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.
It’s fourth period—the end of fourth period. Soon it’ll be fifth, which was sociology.
Who he sat next to.
His stomach flutters with some combination of nervousness and excitement, remembering how Harry’s cheeks had flushed at the mere sight of him that morning at breakfast. Louis was late, naturally, so it was a sickeningly short time before they were rushed their separate ways.
The minutes pass slowly and every time there’s enough silence, his mind will drift off to Harry. He thinks about how amazing it felt to kiss him, the feeling of his lips pressed against his neck. He thinks about the way his long fingers would dig into his hips, leaving marks he’d noticed that morning in the shower, officially giving him his one millionth round of butterflies. He remembers his face, when he came, and the wonderful sounds he’d made.
Worst of all, he remembers the way Harry pulled him in for a sweet, short kiss last night before parting their separate ways, reminding him that Harry was only fifteen, and that had been special to him. Every time he thinks about it, he gets this overwhelming feeling in his chest, like his heart just did a backflip (or twenty).
Louis’ currently sat in his literature class and honestly, he’s got no fucking clue what he’s even doing there. He hates the ridiculous amount of homework, the pretentious students he’s surrounded by, and most of all, he hates the professor, who seems to think he knows everything and, if you ask how to spell characterize, will give you a judgemental look for the next twenty five minutes. He’s feeling very uneasy when suddenly a short, blonde haired women - who everyone referred to as Ms. F - comes galloping into his classroom, asking for an extra piece of chalk. Louis blinks dumbly as the two boys behind him comment on her ass. Of course, he thinks, it’s her.
The bell rings and he gets up from his seat, helplessly stuck behind as every student in the class simultaneously runs to the door. Not that he can see it for himself, but Louis’ currently got his bitch face on, and it’s aimed pointedly at the blonde woman in front of him.
“Oi, Ms. Flack. How’s it going?” A boy (Peter, he thinks he’s called) with shit brown hair and an unfortunate complexion calls from behind him.
The woman rolls her eyes. “Murs,” she sighs. The boy gives her a look, like as if to say ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’ before she speaks again. “Mrs. Murs. I got married, Peter. I’m not Ms. Flack anymore!”
“You’ll always be Ms. Flack to me,” he says with a wink. Louis’ not sure if he’s being funny or if that’s his poor attempt at hitting on her, but either way he shudders and pushes his way out of the classroom.
“Move, people—fuck. This is a hallway!”
He’s got no patience at this point, he’s decided. It’s been nearly four hours since he’d seen Harry’s face, which was much, much too long.
“Lou!” He thinks he hears somewhere in the distance, but he continues to walk anyways, turning for the staircase. “Louis!” He can hear it clearer this time, as there are less people crowded around him. And oh, God, it’s Niall. He stops reluctantly, looking over his shoulder.
“Hi, Niall,” he regards the Irish lad softly.
The boy waves as he jogs up the last few steps, walking beside him as Louis continues. “Hey,” he breathes.
“Where you headed?”
“Sociology,” he says simply.
Niall makes a face. “Ugh,” the younger lad moans. “You’ve got Harry with you in that class, right?”
“Yup.” Louis replies casually.
“Cool,” Niall says uninterestedly. “Guess what just happened?”
Louis thinks. “Hm…”
“I’ve got a date to prom!” He blurts before Louis has a chance to guess. A startled giggle falls from the older boy’s lips.
“Really? With who?”
Niall beams, tugging on the straps of his backpack. “Cher.”
“Yup—Cher. Y’know…brown hair, big eyes, really short,”
“I know who Cher is,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think she likes me all that much.”
Niall scoffs, batting at his arm lightly. “Of course she likes you, everyone likes you!” Louis shakes his head, smiling (and feeling slightly guilty for trying to avoid him). “So, who are you taking?”
“Er—I’ve got no idea? It’s November, Niall. I barely know anyone at this school anyways.”
“I could find you someone?” Niall suggests, eyebrows raised.
