Was an Honest Man
Title: Was an Honest Man
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~4,400
Summary: Inspired by this prompt on the kink meme where Harry is a prostitute and Louis is a Doctor: Dr. Tommo works at a free clinic where Harry comes to get tested and grab free condoms for the job. Harry can't help but have a bit of a crush of the sweet doctor but of course cheekiness and banter ensue (bonus if Harry uses lots of innuendos, dirty talk, and calling Louis "Doctor") and Louis can tell why people would pay to have sex with Harry.. Smut optional but lots of dirty talk!
Warnings: Mentions of prostitution and past abuse. Also, men having consensual sex. This is actually pretty filthy, so. Heh. /blush
Disclaimer: This is entirely fictional.
A/N: This one kind of got away from me, but I was just having too much fun with it. So be prepared for lots of smut, angsty feelings, and fluff. The title comes from the song 'Hard to Explain' by The Strokes. Enjoy.
NOW WITH A SEQUEL: Take It All (With My Love)
Louis’ pristine white trainers squeak on his way down the corridor to the waiting room. It’s been a long day; it’s 4 p.m. now and he’s been at it since 6 this morning, and all he wants is to be at home, laying face-first on his couch and watching crap television. He’s only got one more patient left today, and he smiles when he looks down at his clipboard.
When he enters the waiting room, there are a few people scattered about, but he’s looking for one in particular. “Harry Styles?”
A familiar head of black curls shoots up at his announcement. He smiles when Harry stands up, signature smirk in place, while the nurse at the front desk, Martha, rolls her eyes at him.
Harry is one of Louis’ favorite patients. He’s got a sweet smile and a kind heart; he’s funny and witty and biting. He’s also quite the looker, but Louis would never admit that out loud.
They shake hands and make the trek back to an examining room, down the dull corridor and to the left. This is a walk-in clinic, so it’s really no wonder that the place is as boring as it is. There’s really no one to decorate for. You’re not trying to gain long-time users with impressive decorations. People come and go, and it’s a wonder if you see them again.
Harry comes in at least once a month.
When they arrive in front of Louis’ door, he ushers Harry inside and takes a seat in his rolling stool while Harry sits up on the padded table, the sanitary paper crinkling underneath him. He’s wearing a navy button-up, a pair of black jeans that hug his legs in all the right ways, and some black leather boots. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d say he looked privileged. He doesn’t want to think about what Harry had to do to get those clothes.
Louis knows what Harry does for a living. They don’t talk about it explicitly, but Louis isn’t dumb; this is a walk-in clinic, Harry is a regular patient, and on his monthly visit he always comes in to get checked for STIs. When you’re a doctor, it’s not hard to put two and two together. It doesn’t make the knot in Louis’ chest loosen any.
Harry’s talked about himself before, of course. He’s 23 and lives alone. He moved away from his abusive family when he was 18 and never looked back. He likes cats and shortbread. He wanted to go to school for music production but never had the grades or the money. He’s a prostitute.
He never says the last part out loud, but Louis knows what he means when he talks about how he works from home and he’s got an appointment later.
Louis wants to intervene, of course he does, but there’s a patient-doctor confidentiality rule and above all else, Louis doesn’t want to break Harry’s trust. He’s sure that Harry knows that he’s aware of his occupation. Even so, he doesn’t want to step over a line. Harry’s a very upfront and demanding person; if he wanted help, he’d ask for it.
Louis is still praying that there will be a day that he asks for it.
He tries to calm his thoughts as he looks over Harry’s clipboard. “So, Harry, how’ve you been?”
“Oh, I’ve been well. Working and stuff, you know,” Harry’s fidgeting on the seat, obviously trying to get comfortable. “How’ve you been, Dr. Tomlinson?”
Working. Louis wonders if the word tastes as bitter coming out of Harry’s mouth as Louis hopes it would. “Same, really.”
