Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Jesus Christ.”

Louis’ hands, sticky with rose moisturizer, freeze on his shin. Save for the light sheen of the slightly pink-tinted lotion, he’s completely bare and very much aware of the fact that his naked arse is up in the air as he’s bent over the tub. And that he left the door open.

In his defense, Harry was supposed to be out at the gym. He’s not going to bother closing the door when he’s home alone, not when it gets humid enough in the bathroom already. At least that was the original plan.

“What the fuck!” Louis shrieks, albeit a little too late, grabbing the mint green bath towel off of its hook and wrapping it around his waist hastily. When he finally spins around, Harry’s stood in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe with a dazed expression. Louis doesn’t know if he’d rather laugh or cry.

“Can you leave?” Louis huffs while fisting his towel with one hand and shaking his other hand dry, his chest flushed red and no longer just from his hot shower.

“Is that real?” Harry grins, and Louis has no idea why this is happening to him. He’s moving out.

“My arse?” Louis fish-mouths.

He’s a university student with twenty-three dollars to his name. Of course it’s real.

For some reason that only God must know, Harry’s stepping into the bathroom and towards Louis.

“What are you doing?” Louis gapes, slamming himself against the sink counter arse first. Harry doesn’t stop moving towards him, though, and the next thing he knows, he’s chest to chest with Harry.

The shock he’s feeling is clearly written on his face as he stares up at Harry with wide blue eyes, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Harry just smirks, raising a hand.

Louis doesn’t know what’s happening to him, what in the world he did to deserve this, as his fist tightens around the towel.

Harry reaches behind the boy before he’s pulling away in the next second, a cheeky and smug grin pulling across his lips. “Forgot this,” he smirks, and when Louis turns his attention to Harry’s hand, he’s waving a stick of deodorant.

He flushes.

Harry just grins as he steps away from Louis, heading for the door with a chuckle. Louis doesn’t even realize he’s left the room until he hears Harry shout:

“Nice arse, by the way!”

Louis closes his eyes in humiliation. He’s locking the door next time.

If he slips, brains himself in the shower, and dies, it’ll be on Harry’s conscience.

✰ ✰ ✰

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” Harry hums when they’re lounging in Louis’ bedroom later.

Lying on his stomach, Louis glances up from his linear algebra textbook, eyeing Harry curiously. The boy’s laying back against the headboard, laptop resting on his thighs. If Louis leans forward enough, he’s sure Harry’s actually watching The Mandalorian or something rather than doing his school work. Typical for an economics major, he thinks, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I don’t know what question you’re talking about,” Louis clears his throat, flipping the page. He doesn’t need to look at Harry to know that he’s frowning.

“The one about your arse. Is it real?”

Louis blinks, willing himself not to flush at the memory. They’re not returning to this conversation. He was humiliated enough for at least a decade, he’s fairly certain. “Do you really think I have enough money to get my arse done?”

Harry grins, shrugging. “I wouldn’t judge,” he says before adding, “Only Fans is a thing — you have enough time alone to do it without me catching on.”

Louis can’t believe this is an actual conversation.

When Harry had come back from his hour and a half at the campus gym, he hadn’t mentioned a single thing about their time in the bathroom earlier. Instead, he had returned to their flat with a pair of sandwiches and Louis’ favorite tea order from down the street, and a complaint about the bus ride to campus. So, apart from their moment this morning, it was a typical Sunday for them.

“My bum is real, thank you very much,” Louis grumbles.

When he takes a glance at Harry, Harry’s eyebrows are scrunched together in thought as if he’s considering Louis’ words. In his own humble opinion, he’s not too sure what there is to consider about his statement.

“I’ve never seen you at the gym. I don’t get how it’s so defined,” Harry tilts his head.

“Your jealousy is showing,” Louis mutters, mainly because he’s not even sure how to respond to this. They really can’t be having this conversation.

Harry laughs then, closing his laptop. Louis knows he likely wasn’t doing anything worthwhile anyway, but he liked the buffer between them. Liked that Harry potentially had something to distract his attention from whatever this conversation is leading to.

“I’m not jealous. I’m sure others are. I’ve never been with a girl with an arse like yours,” Harry hums thoughtfully, as if he’s mentally checking out every girl he’s been with since his sexual awakening and comparing their arse to Louis’.

Louis blinks. “Okay,” he says.

“Do you wax?”

Louis gapes.

“I’m only asking ‘cause it was, like, so—”

“Yeah, let’s not finish that sentence, thank you,” Louis scrambles to sit up, linear algebra textbook going flying to the floor. His cheeks are bright red and he really does not need Harry to start describing his hole in fine detail. “In fact, I’m tired, and you should leave,” he insists, keeping his eyes trained on the thread pattern on his duvet. Harry doesn’t move, though, and Louis is three seconds away from sending him to the floor alongside his textbook.

Harry must have no ounce of shame, though, because he’s putting his laptop to the side and leaning over towards Louis with what he assumes to be a smile — Louis is not checking, he’s not looking at Harry any longer than he needs to. “I’d fuck you,” he hears Harry say, and no.

“Study session over. Bye!” Louis laughs, a bit hysterical as he shoves his hands against Harry’s side. Harry doesn’t budge, of course he doesn’t, Louis doesn’t expect him to. Not when he spends hours upon hours in the gym with Liam.

“I would,” Harry laughs, and although it doesn’t sound like Harry’s making fun of him, it doesn’t make Louis feel any better. Harry’s not even posing as a threat, and for the most part, Louis just feels ridiculously embarrassed over this. “You’re tight. And, like, pretty—”

“How fucking long were you standing there?” When he finally turns to look at Harry, the idiot is just grinning at him, unfazed. He really doesn’t know what circle of hell he’s been introduced to; he doesn’t remember Dante’s Inferno warning him about this one.

“Long enough to know that I’d like a turn,” Harry hums, getting comfortable against the pillows, clearly not planning to leave any time soon.

Louis blinks. “Not happening,” he shakes his head, maneuvering himself to lean over the bed and grab the textbook he shoved to the floor. It turns out to be a terrible move to make, though, because the next thing he feels is a hard slap to his bum.

“There’s no way it’s real,” Harry laughs in disbelief, his large paw of a hand gripping at the cleft of Louis’ arse while Louis freezes in shock. “C’mon. Fuckin’ jiggles. You really won’t let me fuck you?”

Louis really doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

“Fits my hand, too. Insane,” Louis hears him groan, hand still firm on his rear. Part of him feels like the boy’s never seen a bum before. Considering the girls he pulls, though, Louis is pretty sure the scenario is realistic. Not that he’s making comparisons with every girl Harry’s slept with in the past.

“Have you never seen an arse before?” Louis asks then, turning around and smacking Harry’s hand away. It’s a valid question at this point and Louis deserves to know when Harry’s acting like his bum is so profound.

He’s going to ignore the part of him that actually kind of enjoys it. He’s sick.

Harry frowns, whether at the question or Louis’ slap to his hand, he’ll never know. “You’re not going to let me fuck you?” It takes Louis a second to respond because Harry actually looks a bit upset over the rejection, and it’s sort of making him feel bad.

This is completely ridiculous.

“Get out of my room,” Louis groans, collapsing into his pillows and pressing his face into the fabric. At his pathetic attempt to asphyxiate himself, he hears Harry laugh before the mattress is shifting underneath him and Harry’s actually getting up.

✰ ✰ ✰

Harry’s newfound obsession with his arse doesn’t seem to disappear much to Louis’ dismay. Or lack thereof, he’ll never tell. Regardless, Monday morning greets him with another slap to his rear when he’s grabbing his bowl of cereal, Tuesday afternoon comes with a ridiculous load of questions asking about his bum workout routine (he doesn’t have one), Wednesday night brings Louis more details about Harry’s sex life than he’ll ever like to know (he might be lying), and Thursday and Friday follow the same pattern. Right now, Louis has forgotten what life was like before his arse was the center of Harry’s world.

There’s a part of Louis — a very sick part — that’s actually enjoying this. As flustered as he gets when he realizes Harry’s eyes are on his bum or when Harry’s greeting him with a sharp smack, he likes it. Likes the attention to his arse, likes that Harry’s begging to fuck him (even if Louis is eighty percent sure it’s just some joke), and likes that Harry’s completely enamored with his body.

So, if he’s bending over tables a little more than usual or breaking out his tightest jeans, he’s never going to admit to it.

For once, though, he’s not planning to be bent over the counter in his tightest jeans or throwing his bum back into Harry’s face. No, instead he’s half inside his closet, searching through a dreaded mess for the ABBA Gold record he could’ve sworn he had out just last weekend.

The world must pity him, though, because somehow, he ends up face first inside his closet, arse up in just his briefs and a sweatshirt when Harry announces presence in Louis’ bedroom. It feels like some sick form of déjà vu.

“Might as well just take those off,” Harry’s voice comes suddenly, Louis almost stumbling further inside the small closet. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

And well, Louis wasn’t expecting that.

“I thought you were out with Liam,” Louis stumbles and straightens up, hugging his arms to his chest and turning around to face Harry. His sweatshirt hangs just beneath his briefs, and although Harry’s right, he likes the little bit of comfort.

“I was. I came back early,” Harry leans against the doorframe, shrugging his shoulders again. “What are you doing?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

For once, Louis isn’t trying to grab Harry’s attention, instead he’s just caught off guard. It’s his room, he can dress however he likes in here, can dress however he likes in their whole apartment truly, and it isn’t like Harry hasn’t seen him in his briefs before.

It’s not even like Harry hasn’t seen him naked before.

“Was trying to look for my ABBA record,” he frowns.

Harry hums, eyes lingering over Louis’ face for a moment. “It’s in my room,” he says, pausing. “Take off your pants.”

Louis coughs, cheeks turning redder. “What?”

Harry groans, stepping away from the wall. “C’mon. Please? You’re driving me insane,” he sighs, and Louis just blinks at him, taking a hesitant step backwards towards his dresser. “It’s in my room ‘cause I borrowed it — I’ll grab it. Just one look.” He’s practically begging, and Louis’ almost certain this is the strangest request he’s ever received.

“Harry,” he starts, letting out a shaky laugh.

“One look, c’mon,” Harry insists, nodding his head encouragingly.

Louis takes in a deep breath, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You’re so fucking weird,” he mumbles, closing his eyes in embarrassment as he turns around to face the mirror.

He hesitates for a moment before he’s reaching underneath his hoodie to hook his thumbs underneath the waistband of his pants. He slips them off slowly, letting them pool at his ankles. When he catches a glimpse of Harry’s face in the mirror, the boy is grinning back at him, looking like Louis’ the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Bend over the dresser. Can’t see,” Harry insists, reaching out to push gently at Louis’ back.

Louis groans, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the dresser. It’s awkward and humiliating and yet at the same time, Louis has to suck in a breath to refrain from letting himself enjoy this. The last thing he needs is for Harry to catch onto that.

“God,” Harry murmurs, hands coming up to immediately grab at Louis’ arse. Louis has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from pushing back into Harry’s hands. It only gets worse when Harry takes the opportunity to spread his cheeks. “Look at you,” Louis can hear the grin in his voice, and honestly, has this man ever seen an arse before?

“So tight,” Harry hums, and then there’s a finger ghosting over the rim of his hole, and Louis’ stomach drops at the feeling.

“Harry,” he warns, swallowing thickly as he shifts his hips.

“How do you even get fucked?” Harry laughs, massaging his hand over Louis’ arse cheek. “Feel like I couldn’t press into you if I wanted to.” He drags his hand over Louis’ bum, moving his thumb to press curiously at the ring of muscle.