Louis gives a disapproving glance towards the shorter boy. “No, thanks.”
“You should go with Harry,” Niall laughs, like it’s funny, not realizing the incredibly damaging effect he was having on his heart. “You’re like, perfect for eachother.”
A dark blush creeps up Louis’ neck. “Actually, you, the more I think about it—” he stops his muttering as a long bell sounds.
“I’d stay and talk Niall but I’ve got class.”
The blonde nods, heading in the opposite direction. Niall was late to nearly every class, he’d noticed - now he knew why.
Everyone is still chatting when he walks into sociology. The teacher is sat at his wide, dented metal desk, writing madly on a piece of paper and frequently adjusting his glasses.
Louis spots Harry in the back of the room, waiting, looking at him anxiously.
“Hi.” Louis says when he reaches their table, sitting down next to the curly haired boy.
“Hi.” Harry replies softly, suppressed smile and deep blush in place.
Harry shrugs. “Eh. Better now.”
For a few days they pretend like it didn’t happen. Besides Harry’s insistent blushing and occasional sputtering every time Louis would touch him, it was sort of like the incident had been forgotten.
Just a blowjob between two horny friends.
Except neither of them was that dense. It was obviously more than that.
Wednesday night when they’re walking back into school, Harry stops the older boy before he can get inside. “Why are you ignoring me?” He asks in a hushed voice.
“Why are you acting like I don’t exist? Were you not there, did it not even—mean anything to you?” He’s still whispering, like he’s scared someone’s listening around the corner.
“Well, I mean…I just thought -” Louis sighs, looking up. “I just didn’t think you wanted to…move so fast.”
Harry frowns. “Do you?” The shorter boy looks at him with a puzzled expression. “Do you want to move faster?”
“Honestly,” the younger boy reminds him.
“Well, yeah,” he says finally. Harry holds his breath, chest tightening painfully. “I know you’re younger than me…I know you—I know you’re a virgin. And actually, this is all happening so quickly. We just met like, what, a month ago?” He’s rambling now and now Harry’s got that worried look on his face. “That’s not what I’m getting at though! I’m just—isn’t it weird? I’ve only known you for a month. And I already want you so much.”
He doesn’t say anything else, too distracted by Harry’s eyes. Wide and green and innocent. The younger boy leans in, kissing him with a surprising boost of confidence. “I know I can’t really offer you much. In the way you want. But…I’m willing to learn if you’re willing to teach me.”
Harry’s scared, he knows. He’s still young (and so is Louis, but that’s not the point), he’s confused (about everything), and he’s probably feeling things he hasn’t felt before. Things he has no fucking clue how to deal with.
Louis knows any smart person would run from this. Should run from this. Let Harry learn on his own (no one fucked Louis into realizing his sexuality), but he can’t. He doesn’t want to.
“Okay,” the older boy whispers. “I’ll teach you.”
“Hi,” a breathless voice says. It’s Friday (decidedly his favorite day of the week) and Louis’ got Harry pinned against his bedroom wall, sucking a fresh new mark onto his collarbone.
“Hi,” Louis sighs, pressing their lips together in a messy kiss. He tastes like strawberries and coffee and he takes advantage of his control, licking into his mouth roughly. He grabs hold of the younger boys slim hips, pushing them roughly against his own and relishing in the delicious moan that escapes from high in his throat.
Louis seems to have more control over the situation, as Harry seems somewhat lost in a daze.
“Lift your arms,” Louis whispers, backing away slightly to tug off the younger boy’s blue polo t-shirt. He runs his hands up the smooth length of Harry’s torso, tweaking a nipple as he clamps his bottom lip between his teeth. Harry whines and it sends chills down Louis’ spine, sends his heart spinning like a fucking window fan.
“You like that?” Louis asks, breathing heavily and sounding long gone. Harry nods. “What else do you like?” Harry says nothing in an attempt to regain his breath. Louis repeats himself, this time twisting his nipple too hard to be pleasurable. “What else do you like, Harry?”
