theme
home is wherever i’m with you; chapter 7.

[prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6]

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

Harry is sprawled across Louis’ bed on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Louis had been in the shower for over 30 minutes, and he’s past bored by now, dangerously bordering impatient.

“Just wait here,” he’d said. “I’ll be out in a minute.” 

It’s not like Harry had believed him in the first place, but he’s still annoyed.

The sad thing about the dorms at Fulneck was that they offered nothing beneficial for passing the time. They were small and cramped, with poor lighting (unless you were lucky enough to get a window that wasn’t blocked by a fucking forest), no televisions (unless you brought one yourself, and even then it could only be at a certain volume), and no computers. There were no rules against computers. It was just, like, good luck installing that - the wifi is absolute shit, anyways.

Harry sits up and shivers violently, the thin cotton t-shirt he’s got on not nearly warm enough in the cold weather. He finds his jumper crumpled in the corner, and picks it up with his thumb and forefinger, shaking off the dust that’d gathered.

Warmer now, he stuffs his hands into the pockets and peers curiously around the room. It’s too small for Louis to hide anything, really, but he goes looking for something interesting anyways. He’s got several cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of his room (probably just more shit he’d been too lazy to unpack), a mountain of clothes bursting out of his closet, and his school bag sprawled carelessly on his floor.

Seriously, why did he associate with these types of people? He was nearly as bad as Niall.

An insistent buzzing noise sounds from Louis’ side table and Harry follows it, digging through the small cluttered drawer until he spots his BlackBerry. 

Who even keeps their bloody cellphone in their side table,’ Harry mutters to himself.

It’s Liam, his contact ID smiling back at him, a goofy picture taken with Niall hovering in the background. He answers it.

“Hello?”

“Hi—Harry?” Liam asks, confused.

“Obviously,” Harry answers, plopping back down on the bed.

“Where’s Louis?” He questions. Harry thinks he can hear Niall complaining about being hungry in the background.

“Decided to swim the English Channel, he’ll be back in a week or so.”

Liam sighs, and Harry thinks he can hear him rolling his eyes. “Seriously.”

“Shower. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Wait, at least tell him why!” Liam says as Harry nearly presses End Call. “I’m almost failing and Louis promised he’d tutor me in maths. Big test tomorrow, and I can guarantee he forgot. Just remind him, yeah? I’m like, desperate.”

Harry clears his throat. When in the world had Louis promised to tutor Liam on a Sunday? Sunday was their day (well, not officially, but it was the only day of the week they could spend entirely together, just snuggling and fooling around and not having to do a fucking thing.)

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” He mumbles, hanging up and tossing the phone to the side. He can hear Louis singing in the shower, smiles despite himself (he’s annoyed, but Louis’ singing Build Me Up Buttercup, so how can he stay all that mad?).

Bored out of his mind, his eyes flicker back to Louis’ cell phone. He picks it up and glances nervously back at the bathroom door, paranoid that Louis will be standing there, an accusing look on his face. 

There’s nothing interesting, really, besides a few naughty texts that Harry had built up the courage to send a few days ago in class. Blushing his way past his own, he finds several from the boys. 

meet you in 5 

Did you do ur physics homework??

im so hungry I could eat a fucking horse!!!

And then, they became different. 

Miss you so much!!!!!

Not the same without you here mate

When are we gonna be able to meet up again? 

The texts sound all too familiar and they churn and twist at his stomach uncomfortably. He checks the date, annoyed. He’d sent him this barely a week ago, all from someone named Stan.

He leaves his inbox, skimming through his picture gallery instead. Next to Harry, who Louis has taken countless pictures of sleeping in various places, Stan takes up a large chunk of all his photos. He knows this because each picture is labeled with some dumb caption like ‘me n stan!!’ or ‘stan and the boys’, because you know, Louis might forget who they are. But anyways - they’re useful to Harry, so he appreciates it. Sort of.