Biting his lip, Louis makes an effort to hold his breath.

“Or maybe you’d like that, hm? Bet you like it when it hurts,” Harry squeezes his arse, dragging his hand over the back of Louis’ thigh. “Probably beg for it to hurt, don’t you? Feel like you’d want the reminder the next day, the soreness probably turns you on.”

With another smack to Louis’ bum, Harry is finally pulling away and meeting Louis’ gaze in the mirror. There’s a smirk on his face, and Louis just tries to school his face into a neutral expression, contrary to the way his heart is jackrabbiting in his chest.

“ABBA Gold, was it?” Harry grins.

Louis groans, dropping his face into his arms.

✰ ✰ ✰

Sifting through the mail, Louis trails into the living room with his backpack hanging off of his one shoulder, disheveled from the wind outside. When he looks up, Harry is sitting bare on the couch, hand fisting his cock, and watching Louis with a smirk.

Louis’ face goes red, immediately shielding his eyes with the envelopes on hand. “What are you—”

“How was class?” Harry says at the same time, voice suspiciously calm for what he’s doing on the couch.

“Fine,” he winces when the word comes out more like a squeak. “Why are you—”

“Figured I owe you,” Harry hums simply. Louis didn’t know that this was how they were doing things around here now — paying each other back in terms of — well, he doesn’t even know what to call this. “C’mon, look at me,” Harry chuckles.

Louis gapes behind the envelopes. “No!”

He doesn’t have to look at Harry to know he’s pouting. “Why not?”

“This is weird — is this not weird to you?” Louis flusters, waving his free hand around blindly.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Harry says. Of course he wouldn’t. “I’ve seen you.”

Shrugging off his backpack and placing it on the ground, Louis’ careful to keep his eyes shielded with the mail. “That’s — you’re getting off on our couch!”

Harry hums. “I’m giving you a free show. Rude of you not to watch, I think.”

“This is weird,” Louis mumbles, lowering the envelope a few centimeters to peek over at Harry. He barely has to sneak a glance down to Harry’s crotch to see Harry’s hand moving slowly over his shaft, abs twitching underneath. Harry’s size isn’t new to him, he’s very much known that Harry had nothing to worry about in that department especially after overhearing conversations including the girls Harry’s slept with, but it still takes Louis off guard when he sees it. His cock is flushed, red and swollen, glistening at the tip. He doesn’t know how long Harry’s been there on their couch getting himself off. When Louis finally glances upwards, Harry meets his eyes with a smug grin and part of Louis just wants to sink into the floor.

“It’s not weird,” Harry tells him, thumbing over the crown of his cock and hitching a breath. “You should join me,” he says after a beat.

“No,” Louis shakes his head immediately.

Harry frowns, tipping his head to the side but keeping his eyes trained on Louis. “Could be fun. Use a few fingers, open yourself up.”

Fish-mouthing, Louis stares at him. “I don’t always—”

Harry raises an eyebrow, interrupting. “Not much to work with down there, kitten,” he nods towards Louis’ crotch and Louis just blinks. There’s no way he’s having this conversation. Someone is screwing with him, that has to be it.

“And I’ve seen your toys or whatever. Not fooling me,” Harry adds a beat later and shrugs, grinning as he continues to tug at his cock.

Louis’ at a loss of words, and from the smirk on Harry’s face, Louis can tell he knows. Clearing his throat, Louis huffs out a heavy breath and lifts the mail back over his eyes. “I — I have work to do. Have fun. Make yourself comfortable, I guess.”

“Would be even more comfortable if you climbed on my lap,” Harry returns.

This has to be some sort of weird nightmare; he refuses to believe this is real life.

“I’d fuck you hard,” Harry sings, and Louis groans, finally forcing his legs to work and passing the couch.

“Don’t jizz on the bloody sofa,” Louis mutters, smacking Harry in the back of the head with the light stack of mail in his hands and very much ignoring how flustered he feels before he’s scrambling down the hall and planning to set up camp in his bedroom for the rest of the day.

It’s a joke. It has to be.

If he can’t get the mental image of Harry fisting his cock out of his head that night, Harry’s completely to blame when his stomach is sticky with come.

✰ ✰ ✰

Somehow Harry has convinced him that because it’s just the two of them and they’re very familiar with what’s in each other’s pants by this point, there’s absolutely no need for clothes in their flat. The idea of making less trips to the laundromat almost single handedly won Louis over on the idea.

Seeing Harry’s dick out in all its glory most definitely has nothing to do with his agreement. Neither does the constant heat of Harry’s gaze on his arse.

At first, it was most definitely awkward. Harry had no shame stripping down, and part of Louis should’ve expected that, really, with the amount of times Harry’s lounged around in nothing more than a pair of boxers or shorts. As much as Louis was having fun bending over desks and throwing his ass back in his tightest jeans and underwear, it’s not the most natural thing to just shuck off his clothes and lounge around for his best mate to see.

It takes him a while to get used to it. Every time Louis comes into view in anything more than underwear, and underwear too, Harry’s pouting in his direction until he’s bothered Louis enough to take his clothes off. It works, and for the most part, Louis gets over the weirdness.

It’s weird, it is, but Harry’s not complaining, and Louis doesn’t think he’s complaining either.

There’s nothing to complain about when Harry’s walking around their flat with his cock swinging about, nothing to complain about when Harry’s pressing himself up against Louis’ naked backside when he’s reaching for a mug in their cupboards, and nothing to complain about when Harry’s got his hand firm on Louis’ arse when they’re cuddling on the couch.

So, in reality, it’s really fucking weird, and Louis knows that.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it.

It’s weird, sure, and Louis’ a flustered mess every time Harry blabbers on about his arse, his promises that he’d fuck Louis hard, fuck him like he deserves. It’s a lot to hear from his very straight best friend, in Louis’ opinion, but. It’s all a joke, so. He ought to remember that.

It doesn’t take Louis very long before he’s joking back, getting more comfortable with strutting across their apartment stark naked, pushing his bum out to tease Harry whenever he can. The reactions he gets from Harry never fail to make it worth it, of course. Somehow, Harry’s still as obsessed with his naked bum as he was when he first stumbled upon Louis fresh out of the shower.

And then there’s the fact that Harry’s gotten completely comfortable with getting himself off around Louis. He’s not shy about it — Louis could’ve guessed that from the day he walked into Harry jacking himself off on their couch — and he practically challenges Louis to sit and watch.

Who is Louis to say no?

Harry had said it himself — he was giving Louis a free show, it would be rude of Louis not to watch.

So, Louis does.

He watches from his spot at the dining table when Harry starts touching himself on the couch, eyes lazily trained on Louis. At first, Louis hadn’t noticed Harry’s shuffling on the cushions, didn’t notice it until the shuffling was becoming too distracting and causing him to read the same sentence over and over again from his calculus textbook, and Louis had just about a half a mind to tell him off for it. When he looked over to do just that, Harry had smirked back at him, eyebrows raised innocently.

As soon as Louis turned his attention back towards his open textbook, he caught Harry’s hand trailing down to his lap from the corner of eye, the sound of a zipper following seconds later. It made Louis still, though he didn’t turn his head, not until he noticed Harry’s hand tugging his cock out of his jeans, rubbing his hand over himself at an achingly slow pace.

Louis’ eyes are trained on Harry now, the calculus textbook long forgotten about on their shabby wooden dining table. Harry’s teasing himself, fingers circling the head of his cock slowly, and Louis’ brain is already short circuiting. It’s different from their moment only a week ago if just from Louis’ reaction alone. Harry doesn’t want him to flee, doesn’t want him to shield his eyes — he wants Louis to watch.

Harry’s hand steadies into a proper pace, fingers curling around the tip of his cock as he strokes himself tantalizingly slow. Even from the dining table, Louis can see the way Harry’s abs tense when his fingers come to rub underneath his sensitive head, and can see the way Harry’s head tips back in sweet pleasure when he’s thumbs at the tender spot.

Louis is no longer a stranger to the size of Harry’s dick, hasn’t been for a while now, but that doesn’t keep him from feeling shocked every time Harry’s got his cock out. It doesn’t keep him from wondering what it’d feel like if he got up and settled on Harry’s lap, if he slid himself onto Harry’s cock. Doesn’t keep him from imagining the way Harry’s cock would split him open, press deep inside of him, protrude into his tummy. The thought makes Louis shift on his chair, his own crotch pulsing weakly.

Harry’s quite good at giving a show, and Louis doesn’t think he can look away at this point. Harry’s bicep is flexing as he drags his hand over his length, hand slipping down to roll his balls in his palm. Harry’s cock looks tauntingly big, teasing Louis and leaving his mouth watering with the precome glistening at the tip, and with the way Harry’s smirking at him, Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he was told he was drooling.

“Would be more fun if you joined me,” Harry’s voice rasps, startling Louis from his thoughts. Louis is sure his cheeks are pink when he drags his eyes up from Harry’s cock to his face, biting his lower lip.

“Happy just to watch,” Louis breathes, voice airy as he shifts in his seat. Harry just rolls his eyes, a cocky smirk stuck on his face.

“Suit yourself,” he drawls, groaning as his hand glides over his cock a bit faster. Louis can tell that he’s straining not to buck up into his hands, likely aching to move his hand even quicker. But a part of Louis guesses that he doesn’t want this over quicker than it needs to be, that he wants to drag it out for as long as he can.

Whether he’s dragging out their situation or his orgasm, Louis doesn’t know. But what he does know is that he isn’t too sure how to feel if it’s the former.

Harry’s always slow in his movements; he’s never been one to rush anything in his life — including bloody speaking — so Louis can’t be too surprised that he gets himself off slowly, as if he wants to savor every second. Briefly, he wonders if Harry fucks like that, if he takes his time with teasingly and excruciatingly slow drags of his hips, fucking in deeply. Louis shifts his hips against the chair again, uncomfortable with his own thoughts.

Regardless of how he’s dragging it out, Louis can tell that Harry’s close. There’s a red tint spreading across his chest, his breathing is getting a little harsh, and it’s not hard to notice the way Harry’s hips are struggling to stay fixed on the couch. It feels like too much, like something Louis isn’t supposed to be seeing even with Harry’s complete enthusiasm over having Louis watch.

Harry comes with a loud groan, tipping his back against the couch as he covers his hand and bare torso in ropes of come, and Louis has to dig his fingers into his thigh to keep himself from doing something stupid.

With an exasperated groan, Louis buries his face into the pages of his calculus textbook a few seconds later when they’ve settled into the silence of Harry’s ragged breathing. He chooses to ignore the way Harry laughs from the living room. It’s the only way he’s able to cope, and more importantly, ignore his own tented joggers.

It’s just for laughs, Louis is certain of it. In a week’s time, Harry will be wearing layers.

✰ ✰ ✰

“It’s not weird,” Harry says as if he can read Louis’ mind. The smaller boy isn’t all too convinced but he assumes that between the two of them, Harry should be the one with the problem with this — he’s straight, he’s not actually into guys. Harry should be reconsidering this whole thing.

It’s not weird. It’s not weird that they spend God knows how much time naked inside their flat together, it’s not weird when Harry grabs his bum, it’s not weird when they both start getting hard. It’s not weird when Harry keeps saying how much he wants to fuck him because they both know he won’t, Louis knows he’s still and always will be straight.

