home is wherever i’m with you; chapter 10.

[prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9]

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 tells himself to breathe; tell himself to remember the words his mum would remind him of. “Forgive and forget, Harry.” “Everybody makes mistakes, Harry.” “Don’t hold grudges: they’re not healthy, Harry!”

He tries to remind himself of this, tries to restrain himself from choking the boy looking back at him like the puppy who just pissed on the carpet, but it’s hard to do when his entire future at this school is quickly deteriorating before his eyes. “Harry, I-I’m so sorry,” Louis says, fingers fiddling uncomfortably on his lap. “But, Eleanor won’t tell anybody, I swear.”

“And how would you know that?” Harry snaps, face turning pink. 

“Because she’s known since Thursday.” Harry is silent, looking at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes, like he’s frozen in place. “Harry, I know I should’ve said somethi-ow, dick!” He bellows suddenly as Harry smacks the side of his head.

“Are you – a fucking idiot – Thursday?” The younger boy stutters, telling himself to just fucking breathe. His heart feels like it’s about to drop into his stomach, like he’s going to be sick, trying to comprehend the fact that another human being besides him and Louis know about them.

“I’m sorry!” Louis cries, grabbing at Harry’s wrist when he moves to get up. “She figured it out on her own! She made it obvious she liked me, and when I told her I was seeing someone else she was upset and went to check my phone for the time and—”

“Did she see our texts?” Harry questions, face turning red, mortified merely by the idea.            

Louis shakes his head. “She just saw my wallpaper – of us. I…I guess we are pretty obvious.”

“What did she say - was she weird about it?” Harry asks.

Louis almost laughs. “No. I think she mentioned something about having a gay cousin back home. So, naturally – she’s an equal rights activist.” He says shrugging. “She’s basically too okay with it. Like the fact that I like boys is the most exciting thing she’s ever heard.”

Harry bites back a smile because really, he deserves to be angry right now. “What if she tells?” He whispers, inching closer to the older boy.

“She won’t.”

“But what if she does? What if we’re outed?”

Louis takes Harry’s hand so their fingers intertwine under the table. “I don’t care.” He insists, squeezing his hand. “I’ve come out once, I could do it again.”

Harry feels lightheaded at the reality of it. “But I-“

I’m scared.

I’m not ready.

I’m not even sure what I am.

“What if I’m not as strong as you?”

Louis scrunches his nose, looks at him like he’s trying to figure out a math problem. He reaches up and grabs Harry’s bicep through the fabric of his blazer and squeezes lightly.

“I mean. Your arms aren’t nearly as nice as mine, but we could always work on that?”

Harry rolls his eyes, pushes his chest and turns back to his breakfast. “What, do you not agree with me? Have you seen my arms lately?”

“Why do you think I’m failing sociology?” He asks, biting into his toast, crumbs going everywhere.

Louis smiles, happy the argument is finished. “Well why do you think I’m failing sociology, Mr. My-Hair-Smells-of-Sunshine-and-Spices?” He asks lightly, popping off a piece of the blueberry muffin left on his tray. “I can’t even concentrate.”

"Now that you mention it, I do have this overwhelming urge to flip my hair—"

“You’re an asshole.” Louis says seriously, unconsciously leaning in closer to him.

“Yeah, well, so are. Which is why you have to be the sweetest, funniest, most flamboyantly fabulous gay BFF Eleanor could ever ask for. If you piss her off you don’t know what she’ll do.”

Louis frowns. “Maybe I could find a How-To book in the library.”

“That’s not necessary.” Harry says, finishing the rest of his coffee. “Just release your inner sassy bitch. I know you’ve got it in you.”


Break starts in three days, and most kids are buzzing with excitement to go home; to eat and sleep and shop and most likely get wasted. Harry and Louis spend the remaining days clinging desperately onto to every moment they’ve got left.

“So – you’ve got a solo then?” Louis asks in a heavy exhale, head falling back against the hard surface of the bathroom stall. 

