based off of this prompt: Louis gives a teacher a blow job at his school, his parents find out and decide to ship him off to a conservative Private School far away. There he meets Harry, who is incredibly innocent and doesn’t really understand the concept of sex. Louis makes it his mission to pop Harry’s cherry, and turn him into a cock!slut. He falls for Harry in the process. (last part is optional.) Louis is 17 and Harry has just turned 15.
rating: mature [future chapters]
“Tell me why!” Louis shouts, shoving the half-empty bottle of whiskey into Liam’s face. “Tell me why you can’t drink, Liam! I looked it up, you can drink - just not a lot!”
“Get that out of my bloody face, Lou! I just don’t want to, alright? Why would I willingly destroy my liver - oi, shut up!” He calls at the boy’s moans and mockery. He raises his voice so he’s heard over their shouts. “Why would I willingly destroy my liver, and wake up feeling like shit, just so I can partake in antics I could easily do sober?” He asks, lifting an incredibly thick eyebrow before taking a sip of his Coke. Wanker.
“You know,” Zayn says, taking a swig from his bottle of vodka. “When you speak, you sound like, so smart.” He sips again and notices Liam’s appreciative smile. “But when you text, you sound like a fucking dumbass.”
The boys throw their heads back, laughing manically. Louis doesn’t get it (he’s never texted the lad) but the insulted look on Liam’s face is enough to make him lose it.
In the middle of their circle of chairs, the boy’s bonfire is tall and crackling, blowing fire ashes into their faces every time a breeze would blow past.
Liam had surprised Louis that afternoon with a new chair he’d found, unused and dusty in the back of the chorus room. It wasn’t very comfortable, and it didn’t match any of the others, but he put the effort into tying a cushion (a large pillow) onto it so he’d be comfortable, and Louis was grateful for it.
Though the boy couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment every time he’d look at Harry, whose long legs lay stretched in front of him, looking incredibly comfortable, while Louis sits nearly trembling from the cold in his own seat. If it hadn’t been for Liam’s damned kindness, they could be sharing Harry’s dubious amount of body heat right now.
“Louis, mate,” Zayn says, leaning forward. “You want my jumper?”
Louis’ unsure, partly because the incredible amount of cologne stuck to his letterman jacket will probably make him pass out, and partly because, well. He’d rather use, -
“Wait, no - use mine. I’m getting hot anyways.”
Louis’ eyes focus on Harry, whose face looks adorably eager to help, and he feels his heart race speed up dramatically. (He hadn’t been so pathetic since his first boyfriend freshman year, and he inwardly scolds himself for it. Pull it together, you twat.)
Zayn stops, one arm already out of his sweatshirt, before readjusting it with an indifferent shrug. Harry tugs the purple Jack Wills jumper over his head and leans sideways to toss it to him. “Thanks, mate.”
The jumper is incredibly soft and worn, patches of the letters have rubbed off, and the scent could only be described as Harry and warmth, if warmth were to have a smell. He settles in his seat, feeling oddly content, even though Harry isn’t sitting with him.
“You know what we should do boys?”
“Drink more often?” Zayn suggests, tilting his head back to swallow more rum. Louis looks at him sympathetically. He’d feel like absolute shit in the morning.
Niall shakes his head. “No. Play truth or dare!”
Harry snorts like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “Truth or dare? What are we, a bunch of 12 year old schoolgirls?”
“Funny - coming from a 15 year old schoolboy,” Niall retorts, sending him a challenging glare.
“Yeah, we should,” Louis says, attempting to ease the tension between the two, though it was nothing compared to the tension he felt building in his chest. Fifteen? Shit. “That sounds fun.”
Harry looks at him incredulously, then sighs. “Fine. Whatever.”
“I’ll go first,” says Niall, forgetting their tiff already. He turns to face Liam with a wide grin stretched on his face. “Liam: truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Liam replies like it’s obvious.
“I dare you, to run around the school buckin’ like a chicken,” he cackles madly at his own idea. Liam looks unimpressed. “Oh, and do it naked.”