It’s not weird when Harry starts touching him either. Like now, for example. They’re cuddled on the couch with a rerun of Friends on the television. Louis has one leg slipped in between Harry’s, hips pressed to Harry’s thigh and cheek resting against Harry’s chest. Harry’s one hand is scrolling through his phone, and the other? Well. It’s not weird that Harry’s got a hand slipped over his arse, fingers rubbing dryly over Louis’ hole. Harry’s probably not even thinking about it, Louis thinks. It’s a slow pet, alternating between circular and vertical movements, fingers sliding over his perineum and hole. It’s nothing that’s giving Louis actual pleasure, and more than anything, it just reminds Louis of just how straight Harry is — rubbing his hole like it’s a cunt.

Then again, Louis also can’t argue that it’s not giving him pleasure — not with the way his cock is hardening against Harry’s thigh. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to try and calm himself down.

“It’s a little weird,” Louis mumbles, keeping his eyes closed and face hidden against his best friend’s chest. He can hear Harry chuckle underneath him, sucking in a breath when he feels the pad of Harry’s finger trace around his rim, muscle throbbing weakly.

“I don’t think you’re complaining about it,” Harry accuses lightly. Louis knows he’s right. He’s not complaining about it. Not when Harry’s touching him like this, making him go insane without even touching him. He just doesn’t understand it.

“I think you like it,” Harry murmurs, continuing to trace the pad of his finger over Louis’ hole like it’s nothing, like it’s something they’ve done for years. “Think you like hearing about how easy it would be to take you. How I could get you sobbing from just putting it in. Know you like it rough, hm? Not very bloody quiet when you have friends over.”

Louis whines at his words, pressing his hips into Harry’s thigh a bit pathetically. He’s loud, he knows that. He tries his hardest to be quiet, especially when he’s taking someone home after a night out, but Harry’s a light sleeper anyway. It’s useless.

And he does like it rough. He likes giving into his partner, likes the rough touches, likes being tossed around a bit. It’s a nice release, a nice way to just let himself forget about everything that’s going on around him. He’s not going to apologize for liking it a bit rough.

“Barely even touching you. Look at you,” Harry chuckles, sliding his hand over Louis’ inner thighs, tickling his fingertips over the soft and smooth skin before his fingers are returning to Louis’ bum and finding their place at Louis’ hole. It takes everything in the smaller boy not to just rut against Harry’s thigh right now.

“Teasing me,” Louis grumbles into his chest, face hot with shame at just how much he’s getting off from this.

“If you get like this from just a little pet, can’t imagine how you’ll get when I fuck you hard, hm?”

Louis snorts, closing his eyes as he tries to calm down. “You talk a lot of game for someone who’s straight,” he teases.

Although Louis can’t see it, he can practically feel Harry smirk in response. “Could fuck you better than anyone you’ve been with,” he promises.

Part of Louis believes that to be true. It’s a little scary.

“M’not that easy,” Louis mutters, subtly pressing his hips harder into Harry’s thigh, his breath hitching at the pressure. It makes him dizzy, makes him want to rut harder into Harry and come.

“Barely even touching you, baby, and you’re humping my thigh,” Harry repeats, tracing circles around the smaller boy’s rim.

Letting out a quiet whine, Louis’ eyebrows knit together in pleasure. He hates how right Harry is, hates that all it takes is for some rubbing over his hole for him to lose it. It’s humiliating, in reality, and for some reason, it just makes Louis’ hips press even harder against his thigh.

Harry’s barely touching him is right. He still has one hand on his phone, scrolling through God knows what. His other hand is still lazily rubbing over his hole, switching between soft pets and pressured strokes, and it’s taking everything in Louis to not beg Harry to actually finger him.

That’s crossing a line. Whatever lines they have left, at least.

Harry must be on the same wavelength, though, because suddenly Harry’s pressing a curious and dry tip of his finger inside of him. It takes Louis by surprise, so much so that he’s rocking his hips forward against Harry’s thigh and coming against him.

“So easy,” Harry teases, rubbing his fingers over Louis’ hole lazily through his orgasm before he’s grabbing at his ass roughly, fingers digging into his skin. Louis’ face is hot with embarrassment, wondering how in the hell he got himself into this situation with Harry.

Instead of facing the mess he made on Harry’s thigh and, well, Harry himself, Louis just presses his face further into Harry’s chest. If he suffocates himself now, he won’t have to deal with the consequences later. “Shut up,” he groans.

“Whatever you say, kitten.”

It’s not weird.

✰ ✰ ✰

Louis is tipsy off of cheap wine and good news when he gets probably one of his worst ideas in a while. To be fair, he’s not thinking as clearly as he usually does.

He’d gotten the highest mark on last week’s exam in his astronomy class, and only minutes later, he’d received an email telling him that his application to his dream summer internship at Oxford had been accepted. Niall had been next to him at the time, completely excited for Louis, and maybe Louis cried a little bit.

So, he’s in a great mood. Usually a celebration like this would demand a round of drinks, but considering it’s a Tuesday and Louis can’t be arsed to be pissed drunk on the street all the while Niall convinces them all to hit a second pub, the next best thing is celebrating with a bottle of red stuck in his and Harry’s cabinets.

Harry’s not home, though, and he’s not exactly sure where the man is. He guesses either Liam’s or the gym, like always, but he can’t be sure. Nonetheless, Louis’ treating himself to a drink whether or not he’ll be celebrating by himself tonight. He’ll tell Harry all about it later.

It’s between his first and second glass when Louis decides that since Harry’s obviously not on his way home, the next best way to celebrate is with a bath, and by the time he’s stripped down to his briefs, he’s getting his arguably second best idea of the night once he takes a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

What he does do, however, is spend five minutes in front of the mirror, leaning about in ten different directions and poses, briefs forgotten on the other side of the bathroom. He’s feeling good, is the thing, and of course that calls for taking pictures.

He’s hot, he’s smart, and he’s happy.

It’s all part of the reason why he doesn’t think twice before there’s a photo being sent to Harry. His back is twisted towards the mirror, bare backside on display, and one leg stretched out in a pose. His phone is hooked over his shoulder, his other hand tipping his wine glass up towards his lips. If he’d been two drinks more sober, Louis probably would’ve hesitated before sending it or would’ve at least typed out some sort of corresponding caption to pair it with, but. Here they are.

It only takes thirty six seconds — Louis’ not watching the calendar app out of new found anxiety, thank you — before there’s three little dots popping up on Harry’s side of the message thread, quickly replaced by a pair of text messages:

NASA called! said your ass is out of this world :D

congrats on the internship btw niall texted me xx

Louis smiles at the text, only a little disappointed that Niall’s gone and spilt his good news before he had the chance, but nothing’s going to spoil his good mood. He quickly forgets about Niall’s big mouth when there’s a third incoming text from Harry, an attached picture alongside of the caption that reads:

🚀 might not fly but it certainly gets up <33

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, not when they’ve been getting off together, and especially not since he’s seen Harry’s cock in the flesh, but it doesn’t stop Louis from coughing up his wine anyway. He’s not sure the sight of Harry’s cock will never not come as a surprise to him.

It’s a picture of just that: Harry’s clothed and hard cock, hand fisting over the prominent length. From the white tiles in the background of the picture, Louis can tell he’s in the gym. There’s a part of Louis’ brain that short circuits over the fact that Harry’s gotten himself hard over a picture of Louis. If anything, it just makes him feel even better, giddy over the fact that it’s this easy to get Harry worked up over him.

gonna show me a rocket launch ? x

only if the skies are clear. weather’s calling for a load of ASSteroids :) xx

He grins as he finally settles himself into the hot bath, unable to wipe the stupid expression on his face. He doesn’t even get to type out a reply fast enough before there’s another coming through.

up for creating the next big bang? <3

Louis shakes his head to himself, tipping his head back against the tiled wall and closing his eyes.

It’s all just for fun. It’s all he has to keep telling himself.

✰ ✰ ✰

For the most part, they’ve been able to hide their situation from their friends. Harry, to Louis’ complete surprise, doesn’t seem all too concerned with the idea of their friends picking up on their joke, however. They’ve always been close, it’s never been strange to see Harry and Louis tangled up on the couch together when they’re all watching a movie, or Louis leaning so close into Harry’s space when they’re all out at the bar that he’s almost in Harry’s lap. In fact, before the incident, it wasn’t unusual for Harry to send a cheeky smack to his arse in passing, but now, Harry’s not being very inconspicuous about it. By now, Louis has half a mind to believe that Harry’s hand is magnetically attracted (maybe even attached) to his arse.

The thing is, for the most part, things haven’t been that weird in front of their friends. It’s not like Harry’s taken his cock out and rubbed one out to the sight of Louis’ bum when they’re all hanging out. A smack to his arse, a lingering gaze, and a subtle smirk — sure. But Louis doesn’t think that warrants any curious glances he’s been receiving from their friends.

Though, to be fair, they’ve always gotten curious gazes from their friends. Zayn’s not a stranger to staring through the two of them when Louis’ tucked underneath Harry’s arm during a movie. It’s not unusual for Niall to smile at them when Harry offers Louis a bite of his dinner when something tastes really good. Louis barely blinks an eye anymore when Liam’s jokingly (or not) referring to them as a happy married couple. So, maybe the curious gazes aren’t something to be worried about.

After all, Louis is almost positive that Harry’s not going around telling their friends that he, a straight man, is sexting and teasing Louis in their alone time. It’s just not very likely.

“Uh, Louis?” Niall clears his throat through the chaos of Zayn and Liam arguing over whether artificial cherry flavouring sucks or not. When Louis looks up, Niall’s face is bright red and twisted in what looks to be a mix of confusion and approval. Louis frowns.

“What?” Louis asks, eyes darting down to the phone in Niall’s hand that seems to have the Irish lad’s full attention. It’s his phone, he notes, having lent it over so Niall could send notes from last week’s astronomy class to himself.

Niall looks torn between when he looks up, grabbing the attention of Zayn and Liam. “Uh,” he starts.

“Spit it out, Horan,” Liam raises an eyebrow. There’s a pause.

“Does Harry just casually send you dick pictures?” Niall finally asks, sounding like he regrets it the second the question it comes out of his mouth. He obviously doesn’t regret it enough, though, because he’s sliding Louis’ phone across the middle of the table, screen on full brightness and Harry’s cock on full display.

Louis’ eyes go wide, surging up in his seat and practically throwing himself across the table to grab his phone. When his hands slam down on the table, his phone is already snatched up by Zayn.

“This isn’t the only one?” Zayn laughs in horror as he swipes through the message thread, and Louis can’t believe they’re doing this in their campus dining hall. All Louis wanted was mac and cheese.

“Oh my God,” Louis chokes, covering his face with his hands.

“What the fuck is going on? Are you two shagging?” Liam gasps, leaning over to peer at Louis’ stolen phone. This is where he dies, Louis’ certain of it.

“No!”

Would be nice, Louis thinks. But that thought is just for himself. God knows he’ll never live it down if his friends think he has a crush on Harry.

Which — he doesn’t.

“Gonna bend you over the counter and fuck your tight pretty—” Zayn reads, and Louis tries to lunge himself over the table, knocking the condiments over.

“That’s enough!”

“Shit, you guys are really shagging,” Niall’s eyes are wide, darting between the three other boys.

“We’re not shagging!” Louis hisses. “It’s just– for laughs. For fun. Harry’s bloody straight, have you forgotten?”

Zayn raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Dying to see how my cock splits you open—”

Louis’ hands return to cover his face, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“That doesn’t sound very straight to me,” Zayn laughs.

“A hole’s a hole?” Niall tries in what Louis thinks is supposed to be in his favour. He’s never wanted to die more in his life.