Harry nods, a stupidly wide smile plastered across his face as he effortlessly unzips Louis’ trousers. “Yeah, well, Liam’s got most of the song to himself. But I’d say I got a pretty decent chunk.” Louis tries responding, saying something, even giving a small sign of acknowledgment he’d even heard what he’d said; but, Harry’s got his fingers wrapped around his cock and it’s pretty much difficult to even breathe.

His hands are so incredibly warm and soft as he pumps quick strokes along the shaft, one hand pressed against the inside of his thigh. “Not to sound cocky or anything – but I sound really good. So I expect applause.”

Louis’ hips buck forward as the younger boy swipes his thumb over the head. “F-fuck, Harry.” He hisses, tangling his fingers into the other boy’s curls as he lowers his head. He takes him in easily, rubbing soft circles with his thumb onto the skin of his thigh.

His tongue swirls around the head, pillowy lips now incredibly plump as they wrap around his cock, lowering his head more and more until he reaches the base, which he liked to do often (because truthfully, he really was cocky).

Dark curls fall from the fist he’s got in Harry’s hair, bouncing around his head like a halo. He’s in awe of the boy. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever been around a person that he’s wanted so much, like he couldn’t imagine not being able to touch him and have him to himself. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Louis breathes, tilting his head back even more, like he’s stretching. “I l-“ He catches himself (something he’d been having to do a lot lately), stops to take a breath. He wonders if Harry had even heard him. “Love when you’re like this…” He says instead, glancing down at the boy beneath him.

Harry’s hands move upward until their gripping his hips firmly, pulling him so he’s impossibly closer. His fingers dig into the skin, inevitably leaving bruises in their wake. “Ah – fuck, yes…” The older boy moans, softly thrusting his hips to match the rhythm of Harry’s bobbing head. “Your lips are – oh, shit – your tongue,” He’s muttering nonsense now, words falling out of his mouth like he’s drunk.

Harry looks up at him through dark lashes, eyes brighter than usual; his pupils are blown so the black overtakes the pale green. His tongue is hot and wet and wonderful, and when he pulls back he uses it to trace a vein up the length of his shaft. Louis moans suddenly, grip in Harry’s curls tightening. “Yeah, ah-ah,” His head tips back further, back arching as he comes into Harry’s mouth. His moans are high pitched and breathy, which is something Harry will never get used to.

Harry stands up quickly, knees aching slightly, and tugs up Lou’s trousers up for him. He leans into kiss him, fingers drawing light patterns onto his stomach while Louis whimpers pathetically into his mouth. (Those were Harry’s favorite noises.)

Louis holds onto his biceps firmly, wonders briefly to himself when Harry suddenly gained so much control over their kisses. When he pulls away, Harry’s still smiling, though it’s not cheeky like it usually is. His eyes are incredibly bright, holding a variety of emotions that Louis can’t put his finger on.

It seems loving, though, and Louis wonders if that’s what he looks like right now.

“You know how some people are born to do certain things?” Louis asks airily, leaning against the stall. “Like…to change the world, make an impression - that sort of stuff?” Harry nods. “Well. I think you were born to give fucking amazing blowjobs.” He says seriously.

Harry’s smile is wide, taking up nearly half of his face. “Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, pinching Louis’ nipple before he can react. “Maybe I’ll graduate with a degree in prostitution. Change the way people think of blowjobs for good.”

Louis rubs at his chest. “Sorry - let me rephrase that: you were born to give me amazing blowjobs.”

“Well at least it’s not a boring destiny.” Harry says with a shrug, grabbing Louis’ face and kissing him wetly. Louis laughs, making a face.



It’s been 3 hours since Harry’s last seen Louis and if he’s being honest, he’s scared; he already misses him. He can still smell him on his blazer and feel the bruises that his fingers left on his arms and though it should be gross he can still taste him on his tongue and he hasn’t even bothered to ask for a stick of gum from Liam.

