneaking fingers over wrists and wringing his hands in his lap to keep from reaching over to push Louis’ fringe aside. It’s exhilarating to finally get to be alone, despite the exhaustion. “You looked incredible tonight,” he concludes, “so, so brilliant.”
Louis just grins, lets his mouth fall open, hot and wet against Harry’s pulse, scrapes his teeth over the tendons of his neck. “Thanks, Curly. You were a real stunner yourself.” They’re swaying a little, tipped into the wall, Louis’ legs shifting on either side of Harry’s, and after a minute he pulls away, dragging Harry with him. “Let’s get you clean and into bed, love, yeah?”
“We’re having sex,” Harry says, and- it’s sort of meant to come out as a question, but it sounds imperative. He clears his throat a little, rubbing his thumb over the back of Louis’ hand. “Please?” He’s not above begging to rub off against Louis’ thigh, but he’d rather like to at least share a quick wank in the shower. Harry’s not picky.
Louis stands on tiptoe, leaning into Harry’s chest, to kiss him, this time full on the mouth- the kind of kiss that can’t be faked for cameras or captured by cameras, a kiss two years and a million miles and a thousand nights under stage lights in the making. “We’re definitely having sex,” he confirms, voice a little broken.
Harry nods and presses their lips together again, can’t help but smile and nose along Louis’ cheek at his tone. “Shower first,” he concludes, and if he has to blink hard to clear his vision on the way to the bathroom, he doesn’t mind Louis noticing.
(They have it down to a science, a choreography with steps and simple tasks to fulfill. It’s always Harry’s job to get the water running while Louis fetches their pyjamas, or, on nights like this, makes sure they have towels and enough shampoo. Undressing is a game of hands running across ribs and lingering over button-flies, of smirking and kissing in quick pecks when shirts are lifted over their heads, of kicking socks off and sharing the tiles under the spray.)
Louis leans into Harry like every other night, and Harry shifts his stance wider to keep them balanced, let Louis settle between his legs and run hands up into his hair. They back up, slow, careful, into the spray, and Louis massages his scalp until he’s nearly purring before even reaching for the shampoo. As much as their bodies might like to cut this short, after an evening of excessive hair gel and concealer, it would be a waste to shower and not get thoroughly clean.
Harry sways as Louis lathers his shampoo, eyes closed and eyelashes inky and heavy with water. He’ll reach for Louis’ shampoo in a minute, but not quite yet, with Louis’ nimble hands tangled up in his curls.
“Rinse, Curly,” Louis says, and Harry nearly misses it except for how the absence of Louis’ hands startles him back to reality. Harry nods and washes off the shampoo, then scrubs a hand over his face and reaches blindly for Louis’ shampoo.
“Your turn,” he announces, popping the cap open and squirting Louis’ sweet shampoo onto his hand.
“You’re a love,” Louis nods, turning around and tipping his head back, eyes closed. He’s tired- everything aches and he’s been standing and sitting too long for what seems like all day- that morning seems an eon ago. “That was crazy. Absolutely insane.”
Harry nods, hums quietly, already working the shampoo into Louis’ hair, working out the stiff waves Lou had so carefully arranged before the ceremony. “Yeah, boo. Mental.” He sneaks a look at the line of Louis’ back- his spine dipping, water beading off it, the dimples of his lower back and. Well, his ass is right there, and Harry can’t be expected to be immune.
“Never in my life did I think...” Louis trails off, chuckles a little, still incredulous. He turns around before Harry tells him to, grinning wide, and risks getting shampoo in both of their eyes as he kisses Harry once again. They can deal with it.
Harry doesn’t seem against the motion, kisses Louis back just as eagerly, sudsy hands at Louis’ waist. Never did he think he’d get to sing for the whole world with the love of his life, but that seems to be the case, and dwelling on the thought only keeps him from actually living it.
Louis lets his arms rest atop Harry’s, hands curling at his biceps, and they kiss until there are suds running down his cheeks, and Harry sighs, happily, and turns them around so Louis can rinse easier. He’s maybe a little bit pushier about it than necessary, holds Louis’ head back with a hand on his jaw, keeps him under the spray until Louis splutters and laughs.
“Haz, hey,” Louis says, and jerks his chin at the bottles lined up on their rack, “gotta wash the makeup off, don’t want breakouts, yeah?”
Nodding, Harry picks up the cleanser and hands Louis the body wash. “Multi-tasking,” he explains, “we can switch after. It’s a highly efficient strategy, I’ll have you know.” He gets to work on scrubbing his concealer off swiftly, but doesn’t miss the fond smile that lingers on Louis’ lips.