The wavy haired boys jaw drops. “What! It’s cold -”
“You said you could have fun bein’ sober, I’m just going by what would be fun to do drunk,” Niall explains, shrugging apologetically though he obviously wasn’t sorry at all. “Unless you wanna back out.”
“Uhm, no.” Liam stands up immediately, stripping down to his underwear, ignoring the boy’s catcalls. Louis admires his stomach, thinking that maybe if he wasn’t such a good guy, he might be kind of hot.
“Everything, mate,” the Irish lad reminds him, though he gets no response.
Liam jogs so he’s near the edge of the trees, and from Louis’ spot near the fire, it looks like complete darkness beyond that point. It’s before he disappears completely that they see a pair of white boxers being flown towards them, landing about 10 feet away from their spots.
“I better here you clucking, mate!” Niall yells after him.
Antics like this continue for about an hour. Niall is forced to climb a tree, which is hard because he’s so drunk.
He laughs it off though, saying it was weak on Liam’s part. Zayn is dared to eat a mushroom by Harry, who’d run out of good ideas. Harry is dared to lick Niall’s foot, much to both of the boy’s dismay. (A drunken Louis finds himself thinking that he wouldn’t really mind licking Harry’s foot.)
Louis is dared by Zayn to do a cartwheel, which is nearly impossible since he can barely do one sober, so he has to keep doing it until he gets it right. Harry winces every time he’d hit the ground, groaning in frustration.
When he finally gets it right on the eighth try, he looks like he might be sick, and Harry tugs on his wrist so he falls into his lap. Louis looks at the boy, sure his eyes are giving away the complete and utter need he feels toward him. But instead of turning away, Harry smiles.
By the time Liam is forced to roll around in the dirt like a pig, the dares have shifted into very personal truths, leaving them with blushes they’d blame on the liquor.
‘Weirdest fantasy you’ve ever had?’
‘I was in the jungle…’
‘Have you ever come more than once in one go?’
‘Never.’ — ‘Shut the fuck up, Harry.’ Zayn snaps as the curly haired boy giggles. ‘You’ve never even gotten a blowjob.’
‘Oi! Shut up!’
‘Fun fact: Harry’s a virgin, never been fucked!’
Harry chucks a stick at him. ‘Shut the fuck up!’
‘Kiss, marry, fuck: Zayn, John Stamos, Cindy Lauper.’
‘Er…kill John Stamos, for sure. Fuck Cindy Lauper? And I guess I’d marry Zayn.’
‘Niall, I’m flattered.’
‘You have to fuck one teacher, whose it gonna be?’ Louis nearly chokes on his drink, the cool liquid burning his throat and leaving him sputtering for breath. Harry’s hand rests on his shoulder.
“Alright, mate?” He asks lowly.
“Yeah, I -” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the pain. “Went down the wrong pipe I guess.”
Harry nods, tilting his head up to the sky, humming like he’s debating his options. “Mrs. Flack,” he mutters suddenly. Louis tilts his head in confusion before he realizes he’d just answered the question. He stiffens at the name, feeling uncharacteristically jealous.
“Whose Mrs. Flack?” Louis asks immediately, looking at the boy’s.
“English teacher,” Zayn says. “A fit English teacher. She’s married though, since last summer.”
Niall laughs. “He’s been pining after her since year eight, ain’t that right Haz?” Harry nods, taking a swig of his drink. “Harry likes the older ladies. Not like he can ever get ‘em, though.”
Louis’ eyes narrow with suspicion and (mostly) annoyance.
“Yup,” Harry says shortly like he wants to drop the subject.
Louis runs his tongue over his teeth, ready to drop the subject as well, but the words come tumbling out of his mouth. “You like older women? Weird,” Harry looks at him through his fringe. “Weren’t we talking about my mates mum the other day? The one who wore leopard print and hit on me in his hot tub? You said cougars freaked you out and -”
Harry squeezes the bottom of his arm tightly, giving him a sharp glare. “No. I said - I said she freaked me out. I said that, that the way you described her was -”
“Whatever, I’m bored. My turn isn’t it?” Zayn asks, sliding forward in his seat. His eyes scan over them, like he’s picking his next victim. They land on Louis, and a slight grin pulls on his lips. “Lou. Truth or dare?”
