Take It All (With My Love)
Title: Take It All (With My Love)
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~6,700
Summary: This is the second installation in my ‘ Was an Honest Man’ series, where Harry is a prostitute and Louis is a doctor at a walk-in clinic.
Warnings: Angst! Stupid boys! Miscommunication! Fluff! Two men having consensual sex!
Disclaimer: It’s not real.
A/N: I'm not quite sure about this one, but after I posted my prostitute au, I had a lot of requests to continue on with it. So, this is that. Be sure to read the first in this series, or things will be a bit confusing for you. The porn in this is dedicated to my lovely friend Mon, who’s been asking for Larry porn for some time and I’ve been leaving her hanging for far too long. Title comes from ‘Take It All’ by Adele. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy.
When Louis unlocks the office door, Harry is already there, two cups of coffee sitting on his desk while he rifles through his bag to get ready for the day. Harry’s head shoots up when he hears the door open, eyes lighting and a grin stretching over his face that makes Louis’ stomach swoop.
“Hey, Lou,” He says says, gesturing to one of the cups as he sits behind the front desk.
Louis wants to lean across, grab Harry’s face and his stupid curls and full-on kiss him in thanks, but he knows that would cross the invisible, unspoken line they’ve created and the last thing he wants to do is scare Harry away. Ever. So he just smiles politely, “Cheers, Haz.”
Harry smiles and nods, booting up his computer and leaving Louis to walk to his office and set up for the day.
It’s been about four months that Harry’s been working as the clinic’s secretary and book keeper, and Louis likes to think that Harry’s happier than he was. His job doesn’t require a lot of work, just answering phones and making appointments, but Harry’s been able to keep his apartment and his cat and remarkably, keep up his lifestyle. Harry’s a pleasure to work with, polite and funny and he’s even been able to keep Martha on his good side (even though Louis suspects it’s more that Harry answers the phones now, so she’s free to do her crossword puzzles.)
Their friendship has grown exponentially, too. Even though Louis considered Harry a friend before, he’s like a proper companion now. They go out and get drinks, watch movies together, get takeout together and Harry has suddenly instated a place in Louis’ life so big that Louis can hardly remember what life was like before Harry.
But no matter how much Louis loves Harry’s friendship, sometimes he just wishes there was more. They haven’t talked about that night once since it happened; Louis not wanting to breach the subject first and Harry obviously not wanting to talk about it. Louis wants to know why any of it happened, why Harry pushed and pushed himself on Louis and then refused his affections any other time. He feels sick when he even thinks that it could be that Harry had planned all of it to happen so Louis would feel bad for him, but Louis assures himself that it must be Harry’s shellshock at having a new lifestyle, a new occupation, and that he doesn’t need romantic involvement right now; he needs a friend. And Louis can be a friend. He just wishes the ache in his chest would subside.
Because Harry is phenomenal. He manages to be sharp as a tack, effortlessly sexy, hilariously funny and endlessly caring in one fell swoop, leaving everyone around him charmed, and all Louis wants is to be able to go home at the end of the day and say that Harry is his. He wants to leave work with Harry and wake up with him in the morning. He wants Harry’s (stupid, insane, malevolent) cat to curl up with them when they’re sleep and demand cuddles in the morning. Louis wants to take care of him, and he feels guilty about wanting so much from Harry, when Harry doesn’t want any of it from him.
***
About halfway through the day, Louis is doing paperwork in his office when Harry pops his head in.
“Hey there, stranger,” he singsongs, curls swept haphazardly out of his face with one of his huge, genuine smiles on his lips.
“Hey,” Louis smiles, carefully avoiding looking anywhere but Harry’s face because this is the room where everything happened and Harry hasn’t been in here since. Harry looks at the desk with something akin to badly disguised horror for a split second before composing himself, and Louis tries to hide his heartache.
“So I was thinking,” Harry says, “I’ve got a bit of cleaning to do after work, but I’ll be done by about 8. How about you bring some Chinese and we’ll watch that movie you’ve been begging me to see? With the soap?”