“Oh, so no girlfriend yet, Doctor?” Harry smiles cheekily. “Really, you should get someone to take care of you. You work too hard.”
Harry always does this. This vague flirty-come on thing that Louis never knows how to respond to. He suspects that Harry knows that and that’s why he does it, just to make Louis squirm. It works.
“But maybe you should get yourself a boyfriend, instead. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing,” Harry looks at Louis. He’s pretty sure he’s being scrutinized. “No one can take care of you the way a man can, s’what I always say.”
Of course you do. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Styles?”
Harry pouts. “Oh, you’re no fun. I’d just like the usual. Check me out, Doctor,” he winks and Louis rolls his eyes, smiling.
They chat amicably while Louis does Harry’s tests. Harry’s cat is sick, Louis’ mum is fine, they both need to pay their phone bills.
He’s just stuck Harry with another needle when Harry asks, “Dr. Tomlinson, would you say that we’re… friends? Not just patient and doctor.”
Louis considers this, “Yeah, I guess we would be. Enough for you to call me Louis, like I’ve told you every time. I think I talk to you about personal stuff more than any of my other patients. I guess I know you won’t get me in trouble,” he pulls the needle out and quickly goes through procedure to store the contents, “why d’you ask, Harry?”
Harry smirks, “I like calling you by your title, Doctor Tomlinson,” he purrs. Louis hopes his breathing isn’t as audible as it seems. “And I was just wondering, all jokes aside, do you fancy blokes?”
Louis almost drops the tube of blood he was holding, “I… why?”
“I was just wondering.”
“Oh, I um… yeah, I do. Prefer men. I’ve had girlfriends, but nothing ever serious,” he says, trying to keep the quake out of his voice.
Harry nods, “So you’ve been fucked, then?”
Louis’ jaw drops, “Harry!” he shouts. Harry is positively cackling.
Louis is still trying to regain his composure when Harry finally sucks in enough breath to speak through his laughter, “Jesus Christ,” he wheezes, “Your fucking face, Louis. I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes go that big.”
Louis huffs, turns toward his desk to pretend he’s writing things down so he can hide the blush he’s currently sporting.
“Aw, no need to be embarrassed, love. Just a question.” Harry says from the bench.
“M’not embarrassed,” Louis grumbles.
“Yes, you are. Tell me, Lou, have you ever taken a cock up your arse?”
Louis is flustered, and Harry is loving it. “That is none of your concern.” He answers indignantly.
Harry’s still smiling, “What if I want it to be? I must say, you’ve got quite a nice bum, Lou.”
Louis doesn’t know what to say, or if Harry’s just having him on, so he pulls for a scapegoat. “Okay, Harry. Tests are finished, I’ll call you soon to let you know when you can come by and get your results. Until then, be sure not to engage in any type of sexual activity with another person or these tests are inconclusive.”
Harry’s still basking in the afterglow of his laughter, “Alright, alright. Oh, Can I…?” He gestures to the second drawer of Louis’ desk.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” he pulls out the drawer and grabs the bowl full of condoms and hands it out to Harry.
Harry grabs a handful, “Cheers, mate.”
He’s on his way out the door when he says, “Oh, and I’ll be expecting an answer to my question when I come back for my results, Dr. Tomlinson.”
Louis jerks and accidentally knocks the bowl of condoms off of his desk, sending them scattering around the room. Harry’s laughter rings down the hall.
***
The day that Harry’s results come back, Louis groans before he tells Martha to call him and tell him that he can come in at any time to retrieve them. Louis likes to consult his patients when they get their test results, in case they have any questions or (god forbid) any came out positively. He wants to help, because he’s seen too many people leave his office in tears, slammed with the realization that their lives have been changed, some of them forever.
However, right now he wishes he could just hand Harry his results and then get the hell out of there because he’s been flustered by the mere thought of Harry since the day he got tested.