“Y-your lips,” Harry says in a shaky voice, gladly accepting them when Louis clutches his face.
Louis smirks into their kiss, pulls back again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And…your tongue…” Harry continues, dark eyes looking down at him. Louis smiles, looking ridiculously attractive. He leans forward, licking up the younger boy’s neck and nibbling on his earlobe when he reaches the top. “Like that?” Harry nods, fingers tightening on Louis lower back, drifting just above his ass (and Jesus, it’s not like he’d mind a nice groping, but whatever).
“Where else?” Louis asks, hands drifting down the boy’s stomach.
“Anywhere,” Harry says honestly.
Louis’ head feels foggy with lust and need and want and just Harry, really. “Okay.”
He gets on his knees, unfastening the boy’s belt and unbuttoning his trousers in record time considering his fingers felt like they were vibrating with excitement. When he yanks down the tight material of Harry’s jeans, the boy above him lets his head drop back against the wall, sighing in relief.
He leans forward, fingering the elastic material of his boxers, breathing him in. He bites his lip when he looks up at Harry, whose leaning against the wall with hooded green eyes and heavily tinted cheeks. “Do you like my tongue on your cock?”
Harry groans a “yes”, fisting a hand in the smaller boys hair, pushing him closer to his groin without meaning to.
Louis tugs hard on his boxers, erection springing free in front of his face, bumping into his nose. He giggles and stops himself quickly, trying not to ruin the moment. His fingers wrap around the base of Harry’s cock and immediately suck the head into his mouth, purposely shaping his lips around him so they looked plump, uncannily like a porn star.
Harry fights the urge to yell out how much he likes this, clapping a hand over his mouth instead. He hadn’t expected him to do that all so quickly, he’d just been mentally preparing himself. Louis releases the younger boy from his mouth with a deliciously sloppy noise and tilts his head to the side.
Harry watches him with a concentrated look before Louis shuffles on his knees so he’s closer. He licks a long stripe from the base of his cock to the head, flicking the tip of it with his tongue and once again sucking it into his mouth. “Oh my god,” Harry breathes, fingers untangling themselves from Louis’ hair and clutching at him desperately when Louis fits even more of him in his mouth.
The boy on his knees moans as his mouth stretches even wider, enjoying the ache in his jaw. His fist starts pumping a rhythm to match the desperate thrusts of Harry’s hips, lowering himself until he can feel his nose brush against the soft curls at the base of his cock.
Harry is moaning so loud you’d think he was in pain, and though it should probably alarm Louis (someone might actually hear them), he’s only more turned on as he imagines how vocal and amazing he’d be to fuck. He drags his lips back up his length, pulling away completely.
He places a short kiss at the tip, along the side, to the tight skin underneath, sucking pointedly on each side until Harry was practically scratching at the wall, desperate for release.
Louis’ strokes slow down dramatically, knowing perfectly well the effect he was having. “Are you going to come in my mouth, Harry?” He asks, eyes big with faux innocence. “Please?” His slender fingers tighten around his length, making each stroke more meaningful, sucking only the top of him into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck—yes, yes, yes,” his hips are rocking forward, hands tangled in Louis’ hair as he opens his mouth, ready for Harry when he freezes completely, stomach sinking in, and a low moan instead of an exhale - he comes, white, hot liquid shooting into Louis waiting mouth.
Harry lets out a strangled whine, fingers bent oddly and then spread flat against the wall like a cat bearing its claws. He rests for a moment, just breathing, while Louis swallows and admires him from his spot on the floor. Suddenly, Harry reaches down and pulls up his pants and boxers, leaving his belt undone, and for a terrifying moment, Louis thinks he’s going to leave.
Instead, he tugs on Louis’ wrist and leads him to his bed, sitting down and holding him by the hips. “C’mere,” Harry mutters.
Louis sighs in relief, kneeling down on the mattress on top of him, straddling his thighs. Harry’s breathing heavily; the only thing keeping him propped up is the wall behind him.