They’re all in rehearsal waiting for Miss Holly to find her sheet music for Silent Night when he pulls out his phone. The girl in front of him has a massive head of hair so he uses it as a sort of shield for himself when she’s not paying attention.

I miss you. He sends quickly, knowing well enough he wouldn’t be able to relax until the older boy replied. It’s like he needs a constant reassurance that this is real, that he’s not making it up to be something it isn’t. And really, bombarding him with needy texts probably isn’t the best way to get to Louis’ heart, but he can’t fucking help himself sometimes.

“Harry, get off your phone before I take it myself!” Miss Holly commands in a high pitched voice. Zayn turns to look at him, raises a judgmental eyebrow because they all know who it is that he’s texting.

“Sorry, I’ll put it away.”

“Turn. It. Off.”

Harry nods slowly, making a show of pressing his thumb down on a button that didn’t exist. “Kay, it’s off.”

Miss Holly looks satisfied, reminding Liam –whose standing front and center, as always, to remember the breathing techniques they’d practiced.

It’s barely five minutes later that his back pocket vibrates and he pulls it out without thinking, smiling like an idiot as he reads:

You’re an absolute nutter. I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t hurt yourself.

Also … I miss you too. x

“Styles – phone!”

“Right.” This time, Harry doesn’t even try to look sorry.


“I swear, one of these days she’s going to bloody combust if you don’t just listen to her Harry.” Liam warns him through a mouthful of food.

“Remember when Mrs. Jensen still worked here as the chorus teach? You could literally take a piss on the middle of the stage and she wouldn’t even notice.”

“And how would you know this Niall?” Louis wonders out loud. They’re seated for dinner, anything but jolly as they celebrate two more school days until break. “Did you try it out yourself?” Harry laughs quietly beside him.

Niall sticks his tongue out and everyone groans in disgust. “I don’t need your smartass replies, Tommo. Tired as fuck. And I’ve still got English homework.”

Liam gives the Irish boy a look. “Niall. We both know you’ll just end up copying mine anyways.”

“This is true.” Niall says, nodding.

As Liam starts going on about what he’s getting for Danielle (who is ‘kind of his girlfriend, kind of not’), Harry turns to face Louis. “Have you talked to Eleanor today?” He asks lowly, nudging the older boy slightly.

“Yes. We hung out in her dorm for like, hours.” He says, shoving a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Talked about Christmas plans. I gave her my opinions on her outfit choices. And then she went on for a century talking about her ex. I thought - I was going - to die.”

Harry nearly cackles. “Maybe tomorrow you two will go shoe shopping.” He jokes lightly, picking a piece of turkey off his plate.

Louis looks at him, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Funny you’d say that.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was. She’s saying I need a selection beyond my Toms.”

“I like your Toms.”

Louis’ smile is helpless, looking down at his plate miserably. He looks unusually tired. “El doesn’t.”

“Are you alright babe?”

“I’m just…” He pauses, looking back at Harry desperately. “Nervous. About going home. The last time I had a full conversation with my mum she told me she was sending me here. I haven’t even been able to sleep because all I think about when I try to is whether or not my entire family knows what happened - or my entire school? I don’t even know if anyone wants me home now and every time I think about it I just get this awful sick feeling.”

Harry frowns. “Well…I’m gonna guess your sisters don’t know, Lou.” He says, setting his hand comfortingly on the older boys thigh. “And your mum might be mad, but she’s still your mum. Of course she’s missed you.”

“I know…I know. I just - kind of wish you could be there with me, you know?” Louis says, shrugging.

Harry seems to melt at his words, smiling like an idiot. “Completely.”

“Oi, lovebirds, I’m getting sick over here!” Niall calls from the other side of the table. Harry flinches, turning back to face his plate, cheeks pink.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Way to ruin the moment, Niall. I think we were finally about to snog.”

The boys laugh. Harry tries not to throw up.


The next morning Louis only sees Harry for about 10 minutes at breakfast and he wishes desperately that they didn’t have to hide what they were, because ten minutes seems pass in a second to them.