Louis chuckles despite himself, “You mean Fight Club?”
“Whatever. I’m agreeing to watch it; don’t test me.”
Louis holds his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”
Harry scowls, “I can feel your condescension from here.”
“You’re the only person in the entire world that’s never seen it.”
“That,” Harry scoffs and makes his way out the door, “Is a gross exaggeration.”
Louis laughs and Harry pops his head back in the doorway, smiling, “So, eight?”
Louis nods, “Sounds perfect.”
***
When the woman behind the counter announces his order, he hops up and pays her, grabs their food and leaves the busy restaurant. Louis pulls out his phone, hoping that time has passed since he left his flat, but it’s still only 7:25 and it only takes 10 minutes to get to Harry’s from here.
He worries for a bit before reasoning that really, Harry’s flat can’t be that dirty; it’s always impeccably clean, anyway. And if he feels the need to clean anyway, then Louis can just… sit until he’s done.
When he gets to Harry’s building, he takes the lift up to Harry’s floor and almost runs straight in to one of the largest men he’s ever seen. He’s insanely tall, with crazy biceps and a smug disposition, and it’s obvious he’s got money coming out of his ass at the state of his clothing. He’s sweating slightly, wearing a shit-eating grin and it all nearly screams I just got laid.
“You should watch where you’re going, son,” he says, “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” before walking past Louis and making his way into the lift.
Louis rolls his eyes, internally fuming because that guy cannot be any older than him. Huge guy sends him a leering wink and a wave before the doors shut.
Louis huffs a little bit before walking down the corridor towards Harry’s flat. When he knocks, no one answers answers for a good minute, so he knocks again. And then, there’s the sound of running footsteps then a voice that is clearly Harry’s screaming shit! before the door swings open, Harry standing inside looking completely panicked and disheveled. His hair is a mess, his shirt is only buttoned to the third button and the clasp on his jeans is done, but they’re still unzipped.
“It’s 7:40. You were supposed to be here at 8,” he says breathlessly.
“Oh, yeah, I know. I just… I got the food and then I had time to kill before coming here and I don’t mind if you flat is dirty, honest, but I can leave if -“
“No!” Harry interrupts, “No, I mean, come in. I’ll only be a second.” He moves and lets Louis come through to his, as usual, spotless apartment.
“I’ve gotta piss,” Harry says, “I’ll be out in a few.”
Louis nods, but Harry’s already walking in the direction of the bathroom. He sets the food down on Harry’s kitchen table, and has every intention of sitting on the pristine leather couch in Harry’s living room when he glances into Harry’s hallway and sees Harry’s bedroom door open a crack.
Louis has never been in Harry’s bedroom. It’s not like it’s some huge, secret room that he’s forbidden to enter, it’s just that it’s never really come up and, much to Louis’ chagrin, there’s never been a real reason for them to be in there. Still, Louis is intrigued and it’s not like Harry ever told him not to go in, so he quietly makes his way down the hall to Harry’s room, and pushes the door open, careful not to make a sound.
The first thing that Louis realizes is that Harry’s room is completely normal. He doesn’t know what he expected, really. Considering Harry’s previous occupation, he guesses something like a bondage rack. Or a dildo display case. Or a sex swing.
But there’s none of that. It’s tastefully decorated, much better than Louis’, and there’s a huge, unmade bed in the center of the room that Louis tries not to imagine Harry spread out on. It doesn’t work.
Louis gives himself a little tour, just looking at pictures that Harry’s taken, fumbling with knick-knacks on Harry’s dresser, trying not to wake up Baxter, the demon-cat hybrid, from his slumber in Harry’s armchair. There are a few rolled up bills on Harry’s nightstand, but Louis doesn’t think anything of it.
He’s about to sneak out and act like he never did anything, when he accidentally smacks into the metal wastebasket, emitting a loud clang when it hits the wall. Louis grimaces, hoping Harry didn’t hear, and goes to put it back when he sees something that makes bile rise in his throat.