Stan is kind of short, like Louis, with mousy brown hair and a wide smile. He’s a little chubby, which is surprising to Harry. He didn’t think Louis was into boys like that.

He looks at every single picture, until he’s nearing the end, and suddenly his heart stops. He’s moving so quickly he has to backtrack a bit. The picture he finds is blurry and unfocused, nearly unrecognizable to Harry, but it’s clear to him exactly what it is.

It’s Louis and a boy (who most definitely is neither him or Stan). 

Harry can actually feel something within him snap, jealousy stirring madly in his chest. Louis had said he’d been with someone before, so why was the reality of it hitting him so hard? The picture is labeled ‘ethan and me’ with like seven exclamation points and smiley faces, and it makes Harry nauseous. Who the fuck was Ethan and why did they look so fucking happy together?

Harry gets up, chucking his cell phone back into the side drawer. He starts pacing, like, actual pacing back and forth, trying to clear his mind. The picture was old. It meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. (So why is it still on his phone?)

The shower stops and Harry pauses, turning awkwardly. Maybe he should leave, he thinks, but it’s too late because Louis is opening the bathroom door and Harry’s just left standing there with this stupid look on his face.

Louis looks like heaven. Everything about him is just tan and smooth and toned and Harry wants to devour him but he doesn’t even know how to do that. The older boy smiles at him like he’s got no clue what he’s doing to Harry’s insides.

Harry can’t smile back, all he can do is move forward and push him against the cool white wall, press a firm kiss against his warm lips. Louis grips onto his arms, kissing him back fervently, and soon the kiss is turning desperate. Harry moves his hands down the smaller boys stomach and tugs on the knot of his towel so it falls around their feet.

The older boy presses against him when the cool air hits his wet skin and Harry gladly wraps both arms around his small waist, pulling him closer, brushing his fingers lightly up his spine.

“God,” he groans in a gravelly tone. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” Louis whispers into his neck when the younger boy grabs hold of his cock, pumping him lazily, with little drive behind it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

He’s speaking distantly now as Harry leans down, kissing down his neck, his collarbone, his chest. He licks and sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting at it like he knew Louis liked. “Want to throw you against a wall,” he mutters. “Fuck your brains out.”

Harry groans, enjoying the idea. Except, not really, because that’s scary as fuck. 

“How about,” Harry says, trailing wet kisses down the middle of Louis’ stomach, ending up on his knees in front of him. “How about I let you fuck my mouth instead?” He says it confidently, enunciating every syllable, and he gets the exact response he was hoping for.

Louis stops breathing for a moment, wondering what had suddenly come over the younger boy, before curling his fingers into his hair and pushing his head forward. “Yes.”

Harry realizes shortly after he says this that he has absolutely no idea how to give a blowjob, instantly regretting having said anything at all. He stares at Louis’ cock for about 20 seconds blankly, unsure of how to even go about it, telling himself, ‘just put it in your fucking mouth, Harry’ over and over again until he finally does. 

He presses his tongue to the head before enveloping the entire thing in his mouth, and it’s easier than he had expected because he has a really, really big mouth. Louis moans surprisedly, his hand clenching painfully tight in Harry’s hair. He does exactly what he remembers Louis doing to him, pumping slowly at the base of his cock and sucking tightly on the head, occasionally swirling his tongue around him.

“Fucking, shit, oh—” Louis tilts his head back, fighting for some self-control.  

His hips buck forward and it makes Harry nervous because he’s gagged him nearly three times now and it hurts. He presses his arm against Louis’ thigh and it helps a little. “Sorry,” he mutters with a whine when Harry shakes his head, presses his tongue flat against the underside of his cock. 

“‘S fine,” Harry says, and it’s gravelly and deep and Louis gives up on his self-control, thrusting forward, fucking his mouth like the younger boy had offered. His hand is pressed fully against the base of Harry’s skull, holding him still.