“We just send each other pictures. And texts. And sometimes we— can we please change the subject?” Louis begs underneath his hands.

Unfortunately for Louis, nobody ever likes listening to him. Zayn’s still scrolling through his messages with Harry. Louis has to remind himself not to commit a murder in the middle of the dining hall.

“Sometimes you what? Fuck? Suck his dick? Does it not count if he puts the tip in?” Liam suggests, and wow, Louis didn’t expect to be burned by Liam. That one hurts.

Hypothetically, no. It does not count if it’s just the tip.

Maybe he should mention that to Harry.

“You guys are the worst,” Louis whines, throwing himself over the table once more to try and grab his phone from Zayn. He really doesn’t need three people seeing his arse. And definitely not the entirety of their campus dining hall.

“There’s no way he’s that big,” Niall scratches absently at his jaw. That’s what he’s concerned about, right.

Louis rubs a hand over his face, closing his eyes. “He’s that big,” he mutters, peeking through his fingers. Liam whistles.

“And you haven’t shagged?” Niall’s looking at him like he’s crazy.

Louis very much might be crazy. But if he mentions the amount of times Harry’s rubbed off on his arse or the amount of time Harry’s spent giving attention to his naked hole, Niall’s definitely going to think he’s crazy. He wants to save just a little bit of face.

“I mean, I like your arse too, but. You don’t see me sexting you,” Niall adds with a shrug.

Zayn raises an eyebrow, turning his head towards Niall with an amused grin. “Maybe we should talk about that.”

“We should not talk about that,” Louis grumbles, finally grabbing a hold of his phone and settling back into his seat with a defeated huff.

“Dunno. I think you guys should just fuck already. You’re already dating without the sex. It’s weird,” Niall says.

Louis frowns at that. They’re definitely not dating. He thinks he’d know if he was dating Harry. They’re friends, it’s what they’ve always been and what they’ll always be. Niall’s living in some sort of fantasy world. “I think you’re forgetting the part where he’s straight.”

Laughing, Zayn tips his chin towards the phone in Louis’ hand. “I think Harry’s forgetting the part where he’s straight.”

Louis flushes. “It’s for laughs.”

“I am having a laugh,” Zayn grins, and Louis just huffs, curling his fingers tighter around his phone. He hates his friends.

“I’m willing to bet you guys will be dating by the end of the month,” Niall elbows Louis. Louis glares at him, wondering where in the hell he went wrong to end up friends with these people. And screw Harry for having class and leaving him with these people.

“I’m willing to bet I’ll have new friends by the end of the month,” Louis grumbles.

Niall just grins, slamming down a twenty.

✰ ✰ ✰

Louis’ fringe is damp against his forehead, fingers grabbing at the sheets of Harry’s bed. What started as the two of them doing homework together and Harry editing his astronomy essay for him ended up with him laid flat on his front on Harry’s mattress, Harry’s cock sliding in between his cheeks. It’s not surprising that they end up like this anymore, but that still doesn’t mean Louis’ gotten any more used to it.

“God. Look how bloody tight you are,” Harry grunts, cool silver pressing against Louis’ skin as large hands spread his cheeks. He can feel his hole twitch both from the sudden shock of cold air and Harry’s undivided attention.

Harry groans, taking one hand away from his bum. It’s not until Louis feels the slap of Harry’s dick against his skin that he realizes Harry’s now holding his dick.

“Would split you open, huh? If I just pushed in right now,” Harry mumbles, teasing the head of his cock over Louis’ rim. Precome smears over Louis’ skin, almost making Louis feel like he’s getting wet.

“Can’t,” Louis mumbles, feigning boredom as he subtly rocks his hips into the sheets. “Not a cunt, remember?”

Harry laughs behind him, slapping his hard length against Louis’ hole once, twice, and then a third time before he catches the head of his cock on Louis’ rim. Louis’ breath hitches, fingers tightening when he can feel Harry teasingly press the very tip of the head inside for a second, hole fluttering around the slight intrusion.

It’s moments like these that Louis thinks, fuck, something’s going to happen. Harry’s actually going to fuck him. It should be a little scary — Harry’s never once gotten his fingers inside of him, not anything more than a curious tip of his middle finger up to the first knuckle or the tip of his thumb when he’s spreading Louis’ open and taking a good look at his hole. In no way should Louis be okay with the idea of Harry just shoving himself inside — he’s not a girl, and Harry absolutely can’t do anything without lube — but he has his moments, okay?

“Tighter than a cunt,” Harry muses, angling his cock so he’s nestled between Louis’ cheeks instead. “Bet you’d feel so hot,” he groans, thrusting his hips forward, ignoring the harsh drag of dry skin save for the smidge of smeared precome.

“You’d never know,” Louis reminds him, absently grabbing at the sheets.

“Never say never, kitten.” Louis can hear Harry’s smirk without even having to look behind him to see it. Kitten. Fuck. “C’mere,” Harry grunts after fucking his hips forward again, worming an arm in between Louis’ stomach and the bed before dragging Louis up off the mattress a bit.

He maneuvers Louis onto all fours, slapping the boy’s cock out of the way when his hand brushes against it, like it’s fucking useless. The thought makes Louis bite back a whine. He shouldn’t find this as hot as he does.

Louis’ too in his own thoughts to realize that Harry hasn’t moved his hips. It’s not until he’s lowering himself down onto his forearms and arching his back that he realizes that Harry’s cock isn’t even resting on him anymore. Before he can ask about it, though, there’s an uncapping sound and a cool liquid-like substance being smeared in between his cheeks and around his hole.

Fuck.

Harry slaps his cock between his cheeks again a second later, rubbing his cockhead in the mess of lube spread across Louis’ bum. “Look how fucking soaked you are,” he grunts, gripping Louis’ rear tightly and roughly pushing his cheek upwards.

“Shit,” Louis whimpers, pressing his face into the sheets. He doesn’t even care when he’s rocked face first into the mattress when Harry thrusts his cock against his arse, arms shaking to keep himself up and his back arched.

“Barely even need to touch you to have you like this,” Harry’s voice is smug as he speaks, slapping a palm against Louis’ cheek. With every thrust of his hips, the head of Harry’s cock tugs on his rim, pushing at it with the purpose of trying to push inside, and every part of Louis’ body is just begging for it, for Harry to get inside of him. “Don’t even have to get my cock inside.”

The ‘wish you would’ stays between Louis and his bitten lower lip.

It’s a lot to think about. This is all fun and games — even if the boys think they’re crazy or in love or something stupid. They’re not fucking. They’re just having a bit of fun with each other, and well, Louis isn’t going to complain about having attention on his ass. It’s nice to walk around their flat in nothing, it feels nice to tease Harry, and Louis really hasn’t had the time to go and get laid this semester so this is helping them both. Even if Harry hasn’t shoved it inside of him yet.

At least he’s got a dildo, right?

The thing is, as soon as Harry does fuck him, Louis can’t be too sure if it’ll still be a game or not. It’s no longer just fun and jokes at that point, it’s sex. Louis can handle a few rubs and stares and laugh it off the next day, but having Harry’s cock is a lot different, right?

Doesn’t make Louis want it any less, though.

He’s stopped from spiralling through his thoughts, though, when Harry’s rocking against him harder, heavy grunts leaving his mouth before he feels Harry coming all over his backside, painting his spine in ropes of come. It doesn’t take much more for Louis to come with a muffled and pathetic sob into the mattress, arms shaking underneath him.

It takes him a few moments to notice the hand carding through his hair afterwards, the dip in the bed off to his side. Soft circles are being rubbed into the base of his neck as Harry’s hand moves out of his hair, making Louis feel like he’s ready to pass out. “You okay?” Harry murmurs, likely because of the way Louis’ face is shoved into the sheets, cloth sticking to his damp cheeks.

Part of him doesn’t even want to move. He feels boneless. “I’m okay,” Louis mumbles, voice muffled from the cotton. He doesn’t need to look at Harry to see the smile spreading across his lips, can feel it in the way Harry’s touching him, can hear it in the way Harry chuckles a moment later. It makes his stomach twist with knots.

“Good,” Harry whispers, moving his hand to grasp at Louis’ shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Just gonna grab a flannel,” he tells him, and a few seconds later, Louis feels the bed dip again.

Once he hears the faucet running in the bathroom, Louis groans and fists the sheets, pressing his flushed face further into the sheets.

He’s screwed.

✰ ✰ ✰

“I think Niall wanted to go out tonight,” Louis’ breath hitches, blue eyes trained on Harry’s reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t think he’s listening if from nothing else but the way Harry’s eyes are casted down, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He’s looking at Louis’ arse. Typical.

Niall does want to go out tonight, he’s texted the groupchat three times already, insisting that it’s been much too long since they’ve all gone out together. Harry knows this, Louis knows he does. He was the first to respond to Niall, sending a thumbs up emoji in response.

So it doesn’t make sense why Harry’s still fucking naked, crowding him against the bathroom sink while Louis’ trying to get ready. Harry’s fingers are playing with the waistband of his underwear, and well – maybe he understands.

Harry’s focused on his panties.

“Were you planning on getting laid?” Harry asks, thumbing over the fabric.

It’s not something he wears all too often — but they’re comfortable and sexy, perfect for giving him confidence on a night out or lounging alone in his bedroom. He likes the way they hug his waist, likes how smooth the fabric feels on his skin, and he likes the way the lace trim looks around his thighs.

“This might surprise you but not every choice I make revolves around sex,” Louis says, fringe falling into his eyes as he looks at his reflection in the mirror.

It’s not exactly a lie. But Louis isn’t going to admit that, yeah, he was curious to see Harry’s reaction to these. He’s not disappointed, that’s for sure.

“I’ve never seen you wear these before,” Harry frowns.

“You’re not very good at paying attention to me,” Louis lies. Even with how entranced Harry is with his ass, that claim gets him to roll his eyes. They both know it’s not true, but Louis’ always been one for the dramatics.

“I would’ve definitely remembered if I saw you in these,” he grumbles while Louis tries not to flush at the bluntness. Weeks later and he’s still struggling to keep his cool around Harry.

He doesn’t doubt that, though. He knows that Harry’s right; if he had seen Louis in these, he wouldn’t have stopped bugging him to wear them again and again until they got to the point where all of Louis’ underwear is replaced with women’s undergarments.

“Are you getting ready or not?” Louis narrows his eyes.

Harry doesn’t answer right away, just hooks his thumbs under the waistband of the knickers. “I’m always ready,” he hums.

Louis frowns at his reflection. “You’re naked,” he deadpans. He’s hard, too, but when isn’t he?

Harry sighs, eyes flickering up to meet Louis’, pupils blown and braced by a flickered ring of jade. “You say that like it’s unusual,” he says, slowly dragging the fabric down his hips. With that, Louis has the feeling that they’re not going anywhere.

“Niall’s going to be upset,” Louis reminds him, but he doesn’t move to put a stop to this, doesn’t move to push Harry off of him and insist that he starts getting ready. He might possibly be a shit friend but it’s all Harry’s fault.

“Tell him I’m sick,” Harry shrugs, not bothering to think twice about lying to Niall. They’re both shit friends – Louis will figure out how to make it up to him eventually. Right now, though, Louis’ too distracted to think too much about Niall when Harry finally drops his knickers to the floor, the flimsy fabric pooling around his ankles. “Always so pretty for me,” Harry murmurs, large hands splaying over Louis’ arse, thumbs parting his cheeks.

