fic summary: louis gives his teacher a blowjob and gets sent to boarding school, where he meets an incredibly young and lanky and adorable harry and basically falls in love with him.
warnings: i use these thingies now », i’m too american for my own good so excuse my mistakes, italics were lost in the transfer from google docs to this text post, also: there’s basically porn in this chapter
(It’s New Years Eve)
The morning starts off quiet enough that Harry can pretend the sunlight isn’t affecting him, like maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough he can fall back asleep. He can hear the faint - well, it was faint thirty minutes ago - sound of birds chirping, as well as the loud whirl of heat that floods through the vents every thirty minutes or so, and it’s sort of relaxing. Of course, it doesn’t hurt when he’s sleeping on possibly the most comfortable mattress ever and Louis’ got his arms wrapped around his waist, turned on his side with his face smushed against his chest, looking unfairly adorable.
Harry’s thinking he might be able to catch a few extra hours of sleep, tugging on Louis - on his boyfriend, to cuddle him closer, when he hears the loud slam of a door down the hall. Unless someone really has to take a piss, Harry’s guessing it’s coming from Niall’s room.
He can hear muffled arguing, low voices whispering to each other over something Harry can’t quite make out.
“Why do you even care?” A low, familiar voice hisses. Harry blinks. The alarm clock on his bedside table reads 7:43 am. Who the fuck is arguing at 7:43 in the morning?
“Why?” Another voice asks slowly; incredulously. “‘cause I fucking do - ‘cause I fucking care about your feelings for some stupid reason and it hurts me when I see her walk all over you,” and it’s Niall, Harry realizes.
“Well -” the other voice, rough from sleep, starts. “Stop! Just stop fucking caring! You know there are some things in the world that aren’t your business, right?” Harry’s jaw drops slightly above Louis’ head, eyes nearly bulging out of his head because that was most definitely Liam and he just said fuck (which never happens) and what happened in a matter of hours to cause this? Surely he wasn’t that oblivious.
“None of my - ? Okay, well it seemed like my bloody business when you were blubbering into my shoulder last night about how awful she’s been to you!”
“I was just upset, Niall.”
“She fucked somebody else!” The Irish boy hisses. Harry gapes openly now, feeling like he shouldn’t be hearing any of this, like he would when his parents were having an argument and he could’ve gotten caught at any second (but then again, it’s not his fault they’re terrible at whispering). “She seriously told you she slept with somebody and not two days later you’re ready to fucking sweep it under the rug!”
“I didn’t say - I said we could talk about it, Ni,” he says, like it makes any difference.
“And when were you planning to do that?”
Liam pauses, sniffs. “I dunno…tonight, I suppose.”
“I’m not letting her in my house,” the Irish boy says after a beat, so serious it’s scary, and Harry could nearly laugh from the tension if Louis wasn’t asleep and he didn’t hate that his two best friends were fighting, because this was Niall and Liam and Liam was forgiving and all but he was also sensitive, and the likelihood of Niall forgetting about this was nil.
“Niall, come on -”
“Don’t touch me,” Niall grunts angrily, but his heart’s not into it.
“Where are you going?”
Liam groans, footsteps following the younger boys. “Ni - please, don’t be mad. I - at least take a jacket. It’s cold outside. Why are you even mad, this isn’t even like - it has nothing to do with us! I’ll fucking tell her not to come if you want!”
“‘S fine. Don’t even care,” the Irish boy slurs gruffly, voice thick from sleep. The heavy front door slams behind him.
Louis stirs then, burrowing his face into the space between Harry’s neck and shoulder, his feathery hair tickling the younger boy’s chin. Harry grins, petting his head fondly. “Who the fuck is slamming doors at five in the morning?” mumbles Louis, voice airy and coarse like it always is in the morning.
“Well, it’s about eight right now, so…I really couldn’t tell you,” Harry tells him as he lifts the blanket (which Louis had most likely stolen greedily from him in the dead of the night) and tugs it over their chests. “Go back to sleep, yeah?”
“Mmm,” the older boy agrees, pressing a soft kiss below his ear. “Harry?”
“Wake me up when you do - don’t let me sleep in. You always let me sleep in,”
Harry nods. “Kay,” and Louis pinches the skin on his stomach at the obvious lie.
“Don’t forget,” he warns him.
“I’ll wake you up. Promise.”
Louis sighs happily, moves his legs so they’re tangled with Harry’s longer ones. “Good. Thank you.”
Harry doesn’t wake him up.
The older boy gets up at nearly noon with a sour expression as he realizes he’s alone. Again.
It’s like Harry’s scared to wake him up or something, all because one time he woke him up at ten on a Saturday, and okay, maybe he’d been a little snappy, but he’d hardly known them at the time and all they wanted to do was play football and Niall kicked him in the shin and yeah, he might have thrown a bit of a hissy fit. (And by ‘hissy fit’ he means actually screaming in frustration and pushing his way past the curly haired boy in a huff, ignoring all of his texts and apologies until the next day when he was so embarrassed he just acted like it never happened).
Now Harry just tells him he’s doing him a favor by letting him get his beauty sleep. Louis rolls his eyes.
“I don’t need beauty sleep,” he grumbles to himself, kicking the ridiculously expensive sheets off his feet and pulling a jumper over his head. He looks in the mirror and does a half ass job of fixing his hair before he decides fuck it, he’s mad at the twat anyways, doesn’t need to impress anyone.
(But, then again, maybe he should just - tame it, a bit.)