He’s always found Harry attractive, and okay, maybe he’s jerked off in the shower a few times with the thought of Harry on his knees or on top of him to push him over the edge. But there are so many reasons why he can’t let Harry affect him in that way. One, Harry is a client and it’s unethical. Two, He’s not sure if Harry even wants him that way. Harry’s a kidder and Louis would be mortified if he came on to Harry and was rejected. Three, Harry is a goddamn prostitute. Louis knows not to judge, but he really doesn’t like to share, and knowing that Harry was out fucking other guys would set him off. So, no, he’s got to face that he has a completely platonic, non-sexual relationship with a patient, and that’s all it will be.
Harry shows up at about 4:45, his last patient for the day again, and 15 minutes before they close. He wants to tell him to bugger off so he can go home and hide under his pillows like he has since Harry last came to see him, but he resists, and they walk back to the examining room in silence.
When Harry’s back on the crinkly-paper bench, Louis hands him his results. “Here you go, how are they?”
Harry tears the seal on the envelope and Louis can tell from his strained expression and the little crease between his eyebrows that he’s worried. It makes Louis’ heart clench behind his ribs.
He unfolds the paper and reads through them before breathing a little sigh of relief and smiling up at Louis, “All negative, thank Christ.”
Louis can’t help but smile in relief as well, “That’s great, Harry,” he rolls his stool over and sits right in front of Harry, “Any questions? Concerns?”
He knows he’s in trouble right when the question comes out of his mouth. Harry leers, and says, predictably, “Well… You could answer my question from last time.” He’s leaning back on the padded bench, looking so insanely fuckable that Louis is finding it hard to think of a retort with all the blood in his brain draining to his lower half.
“Harry, I really don’t think we should talk about this…”
Harry looks up from where he was examining his fingernails, and Louis has just noticed how big his hands are. “Why not, we’re friends, right?”
“Yeah, I just don’t feel comfortable -“
Harry cuts him off, “Please, Louis?” he pouts, “I won’t tell anyone.”
Louis is getting annoyed. He’s upset that Harry just won’t let it go even though he’s obviously not comfortable talking about it, and that Harry’s just sitting there looking fabulous and Louis can do nothing about it. “Harry, please, just leave it.”
“Why? I just want to know -“
“Fuck, Harry! Okay! Yes, I’ve been fucked before! By a guy! In the ass! Are you happy?” Louis snaps.
Harry’s grinning and Louis guesses that he doesn’t have the decency to look at all apologetic, “Very. Now,” he gets up and in a flash, he’s swinging his legs over the bench and leaning over into Louis’ personal space, leaving the sanitary paper to fall to the floor. He leans both hands on either side of Louis’ stool so he’s right in his face and says, “Since we’ve got that out of the way, how would you like to get fucked by me?”
Louis gapes, “Harry, come on, back off -“
“Come on, Lou,” he says in a deep voice, making Louis impossibly harder, “There’s no denying that there’s something here. I’d make it so good for you, baby. Fuck you so hard you’d feel me for weeks.”
Louis is trying to control his breathing and shit, his scrubs don’t hide anything. Harry notices it too, apparently, and laughs, splaying his hand on Louis’ thigh.
Harry’s nosing the hair behind this ear, and Louis has to get out of this. “Harry, I’m not kidding, get off.”
Harry pulls back and looks at him in the face. “I don’t understand, Lou -“
“I just can’t!” Louis shouts, forcibly pushing Harry’s hands off of his knees. Harry stands up while Louis buries his head in his hands, trying to breathe.
Something like comprehension dawns on Harry’s face, then it drops off, leaving an unreadable expression.
“It’s because I’m a whore, yeah?”
Louis doesn’t say anything.