Strong hands squeeze Louis’ cheeks, skin turning red underneath his hold. Louis breathes out heavily at the feeling, his own hands dropping to grab at the bathroom sink to brace himself. “Harry,” he swallows, but Harry doesn’t respond, too preoccupied with petting his thumb over Louis’ hole, a ghost of a touch.

“Would be so easy to get my fingers inside of you,” Harry says, turning his hand and rubbing his index and middle finger over the boy’s hole. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Would swallow my fingers right up,” Harry taunts.

It’s safer for Louis to keep quiet, far too certain that his voice would come off as a squeak. Harry seems content enough to keep the conversation going by himself, however, even as he’s wrapping a hand around himself and nudging his cockhead up between Louis’ cheeks. The drag of their skin is rough as Harry pushes himself further, and Louis gasps when Harry catches on his rim, but if nothing else, it just makes Louis’ skin feel like it's on fire.

“Could fuck you just like this. All bent over and perfect for me. Get to see how pretty you are, get to watch yourself in the mirror, hm?” Harry bites his lip, sliding his cock in between Louis’ cheeks, swollen and harder than Louis’ ever felt him. He tries not to press backwards against him, but he’s failing, leaning up on his toes in a subconscious attempt to get Harry inside.

“Can’t stop touching you now. What have you done to me?” Harry groans, rubbing the slick, precome-covered head of his cock over his hole. He doesn’t know if Harry’s talking about now in particular, or if he’s talking about in general. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was the latter, not with the way Harry’s been touching him lately. It seems that almost every moment they’re together, Harry’s grabbing some part of him, touching him as much as he can. They’ve always been like that to a degree, but Louis knows things are a lot different now.

“Hold yourself open for me, baby,” Harry murmurs, kissing over Louis’ shoulder. Louis shudders, but his hands move backwards to grab at his own bum, spreading himself and more or less presenting for Harry. It makes his own cock twitch, and he’s biting back a moan as he feels Harry rutting hard against him, thick cock sliding back and forth between his cheeks and knocking Louis into the counter.

“Harry,” Louis breathes, and Harry just grunts in response. It’s hot in the bathroom, filled with nothing but their moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

It’s only a few moments before Louis starts to notice Harry’s hips getting a little more erratic, and before he can say something, before he can do something stupid like give in and offer for Harry to fuck him, even if it’s just the bloody tip, Harry’s pulling back with a hand around his swollen cock. He doesn’t go too far, instead lets the tip nudge up against Louis’ entrance, daring to press inside. It only takes three strokes of his hand, the head of his cock riding up against the smaller boy’s hole before Harry’s coming with a moan, curses spilling from his lips and hot come spilling all over Louis.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to come after that, barely needing to get a hand on himself after the feeling of Harry’s come dripping from his hole. He whimpers into his orgasm, spilling over his own hand and making eye contact with Harry through the mirror. Harry’s watching him with blown green eyes, a rogue curl hanging between his eyes, and it takes everything in Louis not to just lose it.

Harry’s the first to pull away, letting out a breathless laugh as he sinks down onto the bathroom floor and landing on the fluffy white rug they’d bought on a trip to Ikea months ago. “Time for a nap,” Harry grins dazedly, tipping his head back against the cabinet of the bathroom counter, tipping his head up at Louis. He’s ridiculous, Louis thinks when he sneaks a glance down at the boy, but he can’t ignore the way his stomach flips when Harry grins up at him, face flushed from Louis.

“C’mere,” Harry huffs a little laugh, large hand suddenly wrapped around Louis’ wrist and tugging his arm gently, a juxtaposition to the way Harry’s hands had been pressing bruises into his skin only seconds earlier.

“There’s come all over me. M’not sitting down,” Louis huffs, shaking his head. Harry rolls his eyes at that, leaning over and reaching for a towel, not waiting a moment before he’s attempting to wipe Louis down. He’s an idiot, Louis knows that much, and he tries not to blush as he’s letting himself be pulled down next to Harry.

He ignores the sound of his phone chiming on the sink minutes later in favor of the sound of Harry’s slowed breathing.

When he wakes up an hour later, he finds himself curled up with Harry against the rug, practically drooling against Harry’s chest. It takes him a second to untangle himself from Harry, shaking Harry’s hands off of him as he stands up weakly, reaching for his phone. He frowns when he sees he has ten new messages from their group chat, another seven from Niall alone, the last three reading:

u fuckers suck !!!

ur really fuckin aren’t u

u owe me drinks . harry’s dick must be magic or smth good 4 u bro

Louis just huffs, narrowing his eyes down at Harry’s sleeping form.

✰ ✰ ✰

Fortunately enough for Louis, Niall forgives him. It didn’t take much — after their astronomy professor announced a project in class, agreeing to be Niall’s partner was enough for the Irish boy to forget all about his lacking presence at the club. Even if it was all Harry’s fault and Louis shouldn’t be taking any of the blame.

Maybe he’s a little bit to blame.

They’re working on it today because Niall has exams next week and for once, Louis’ schoolwork isn’t threatening to drown him, so it’s better off that they get it out of the way. Louis’ flat is their chosen destination since Niall’s flatmate has recently just decided that he’s holding band practice almost every other night. It makes sense why Niall’s headed out to the pub so often.

“I think there’s beer in the fridge if you want one. Harry just— oh my God,” Louis chokes, eyes wide when Harry appears in the hallway with a severe lack of clothing. It’s not a shock to see Harry naked, it never is anymore, and maybe he should expect it, really. But Louis’ at a loss of words, floundering for a way to get Harry out of plain sight. “Niall’s here,” he hisses, grabbing the couch pillow and chucking it at the man.

“Hey,” Harry frowns, fumbling to catch the pillow before it falls to the floor by his feet.

“You’re— this isn’t happening,” Louis runs a hand over his face, shaking his head.

“Missed you, too,” Harry grins, unashamed. Of course, it’s that moment when Niall’s stepping into the room, halting immediately when he catches sight of Harry in all his glory.

Niall lets out a surprised laugh, blue eyes wide as he looks at Harry. “Am I— do you guys have plans?” He raises his eyebrows, turning towards Louis.

“We do not have plans,” Louis says at the same time Harry says, “sort of.”

The look Louis sends him is murderous.

“Please go put on clothes,” Louis begs, covering his face with his hands. “This is ridiculous.”

“Hey. I don’t blame him. I’d walk around like that too if I was—” he gestures obscenely towards his crotch, shrugging his shoulders. As if Harry needs the ego boost. Harry just laughs, leaning against the door frame and looking like he’s about to respond to Niall, but Louis cuts him off.

“God— no, Niall. Harry— fuck. Please go put on clothes,” Louis repeats in a hiss, cheeks flaming. “Nobody needs to see that.”

“You wanted to see it last night,” Harry grins.

Niall chokes out a laugh, blue eyes wild as he looks back and forth between the two. “Woah.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Louis says calmly, closing his eyes.

It’s an empty threat, even if Louis’ highly considering it, and he can tell that Harry knows it. The bastard’s just standing there, grinning and still naked in all his glory. If nothing else, Louis might just be grateful that Harry hadn’t been wanking himself off.

The bar is just that low.

“You guys want some time alone? I can get started on the project on my own,” Niall grins. Louis just glares at him, five seconds from setting their whole flat on fire. He’s never going to live this down. He can hear Zayn and Liam laughing at him now, can see Harry’s stupid smirk when Niall’s retelling the story the next time they’re all together.

“No — fuck off,” Louis huffs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just put on some clothes,” he hisses towards Harry, who doesn’t even blink an eye, just smiles sweetly back at Louis. It takes everything in him not to glance downwards — not when Niall’s two feet away.

With a groan, Louis is grabbing Niall’s arm and forcibly drags him towards his bedroom. It’ll have to be his sanctuary for now, even if he knows he’s not going to be safe from Niall’s teasing.

At least he’ll be safe from Harry and his stupid monster cock.

It only takes Niall ten minutes before he’s leaning over his laptop, grabbing Louis’ attention with curious blue eyes and the blunt question: “So you’ve really never had that thing inside of you?”

It takes everything inside of Louis not to scream and kick Niall out.

✰ ✰ ✰

Bending over surfaces is becoming second nature to Louis — especially when Harry’s home.

“God,” Harry groans, fingertips bruising Louis’ hips as he bends him over the small kitchen island. Louis’ convinced he’s going to have bruises all over his ribs by the way Harry keeps rocking him into the corner of the counter, but with the way Harry’s groaning behind him and rocking his hard cock in between his cheeks, he can’t really complain. There’s a bit of a drag from the lack of lube, the only source of wetness smeared against his ass is from Harry’s precome. It’s not uncomfortable, and for some reason, Louis’ finding the roughness hot. Harry’s not oblivious to the fact that Louis likes it rough — he likes to tease Louis about it all the time, to the point where he’s whimpering and coming with a cry into the mattress underneath the man, Harry’s cock rubbing over him or his hands grabbing at every inch of Louis he can make purchase on.

It all happens way too fast.

One minute Louis is happily being rocked into the island counter, Harry grunting out heated words and cock grinding up between his cheeks, and the next minute, the full length of Harry’s cock is inside of him.

Louis’ jaw drops open in both shock and horror, legs ready to give out underneath him at the sudden intrusion. Harry’s gone frozen behind him, almost half of his cock still inside of Louis.

“Fucking— Lou,” Harry gasps when he seems like he’s finally broken out of it, stumbling over himself as he pulls back and drags his cock out of the smaller boy. Louis bites back a sob at the feeling, turning to press his face into the crook of his elbow in both slight humiliation and complete pain.

“It’s okay,” he finally says after he’s sure his voice isn’t going to come out in a squeak, squeezing his eyes shut and he breathes out through his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Harry rushes out, taking a step back. His hands are still firm on Louis’ hips, though, rubbing up and down Louis’ side in what feels like an attempt to soothe him, and Louis can feel the way Harry’s cock bumps up against his cheek. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Louis groans. He doesn’t want to hear it.

The only way to fix all of this is to just die, Louis thinks. He’s ready. There’s no way he’s looking Harry in the eye after this one.

At least he died on a cock, right?

Harry, although, has a different idea.

“Can I fuck you?” Harry asks, voice low near his ear. Louis doesn’t recall when Harry had practically draped himself across his back, when he’d gotten so close to his face, so it takes him by surprise.

“Huh,” Louis breathes out, still trying to get over the shock of this situation. In all honesty, he really shouldn’t be surprised any more. Hell, after the first day, after this all started and Harry adopted some sort of obsessive fixation on his best friends’ arse, he should’ve stopped being surprised.

“Can I—”

“I heard you the first time, Harry,” Louis blinks, feeling Harry’s hot breath on his cheek. There’s no way Harry’s serious. At least he wants to convince himself of that. After all, they do spend the majority of time together now with Harry dry humping his arse. There’s also the fact that Harry has begged to fuck him an uncountable number of times now. Really, the question shouldn’t surprise him at all. Whether this whole thing is still a joke or not, half of Harry’s dick was just up his bum.

“I won’t hurt you. I mean, unless you want it to hurt. Can open you up with my fingers, nice and slow. Gonna make it worth it,” Harry mumbles, running his hands down Louis’ side once again and pressing a kiss to the back of Louis’ neck.

There’s a lot to consider, or there should be a lot to consider. Louis shouldn’t be so ready to say yes, so ready to push his arse back against Harry and let him do whatever he pleases. Louis should consider the question and should wait to answer.

Of course, he’s not going to.

“Okay,” Louis breathes out shakily, resting the bridge of his nose against his forearm.