"Why are you always late? I feel like I never see you alone anymore." Harry whispers as Louis fixes his tea in line.

"Sorry! I just, keep falling asleep too late so I need to shower in the morning, and then today I couldn’t find a fucking belt - which is like, necessary really. Also - these suspenders are tearing, which is very much your fault,” Louis accuses, giving the younger boy a pointed look. “Mr. I-Enjoy-Slamming-People-Against-Walls-Instead-of-Simply-Kissing-Them.”

"I thought I was Mr. Hair-Like-Sunshine-and-Spices?" Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow. "And you like it."

"My poor suspenders don’t. You yank at them before they even have a chance."

Harry pulls at one of them teasingly, letting them snap back quickly. Louis seems unaffected. “Well. Whatever. You’re coming to my room after the concert tomorrow and not a single thing you say or do can change that.” Louis turns to him fully, realizing quickly their close proximity might come off as strange to bystanders (he still doesn’t bother moving). “How long?…I might get tired.” The taller boy watches his lips obviously as he speaks, bites at his lip waiting for a response.

"Well you could always sleep in my room."

"Like a sleepover?" Louis asks interestedly, grinning madly.

Harry nods. “Yeah, like a sleepover.”

“Am I invited?” A voice asks suddenly, Liam appearing behind them. Harry flinches so hard he nearly drops his coffee, actually clutching at his heart in terror.

Fucking shit, Liam – don’t do that!” Harry says, turning around to thump the other boy’s chest.

“First you don’t invite me to your sleepover and now you’re abusing me?” His expression is offended, but his eyes glimmer with amusement. “Rude!”

Louis acts casual, well not casual, but casual for him. “Won’t you and Dani be having a sleepover, Liam?”

“Probably not,” Liam frowns. “No way I’m that sneaky…also, sadly enough, I can guarantee yours would be way more eventful.”

Harry nearly chokes. “Probably.” Louis says, smirking. 


Louis and Eleanor leave at about 2:45. She’s got on some adorable outfit - a jumper and leggings and unnecessarily high heels, clacking loudly on the pavement as they walked for hours. Shoe shopping quickly turns into every type of clothing shopping and Louis can’t say no because Eleanor just looks so happy every time she picks a new outfit for him to try on.

But by now he’s tried on at least 30 things and his feet are tired and all he wants to do is go back to his room and sleep. He likes Eleanor, really, he does. But how much can a person hear ‘if you were straight, do you think I’d look hot wearing this?’ without getting somewhat irritated.

Louis is looking at the jewelry section when Eleanor suddenly comes bustling over to him with a huge pile of clothes thrown over her arm. Louis looks at her like she’s insane. “You can’t be serious.”


“No.” He says, turning away from her. “I’ve got no money and I’m pretty sure my legs are about to fall off.”

Eleanor pouts. “Oh, come on, Louis – I’ve got money! And I will personally help reattach them for you, Louis! Just do it, please?”

Louis sighs dramatically, tilting his head back as he fake cries. “Fine, whatever, give them to me.” 


“Show me, show me, show me!” Eleanor chants frantically outside of his dressing room.

Louis makes a pathetic noise, contemplates climbing through the vents to escape. Instead, he reminds himself of what Harry told him, reminds himself that if he were to leave Harry would actually murder him.

He swings the door open and automatically Eleanor is on her feet, gaping like he’s a piece of art or something. “You. Look. So. Good.”

She tugs on the fabric of the jumper he’s got on, adjusting it so the v hangs lower like it’s supposed to. “Trousers fit well too! Jesus, I’m good.”

“Really…I feel like my bum’s about to burst through the seams.”

Eleanor looks at his reflection in the mirror, standing close next to him. “Is that…bad?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing.

Louis makes a face. “No…I suppose not.” He mutters, idly wondering to himself, as he turns around to check out his bum, if he could get any gayer than he was at this very moment.