Harry starts moving toward the door, grabbing his coat off the table. “Fuck this.“
Louis grabs his arm before he can leave. “Wait! Harry, stop!” Harry turns to look at him. He snatches his arm back and he looks like he’s about to cry, and Louis could kick himself for putting that expression on his face, “It’s not what you think, honestly. Please, let me explain -“
“Explain what, Louis? That you think I’m fucking disgusting? That I’m filthy? I get it, you don’t need to explain.” He makes another move to leave and Louis wields his way between Harry and the door.
“No, but if you would sit the goddamn fuck down instead of making assumptions, then maybe you’d figure out what I’m thinking!” He shouts, silently praying that all the other patients are gone by now. He quickly checks the clock behind Harry. 5:15, everyone should be out.
Harry studies his face for a second and pulls away, nodding once.
Louis breathes, “I want to do this, Jesus Christ, Harry, I do. But this is just way too risky -“
“You just saw my test results, I’m clean,” Harry interrupts him.
“I’m not worried about getting a disease from you, Harry! I just gave you a clean bill of health!” he feels his temper rising again and exhales, trying to calm himself down. “Harry, you’re my patient. You’re a client of mine. Having sex with you would be taking advantage of that. It’s against my job code; I could get fired.
“I’m honestly not worried about you being too dirty for me or whatever, it’s just…” he swallows his pride and hopes not to sound pathetic, “I don’t want to share you, Harry. I don’t want us to fuck and then you go out and fuck some other guy, okay? I won’t do that to myself. And I won’t ask you to quit what you’re doing because it’s not my place even though I think you could do such great things, Harry. You’re funny and smart and -“
“It’s my job, Lou,” Harry’s sounds defeated, looking at the floor. His voice is strained and Louis can tell that he’s losing a battle not to cry, “I can’t get other jobs; I’ve tried. No one wants to hire someone with no college education and I can’t take a job at a fast food restaurant somewhere, it’s not enough. I’ve got no family to help support me, and God, these people pay well, and it’s all I’m good at -“
“No, it’s not,” he rushes up to Harry and frames his face with his hands, “It’s not, I know it’s not. You just haven’t found what you’re good at. I can help you find a job, I swear, I’ll talk them in to letting you be a receptionist here or something. My friend Zayn owns a bakery and he’s always looking for people and I could put in a good word for you and,” his voice cracks, “Please, Harry, let me do this for you. I hate the thought of you being in danger or someone taking advantage of you against your will or you being with someone who isn’t me -“
And Harry is kissing him, his hands scrambling for purchase in Louis’ hair and he’s sure that they look absolutely ridiculous, grabbing at each other’s heads and crying like bloody girls but Louis can’t bring himself to care.
Harry pulls back and looks at Louis in the face when Louis remembers something. “Shit, fuck, can you stay here for a second? I’ll be right back, I swear,” Harry still looks apprehensive, “I’m not leaving you, I promise, I’ll be right back.”
Harry looks frightened, but he nods anyway, and Louis kisses him once on the mouth before racing down the corridor to the empty waiting room.
Martha’s at the front desk, chewing gum and doing paperwork when Louis busts in, “Martha! Beautiful, brilliant, gorgeous Martha! What are you still doing here?”
Martha looks at him like he’s gone mad, “… I’m doing paperwork, Doctor Tomlinson. What’s wrong with you? Is your patient still here?”
“Nope! No, he’s gone. Long gone. Been gone for a while now, really. Anywho! You should get home! It’s late!” He’s at her desk, haphazardly stuffing things into files and she looks more affronted than he’s ever seen her, if possible.
“Doctor Tomlinson, the paperwork -“
“I’ll do the bloody paperwork, Martha!” He’s pulling out her desk drawer and handing her purse over, “C’mon, up you get!”
Martha stands up and Louis pushes her out of her cubicle and to the door, “Say hello to your lovely children for me! Goodnight, dear!” She’s about to say something when he closes the door on her and locks it.
He does a few quick rounds to make sure that the clinic is completely empty and races back to the examining room. Harry is sitting in his stool and stares at him, clearly confused, “What the bloody fuck was that?”
