fic: slowly, and then all at once (harry/louis)
title: slowly, and then all at once
pairing: harry/louis
word count: 1,687
rating: r? there is sex but it's not that explicit, i don't think.
warnings: sex. language. fluffiness.
summary: for this kinkmeme prompt.
(or; Louis calls Harry pet names in bed.)
notes: i know. i know. it feels like i was just saying i wasn't going to write one direction fic, no matter how cute they are. but then i got to talking to julia and she is a dirty rotten enabler and this is not my fault.
title taken from the john green book the fault in our stars.
slowly, and then all at once
Nothing about their relationship is normal. Harry knows this; because while all of the guys are tactile with one another, he and Louis have always had something more, just under the surface. From the beginning, they’ve been more touchy with each other, more willing to get in each other’s spaces - or perhaps it’s that they’ve never had separate spaces, really, always been linked.
(From the beginning - the first to really showcase the tactile nature of their relationship, the first to kiss each other on the cheek and hold hands, tight, fingers laced together.)
Harry’s not sure who started it, not sure how this all began, turned into something that he needs, deep inside him, but he’s not grounded properly unless he’s with Louis, within reach of him, so that he can at least graze a hand over his shoulder, whisper something into his ear, kick his shin, light.
It’s probably dysfunctional, the way he’s fixated - definitely so, really, because they’re not together, they’ve never been together. There’s always been something between them, but neither of them have really crossed that line - because there’s no going back, from some things.
He wants it, though, in the quiet way that he doesn’t want most things. He wants Louis, in every way he can have him, and the thought should scare him more than it does, probably; instead of scaring him, though, it makes him feel warm, inside.
Because Louis smiles back, most of the time, and Harry thinks it’s got to happen.
*
“You all right there, Hazza?”
Harry looks up from his notebook, smiling, and nods. Louis’s face is right up against his, and he leans in, kissing him on the nose without really thinking about it. “Brilliant,” he says, closing the book, and sits back in his chair.
Louis doesn’t move from where he is; there’s a minute shift in his gaze. His eyes lock with Harry’s for a moment, before traveling down to his lips, and back up again.
Oh, fuck, Harry thinks, which is an entirely rational thing to think at a moment like this, he’s sure.
“Harry,” Louis whispers, and he’s so close that the words are barely breathed out but Harry can still hear them, clear, as though they’re shouted.
He nods, nonsensically, and sits up in his chair. He has a half-full notebook of lyrics on the table in front of him and Louis is just sitting there, staring at him, looking fucking terrified, and -
Harry presses their lips together, quick.
He pulls back the barest of amounts, gauging how Louis feels (because even now, after everything, he has to be sure), and swallows.
Louis nods, and reaches for him, putting a hand on the back of his neck. He smiles, and pulls him in for another kiss.
This is softer, slower - this is the slick-slow slide of tongues, lips almost chaste against each other.
It’s nothing like Harry thought kissing Louis would be - and it isn’t as though he’s thought about this, not too much, not more than a time or two while lying on his bed, jerking himself roughly (and just before falling asleep, the memory of Louis’s body pressed against his still warm in his mind) - but it’s so good. Louis understands him in a way that no one he’s kissed has ever before - he knows when Harry wants more, and he makes the most delicious whining noise when he pulls back for air.
Harry swallows, eyes shutting, and he opens them to a terrified Louis.
“What?” and his voice is rougher than it should be, deeper, and he watches, fascinated, as Louis’s eyes get darker, somehow.
“Nothing,” but that’s a lie, that much is obvious - and so Harry pulls him down by the collar, turning the chair so Louis is straddling him.
They kiss properly this time; Harry holds onto Louis’ hips, keeping him steady on his lap, and he feels himself getting hard under him - not surprising in the least, if he’s being honest.
Louis pulls away, though, and breathes out, harsh. “I - can we -” and he cuts himself off, sighing a bit.
Harry leans forward, sucking at the pulse point on his neck, smirking against his skin. “Anything you want,” he whispers.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” and it would be a warning, Harry’s sure, if it weren’t so breathy, so far gone.
Harry nips at the skin before nodding, pushing at him to get Louis up. “Bedroom, then?” he asks, voice teasing, still rough, and Louis nods, lacing their fingers together.
They get to Harry’s room and he doesn’t know what to do, then; because he wants, so much, and he doesn’t know what he can and can’t have.
Louis presses him down against the bed, straddling him again, and he fumbles with the buttons of Harry’s shirt until he can slide it off, pressing kisses to the skin there. Harry squirms under him, and Louis smirks, whispers “You’re so beautiful, Hazza.”