“Wanna make you feel good, too,” Harry whispers, ghosting his hands lightly over Louis’ thighs. “I just…I’m afraid I’ll be horrible.”
Louis stops breathing for a moment. “Harry, you could sit here rubbing my bloody elbow for an hour and I’d still end up turned on,” he says seriously, pulling Harry in to kiss him once again.
Harry’s chuckling as he unzips his trousers, hands moving over his hips. He seems to be stalling, his hands just playing with the waistband. “Er, Louis?” He asks quietly.
The curly haired boy seems hesitant to speak. “It’s just…your pants. They’re too tight. I can’t -”
“Oh, right,” Louis says in a small (slightly frantic) voice. He scoots backwards, pushing the material down the moment his feet hit the ground. He realizes, as he’s hopping on one leg, helplessly pulling at his Chinos, that this is the first time Harry’s seeing him like this.
He moves back on top of Harry, leaning back on his heels. “All good.”
Harry smiles, tilting his head down. His fingers move underneath the waist of his boxers, disappearing for a moment and brushing against ticklish skin, before lightly wrapping themselves around Louis’ length.
“Now just, y’know, move. Your hand.”
“Oh thanks,” Harry replies sarcastically, moving his fingers awkwardly. Louis bites his lip, biting back an order to move faster. Harry senses it, though, huffing in a frustrated way. He removes his hand completely, gripping either side of Louis Calvin Klein’s and yanking them down to his knees. Harry’s eyes widen once he’s fully exposed, reaching out again to wrap sticky fingers around his cock.
“You’re big, too,” he comments, meeting Louis’ eyes, his pupils blown.
Louis laughs, but it’s desperate. “Not as big as you.”
“Still,” Harry places his palm over the head of his cock, rubbing the precome so it covers his hand. Louis moans, incredibly sensitive, and grips him firmly this time, pumping up and down with a concentrated look on his face. “Ah, shit,” Louis holds on to the boy’s shoulders instantly, leaning in to kiss him roughly. “Faster, please…”
Harry obeys and Louis whines into his shoulder, biting down harshly, hips rocking forward so hard the mattress squeaks beneath them. “Fucking - ah, you’re fingers, so good,” he’s stuttering every time he tries to speak, every word interrupted by his heavy panting.
“Am I doing good?” Harry asks, flicking a thumb over the head of his cock.
“Uhm—what does it look like, Harry?” Louis shoots back, hips thrusting into his hand.
Harry laughs lightly, though he’s still slightly out of breath from the sight of Louis like this.
“Kiss me, please,” Louis begs, whining in appreciation when Harry surges forward, connecting their lips and flicking his wrist. “Shit—what the fuck. Do you give handjobs often or something?” Louis asks between breaths.
“Just doing what I do to get myself off,” Harry replies simply.
Well shit, Louis thinks, the image of Harry getting himself off having a bigger effect on Louis than he could’ve imagined. The pit of his stomach feels tight, an incredible surge of pleasure running through his entire body. His hips jerk forward and he comes, surprising both of them.
It mostly covers Harry’s chest, though there are little specks of it on his neck and chin and Louis wants to lick him clean, but before he has the thought to move, Harry lazily wipes it off with his his hand, dragging his fingers clumsily across his bedspread.
“Thanks.” Louis says dryly, amusement hidden in his tone.
“I’m the one who’s all sticky now, prat. Deal with it.” Harry smirks, a challenge twinkling in his eye.
Louis grabs both of his wrists and presses them against the wall weakly, leaning forward to kiss Harry’s nose. “Well, sweetie. I’d say get used to it, too. This whole me giving you head thing can’t be one sided forever.”
THIS TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. Arrgh. I’m so sorry, honestly.
So like ~I hope you all enjoyed~. Things are speeding up pretty quickly from this point. Five chapters of waiting for smut is actually a pretty long time in my eyes so thanks for waiting. If you noticed I put in some little details/kinks on Louis’ part. That’ll show up in the future more~~~ :)