Louis presses his toes against the side of Harry’s foot, then steps back to give him room, starts lathering up the body wash in his palms, painting circles of foam across his chest and arms. He watches Harry carefully tilt his face into the spray of warm water, work the cleanser across his skin and rinse, then repeat, and lets his eyes wander down the lines of his throat, across his shoulders, down his abs. He lets out a low whistle, grins at Harry when he startles a bit.
“My eyes are up here, I’ll have you know,” Harry says, not an ounce of disapproval in his voice. He hands Louis the cleanser and takes the body wash, works the gel into foam before scrubbing himself down quickly. His patience is dwindling, and Louis’ skin is flushed from the hot water, which does things to him.
Louis’ swiping hands over his face and has his eyes closed tight, but it doesn’t stop him from smirking. “But your dick’s down there,” he retorts, and manages to brush his fingers perilously close- just touching Harry’s thigh, as he blindly moves around Harry to wash his face off.
As revenge of sorts, Harry leans back against the wall and watches Louis’ arse. Louis suspects, and shifts back and forth, stretching under the spray and turning slowly to grin at Harry. “See something you like, then?”
“I do,” Harry nods, steps in close to Louis and leans in for a kiss, but pulls his head away once Louis is leaning in, too. He laughs, loud and echoing in the bathroom, and Louis slaps at his arm as he rinses the body wash off. “You’re cute, Lou, just for a laugh, yeah?”
“We’ll see who’s laughing when he sleeps on the couch later,” Louis warns, but he’s biting back a smile, can’t help it- Harry’s laughter, Harry’s happiness is contagious, and these moments are rare enough that he can’t do anything to spoil it. Louis reels him in with hands on his hips, watches him from under his lashes as he leans up a second time, slower, more deliberate. “Kiss me, you fool.”
The first few seconds of the kiss are something more like Harry grinning against Louis’ mouth, but soon enough he’s pushing his tongue against Lou’s, kissing him deep and hard. He reaches blindly past Louis’ shoulder to turn off the water, sucking Louis’ lower lip into his mouth, and makes a happy sound when he actually manages to cut the spray.
“Do we need a towel?” he manages against Louis’ mouth, hands wandering to grasp at Louis’ arse shamelessly.
Louis makes a derisive sound against Harry’s lips, pinches his side. “Bed,” he mumbles, tongue immediately searching out Harry’s as he pushes the shower curtain aside with one hand. It’s some sort of miracle they don’t trip getting out, but they manage it, still attached at the mouths, and Louis keeps them moving, walking backwards out of the bathroom, still dripping. He’s relatively sure Harry won’t complain.
Harry’s pleasantly surprised he still has the energy to push Louis back onto the bed and give him a lewd once-over before straddling his lap and going back to kissing him. He holds himself up on his forearms at Louis’ sides, which sort of limits where his hands can go, but that only means he has to make up with his mouth- he makes his way across Louis’ jaw with wet kisses and scraping teeth, nibbles over the pulse point just below Louis’ ear.
“Fuck, Haz,” Louis’ voice breaks on the words, and he’d be embarrassed, but they gave that up a long time ago. Harry is warm and slick and everywhere, and their skin sticks and slides by turns, in all the places they’re touching now. Louis tips his head back to give Harry more room at his throat, but that means he can’t see, and all too soon he’s pushing back, leaning up on one elbow to stare, take in as much of Harry as he can. “Gorgeous like this, babe. Look at you. Lemme see- hard for me yet?” He pushes at Harry’s chest with one palm on his abs, gentle and playful, until Harry’s straightening up, and- Louis grins.
“Want you, Lou,” Harry rasps, hands spread over Louis’ stomach, fingertips digging into his soft skin. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of this all day- he tried, in vain, to keep the thought of Louis exhausted and spread out on the bed for him off his mind, but every time Louis caught him looking as he drank from a water bottle or swayed his hips mindlessly to the music backstage at the stadium, all Harry could do was bite down hard on his lip and will his hard-on away. “Wanted you all day.”
“Yeah,” Louis says, and it’s not teasing, now, just a breathless agreement when he can’t get anything else out. “Yeah, Harry, drove me mad today, let’s just- yeah, please, fuck?” It’s almost unintelligible, Louis feels like he’s not making any sense, but he knows Harry will get it. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have to say anything and Harry would know, but he likes making sure that Harry’s aware that they’re both equally affected by this. That Harry knows how much he wants him. “Please, Haz.”
Harry nods and pushes Louis’ hair back, giving him an apologetic look before he moves off to dig through the bedside drawer for the lube. He’s back quickly, though, and by the way Louis eagerly scoots back against the pillows and spreads his legs, Harry guesses he’ll be the one getting to fuck Lou tonight. His cock twitches at the thought, and he settles back in between Louis’ legs, massages his thighs and says, low, “I was really hoping you’d let me tonight.”