Harry’s hands linger on his hips like he’s not sure he’s heard Louis right. “Okay?” He repeats, curious.

“Yeah,” Louis nods his head, straightening up a bit. “Go for it.”

Harry grins against his shoulder like he’s won some sort of prize, squeezing his hips. “Gonna be worth it. Gonna be good. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had,” he promises, pulling away from Louis for a second, his hand ghosting over his thigh.

“Better be,” Louis mumbles back, though he can’t help but smile a little bit at Harry’s eagerness.

When Harry steps away to presumably grab lube, Louis takes the moment to take a deep breath in. His arsehole is still throbbing, his calves are burning from rocking up on the balls of his feet, and he’s still at a complete loss for words. How did he get here?

“Can’t get over how fucking hot you look, Lou,” Harry says when he’s returned, the sound of a bottle opening following his voice. It makes Louis’ stomach flip with anticipation.

He’s not regretting it, but he’s nervous in a way he hasn’t been nervous before. It doesn’t make sense; it’s not exactly like they’re doing something completely new — besides the fact that Harry’s going to be properly inside of him for the first time.

Besides the very obvious lack of penetration, they’ve been more intimate with each other than Louis’ been with his past boyfriends. The thought alone is pretty scary, especially when Harry’s in the middle of lubing up his fingers, getting ready to get inside of Louis.

Whatever this was, the teasing, the flirting, the rubbing, and the getting off, Louis knows that fucking is a whole different ball game. At least for them, two best friends who are also roommates and one of whom is supposedly straight. Whether or not Harry’s no longer straight, if he’s figured out something about himself or is just having a bit of harmless fun, Louis doesn’t know. What he does know, however, is there’s a potential for this to become really messy.

Even with that thought, all Louis can do is push his bum back further towards Harry, silently begging him to get on with the show.

“I know I said — what if I just, you know. Put it in?” Harry asks curiously, fingers teasing over Louis’ hole. Louis closes his eyes at the question, letting his head hang between his shoulders.

He knows he’s crazy when he says, “Please.” He’s going to regret it in the morning, probably going to regret it an hour from now, but. Half the damage was already done when Harry had slipped right inside, wasn’t it? And more than anything, Louis kind of really just wants Harry inside of him already.

He’s a walking contradiction at this point.

He hears Harry let out what sounds like a disbelieved laugh, and he feels Harry’s first two fingers press inside of him, just the tip of them hooking over his ring. It’s already a stretch, and for a split second, he’s almost regretting the no prep thing.

Louis takes a deep breath. “Just—”

“A lot of lube and I’ll go slowly. I’ll take care of you,” Harry promises as if he can read Louis’ mind, large hand sliding over his tense back, trying to soothe him. “You’re safe,” he adds, and Louis doesn’t have to think about it to know that Harry means it. As ridiculous as this whole thing is, Harry’s always been safe.

Folding his arms on the counter again, Louis rests his cheek against them and closes his eyes to the sound of Harry rustling about with the bottle of lube behind him. He can tell that Harry’s being generous with it, can hear the wet sound of Harry’s hand coating lube all over himself. It’s not long before he feels the cool press of the head of Harry’s cock against his entrance, Harry’s hand soothing over his side, fingers tickling over his ribcage.

“Gonna stand there all day?” Louis muses, peeking an eye open for a quick glance back at Harry. The playful smirk he gets in return is blinding, green eyes rolling as Harry’s hand gives a squeeze to his hip.

“Patience,” Harry reminds him lightly, but Louis doesn’t have to be patient for long since Harry’s easing the tip inside of him just moments later. Louis reminds himself to breathe, holding in a tiny whine at

the very evident stretch.

Harry’s big — he’s known that for a while. He’s seen the way Harry’s hand looks around himself, has seen the way Harry looks both soft and hard. He’s felt it on his ass — hell, he’s even felt it inside of him just minutes prior. He’s no stranger to Harry’s cock anymore. It doesn’t make it any less nerve racking, though.

But that doesn’t mean he wants Harry to go easy on him.

Harry’s cock tugs on his rim as he pushes inside, dragging even with the generous amount of lube Harry’s coated himself in. He can only imagine how obscene it looks, his hole taut and hungrily pulling Harry in, thighs shaking as Harry inches further and further inside. He feels a little self conscious for a second, but the pain is enough to distract him from feeling so on display, and he’s tilting his hips up, giving Harry an even clearer view of how his cock disappears inside of him. He’s dizzy with the pain, and God, he’s a little embarrassed with just how much it’s turning him on. Between the stretch and the countertop digging into his ribs, between Harry’s fingertips pressing bruises into his hip bones and his own teeth sinking into the skin of his forearms — he feels like he could come from the pain alone.

When Harry finally bottoms out, Louis doesn’t even allow himself a little time to adjust. “Hard,” Louis breathes out, eyes shut and fingers digging into his own biceps as he braces his weight against the counter top. He doesn’t have to look back to see the smirk on Harry’s lips at the request; he knows that Harry’s immediately pleased. “Just — make me take it. Please.”

He’s glad that Harry doesn’t have to be told twice after that, likely having even less self control than Louis is pretending he has.

It’s already rough like this, even with the silly amount of lube that Harry’s drowned them both in, excess dripping down the back of his thighs and likely onto the tiled floor. Louis can’t stop the moan that leaves his mouth when Harry drags his hips back only to slam back into him hard. Already the pace has Louis gasping for breath and rocking up against the corner of the counter with every thrust forward. Harry’s hands are all over his waist and hips, hot against Louis’ skin, making him feel faint with the touch.

“Jesus, you’re fucking tight,” Harry breathes out, sounding just as dizzy as Louis feels; he’s glad he’s not alone in it.

“Oh,” Louis gasps, jostling up against the counter with each thrust. He’s never going to be able to step foot in the kitchen without thinking of this – the sound of Harry’s heavy groans, his own uncontrollable panting and moaning, and their skin slapping together.

“Feel so perfect,” Harry grunts, one hand splayed over Louis’ lower back, the smaller boy arching up into it. “Never going to be able to fuck anyone else after this, huh?” Louis doesn’t know if he’s talking about himself or if he’s talking about Louis, but if it’s the latter, he doesn’t think Harry’s bluffing. As much as it terrifies him, Louis’ surely going to be ruined for anyone else after this. Harry was right when he told him he could fuck him harder, fuck him better than anyone else. He’s barely even started and it’s been proven true. It’s intense, and Harry’s relentless, his thick cock driving into him and stretching Louis obscenely around his thick girth.

“There — right there, uh,” Louis cries, pressing his face into the crook of his arm when Harry finds his prostate, his swollen and red rim fluttering around Harry’s length.

“So good for me, baby,” Harry whispers hotly, driving himself even deeper and faster than before, hyperfocused on hitting Louis’ prostate with every thrust.

Louis whimpers in response, struggling to breathe. He just lets his eyes flutter shut, eyelashes damp with tears already. Harry’s thrusts are slowing down, but the force of it doesn’t lessen any, and Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him, can feel his gaze watching where they’re connected, where Harry’s ruining him.

It makes his cock twitch, and Louis takes the risk to weasel his hand down between himself and the counter, hand working quickly over his small cock. A few strokes and harsh thrusts later, Louis is coming, shaking underneath Harry and whimpering out his name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. So, so perfect,” Harry groans, and he’s coming with a harsh snap of his hips, blanketing himself over Louis’ back, spreading warmth all over the smaller boy. He can feel the way Harry’s come pulses inside of him, the way Harry grinds his hips through his orgasm, cock rubbing deliciously over Louis’ prostate. If Louis wasn’t completely exhausted from this moment, it’d probably be enough to get him hard once again.

Harry pulls out after a minute, breathing heavily as he carefully drags his cock out of Louis. It makes Louis wince, but he stays still, too boneless to move from the counter. He knows he can’t stay here forever, and in reality, he needs to lay down, maybe have a nap, but for now he’s staying. That, and he’s sure if he moved, Harry’s come would start leaking out of him all over the place.

He can feel it start to drip down the back of his thighs, and he guesses that Harry sees it — doesn’t doubt that Harry hasn’t been staring at his hole the entire time — because he’s feeling Harry’s hand trace over his perineum.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, pushing two fingers back inside of the boy and ultimately pushing his come further inside. Louis can feel himself leaking even more when Harry drags his fingers out, wondering how the hell Harry even managed to come that much.

He’s sore already, feels like his hole’s been used and abused, bruises forming on his hips from both Harry’s fingers and the kitchen counter. As much as he hates to admit to it, it was worth it. Harry can fuck him better than he’s ever been fucked before.

He’s royally screwed.

✰ ✰ ✰

Just when Louis thinks there’s nothing left to learn about his best friend, he learns a lot more than he’d ever thought to know in a week. He’s not complaining about it, not when he’s so well fucked.

One, Harry really likes to take his time.

In fact, the term ‘quick’ does not seem to have any meaning to Harry Styles.

Two, Harry’s a cuddler after sex.

This doesn’t necessarily come as a surprise to Louis, and if he’s being honest, he’s more glad than anything else for this one. It’s nice to feel so close to Harry, especially afterwards. He wouldn’t tell a soul, but he’s beginning to get way too used to curling up against Harry’s side, cheek squished against Harry’s chest while the boy’s hand settles between his cheeks, fingers toying with Louis’ wet hole and pushing his dripping come back inside. Harry’s almost always the first one to initiate it, hooking his arms around Louis’ waist and playfully dragging him back any time he thinks about moving away — even if it’s just to piss or clean up.

Three, Harry doesn’t kiss.

They haven’t kissed. Louis’ not going to say that it bothers him — even if it does just the tiniest bit. It’s not like Harry has any reason to kiss him. For one, they’re just fooling around, something they could compare to a friends with benefits situation, and Harry’s definitely under no obligation to kiss him. Especially considering they’re friends and Harry doesn’t even date boys to begin with. Louis’ very much certain that he’s the first boy Harry’s done absolutely anything with. When they’re fucking, Harry’s much too preoccupied with getting his dick inside of Louis, or more recently, his mouth on him.

The first time had come to a complete surprise to Louis, actually. In the past, rimming had always been reserved for his boyfriends. It wasn’t a rule that Louis had set for himself, per say, but it was one of those things that just felt so intimate. After all, it was probably the closest that someone would ever get near his hole — at least before this happened. That, and there was the fact that Louis wasn’t expecting a random man from the club to start off their night with a man’s tongue in his ass.

It doesn’t bother him. Or at least it shouldn’t bother him.

But there’s also the fact that it’s getting a lot harder to pretend like he doesn’t mind. He’d never dream about initiating it, doesn’t think he has the guts for the rejection. He doesn’t think Harry would be a dick about it — he knows Harry isn’t going to snap or shove him off roughly, scream at him for kissing him. That’s not like him at all.

If nothing else, Harry would stop him right before with a gentle hand on the face or chest. If he let Louis kiss him, Louis could only imagine the way Harry would let him down easily.

Louis gets it, he does. They need some sort of boundary between them — especially considering the majority of the lines have been crossed.

Regardless, Louis can live without a few kisses. He doesn’t need to be kissed. He’s slept with friends before and he hasn’t ever made it weird, and Harry’s not going to be the exception.

He’s having too much fun with it anyway.

“Harry,” Louis breathes, cheek smushed up against the cool wet tile of the shower wall while Harry’s face is tucked against the back of his neck, water dripping down both their bodies. Harry’s rock hard behind him, tip of his cock grinding against the cleft of his arse while Harry’s pushing two lube-slick fingers past the tight resistance of his rim.