Louis is out of breath, “Just making sure we’re alone,” he kisses Harry again, straight on the mouth, “because you’re about to fuck me into next week.”
Harry moans out loud at that. They kiss again, this time more desperate. Harry’s tongue is tangling with his and he’s licking at everything he can reach, dragging his tongue along the backs of Louis’ teeth. Harry tastes mostly like toothpaste and something he can’t describe; all he knows is that he likes it and that he wants more of it.
“Not in here, though,” Louis says as he breaks away, “If we did in here we’d have to clean every surface in here from top to bottom,” he grabs Harry’s hand and starts dragging him out of the room, “come with me.”
They arrive outside of Louis’ office and when he closes the door behind them, Harry’s right back on him, lips attacking his own. Louis breaks long enough to clear all the shit on his desk then pulls Harry back into him.
Harry’s been mostly silent except for little gasps and pleased sounds, but he seems to regain his usual dominant personality. He leans into Louis, pushing him so the back of his thighs hit the edge of his desk, nuzzling the hair behind his ear before whispering, “Gonna fuck you from behind, right over your desk. You want that? Want me to wreck your sweet little arse right here, Doctor?”
Louis nods, eyes squeezed shut.
He chuckles before continuing, “Mmm, bet you do. You’ll never be able to sit here and do work, or talk to a patient, because all you’ll be thinking about is how I made you come all over yourself, right here.” They’re pressed together, impossibly close, and Harry gives an experimental thrust of his hips, pressing their cocks together. Heat shoots up Louis’ spine and he lets out a gasp, arching into Harry before he captures his lips again.
They’re rutting against each other, the heavy drag of Harry’s jeans sending unbelievable friction through the soft cloth of his scrubs and Louis’ cock actually aches. Harry moves his hands so he’s bracing the edge of the desk, thrusting with heavy force against Louis and this is going to end really quickly if they’re not careful.
Harry’s hands are on the waistband of Louis’ scrub pants and he’s pulling them and his boxer briefs down in one swift movement. He wraps his hand around Louis’ cock, thumbing at the head and spreading the precome that’s gathered there, sucking little marks into Louis’ neck and nipping at the skin. Louis’ hands are fisted in Harry’s grey T-shirt and when Harry brings his thumb up to his mouth and sucks, Louis almost loses it right there.
He separates from Harry for a second and reaches in his drawer to fish out a condom and a sample sized packet of lube before pressing them in Harry’s hand. Harry grins at him and whispers, “Turn around.”
Louis complies, braces himself on the desk as he bends slightly and then Harry’s hands are on Louis’ cheeks, squeezing and spreading, exposing the tight little furl of his hole to the air. He gasps when he feels two dry fingers rubbing over the puckered skin. “Jesus,” Harry says, “Look how fucking tight you are.”
Louis whimpers when Harry’s fingers disappear. He hears a telltale ripping sound and then feels the same digits reappear at his hole, slick with lube. Louis is shamelessly pressing back against Harry’s fingers, and he’d feel ridiculous with his pants down to his ankles and his scrub top still on if Harry wasn’t circling his rim just right. He pushes in, just slightly, making Louis gasp and clench around the intrusion, all the while Harry’s grinding his crotch against Louis’ arse; Louis can feel the outline of his cock, warm and solid through the fabric.
Harry pushes his finger all the way in, eliciting a stuttered moan from Louis when he tickles over his prostate, just slightly. “God, more, stop teasing,” Louis breathes out. Harry shuts him up with a second finger pressing in, relentlessly.
Louis is grinding back on his fingers, it’s so good but Harry is purposely avoiding that spot and it’s not enough and Harry knows it because he’s probably the biggest bloody tease Louis has ever met. Harry moves a little so he’s standing directly behind Louis, and spreads him out a little more with his hand so he can see where Louis’ hole is stretched, pink and slick, around his fingers, “Oh, Christ, that’s fucking gorgeous,” he breathes out before slowly working in a third finger and angling them just right.