Harry goes a bit pink, turning his face to the side - and that’s different, that’s something he didn’t expect to like, being called that, beautiful, like he’s a girl.
Louis notices but doesn’t comment on it, just pulls his own shirt off before sliding his hands down Harry’s sides, smiling a bit. He undoes the button on Harry’s jeans, tugging them off, still so slow - and Harry’s so hard it hurts, the boxers tenting, and he turns his face to the side again. He’s not embarrassed, really, he just - he wants so much, everything, and he needs to take a moment to collect himself.
“Hey.” This is soft, almost a whisper, and then there are cool fingers on his cheek, turning his head, and Louis is looking at him, almost nervous. The ghost of a smirk passes over his face, then, and he whispers “what do you want, darling?”
Harry shakes his head, and pulls him down for another kiss, because he doesn’t know how to answer that, doesn’t know what he should and shouldn’t say. He kisses Louis instead, and it’s sharp, teeth and tongue and hands grabbing at hips, tight, and it’s perfect.
Louis lets out a moan, and Harry pushes down his trousers, kicking them off the bed until it’s nothing but their underwear separating them.
He bites his lip, then, and his hands still at Louis’s sides, at the waistband. “Can I?” he asks, whispers.
Louis smiles, and rolls his hips once over Harry’s before nodding. “Course you can, love,” he says, the endearment slipping off of his tongue, and Harry swallows, nodding, jerky.
Everything seems to mean more, here - it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, and the ways they’re touching each other aren’t that much further than what they have done. Harry’s always put his hands on Louis’ hips before, when moving him out of the way to get into the cupboard, and he’s always pressed his lips to a kiss at the base of his neck, but it’s never been this charged, this much.
And then they’re naked against each other - Louis chokes out a breath against Harry’s skin, whispers “shit, babe,” against his neck, and it’s cheesy and it shouldn’t make Harry shiver the way it does.
And then Louis is pulling away, looking at him, nodding, once, as though to himself, and he pushes himself up onto his knees, looking down at Harry. He’s hard, too, but he’s ignoring that, and Harry swallows at the way Louis’s eyes move over him, studying him.
He bites his lip, and trails his fingers up Harry’s leg, stopping at his hip.
“Louis,” Harry chokes out, tilting his head back against the pillows, “touch me - please, please,” and they haven’t even done anything yet but he feels desperate, wants to beg for it, for Louis to do something, anything.
Louis grins and nods, pumping Harry’s cock slowly, staring at him, still biting his lip, softer now. Harry swallows, turning his head again, and his hips shift up, wanting more.
“Shh, calm down, love,” Louis whispers, soft, and kisses him, trailing his kisses down to Harry’s neck, nipping, light, just before speeding up his hand.
“Please,” Harry gets out, and he’s already so close but it’s not enough; and he has better stamina, usually, but this is Louis who he thinks he might love but he at least wants so desperately he can barely handle it, and he reaches out, grabbing Louis’ other hand, tangling their fingers together. “Come on, Louis, please,” and his mouth falls open on a moan when Louis leans down, taking a nipple into his mouth, biting, hard.
“That good, sweetie?” he whispers, and he’s smiling a bit. “God, Harry, you look so good like this, don’t you, you’re fucking coming apart for me, and you’re all mine, aren’t you?”
Harry nods, twisting, and Louis runs his thumb over the head of his cock, not even touching his own, though he’s so hard it has to be painful.
“Come on,” Harry whispers, “let me touch you, Louis, please.”
Louis just shakes his head, though his arms are trembling. He kisses Harry again, softer now, sweet, and he murmurs “want to watch you first, Hazza.”
“Let me come, then,” Harry groans out, and he tilts his hips up, needing more.
Louis speeds up his hand, then, and Harry falls apart embarrassingly quickly, panting, gasping.
He kisses Louis, when it’s just the aftershocks left, and rolls them onto their sides, pulling him close.
Louis rubs off against his hip, looking frenzied, and he makes a noise just before he comes that Harry pulls away to watch, swallowing, tight.
He’s fucking beautiful, and he’s blaming the hormones for that thought and all others like it.
Louis smiles at him, seeming almost shy now that he’s not in charge of Harry. He pulls the comforter up around them, cuddling closer to Harry.
“We should get cleaned up,” Harry murmurs, though his eyes are falling shut. Louis-induced orgasms, it seems, are energy-consuming.
“Mmm,” Louis sighs, but he’s already half gone. “Later. Sleep, Hazza.”
Harry nods, and presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head, and lets himself sleep.