Harry grips tightly onto Louis’ hips, guiding him loosely in case his thrusts get too erratic, because he honestly thinks any moment he might throw up. Louis moans helplessly above him, and Jesus, it’s like the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

“Gonna come,” Louis says lowly. “You’re gonna swallow, okay?” The curly haired boy looks up at him through long fringe and dark lashes, nods his head obediently, and fuck, that’s all Louis can take before he’s coming into Harry’s mouth, making these tiny, soft noises like a bloody wounded kitten or something.  

Louis covers his flushed face with his hands before yanking Harry up by the arms and throwing him onto his bed. 

»»

Harry had never really known that he was a jealous person until that day and suddenly it’s taking over his fucking life - like the moment he accepted the fact he wasn’t good with sharing, he decided he couldn’t even consider the possibility of doing it all.

Having to see Louis kissing another human being other than himself made him sick with fury - he’d never felt something more painful. They weren’t even dating. Louis wasn’t his boyfriend, and he wasn’t Louis’. But he wanted to be. He wanted to hear Louis tell him that they belonged to each other. 

The boys shared two classes together: sociology and lunch. Two periods, and yet Harry managed to find himself in a constant state of paranoia, refusing to believe Louis wasn’t interested in anyone else besides him.

During a quiz fifth period, Louis asks Harry if he has a pencil, and when he says no, Louis goes to ask the boy beside him, Kyle. As if asking him for a pencil was some sort of connotation for marriage, Harry quickly tugs at the older boy’s sleeve and mutters, “Here, just take mine. I’m done anyways.”

Harry got a 5/10, because that’s all he managed to answer until the Kyle incident.

On Wednesday, Liam comes to lunch with a giant smile plastered on his face, holding up a piece of paper reading A*. The boy instantly runs forward, embracing Louis in a tight hug, stupidly kissing both of his cheeks. “I’m passing now!” He yells, absolutely beaming.

Harry ignores him for the next week, and Liam has no idea why.

Louis wasn’t stupid. He noticed Harry’s attitude, too, but it wasn’t like he was going to stop the boy. He liked it. He liked the fact he could merely ask Zayn about the name of a song and he would turn around to find Harry staring at him, eyes burning with something that turned them a shade darker. Lust, jealousy, maybe hatred - Louis didn’t give a fuck. It was hot, and he revelled in it.

On Friday Harry walks Louis to his last period class. He’s never done it before, but Louis had been telling him a story, and it wasn’t like he didn’t want to hear. He wanted to hear everything Louis had to say. Even if it was about something as incredibly dull as how Louis thought he’d lost his phone the previous day. “Well, I was thinking the same thing, but -”

"Louis," a high-pitched, female voice says from behind Harry. Louis’ eyes flicker towards the body interestedly.

"Hi El," He says, giving a sudden polite wave. Harry turns his head slightly to find a petite girl with wavy brown hair smiling up at them. Harry tenses noticeably.

"Don’t hate me, but I didn’t understand our project at all. Think you could help me out a bit?" She asks, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Like - after classes?"

Louis bites at his quivering lip to stop his unattainable grin. Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed, a concentrated glare focused on the wall ahead of him. “Yeah, ‘course. How about we meet in the library then?”

"Perfect!” she chirps, and Harry wonders to himself if the girl was trying to seduce him or something, batting her long lashes madly like she’s got something stuck in her eye. 

Harry’s relieved when she leaves, though they’ve got no more time to talk because the bell’s ringing. The younger boy makes an annoyed noise. His next class wasn’t even near here, he just wanted to talk to the older boy. Before he can turn to leave, Louis grabs his hand, pulling him back. “Come to my room tonight. We need some time for just the two of us.” And before Harry can respond, he ducks in to steal a quick kiss, pulling back with a small smirk on his face. “See you soon.”

——————-

I feel like such crap lately I’m not even really sure what this is. Don’t hate me, please, for my horrible updates.

Oh and also, there’s no relationship between Stan/Louis. Harry is just over the top with his jealousy and sees their friendship as something more than it is through their texts. Just clarifying.

  1. rosieb28 reblogged this from boolondon