There’s a condom, obviously used, sitting right on the top of the trash. Louis turns back around and looks at the untidy bed, he thinks of the wad of money sitting on the nightstand, Harry’s appearance at the front door. He thinks of the smug, pea-brained, rich guy in the elevator.
Harry had an appointment.
The wave of jealousy that hits him almost knocks him back, and he has to sit on Harry’s bed to keep him from falling over. He’s shocked by how hurt and furious he is, how much he wants to scream and yell and throw things. He can’t even remember the last time he felt so betrayed, and miserable, and enraged.
He doesn’t notice Harry’s arrival in the room until he speaks, “What are you doing in here, Lou?”
There’s a tremor in his voice and Louis knows he’s worried, scared that Louis has found him out. When he looks up Harry’s got wide, panicked eyes. If anything, it just makes Louis angrier.
The air between them is so thick that he’s almost choking on it, keeping his eyes locked on Harry’s and trying so hard for the burning in his throat to subside. Neither of them speak, but he can tell in Harry’s face that he knows he’s lost.
“You’re still doing it, aren’t you?”
Harry’s eyes are glazed with unshed tears, his whole body tense like he’s trying to fight the urge to run away and hide from Louis. When he nods his head in assent the entire situation pours on Louis at one time and he just can’t hold back anymore because the only thing in the entire world he wanted was Harry, and the little inkling at the front of his mind that had some semblance of hope is gone.
He pushes past Harry, intending to leave when Harry runs out in front of him, back against the apartment door. “No, not until I explain myself.”
At this point, all Louis wants to do is go home and punch something. Or cry. “Get the hell out of my way, Harry.”
“No,” he says, defiantly, “I need to tell you why -“
Louis grabs Harry by the shoulders and shoves him off so he goes tumbling back, “You don’t need to tell me shit!”
Harry looks up at him, gaping, before he raises his hands in surrender, “Lou, just hear me out. I’m not doing it as much anymore. I’ve only got three clients now, and I make them bring me their tests results before we do anything. It’s all much more exclusive, I -“
“Do you even know what this could do, Harry? If people found out about this?” Louis seethes, “You could get arrested, clients could stop coming, the practice could get shut down -“
Harry’s arms drop down to his sides and he looks at Louis, calculating, “Really? Because you weren’t so worried about that when I was fucking you.”
Louis gapes, because wow, that wasn’t how he wanted that brought up,“That has nothing to do -“
Harry steps forward, crowding Louis against the wall, eyes challenging, “Are you so sure about that? Because what I’m gathering is that it’s okay for me to fuck the boss, but not other people. Do you know how fucked up that is?”
“Again, this has nothing to do with that,” Louis lies, gritting his teeth and standing up straight so he can push Harry off of him. “It was a mistake.”
Harry’s face drops from scowling to disbelief, “A mistake?”
Louis nods, close to tears but refuses to let them fall in front of this person who has broken his heart too many times without acknowledging it once. “All of it. The sex, hiring you, becoming friends with you, trying to help you. None of it was worth it.”
Harry looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, “Louis, please -“
The look on Harry’s face is enough to make Louis backtrack, “Don’t worry, you can keep your job,” he sneers, “I don’t want to put you back out on the street.” He opens the door, eyes burning and looks back once more before stepping outside.
Harry looks relieved for a second, before the panic comes back full-force, “Lou, wait what about us -“
Louis is out the door before Harry can say anything else.
***
On Monday, Louis arrives to work 30 minutes early just to avoid Harry.
He spent most of the weekend sulking, calling his mother and whining about his love life (aptly leaving out the parts about how he’s in love with a prostitute that works for him), eating greasy take-out and laying in bed with the biggest headache known to man.
Harry must’ve called him 20 times, texted him about 40. Louis didn’t answer any of them. He didn’t even read the texts.
Part of him feels guilty for what happened. Louis doesn’t like being mean to people. But he can’t recall ever being this heartbroken by anyone, which is stupid, because Harry never even liked him back. Most of all, Louis is humiliated. For a multitude of reasons.