Louis swallows, nods, smiles at him; the small, shy one that only Harry can bring out. “Hoping you’d do me, tonight,” he says, and reaches down to play his thumb over Harry’s lower lip, trace the shape of his mouth and then tug at his hair. “C’mon, yeah? Not gonna last long, gotta hurry.”
Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, can’t fight off a giddy smile as he slicks his fingers and slides the first into Louis.
“This all feels like a dream,” he muses, curling his finger in and looking from Louis’ face, down to where his finger disappears inside him, and back up.
Louis whines, grabs at Harry’s curls and then at the base of his own cock, hips shifting helplessly even with the one finger. “Haz,” he whimpers, “don’t- c’mon.”
Nodding obediently, Harry pulls his finger out almost entirely before adding a second, pushing carefully in with a twist to his wrist.
Louis’ head goes back against their pillows like a punch, mouth falling open and eyes closing tightly. “H-Harry, Haz, shit, sorry, just. Fuck, been waiting all day for you, feels so good.”
“I’ve got you, Lou,” Harry replies, his other hand finding the back of Louis’ knee and pushing his leg up for a better angle. He fucks his fingers into Louis carefully before asking, “More?”
Louis slowly lets go of his cock, grabs for Harry’s wrist instead, holding him still. “No,” he says, clear, determined. “Want you now.” He lifts his head up to look at Harry, bites his lip. He doesn’t break Harry’s gaze, eyes fixed on his, stubborn.
Harry knows better than to try to argue, knows that as long as he uses enough lube Louis should be fine, if not a little sore in the morning. “Yeah,” he agrees, a little delayed, pulls his fingers out and slicks himself up, slack-jawed. “Like- like this, Lou?”
“Good for you?” Louis counters, and now his eyes have slid to where Harry is loosely cupping his cock in his fingers, absently squeezing a little- it’s mesmerizing, to Lou, and he’s easily distracted by Harry’s hands and his dick at the best of times, so it’s not really a surprise.
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry nods, and holds Louis open with one hand, using the other at the base of his dick to guide himself in. He bites down hard on his lip and keeps careful eyes trained on Louis’, glancing quickly down every few seconds, ready to stop if Louis feels uncomfortable or if it hurts. Once he’s far enough in he can move his hands to the back of Louis’ thighs, both for leverage and to hold him at a better angle. “So good,” he breathes, and is almost surprised when his hips meet Louis’ arse and he’s all the way in.
“Yeah,” Louis whispers, leans up the tiniest bit to press his lips to Harry’s, the simplest of kisses. “Feels fantastic, Haz, gonna feel you tomorrow, can tell already.”
Harry licks his lips, “You feel so good, Lou, can I-” and as soon as Louis nods he pulls his hips back and pushes back in, settles into a steady rhythm that makes Louis’ mouth fall open. For all the talking Louis does, Harry takes pride in the times when he can shut him up.
Even if Louis was capable of forming words at the moment, he wouldn’t know what to say first- how Harry’s hands feel on his thighs, holding him up and open, how he hopes that the way his fingers tighten on the pale skin under his knees will bruise, how there’s still a drop of water hanging off the curl just over Harry’s left ear, how Harry’s face goes tight and then slack by turns as he fucks Louis like this, like he can never quite get used to the feel of it, like he’s always being surprised by how good it is. Louis can... definitely sympathize.
With a look at Louis for approval, Harry picks up the pace, hips snapping harder into Louis. He digs his toes into the mattress to work on the angle, hard thrusts that make the head of his cock nudge where Louis’ prostate ought to be and make his hips shift up the mattress slightly. He grins when Louis gives a surprised moan and files away the sound, sets out to make Lou repeat it over and over.
It’s so good it’s almost painful, and Louis can feel everything locking up, his thighs and stomach and back all going tight, muscles trembling for more, more more can’t handle it give me more. It’s like he might explode, honestly, everything too big to fit in his skin, and he knows his heart is pounding, thinks Harry might can hear it- and on impulse, pulls at Harry’s arm, presses one of his big hands against his chest, so he can at least feel it. He looks up at Harry, pleading, “C’mon, can’t- not gonna, can’t last, Harry, hurry.”
Harry grunts and keeps his hand spread on Louis’ chest, chases the heat pooling in his belly with quick, dragging thrusts into Louis, who looks absolutely wrecked beneath him already. He knows Louis isn’t too fond of getting fucked for long after he’s come, and with a ragged breath he warns, “Close, Lou, d’you- fuck,” grinding hard against Louis, “shit, please, please, Louis.”