Louis laughs, “With that creepy look in your eyes? Truth.”
“What’d you do to get your arse sent here?” Zayn asks instantly, like he’d been waiting to ask for a while (and they all have).
Louis panics. His breathing stops and stutters, like all the air has been sucked out of the woods (which is fucking impossible but shit he really must’ve forgotten how to breathe).
“I don’t…” He croaks, clearing his throat and sitting forward, wobbling slightly as he sets down his bottle. “I was kind of planning to tell you all…er, later.” (Plus if any of you are closeted homophobes, I’m too drunk and weak to defend myself.)
Liam shrugs, “Mate, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it if you’re not comfortable, ‘right?”
“Er, no! This is my truth, thank you very much,” the Bradford boy complains, bordering childish. “He said truth. Now he’s got to answer it.” Liam glares at him, mouthing for him to take it easy on the new lad. Zayn brushes it off. “Yeah, well pity got me nowhere during my last seven turns. Buff up, mate. We’re all friends here.”
Louis’ head juts back like he’s just smelled something rotten. Was Zayn really this rude or was it just a drunk thing?
“Fine.” Louis says, stuffing his hands into the pocket of Harry’s hoodie. “I gave my teacher a blowjob, got caught, then my mom sent me here ‘cause she was afraid I’d be shunned or something like that.”
When he looks up, he sees three wide pairs of eyes staring back at him.
Niall looks confused. “You gave…wait, your teacher -”
“Was a guy, yeah,” Louis finishes for the boy. No one speaks for a moment, their faces looking dead serious, lips pursed in a tight line. He’s expecting one of them to tell him to fuck off, tell him their Father’s a fucking pastor and he needs to leave, but instead he gets a different reaction.
It starts with Niall, a slightly choked sound making its way through his lips. Then Liam, whose face looks pained as he bites down on his bottom lip. And then Zayn, who finally gives in to the bubbling in his chest and lets out a loud, maybe-surprised laugh.
Zayn’s head is thrown back, practically howlin as he laughs. “You’re gay mate!” He exclaims, laughing harder than he’d ever heard him when Liam snorts, wiping tears from his eyes.
“I knew it, I knew it,” Niall wails, still cackling. “The moment I saw his ankles,” He giggles, “I - I knew,” He stops his sentence short, laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach in pain. Louis’ eyes are wide in confusion but even he’s starting to giggle. “Oh my God, I called that, didn’t I?”
Liam covers his face with both hands, possibly to try and hide his laughter out of guilt. “Are you guys…laughing at me, or?”
“No it’s just - we’ve been wondering since you’ve got here what the fuck you did.”
“We thought you like, egged someone’s house or stole money from your parents,” Niall says, his face a shade of red Louis’ never seen. “And turns out you gave your teacher a fucking blowjob.”
Liam is calm now, breathing slightly uneven but calm nonetheless. “Just unexpected is all. Sorry.”
“Oh…okay.” Louis is too nervous to move, remembering that Harry is still underneath him and hasn’t made a sound. The boys settle down, Niall telling Zayn he owed him ten bucks for that fucking psychic shit he pulled, and Liam is quickly tugging out his phone at the sound of his Blackberry chiming.
What the fuck just happened? Was that it?
Louis’ head turns shyly to look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Harry. His eyes are focused and staring at the ground, like the answers to all his questions are inside of a fucking shrub. “Are you not going to talk to me anymore, Harry?” He asks softly.
“What?” The younger boy asks sharply.
“When I came out in Doncaster nearly everyone I called a friend started ignoring me,” Harry’s eyebrows furrow, his hand moving to harshly pinch his thigh.