When Louis goes back into his office, Martha is already there, setting up for the day. With Harry manning the phones, she’s been able to focus mostly on keeping records and dealing with paperwork, sometimes acting as Lou’s assistant. Louis likes Martha, ice-bitch exterior and all, but right now he wishes she wasn’t here at all. Nonetheless, he makes a noise of greeting when he sees her, before plopping down in his chair and immediately booting up his computer to go through records.
He realizes about five minutes later that she’s just been staring at him since he walked in, and now is not the time. “What?” he snaps, glaring up at her.
“You’re early.”
“And?”
“You’re never early.”
He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I have some work to do.”
“Bullshit.”
“Martha!” Louis exclaims.
“You know,” she says, sitting on the edge of his desk and crossing her legs, “I’m not an idiot.”
“Never said you were.”
“Then stop treating me like one. You look awful. What’s wrong?”
He shifts in his seat, eyes boring holes into the computer screen, “Nothing. I’m just busy.”
She pauses, and Louis can feel her eyes on the back of his head before she starts again, “Is it Harry?”
Louis head shoots up so fast the room spins for a moment, “Why would you say that?”
Martha smiles, a half-sad, private little smile, “I’m not blind, Louis.”
Louis sighs before leaning his head down on the desk, cold lacquered wood on his hot skin. She places a hand on his back and rubs soothingly, “Does he know?”
“No,” Louis says, eyes burning, “No, I’m not what he wants.”
Martha’s about to say something but Louis spots it and interrupts, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Please?”
She closes her mouth, looking uncertain before nodding. “I’m gonna go down to my office and get started. You’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Louis mumbles, dragging a hand through his hair. She turns to leave but Louis grabs her arm at the last minute, “Do you think you could keep Harry away from back here? Just for a little while? I need some time.”
Martha smiles, eyes pitying and pats his hand, “Of course, Doctor Tomlinson.”
***
Whatever Martha does to keep Harry away, it must work because the only times he sees him are when he has to go to the front to greet a patient, and even though he looks like he has to physically restrain himself from jumping up and cornering Louis, Harry knows that work hours are not the time.
But that doesn’t stop him from texting Louis at every available interval.
From: Harry Styles
I’m sorry
From: Harry Styles
Please stop ignoring me
From: Harry Styles
Bored without you :(
From: Harry Styles
Wish you’d talk to me
Louis turns off his phone, mostly to keep his resolve in tact because as much as he hates it, he feels bad for making Harry suffer like this. He never wanted for this to happen. Selfishly, a part of Louis almost wishes that Harry would have just kept whoring himself out behind his back and that Louis would have never found out.
Almost.
But a bigger part knows that this is for the best, that he can’t let Harry make him feel this way anymore. That he tried to give the best to Harry, and he just threw it back in Louis’ face.
If no one is going to look out for Louis, then he has to do it himself.
***
By the end of the day, Louis feels so overwhelmingly lonely that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Usually Harry’s always just there, calling him to view patient records, eating lunch with him, distracting him with a stupid story about his cat; he hadn’t realized how big of a wedge Harry had driven in his life until he actively went without him.
It feels like he hasn’t left his office at all today, opting out of eating lunch in the lounge and only leaving when he had to greet a patient or see to an appointment. Louis is usually really involved with the clinic; he doesn’t like being the person who everyone finds unapproachable. He’s is a naturally friendly person, he can’t help himself.
A few nurses came into see him, trying to spark up a conversation and then leaving when they realize he’s not in the mood. It makes Louis feel even worse, if at all possible.
It’s late; everyone in the building should already be gone except for the janitor, and Louis finally feels the motivation to stand up and go home. He’s not sure if it will be any better than sitting in his office alone all day, but at least he’ll be out of his scrubs. There’s beer at home, too, so he’s counting that as incentive.
He says goodnight to the janitor on his way out, locking up his office and making his way down the hallway to the dark waiting room. He’s about halfway to the exit door when he realizes he’s not alone.
Because Harry is sitting behind the front desk still, looking utterly dejected, but he still shoots up and smiles when Louis walks in.