“You’re buying them right? You’d be mad not to. Plus, your new shoes are navy, so-“

“El—” He says, putting up a hand to stop her (and wow, he could get gayer). “I’m broke. Like. No money. Those shoes put me over the edge as it is.”

The brunette sighs, pursing her lips impatiently. “Well, then – I’ll buy them for you. It’s almost Christmas, and I do have money—and Harry will love you in it!”

Louis’ mouth is open like he’s about to say something, but his protests fade at the mention of Harrys’ name, face flushing in embarrassment. “If you don’t let me buy these for you, I will just so happen to buy them for someone else anyways, and maybe, accidentally, forget them in your suitcase. Up to you.”

“Fine, fine, buy them for me. If you insist!” He’s smiling though, rushing back into the small space of his fitting room. He’s still smiling as he undresses, vividly imaging the reaction Harry’d have to the outfit piled by his feet. Maybe he had more to look forward to than he’d remembered.


The concert is long, like over three hours long, and Harry’s legs are hurting from standing. It’s nearing the end, though, and the last song of the night is Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, which Niall was excited about because it just gave him even more of an excuse to listen to Michael Buble on repeat.

Also, it’s Harry’s solo.

He can see Louis from his spot on stage; he’ sitting the middle section, in between Eleanor and a guy named Ben from her group of friends. Harry isn’t sure how he feels about it, really, because every now and then he’ll lean over and whisper into Louis’ ear and Louis will actually laugh, like he enjoys his company. But then, sometimes, Louis will look at Harry and smile, and Eleanor will elbow his side and giggle and Louis will blush and it kind of makes Harry want to die (in a good way).

The auditorium is dead silent after the round of applause for the orchestra and all that can be heard is the rustling of Miss Holly’s sheet music. Harry awkwardly clears his throat, ordering himself to breathe. Liam turns around suddenly and smiles up at Harry excitedly, adjusting his bowtie for him and giving him a thumbs up.

Harry isn’t nervous about this sort of thing. He likes to sing, and he knows he’s good at it; it’s possibly the only thing he has no problem doing in front of other people. Though, he’s still developing as a singer: he doesn’t always know what to do with his hands on stage, and sometimes he’ll have to remind himself to relax his face, or take in enough breath because his voice will get shaky.

Two year five students walk out on stage, both anxiously shaking as they share the microphone. “And now for the last performance of the night.” The first girl says, passing it off to the shorter boy.

“Miss Holly’s Chamber Chorus’ performance of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” He pauses, puts the mic back up to his lips. “W-with piano by Miss Holly as well.”

Harry could laugh as the woman herself sits up proudly, a perfectly practiced smile drawn across her face.

He looks for Louis in the crowd, wonders if he’s actually fallen asleep by this point, though it’s harder to see now with the lights shining in their faces. Actually, he realizes as Miss Holly starts to play, he can’t see a single thing beyond the back of Liam’s head.


Harry is buzzing. He can feel the excitement running through his veins, unable to stop the manic smile he’s got on his face. He’s backstage now and everyone’s telling him how great he sounded, but all he can think of is Louis and how he managed to catch his eye right before Liam’s solo ended.

He tells Niall briefly he’s going to get a drink of water when suddenly he’s being pinned against the cold surface of the stone wall, familiar warm lips pressed over his. Harry moans into him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him in further.

“I didn’t know you could—” He pulls away from the younger boy, searching for air. “Didn’t know you could do that thing, with your voice; it’s like—scratchy but smooth, and then it’d go all high and, and—what the fuck.”

Harry smiles, wrapping his arms around Louis’ stomach. “It’s almost ten. How about we head upstairs – for my sleepover?” Louis nods eagerly, restraining himself from lunging at the boy once more as he leads him down the hallway, tugging on his hand. “Come on, boo! I pulled out my box of Twister just for the occasion!”


It’s snowing heavily when Louis wakes up, tangled and warm in Harry’s bed sheets. The younger boy is on his stomach, arm stretched out so it’s slung protectively over Louis’ stomach and really, it’s adorable.