As often as Harry’s been inside of him recently, he still hasn’t gotten used to it. The first press of Harry’s fingers always takes him by surprise, fitting deep inside of the boy’s heat and leaving Louis begging for more constantly. As hard as Harry likes to fuck him, he’s always slow with opening him up. Louis never knows whether he wants to cry because Harry’s taking too long or because Harry’s really fucking good at taking him apart piece by piece, inch by inch.

With every slap to his ass, there’s always another kiss to his shoulder. Every time Harry presses Louis’ face into the mattress, leaving him shaking and breathing unevenly into the sheets, Harry’s making up for it with fingers carding through his hair, bringing him back down to Earth safely.

“Please,” Louis murmurs, rocking up on his toes and trying to nudge Harry’s fingers deeper inside. To his dismay, Harry’s pulling them out completely, though, and it takes everything inside of him not to cry.

“Always so demanding,” Harry mumbles, biting down on the cleft of Louis’ neck, cock heavy and stiff while it settles between Louis’ cheeks. “Going to fuck you when I feel like it,” he says, lips dragging over golden skin.

Louis huffs out at the words, pressing up against the cool tile. He feels empty, aching for Harry inside, and it’s only a little scary just how comfortable he’s gotten to that. How used he’s gotten to having Harry filling him up every chance he gets. It’s hard to think about anything besides Harry’s cock, especially when he can feel him hot and heavy, leaking against the small of his back. His hole throbs with just how much he wants it, a reminder of just how pathetic this whole situation is.

“C’mere,” Harry murmurs, a teasing smile on his face as he grabs at Louis’ hips, maneuvering him to face him. He’s hooking his hands underneath Louis’ bum then, and Louis wraps his thighs around Harry’s waist without second thought. They’re wet in the shower, and there’s a little part of Louis that doesn’t trust Harry enough not to drop him.

He makes it known. “If you drop me, I’m going to kill you,” Louis promises, huffing.

“When have I ever dropped you, baby?” Harry laughs. Louis thinks he could name a few times that they’ve ended up on the floor.

“I think you’re just trying to show off now,” he accuses, loosely hooking his arms around Harry’s neck, wrists crossing over each other belatedly. “Always at the bloody gym.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Harry says, taking a hand away and holding Louis up with just one as he lines his cock up against Louis’ entrance. Louis can’t even tell if he’s trying to show off at this point. Either way, he’s flushing red at how effortless it seems to Harry. He hates him.

“It’s a terrible thing. Could’ve avoided this whole fucking thing if you were lazy and hadn’t gone to the gym that day,” Louis rambles.

Harry looks up at him with a curious eyebrow raised, and Louis can’t exactly pinpoint the expression on the green eyed boy’s face. It fades within a second, though, just shaking his head as he shifts Louis up the wall slightly.

“I don’t think you’re complaining,” he says, pushing his hips forward and the slick crown of his cock breaching Louis’ hole, entering him.

Louis breathes out a little whine, fingers tangling in the damp hair at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Could be,” he refutes.

“You’re not,” Harry answers easily, pushing his cock in slowly and smoothly. “Been fucking you more than you’ve been fucked in ages,” he says, sliding the rest of his cock inside with one smooth thrust. The sudden fullness makes Louis a little dizzy, distracting him from their current conversation while Harry’s hands are coming back to hook Louis’ thighs over his forearms, folding him up against the wall and pressing in even deeper.

“Can’t tell if you’re trying to call me a whore,” Louis grumbles, taking in a shaky breath as he adjusts. Kicking his foot against Harry’s side, he’s mumbling a little, “Move, please.”

Harry snorts. “Didn’t say that. But if the shoe fits, Lou.” Louis scowls at that, water streaming over his face when he tips his head back just as Harry pulls back, thick length working its way back inside of him.

“If I had known you’d be this insufferable, I wouldn’t have let you stick it in,” Louis’ breath hitches, holding on tightly to Harry’s shoulders when Harry starts fucking him properly, hard and fast thrusts and thick cock nudging up against his prostate with every motion. He’s trying to argue, and it’s making it hard when he’s moaning every other word, contradicting himself in every breath.

Harry’s smirking at him, letting out a laugh. “Baby, I’m the best fuck you’re ever gonna get.”

Rolling his head back, Louis’ too lazy to disagree. There’s pleasure building in his lower half, moving up his spine, and if he’s being completely honest, Harry’s right. He’s the best fuck he’s ever going to get.

That’s what makes it all the scarier.

Louis manages to hold off for a few moments, but the pleasure building in his lower abdomen is getting harder to ignore, clenching around Harry with every harsh thrust.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Louis whimpers, tipping his head back against the tiles. His skull never hits the tiles, though, because Harry’s hand is cradling the back of his head.

He’s coming a few seconds later, clenching down on Harry’s cock and releasing all over their chests, and wailing out a moan, shaking as Harry continues to jostle him against the shower wall with every thrust.

“Never gonna get tired of seeing you like this,” Harry grunts, not letting up his thrusts. It’s overwhelming, Harry’s aiming for his prostate every time, and Louis’ already sensitive, weakly gasping with every hit.

The words, though, make him squirm. It makes him want to crawl out of Harry’s arms before they can manage to make anything worse. It means nothing, it’s not going to mean anything, and that’s what Louis needs to keep telling himself to refrain from ending up with some sort of world’s worst heartache.

He’s being a little dramatic, sure.

Harry’s coming a few seconds later after Louis’ clenched teasingly around him one last time, riding out his orgasm by fucking Louis shallowly. He breathes heavily, ducking his head down to kiss at Louis’ neck, and Louis just closes his eyes, letting his head continue to be cradled against the wet tiles.

It’s better that they don’t kiss anyway.

✰ ✰ ✰

So, maybe it’s obvious to everyone that Harry is the exception.

Except Louis. Because, well, in his defense, Harry’s still straight. He’s straight when he’s pressing Louis face first into the mattress, and he’s straight when he’s asking Louis if he could get his mouth on his hole. He’s straight when his cock is deep inside of him, too lazy to pull out straight away, and he’s still straight when he’s grumbling after Louis’ spent the day at the library to work on a lab report with his classmate, Alex, only to spend the next hour with his hands on Louis.

It doesn’t mean anything.

“You do know that straight guys usually don’t fuck boys, right?” Zayn says, leaning against the cafeteria table — why they’re always talking about Louis’ (embarrassing) sex life in their university cafeteria, he doesn’t know.

Louis stabs his pasta with his fork, glaring.

“When’s the last time Harry’s even looked at a girl?” Zayn adds, raising an eyebrow. Louis frowns at the question.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know. Or at least he doesn’t think it’s recent — after all, more often than not, they’re spending their nights inside with Harry grinding hard against him. He can’t remember the last time they went out, nor the last time Harry went out. He can’t even remember the last time Harry’s spent the night elsewhere.

Maybe his arse is just that good.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Zayn looks at him. “Bisexuals exist.”

Louis sighs, taking an annoyed bite of his pasta. “I’m aware,” he drawls. He’s looking at one right now — he’s not an idiot. He knows, yeah, Harry could be bisexual. He could be into men. Hell, maybe he’s even gay. He doesn’t know and he’s not about to ask. It’s none of his business even if Harry’s cock is in his business more nights than not.

“So,” Zayn starts, “I don’t think you should be using the straight argument anymore. Not when he’s balls deep inside of you every fucking night.”

“Now you just sound like you’re jealous,” Louis smiles.

The look he gets in response is enough to make Louis look back down at his pasta with a huff.

“When you two announce that you’re dating, you’re going to owe me thirty quid,” Zayn flicks a cucumber slice at him. “Plus another twenty quid if Harry’s the one to initiate it. And then I don’t want to ever hear you complain again.”

“That’s a lot to ask from me, Zaynie,” Louis pouts, kicking his foot across. “And when Harry ends up dating the pretty blonde girl from his environmental law class, you’ll be giving me fifty quid.”

“And a shoulder to cry on,” Zayn smiles, and Louis scowls. He’s not going to be upset — he’s ready for it, in fact. Sure, he’s going to be a little disappointed that he won’t be getting laid as regularly as he’d like, of course he will be. But he’s not going to cry because Harry’s gone and went on a date. He has absolutely no reason to be upset after all.

Harry’s not his boyfriend even if Zayn’s trying to convince him otherwise.

“Hey,” Niall grins, appearing before Louis can argue back and plopping down on the chair beside Zayn. The smile on his face is definitely not a great sign and neither is the way he’s looking straight at Louis. “Harry was saying that on average he probably gets off three times a day.” Louis’ cheeks immediately turn pink. “I just wanted to know how the fuck you’re still able to walk.”

Zayn cackles.

✰ ✰ ✰

“Who’re you texting?” Harry frowns, draping himself over Louis’ back. He’s naked, but that doesn’t surprise Louis anymore. It’s alarming to him when Harry’s not naked. He’s gotten much too used to the feeling of Harry’s cock against him, and more recently, inside of him.

“A friend,” Louis answers absently, thumbing out a quick reply. He can feel Harry’s frown against his shoulder.

“A friend?”

“A friend from lab class,” Louis clarifies.

Harry hums, fingers tracing above the waistband of his briefs, petting over Louis’ soft skin. It’s distracting — Louis doesn’t think that’s ever going to change — but he’s not too bothered about it.

“A friend from lab class,” Harry repeats, voice flat.

“That’s what I said,” Louis hums, raising an eyebrow as he keeps his gaze down on his phone.

Harry’s quiet for a moment, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder for the time being. “A friend from lab class named Alex?” He questions, and Louis has to refrain from eye rolling.

It is Alex, but Harry doesn’t need to know that. “No,” he lies, even if all Harry needs is to take a glance down at his message thread to see the name Alex at the top of his screen.

“I don’t like him,” Harry says bluntly.

Louis frowns. He’s not surprised with the information considering Harry’s previous reactions to the two of them spending the day together over lab work, but he doesn’t expect Harry to admit to it. “You’ve never even met him,” he points out.

Harry shrugs his shoulders like it matters. “I don’t like his vibes.”

Blinking, Louis frowns, turning his head towards Harry. “You’ve never met him,” he repeats again, confused on where these vibes are coming from.

Harry hesitates visibly before he speaks, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t like his vibes on Instagram. He’s all leather jackets and cigarettes and black and white photography,” he huffs.

Louis tilts his head, watching as Harry picks his head up off of his shoulder a second later. If he’s not mistaken, Harry’s Instagram was black and white for all of last year, but that doesn’t even matter. Harry cyber stalking his friend from lab is what matters at the moment.

He doesn’t really get to question it further though, because Harry’s hand slides down to cup over his crotch, and if that doesn’t get Louis’ attention, he doesn’t know what will.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t touch him there – he has, briefly in the past. Most of the time, though, he’s pushing Louis’ cock out of the way, forgetting that it’s even there unless he really wants Louis to come quick.

At first, Louis figured it was an easy way for Harry to ignore the fact that Louis was very much a boy – after all, Niall did say ‘a hole is a hole.’ It’s not that Louis thinks Harry’s having some sort of gay revelation — he’s smart enough to know it’s not like that. None of this has ever felt like Harry was just using him to his own advantage or anything like that. It’s just been fun — pure harmless fun for the both of them, in Louis’ opinion.

Okay, maybe not harmless.

Harry’s pressing his lips to Louis’ neck a second later, though, and that’s a lot more distracting than Harry’s hand on his cock. Louis’ hand wraps around his phone, wondering silently if he should question any of this.

He does. “What are you doing?”