“Hi,” he breathes, fidgeting with his shirt while he tries to flick the hair out of his eyes, “Um, do you usually stay this late? It’s been ages. You shouldn’t, you need to rest -“
“Harry,” Louis interrupts, “What are you doing here?”
Harry looks around nervously, “Waiting for you.”
Louis arches an eyebrow and Harry continues, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Yeah, well, most people would get the hint.”
“I guess I’m not most people,” Harry shrugs, “We need to talk about this.”
“We really don’t. Can we just stay out of each other’s way?”
“No!” Harry all but shouts, earning him a glare and a pointed look towards the clinic door, where the sound of a vacuum is churning.
“No,” he repeats, quieter, “That isn’t an option. You’re my friend -“
“I’m your co-worker.”
“It’s more than that,” Harry sighs, “You know it is. You’re not being fair about this at all, Louis.”
Louis decides not to look into the first part, “I’m not being fair? I get you a job so you could quit what you were doing, you go behind my back and still do it, and I’m not being fair?”
Harry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I fucked up, I know. I messed up, and I can’t take it back, but I have my reasons.”
“Oh, you have reasons,” Louis bites, “Well that changes everything.”
Fury creeps onto Harry’s face and it’s not a good look on him at all, “Do you know how well these people pay, Louis? This is a desk job, and I’m thankful that I have it, but it’s not enough for me to keep what I have. So I took a few clients back and that’s all it is.”
“Well, I’m sorry that the accommodations aren’t good enough for you,” Louis snaps, hitching his bag further up on his shoulder and heading towards the door.
Harry groans and comes from behind the desk, tries to block the way of the door, “I don’t understand why you’re treating this like it’s such a big deal. Do I have to remind you that we -“
Panic floods Louis senses, “No, you don’t have to remind me of anything,” he seethes, “And are you kidding me? Maybe I’m upset because selling your body for sex is illegal, no matter how efficiently you think you’re running it, and you lied to me after I tried to help you get out of it.”
They both stop, pressed close. Harry studies his face for a moment, “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Louis stares for a moment before opening the door and letting the cold air outside rush in, “That’s all it is, Harry.”
***
A little while after Louis gets home, he remembers his phone. About 20 more texts from Harry pile it once it’s turned back on, but he only pays attention to one, sent minutes after he left the clinic.
From: Harry Styles
I’m not giving up on you
Louis doesn’t even know what it means, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
***
This goes on for a while. Louis avoids Harry like he’s got the plague, making sure not to be in the same room with him for more than 20 seconds, getting to work early, staying late so he won’t see him. Harry still texts him, just little greetings in hopes that Louis will reply, but he doesn’t.
Martha coddles Louis like he’s one of her own children. Louis can’t remember how many times he’s told her that he actually doesn’t need a cup of tea every 30 minutes, but it’s not like she’s actually ever listened to him anyway.
It isn’t until one day, when Louis is in a particularly sulky mood, that he realizes what’s missing. Harry hasn’t texted him all day.
After that, Harry stops staring at him from across the waiting room, he quits trying to spark up a conversation at the coffee machine; he doesn’t send Martha with little messages that Louis never replies to.
Louis assumes that Harry’s realized how serious he is about this, that he doesn’t really care about being Louis’ friend anymore, that he’s gone off to find a new companion in the office and leave Louis alone. He assumes Harry’s given up.
It shouldn’t bother Louis, because this is what he’s asked for, but it really does.
***
About two months after his conversation with Harry in the waiting room, and a few weeks after Harry stopped talking to him, there’s a knock on Louis’ office door, right before close.
It’s Martha, of course, and she gives him one of her fond smiles (ones that he’s been getting more and more recently, and it’s kind of freaking him out) before stepping in and giving him his appointment clipboard.
“Had to change this, sorry,” she says, looking all too mischievous, “Someone else scheduled an appointment.”
“This is a walk-in clinic,” Louis reminds her, “You can’t schedule an appointment.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she says, waving a hand in front of her face, “Anyway, here you go. They’re ready when you are.”
He goes to flip to the patient’s page before Martha slams her palm down on the clipboard, “No!” she shouts, “No, you can’t look.”