Louis pushes his fingers through Harry’s, still heavy against his pounding heartbeat, squeezes his hand and tilts his hips up, hitching a leg at Harry’s hip, heel pushing at his lower back. “Fuck me,” he moans, “Gonna come just like this, Harry, let’s-” He’s not sure how to explain it, but both Harry’s hands are occupied, one still holding his leg up to keep the angle good for both of them, and the other twisted up with Lou’s over his heart, and Louis would rather come on just Harry’s cock than touch himself right now.
“Yeah,” Harry groans, tries to focus on keeping a somewhat steady pace although he feels ready to just fuck Louis erratically, to come hard and collapse on Lou’s chest, blissed out. He wants to come but needs Louis to come first, before he can even think of doing so himself. “C’mon, for me, Lou.”
It’s rare that Harry gives orders- rare in bed and rare at all- but Louis is in the habit of following them, unthinking, and although he’s not sure if Harry meant this as one, his body certainly takes it that way, hearing Harry’s rough voice and inarguable words and simply reacting. It starts in his legs, locking up around Harry’s waist and pulling him in, thighs shaking, and his free hand coming up to hold onto Harry’s shoulder, short, bitten-off nails leaving red crescent marks in the tanned skin, and Louis closes his eyes, watches colors burst and dance behind his eyelids and lets himself go, falls into the rush of white noise. Vaguely, he’s aware of Harry cursing as he clenches down on his cock, aware of overwhelming relief as he comes hard onto his own stomach, but it’s not until he opens his eyes again that he realizes that he’s been chanting Harry’s name the entire time.
Harry can’t thrust much, instead grinds his hips hard against Louis and, with a choked moan, comes. And suddenly everything rushes in and the air leaves his lungs to accommodate the swelling in his heart from Louis’ happy, exhausted smile, muscles contracted, adrenaline and endorphins and his whole body reacting to Louis. His hands tremble, the one still gripping Louis’ leg bruisingly hard and the other in a tangled mess with Louis’, and his skin buzzes with it all, with release, with love.
“Harry,” Louis manages, one more time, and he can’t lean up, but he purses his mouth- kiss me, and Harry moans, falls forward so that their mouths can meet and catch up on all the unspoken words.
They kiss until Harry’s shifting uncomfortably, pushing his fingers into Louis’ still-damp hair. “Lou, I’m gonna-” he warns, voice wrecked, sits back up and pulls himself out of Louis carefully. “Be back in a moment,” he promises, pets Louis’ hip and blows him a kiss.
Louis grumbles about it, shifts around on top of the sheets but figures there’s no use in getting settled just yet- and he kind of wishes Harry had waited, at least snuggled him a bit more before getting up, but he’ll deal. Slowly, he reaches around his leg to feel at his arse- wrinkles his nose and then startles a bit when he realizes Harry’s padding back from the bathroom. “Left me,” he complains.
“I would never,” Harry frowns, sits with his legs crossed in front of Louis and gets to wiping his chest clean with a washcloth. He makes quick work of cleaning Louis’ arse, pets his tummy when Louis hisses at the contact, then tosses the washcloth towards the far corner of the bed once he’s done, suddenly impatient.
He drapes an arm and a leg over Louis as he lies back on his side of the bed, nuzzles Louis’ shoulder, cat-like, and sighs. “Love you.”
Louis twists a bit, onto his side, settles his arm at Harry’s waist and pushes their feet together, ankles interlocking, his own feet ending up curled around Harry’s calf with their height difference.
It’s unexpected when Louis’ mobile buzzes on the bedside table. Harry whines at the loss of Louis’ arm around him when Lou reaches for the phone, only gets interested in whatever the message might be once Louis squints at his phone and hums. “It’s a picture from El.”
“Yeah?” Harry’s finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open by the minute, but he makes the effort, cranes his neck towards the painful bright screen.
They both read the message as the attachment loads, a short and sweet one last pic, sorry didn’t tell u but was 2 cute not 2 take- x that makes Louis smile as wide as he can manage with his exhaustion. When he taps the picture open, it’s a shot of them on the steps outside her flat, waiting for the cab; Harry is leaning into Lou, right after the kiss, just as their lips pull apart, and Lou is smiling the big, real smile that he has, just for Harry.
“Oh,” Harry breathes, blinking, “That’s. Tell her thank you?”
Louis nods, taps out a huge thx, we love it xxxx and switches his phone off before setting it back on the bedside table.
“Love you,” Harry mumbles, nudging his nose against Louis in an extended eskimo kiss.
“Love you, Haz,” Louis replies, and goes to sleep with his arm back around Harry, noses brushing together.