Much to Louis’ surprise, there had been no game of Twister last night, though it was still by far the best sleepover he’d ever had. They’d lasted about 20 minutes before Harry was on top of him, writhing against his leg and muttering nonsense. It was about 2 more minutes before Louis could start understanding the nonsense coming out of his mouth.

“I want you,” He moaned into Louis’ neck, fisting at the older boy’s hair.

“Want you too.”

“No, like,” He mutters, tilting Louis’ head so he can whisper in his ear. “I want you inside of me.”

Louis remembers the exact way his heart had skipped a beat perfectly, because it was doing it again now as he stared at the younger boy beside him. They hadn’t actually had sex, but it was the furthest they’ve ever gone together and Louis’ positive it’s the furthest Harry’s ever gone at all.

Harry turns his head tiredly, exhaling heavily before blinking his eyes open. “Morning.”

“What time is it?” Harry mutters, his voice rough.

“Almost 9.” Louis says, eyes traveling over Harry’s face. “My train leaves at 11.”

Harry frowns. “10:30.”

Louis traces a finger along Harry’s arm, moves in closer until their chests are touching. “It won’t be all that bad. Barely a week.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just wraps his arms around him tighter. Louis lets him, perfectly fine with the idea of rushing later if it meant another hour here with him.


Zayn and Niall’s trains both left at 9. Liam’s leaves at 10 and the three of them wait together at the train station, huddled in thick coats and scarfs that leave them without the ability to move their necks. The train station they’re waiting at isn’t really a station, more like a mile of benches to sit on while you wait for the actual train itself. 

“Danielle wouldn’t stop crying,” Liam tells them sadly. “I felt so bad. Never even seen her like that.”

Harry nods like he understands, shoving another handful of crisps into his mouth, fingers shaking from the cold. He wonders to himself which one of them will be the Danielle in this situation, Louis, or him – or both. Then again, Harry hasn’t stopped shaking since they arrived at the bloody station and he has this awful feeling it’s not just from the bitter weather.

Liam’s train comes to a screeching halt around five minutes later and they all hug and wave goodbye to him, not touching each other until the train pulled away minutes later. Louis grabs him by the collar immediately, pulling him in for a long kiss, uncaring of the several other people seated near them.

“Please don’t cry,” Louis mutters, pecking his lips once more.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are babe,” Louis says, smiling weakly. “And if you cry then I’m going to be left here a cold, lonely, crying mess.”


"Don’t apologize, you dolt." Louis laughs, swatting his chest and thinking to himself how completely adorable the younger boy looked; cheeks rosy and nose pink from the cold, bundled cozily in a wool scarf. 

Harry leans into kiss him again, scared if they sit in silence for too long he’ll lose it completely. The younger boys holds onto his neck, hands shaking like he’s afraid to let go. “I’m going to miss you so much.” He says, voice cracking. “Jesus, it’s like I’m a fucking pregnant woman right now.”

Louis laughs, smiling stupidly, and without much thinking says, “I love you.”

He doesn’t mean to do it, really, but he’s sort of emotional and it’s hard to catch himself when he’s so tired and it just sort of slips, really. His heart stutters in his chest, mouth hanging open as Harry just stares at him, like he’s wondering if he’d really heard him right.

"W-what?" Harry asks like he’s out of breath, lips trembling.

"Sorry, I just-"

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to kiss him once more, briefly. “I love you,” He says against his lips, over and over again until Louis regains consciousness and starts smiling, kissing him back. Harry is still smiling when his train arrives, bites his lip to stop himself when other people join him in his booth.

He loves him; Louis loves him, and he loves Louis. It’s a thing now. They can say it freely when they’re on the phone, say it when they’re close, say it when they have to leave each other at breakfast. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy Louis’d been the one to say it first; that he didn’t have to experience the fear he saw flash through Louis’ eyes the second after he’d said it. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t going to reward Louis thoroughly the next time he saw him, because he planned on doing so the moment he got him alone.


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