“You do realize that I have to fill this out before I can see the patient, right?”
“Already done!” She says, looking smug, “Now, don’t look at the page and I’ll stop bringing you so much tea.”
And really, he can’t pass that up, so he simply gives her an incredulous look, trying to quell the disappointment of not being able to leave, before heading with Martha by his side to the waiting room. Which is surprisingly empty.
Martha looks like she’s about to squeal which is disconcerting, when he gives her a strange look and she points to the clipboard.
He flips up the cover page and what he sees sends him equal parts confusion and anger.
“What did you do?” He looks up for Martha but she’s already heading for the clinic door, slipping out quickly with her belongings in hand.
“So,” says a voice from behind him, “It seems like the only people you’ll talk to these days are patients, so I guess I’ll just be one of them.”
Harry looks smug but apprehensive, and in that moment, Louis wants to punch him. Or maybe hug him, because he’s missed hearing Harry’s stupidly deep voice, as much as he hates himself for it.
“I don’t have to do this.”
“Yes you do,” Harry says, “I’m a patient. My appointment’s paid for.”
Louis swallows and opens the door to the hallway “Very well, then. Come with me.”
It’s reminiscent of the days where Harry was just a patient, when he would come just to get his blood work done and nothing else, walking down the fluorescent hallway. Except there’s no joking around by either of them, and Louis is so uncomfortable he could scream.
When they get back to the exam room, Harry hops up onto the paper-covered bench like he always did and it makes Louis’ heart race against his ribcage
“What can I do for you, Harry?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been, well, you know -“
“Tested?”
“Yeah,” Harry says.
Louis ignores the little pinch of jealousy he gets from that, from knowing why Harry needs to be tested, and gets straight to work.
“Have you been using condoms?” Louis asks because it’s protocol, and none out of his own searing curiosity.
“Yes.”
“Do you have any past histories with STIs, HIV or AIDS?”
“No.”
“When’s the last time you were sexually active with another person?”
“About a month ago.”
Louis can’t help the look of shock that crosses his face, and Harry looks oddly serious, “Yeah,” he says softly, and that’s that.
“Alright,” Louis says, sitting in his rolling chair and getting all of his equipment together, “You know how this goes. Just relax.”
Harry hisses a bit when the needle goes in, but doesn’t show any other signs of discomfort. They don’t talk for a while, until Louis’ about halfway through drawing blood.
“I miss you, Louis,” Harry says, and Louis’ head snaps up, a retort on how he doesn’t want to talk about it on his lips when Harry interrupts, “You don’t have to talk to me, but if you think I’m having you in a room all to myself and I’m not going to talk to you, you’re daft. All you have to do is listen to me, okay?”
Louis pauses, then goes back to what he was doing.
“I miss you,” Harry repeats, “I miss you all the time, so much that I can’t breathe with it.”
Louis’ hands shake but he manages not to spill anything while Harry talks.
“I stopped, you know? I had to move into a new place, but it’s still pretty nice and Baxter likes it, so that’s a plus. I still manage to get the bills paid on time, and in the end that’s all that matters, right?
I used to have a friend, a long time ago, and he used to say something along the lines of ‘It’s not how big your house is, it’s the people you fill it with,’ and I never really got that until now. I liked having all that stuff, I did, and I miss it. But it wasn’t everything. It wasn’t worth betraying you. It wasn’t worth losing you, Louis.”
Louis manages to get the last vile of blood capped without dropping anything, and he’s about to stop Harry and make him leave so Louis can breathe again, but Harry continues.
“I still think you did some things wrong, too. I think t was hypocritical of you to threaten me about my job when we had already had sex. But I don’t regret that part. Even if you do, I don’t regret that part because it’s one of the only times I can remember having sex with someone and not feeling completely terrible about myself afterwards. And it hurt when you acted like it didn’t happen, and even worse when you said it was a mistake, but I could never regret you, Louis.”
Louis tries to busy himself with getting everything into a bag and ready to send to the lab, ignoring the blurring of his vision.