Louis’ yelps in pain, batting the boys hand away. “What -”
“Of course I’m still going to talk to you, you dolt,” Harry mutters, grabbing his hand and clumsily intertwining their fingers. “You’re my friend.”
Please don’t let this be a drunk thing, please don’t let this be a drunk thing.
It’s like that for a while, giggling and whispering and joking and, this is everything Louis wanted to happen tonight (well, not everything) but it’s getting late now and they’ve got to be heading back inside soon.
“One more, before we go?” Niall suggests. They all nod. “Hazza, truth or dare?”
From his position behind Louis, he can’t see the suspicious twinkle in Niall’s eyes, though Louis can, and he can’t tell if it’s good or bad. “Don’t be a puss. One dare before we leave, yeah?” Zayn says, like he’s trying to push him.
“I dare you to snog Louis,” the Irish boy says without missing a beat, nearly jumping out of his seat. Harry jaw hangs open, staring stupidly at the blonde whose face looks almost cartoonish with excitement. “Do it! And I want to see tongue and everything, no holding back.” (Niall had undeniable homosexual tendencies when he was drunk, sometimes when he was sober too.)
Louis watches the boy’s eyes, notices how they’re filled with the same panic he felt nearly fifteen minutes ago, and it makes him even more anxious. What if he really didn’t want to kiss him?
Louis waits a few silent moments before he does anything, standing up and kneeling down on top of him so he straddles Harry’s lap. Harry looks like he can hardly breathe, chest rising and falling irregularly.
“Don’t be nervous,” Louis says, putting his hands on Harry’s chest. “It’s just a kiss.”
The younger boy looks at him, only moving his eyes. They flicker across his face, to his lips, his eyes, and cheeks - before going back to his lips.
“Not nervous…” He mutters, unknowing of where to put his hands. Louis places them on his thighs, so his fingers dig in slightly when Louis grabs hold of his hair. It’s soft, so fucking soft, and Louis wants to be able to do this all the time. But this is a drunk thing. A drunk, truth or dare thing that he’s barely managing to get through despite the massive amount of liquor he’d consumed.
Louis takes advantage of the moment, surging forward to claim the boy’s soft, red lips in a kiss. Harry makes a surprised noise, eyes wide open before shutting slowly.
His hands move down to cup Harry’s cheeks, thumbs softly running over his bottom lip, pulling it slightly. Harry responds immediately, lips moving willingly under his. The moment his tongue prods at his closed lips he parts them, sighing heavily into his mouth.
Louis shifts so he sits up straighter, chest pressed against Harry’s, and tilts his head back for a better angle. He can’t even help himself at this point, separating their mouths and latching on to the pulse point under his jaw. Harry’s head rolls back and he stops himself from moaning, a tiny squeak escaping his lips as Louis bites down. He doesn’t think about the fact that it will probably (definitely) leave a bruise, and instead just laves at the spot like he’s never tasted something so delicious in his life (and really, he hadn’t). His hips are stuttering in an effort not to grind himself down against the younger boy’s thigh, and it’s actually becoming painful.
Harry’s hands slide from their place on his legs, to the warm purple fabric covering his chest, to the soft skin of his neck and into his hair, silky and frayed, sticking out at all directions. Louis reattaches their lips, delving his tongue into the others mouth so their tongues meet, and he’s sure it’s showing just how much he likes this and oh, fuck. They’re not alone, he remembers.
Louis pulls back, wiping the saliva off of Harry’s bottom lip with his thumb and gazing down into his green eyes, wishing he could just stay there and drown in them rather than having to face the boys behind him. Harry looks like he’s thinking along the same lines, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth nervously. Louis wished he could take a picture of him right then, paranoid that he’d forget this tomorrow come his hangover.
“Shit mate,” Zayn mutters finally from behind them. “Maybe that’s why you’ve never fucked a girl.”
Hi I’m kind of nervous about this chapter, only because the wait was so long and uhm, it’s really kind of shitty? But as a gift to make up for my lateness, I can promise lots of a smut coming up soon. :) Woop.