Louis sees stars and he can’t take it anymore, “Please,” he begs, “Need you inside.”
The fingers of one of Harry’s hands are still buried in his arse and Louis feels him fumble with his fly for a minute, before he hears a zipper being undone and the rustle of fabric as the fingers slowly withdraw from him. Louis whimpers and turns slightly, watching as Harry rips the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it on with practiced ease, snatching up the near-empty lube packet and spreading some on his cock.
One of his hands splays across Louis’ hip and he feels Harry’s cock line up with his hole. “Ready?” He asks. Louis nods and folds his arms, resting his head on them.
Harry pushes in and every muscle in Louis’ body goes taut. Harry is a lot bigger than expected, but the stretch is delicious and he’s whimpering and pushing back slightly to make Harry slide in quicker. “Jesus,” Harry says, breathlessly, “So fucking needy for it, aren’t you, Dr. Tomlinson?” Louis doesn’t even have the decency not to nod.
“Fuck, move, fuck me,” Louis whines. Harry laughs and pulls out before slamming right back in, hitting his prostate with uncanny accuracy and making Louis scream.
He picks up a relentless rhythm, his hips slapping against Louis’ cheeks brutally. Louis moves up so he’s leaning on his hands, making short little ‘ah, ah, ah’ noises every time Harry thrusts in, his cock is leaking hard and untouched against the desktop, and yeah, Louis is definitely going to be cleaning his office.
Harry rucks his shirt up with one hand and pinches one of Louis’ hard little nipples between his fingers, his hips still slamming up into him. Louis shoots up, trying to fit his back against Harry’s front, unsuccessful because of the position.
Harry brings up the hand that was on Louis’ hip and brings it up to the other nipple, his fingers flicking the nubs and his fingers catching and pinching and pulling on them. Louis’ mouth opens in a silent scream because it feels like Harry is setting him on fire in the best way, the sweet, solid length of him burying inside him as his fingers drive him crazy.
“Fuck, you are so desperate,” Harry huffs out, “Don’t know what you’re going to do tomorrow, Lou. You’re gonna come into work wincing because of your sore little hole and your abused little nipples, it’s gonna drive you mad. Make you hard in the middle of an appointment.”
Louis can’t take it anymore, and he grabs his cock, purple and leaking from neglect and wraps his fingers around it. “Fuck, yeah, bring yourself off for me, babe, I’m gonna come soon,” Harry brings his hands down to grab Louis’ hips again, gaining momentum and absolutely stabbing into Louis’ sweet spot.
Louis gets three or four pumps in on his cock before he feels his balls tighten up, and he’s coming, shooting ropes of white over his wooden desktop, fighting to stay upright while Harry fucks him through it. Harry’s breathing becomes labored in his ear and he lets out a string of nonsensical babbling before he stills, coming still buried deep inside Louis.
They’re both trying to regain their breathing; Louis slumped on the desktop and Harry resting his head against Louis’ back. Harry slowly pulls out, leaving Louis feeling uncomfortably empty, tying off the condom and throwing it in the wastebasket beside Louis’ desk. He stands behind where Louis is still catching his breath and wraps his arms around his middle, placing little kisses on his back and shoulders.
Louis turns around to face him, and he’s aware that they’re sweaty, and there’s still come drying on his desk but he can’t bring himself to care. He kisses him on the mouth. “That was bloody glorious,” he says.
Harry nods his head and leans into Louis’ chest, “My thoughts exactly.”
They stand there for a few moments before Louis says, “I meant it, you know. I’m going to help you find a job, and make money to support yourself. You’re not going to have to go back to what you were doing, I promise. I’m not leaving you alone, Harry.”
Harry looks at him for a moment before leaning in and kissing him on the forehead, “I’m glad. I’m quite sure I want you to stick around for a while, Dr. Tomlinson.”