“I fucked up, and so did you, and I’ve been trying to do what you want and just stay the hell away, but I needed you to know that. I needed you to know that I am crazy about you, you idiot, and even though you want nothing to do with me, and you obviously don’t feel the same way -“
“You’ll be called when your results are in. Have a good night.”
Harry’s so hurt, Louis can tell, but he’s so busy trying to keep himself together that he can’t do anything about it. Harry’s voice is thick with held-back tears when he speaks again, “Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, Louis.”
When Harry leaves, Louis locks himself in his office and cries himself raw.
***
Louis doesn’t know what he’s doing.
This is such a bad idea, he’s sure of it. He doesn’t understand how he ended up here, what possessed him to think it would be good in the least, or how he even got up the nerve to come.
When the door opens, Harry’s face goes from elated, to shocked, to hurt, to absolutely livid in a matter of seconds and it doesn’t help that he looks like absolute shit, eyes red-rimmed and his hair a mess. He’s wearing the same clothes from last night.
“What are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?”
“Well, it’s not that hard because we work at the same place and I can access the records,” he starts, but Harry still doesn’t look amused, “and I came because I have your test results.”
“I would have gotten them at work on Monday. You don’t have to hand-deliver them.”
Louis shrugs, “Well, I wanted to.”
Harry rolls his eyes and snatches the envelope from Louis hand, “Great. You can leave now.”
“I’m your doctor,” Louis reminds him, “You’ve gotta tell me what they say.”
“You don’t read them beforehand?”
“Just tell me.”
Harry looks furious, but he rips the seal on the envelope forcefully anyway and skims through his results.
“Clean, I’m clean, okay? You can -“
And Louis is on him, fast as lightning, grabbing onto Harry’s shoulders and pushing him backwards into his own flat, gathering all his finesse to mule-kick the door shut on the way in. Harry’s back finally collides with something solid that Louis thinks is the kitchen island but he can’t be bothered to care where Harry’s lips are on his and their bodies are pressed so closely together that he can smell the remnants of his cologne from yesterday.
Harry doesn’t kiss him back at first, just makes muffled noises in the back of his throat but he finally, thankfully gets with the program and gives back as good as he’s getting. He grabs fistfuls of Louis’ shirt as he presses firmer against his chest.
“You broke my heart,” he mutters in-between kisses, “Last night, you broke my heart, you twat.”
“I know,” Louis says, planting kisses on the corner of Harry’s mouth, “I’m an idiot. You’re an idiot. We are both so fucking stupid, I don’t know how we even made it this far.”
Harry makes a noise that almost sounds like a sob, and Louis is about to pull back when Harry lets out the biggest snort of laughter he’s ever heard in his life.
“You’re insane,” Louis says, as Harry buckles over, “You are actually the most insane person I’ve ever met in my life.”
Harry finally stops laughing after a good two minutes, and wipes at his eyes, “This is the most ridiculous situation I’ve ever been in,” he says, and grabs Louis hand and leads them both down a small hallway to what Louis hopes is his bedroom.
When they stop outside of his door, Harry turns around and pushes so Louis looking at him, straight in the face, “Before we do this, I need to know things will change. I don’t want it to be like last time.”
“No,” Louis says, trailing his hands up Harry’s arms, “No, no. Nothing like the last time. Except for the sex part. That was nice.”
Harry’s lips suddenly stretch into a shit-eating grin, “I made you come all over your desk.”
Louis heaves a faux-exasperated sigh, “Hush, you,” he chastises, before pushing Harry past the door way, into his room and onto his bed, startling Baxter the Demon Cat out of his slumber with a screech.
Louis hears his little paws pad out the door while he’s busy shucking his and Harry’s clothes off, “Hate your fucking cat,” he breathes.
“Yeah, well,” Harry says, muffled while he pulls his shirt over his head, “I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.”
Louis climbs over him once they’re both naked, slotting between Harry’s legs and kissing him breathless, “D’you want to fuck me?”
Harry looks like a little bit nervous before shaking his head, “No, I want to bottom.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t do that very often?”