Harry doesn’t answer, just hums against his neck as if Louis’ supposed to read his mind. “Do you have a lot of work to do later?” He’s asking a few seconds later, but Louis really can’t think about his schedule when Harry’s hand is grabbing him like this, palm flat as he rubs absently over his crotch.

It takes Louis a moment to answer, only remembering that he’d been asked a question when Harry’s hand gives him a little squeeze.

If Louis didn’t know Harry as well as he does, he would’ve definitely missed the nervous tic. The way Harry hesitates, the way he can’t really keep his eyes on one thing, the way he’s just a little too distracted than he normally is.

He huffs quietly to himself, locking his phone and tossing it to the side. “Stop that,” Louis whines, nudging Harry’s hand off of him before he’s turning around, facing an already pouty Harry. “Later,” he says, and Harry seems happy enough with the compromise.

“Are you asking if I’m busy later?” Louis frowns at him.

“I think that’s what I was asking, yeah,” Harry says.

He rolls his eyes. “Why? So you can spend the whole night shoving my skull into the bedframe?”

Harry pouts. “I said I was sorry about that,” he grumbles, reaching up to touch the back of Louis’ head. It makes Louis blush, and that’s really not fair.

“You seemed very sorry,” he deadpans.

“I’ll buy more pillows. Create, like, a barrier. Gotta keep your pretty head safe.”

“I’m fine, I was kidding,” Louis mumbles, grabbing lightly at Harry’s wrist and tugging his hand away and very pointedly ignoring the little butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Harry beats him to it.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go out tonight.”

The question takes him off guard for a second, and really, Louis’ not too sure why Harry’s making this into such a big deal. He’s not going to cry about it if Harry would rather go out for a drink tonight than stay inside and fuck Louis until his insides are rearranged. That is unless Harry would rather go out and rearrange somebody else’s insides. Then Louis might have a problem.

“Oh,” Louis raises an eyebrow curiously. “Do you want me to ask the boys what they’re up to? I think we sort of still owe Niall,” he frowns.

“No — I mean. Maybe next time?” Harry clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders. “I was thinking it could just be me and you this time.”

Louis blinks. There has to be something wrong with him, Louis’ convinced. “You’re asking to hang out,” he clarifies blankly. “Outside. With clothes on.”

Harry chews his lower lip, nodding his head slowly, like he’s not sure if it’s safe to admit it. He does, of course, and Louis’ insides are flipping around nervously. “Yeah. Um, like. Like that,” Harry drawls, cheeks tinted red. “I was sort of thinking, like. Dinner. On me, I mean. I want to buy you dinner,” he finally manages out.

And, well. Louis doesn’t know if he’d been expecting that. Dinner with Harry. Dinner on Harry, just the two of them. Alone. He’s going to murder Zayn if he’s reading into this the wrong way, and he’ll go even further and murder himself if he screws this all up, if Harry laughs at him for even implying that it’s a date between them.

He takes the chance.

“So, sort of like a date. You want to date me,” Louis accuses lightly, a smile on his face that he can only hope eases at least a little bit of Harry’s nerves. “Wine and dine me, maybe?”

Fortunately enough for Louis, Harry smiles at the little accusation, and he takes that as a good sign. As much as it is amusing, and as confused as Louis is right now with the sudden confession, he’s sort of convinced he’s dreaming. “I really want to kiss you, actually,” he says bluntly, and it’s Louis’ turn to feel nervous, cheeks turning pink at the claim.

He wants to answer, wants to reply back with something teasing Harry for being so nervous, for being absolutely ridiculous around him for absolutely no reason, but it’s not surprising when he doesn’t get the chance to. Harry kisses him then, his large hand cupping Louis’ cheek and pulling him in close, and Louis doesn’t want to be dramatic, but he’s almost certain that it’s the best kiss he’s ever had in his life. It’s a little frustrating, and Louis wants to be mad at him, wants to get angry that of course Harry has ruined him for everyone else, but. He can’t.

“Finally,” Louis breathes out when Harry’s pulling back, and he only realizes what he said when Harry’s staring back at him with a raise of an eyebrow.

“Finally?” Harry questions, letting out a little laugh. Louis doesn’t really know whether it’s better to explain himself, but he finds himself answering anyway.

“Something like that, yeah. Finally,” Louis bites the inside of his cheek, a pink flush covering his face as he peers up at the boy.

A slow grin spreads across the width of Harry’s face, and Louis regrets the way those words have his own cheeks reddening madly. “Ah,” Harry hums knowingly, a devilish smirk colouring over his face and large hands sliding over his waist. “You’ve got it for me,” he teases quietly, eyes lighting up.

Louis lets out a little laugh, cheeks pink as he looks at Harry with a little sheepish shrug. Yeah, it might just be the truth.

He should be upset that he owes Zayn fifty quid later, he should.

But Harry’s blinding smile is enough of a distraction for now.

✰ ✰ ✰

Dating Harry isn’t much different from sleeping with Harry.

He still wakes up with Harry’s cock hot and heavy against his bum, snug right between his cheeks as if he was subconsciously trying to get inside of Louis in his sleep. He still spends every Friday night hooked underneath Harry’s arm while Harry reads over his essay due the next Monday, with two cups of tea prepared by Harry and exactly just how Louis likes it. Harry still argues with Niall for the seat next to Louis when they’re out at the pub, as if it’s the only time he ever gets to sit next to Louis.

So, maybe Zayn was right. Maybe they’ve always been sort of dating. Maybe Harry’s not as straight as he always claimed the man to be.

Whatever it is, Louis doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because yeah, he lost fifty quid, but he won. He’s won because he has a very sweet and very funny boyfriend who’s insistent on having date night every Friday and driving Louis to his internship because ‘eight hours is too long to go without him, let him see him for the extra twenty minute drive, okay?’ He has a very silly boyfriend who thinks sending each other nudes is some sort of tradition of theirs now, that every day that goes by without a picture of Louis’ arse is another day he doesn’t want. He has a very mushy boyfriend who serenades him with Dean Martin when they’re making dinner in the kitchen and a very sappy boyfriend who doesn’t let Louis get up and leave for the bathroom when they’re out with the boys without a kiss ‘just in case’ and because ‘he’ll miss him.’ Harry doesn’t even mind the gagging noises they get from that, just grins when Louis gives in with a playful huff, green eyes sparkling with joy when Louis finally pulls away.

It’s funny, though, because this has always been them. They’ve always been this sort of sickly sweet pair of best friends, have always been able to finish each other’s thoughts, and have always opted to sit impossibly close to one another. Harry’s always paid attention to him, knows how Louis likes his tea, has wordlessly ran Louis a bath when he’s getting too stressed during exam weeks, and has always dragged him into too many cuddles that’s made Louis wish to never leave his arms again.

And, lucky for Louis, now they kiss.

So, really, he’s won. He has a very fit boyfriend who’s just as obsessed with his ass as he was months ago, hands permanently glued to Louis’ backside. One that’s still fixated on his arse, constantly rubbing his fingers over him as if he still isn’t able to fuck him.

It still drives Louis fucking crazy.

“Wouldn’t you rather be inside of me?” Louis grumbles, biting down on the inside of his cheek before he does something stupid like whine. Or beg. Harry’s been teasing him for what feels like hours, even if he knows it’s only been a few minutes, settled in between his legs, Louis’ thighs hooked over his shoulders.

“Believe it or not, this is actually one of my favourite things in the world,” Harry muses, mouth slick with spit and remnants of lube, and when looks up at Louis, he has to bite back a whine. He looks obscene — unruly curls framing his face, face flushed, and looking absolutely over the moon by being in between Louis’ legs. He doesn’t doubt that there’s truth behind Harry’s words, not when he looks like that.

“Well, one of my favourite things in the world is to have your cock,” Louis argues, kicking his heel against Harry’s back playfully.

“And one of my favourite things about you is how patient you are, baby,” Harry grins, but he’s slipping out from underneath Louis’ thighs anyway because Louis always gets what he wants, alright? He’s spoiled rotten when it comes to Harry.

Louis rolls his eyes, testing his luck anyway. “I’m very patient.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, reaching for the lube. “You’re so patient that you were only ten seconds away from throwing this at me rather than five seconds.”

Louis’ hand shifts away from the empty spot where the lube had been laying, returning to his side. “No,” he lies.

“You shouldn’t be saying anything. You trip over yourself when I even suggest wanting your cock,” Louis adds a second later with a huff, watching as Harry slicks himself up. Harry’s rolling his eyes at him, shaking his head as he resettles himself between Louis’ legs, lining himself up without a second thought. He starts pushing in, and it doesn’t take too much for them both to fall invested in the tight clench of Louis’ hole around his cock already.

Louis’ head falls back against the pillows, relaxing against the mattress and absently grabbing onto Harry’s biceps, keeping him close.

“You’re so pretty when you’re quiet,” Harry coos, cock pressed snuggly up against Louis’ prostate when he’s finally burrowed inside.

“I’m starting to think you don’t actually like me for me,” Louis sighs, content with the way Harry’s fingers curl around the inside of his thigh, keeping him close. He breathes out shakily, gripping his hand tighter on Harry’s bicep, hand barely able to wrap around his arm.

Harry rolls his eyes again, leaning down to press his lips to the corner of Louis’ mouth. “I think I like you a little too much for my own good,” he admits, and he doesn’t give Louis any time to react before he’s snapping his hips and thrusting hard and fast, the smaller boy going breathless beneath him.

If he could manage to think clearly for enough seconds to form a response, Louis’ certain that, yeah, he likes Harry a little too much for his own good. Him and his cock, but Harry knew about the latter already.

Louis feels like he’s seeing stars as Harry thrusts into him relentlessly, aiming for Louis’ prostate like it’s the only place his cock wants to be. Harry’s lips are on his only seconds later, kissing him just as hard as he’s fucking him, tongue wet against his own. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and every time Harry’s inside of him, Louis swears it’s the best sex he’s ever had.

He doesn’t mind if he says it every single time.

He moans into the kiss, the small noise erupting from the back of his throat, tight heat clenching down around Harry’s cock as the boy rocks into him. He’s not going to last long – has known that since the half hour Harry had spent in between his legs, working his tongue and fingers inside of Louis like it was his job. He’s beginning to think it is.

“Close, kitten? Gonna come for me, Lou?” Harry breathes hotly into Louis’ mouth. Louis arches up against him, soft noises spilling from his lips as his fingers press bruises into Harry’s biceps.

“Yeah. Yeah, gonna — gonna come for you,” Louis whines, voice gone soft and sweet before he’s coming and spilling all over their stomachs, clenching hotly around Harry’s cock, tight like a vice.

Harry’s thrusts start moving a little out of sync, and his breathing is getting heavier, words being forced out between gritted teeth. Louis’ eyelids flutter shut as he’s being rocked into, tipping his head up for another kiss while Harry chases his orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Always so perfect for me,” Harry grunts against his lips, and it only takes one, two, three more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of Louis, coming hard. He collapses down against Louis after he rides out his orgasm, grinding deep inside, heavy weight pressing Louis back into the mattress. They stay like that for a while, breathing heavily and letting Louis’ hand card his fingers through Harry’s tangled curls, the green-eyed boy’s face buried into his neck.

“You’re one of my favourite things in the world,” Harry murmurs against his skin a moment later, his fingers carding through Louis’ soft hair. The admission makes Louis blush, and he can’t really hide the smile on his face, instead opting to turn his head and lean back for a sweet kiss. He hopes it’s enough to say, you’re mine, too.

Some accidents aren’t too bad, Louis thinks.