“You’d be surprised,” Harry says, leaning over to his bedside before pulling out the his lube, “How many of those guys want to get fucked. I guess if they pay for it, it feels more like they’ve ‘earned’ it. More manly.”
Louis can’t help but laugh at that, “Idiots,” he mutters while he slicks up his fingers and rubs the pads of his fingers over Harry’s hole, murmuring encouragements when he pushes in, searching immediately for that spot that will have Harry writhing.
“Fuck,” Harry breathes when Louis finds it, “More, more, please.”
Louis pushes in with another, pressing against Harry’s spots and dragging down his insides. Harry’s hot and tight and slick around his fingers, clenching whenever Louis rubs hard over his prostate, and Louis only just gets a third finger in when Harry starts getting really impatient, “Jesus, no more, please, need you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Louis mutters, “How do you want to do this?”
“Want to ride you,” Harry half-whispers, distracted, scooting so Louis can lay down as he reaches for a condom, ripping it open and sliding it on Louis with practiced ease.
Louis’ hands fly straight to his hips when Harry straddles him, rubbing his fingers over the skin there, trailing his hands up to the slight softness of his waist as Harry slicks him up and positions Louis’ cock right at his entrance before closing his eyes and sinking down slowly.
He’s hunched over, eyes screwed shut and hands braced on Louis chest, panting for breath as he circles his hips slightly on the down-stroke, getting used to the stretch before stilling as he reaches the base.
“Okay?” Louis asks, trailing his hand to Harry’s cock and giving a few long, sympathetic strokes.
“Yeah,” Harry says softly, leaning forward so his hands bracket Louis’ head on the pillow, kissing him hard and lifting his hips up slightly before dropping back down.
Louis trails his hands up and down Harry’s sides, soothing, as Harry lifts himself up and down rhythmically, making little cut off noises every time Louis hits his sweet spot. He sits up so his hands are back on Louis’ chest, using it for leverage as he rolls his hips down hard, grinding on his cock.
Louis’ hands find their way back to grab at the flesh of Harry’s ass, fingers trailing between his cheeks to where Louis’ cock is sliding into him, and a sudden wave of heat rolls over him so intense that he grabs back at Harrys hips and fucks up into him hard, sending Harry jolting forward and gasping as he claws for purchase on the headboard.
“Fuck,” he sobs, “Yeah, just like that.”
Louis braces his feet on the bed before thrusting up again, right as Harry drops down, gripping Harry’s hips so hard that his fingers start to lose feeling and yeah, Harry’s definitely going to have bruises in the morning. It shouldn’t turn Louis on as much as it does.
Harry’s close, he can tell from the way his cock is steadily leaking all over Louis stomach and how he’s making little aborted movements, bouncing on Louis’ dick and making sure it grinds into his prostate every time.
When Louis feels the coil of heat start to form in his belly he thrusts up hard, shoving his hips up hard as he grabs Harry’s cock and jerks him roughly, “Come,” he grits out, “Come for me, babe,” and Harry does, mouth going slack as he tenses and streaks white over Louis chest.
Louis fucks him through the aftershocks, thrusting up into Harry’s pliant body until he comes, filling the condom and digging his nails into the flesh of Harry’s ass.
Harry lifts up, just enough so that Louis can slide out, before stretching alongside Louis and tucking his head into the crook of his neck, tracing patterns on Louis’ belly while he shifts to tie off the condom and throw it in the wastebasket.
“For someone who blushed like a maiden the first time I brought up anal sex with them, you’re a pretty good lay, Tomlinson,” Harry teases.
“Oh, come off it,” Louis replies, grabbing Harry’s duvet and snuggling under it, “You were so forward about it. I am not a maiden.”
“Yeah, no maiden could’ve fucked me like that,” Harry says while he yawns. “Fuck, it’s only noon and you’ve worn me out.”
“Well, it’s Saturday, I think there are a few more opportunities for me to wear you out. If you’re up for it.”
Harry smiles, big and genuine, so his dimples show, and he’s the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen, “Oh, I’m up for it.”