When he gets downstairs he is (really, truly) set on the idea of ignoring Harry, giving him the cold shoulder until he gets it: that he hates it when he does this - wastes their limited time together because he thinks it’s cute.
As he reaches the warm kitchen across from the staircase, the theme tune of SpongeBob Squarepants ringing through the freshly painted walls, Louis says good morning to Liam - who looks particularly like a sad puppy this morning - before he’s in the living room, hand on his hip, eyebrow raised expectantly at the curly haired boy across the room from him.
Okay. So, he’s angry, he is. But, then - Harry is sitting in their loveseat with his knees tucked up to his chin, skinny little wrist holding up a giant pink mug of coffee that says ‘worlds best auntie’ in loopy cursive and his curls are long and worn out and falling over his eyes and he’s biting at his thumb, staring concentratedly at the TV in front of him like Spongebob is incredibly interesting.
And when he notices Louis, he looks up and smiles at him and he looks like a fucking kitten or something his eyes are so big and wide and innocent and ridiculously green. Louis swallows thickly, his anger already slipping away within seconds.
“You didn’t wake me up,” Louis says pointedly, crossing his arms and remaining his stance by the doorframe.
Harry turns down the TV and pats his lap invitingly. Louis ignores him. “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t,” and the older boy is rolling his eyes, fighting a smirk with a painful grimace. “You know you look like an angel when you sleep, don’t you? It’s actually annoying. I should be the angry one right now.”
Louis sighs, bites at his bottom lip. “You’re a tosser,” he says, fighting the urge to smile or giggle or something ridiculously stupid. “I’m setting an alarm clock,” and when Harry doesn’t reply, just grins at him, he continues. “We’ve just wasted precious time, Harry! I still have to shower and get dressed and we have to get the house cleaned and,” he lowers his voice, “we could’ve spent time together.”
“Lou,” Harry says, and Louis hates how he sounds so much older now, like he’s the mature one. “It’s only noon, we’ve still got time. Now - get you’re greasy arse over here and cuddle with me for at least a little while before you’ve got to go make yourself look all pretty.”
“Could you just say sorry, please?” Louis asks in a tiny voice. Harry pauses, giving his pained expression an odd once over. “Please, for the sake of like - my dignity or whatever, just say sorry so I can tell myself that’s why I’m forgiving you.”
Harry bites at the inside of his cheek, smirks. “Louis, I know what I’ve done is unforgivable, but I’m begging you, please, please, please, forgive me. I’ll never do it again, I love you sooo much, please -”
The older boy sighs dramatically, waving his hand around and rolling his eyes, though he’s smiling nonetheless. And that’s it, all it takes before he gives in, letting it go instantly. He figures this isn’t good, his whole inability to stay mad at him thing. Harry smiles and pats his thigh and Louis shuffles forward ‘til he’s sat in the younger boy’s lap, curling up so his legs tuck into the space between the cushion and the arm rest.
“Quit biting at your fingers, you weirdo, you’ll get scabs or something,” says Louis, eying the younger boy’s hand, the skin of his middle knuckle trapped between his teeth.
“You bite your nails,” Harry argues as Louis pries his hand from his mouth, wrapping the long arm around his neck instead.
“Yeah, but at least I’m trying to stop - how are you so bloody warm, for God’s sake,” and Harry rolls his eyes, kisses the top of his head before placing his coffee aside.
They sit there for around a half hour before Zayn comes in, boxers slung low on his hips and a half eaten donut hanging out of his mouth, eying the two boys warily and asking how they managed to get more action with each other then he got at all. This (of course) was meant to be taken as a joke. Harry, obviously, did not feel the same way, making a weird sound between a giggle and a cry for help as Zayn plopped down on the couch across from them.
Louis gets up then, telling them he needs a shower anyway. “That’s where you get most of your action, isn’t it Zayn?”
Harry cackles. Zayn’s donut narrowly misses Louis’ head.
“Do you think Louis’ ever gonna tell people?” Zayn asks Harry once an hour has passed and Louis’ yet to come downstairs.
Harry freezes, uncertain. “About what?”
“That he likes dudes,” says Zayn simply, taking a swig of his beer. Harry tries to ignore the fact that it’s just passed 3 pm and his friend is already knocking back his fourth.
“Er. I dunno, really. Would you?”
Zayn barks a laugh. “I’m not gay, mate,”
“Yeah, well, if you were,” the younger boy says. “I mean - our school isn’t the most accepting place, is it? We’ve never had a couple - like, a gay couple or whatever since those two chicks that graduated last year. People only accepted them ‘cause they were hot.”
“Lou’s hot,” the darker boy says, making a thoughtful face. Something ugly curls tightly in Harry’s chest, even though he knows it’s completely irrational. “And he gets along with everyone, like. Everyone fucking loves him.”
“Who loves him?”
“Just - I dunno. People in general, he has a shit ton of friends. I don’t get why he even hangs out with us. We’re not exactly ‘exciting’ or whatever,” he says, finishing off the rest of his bottle. “Niall’s annoying as fuck, Liam’s always crying, I - well, I’m perfect, obviously - but, it’s kind of funny that he likes you best, isn’t it? Moody little wanker who gave his teacher head befriends a little fifteen year old who’s never broken a single rule in his life,” he laughs. “Sounds like a terribly cliche high school drama or something.”
Harry frowns. “I’m not little - I’m taller than all of you.”
“Yeah. Not really the point,” mutters Zayn, reaching forward to yank the remote out of the curly haired boy’s loose grip. “Jesus Christ - what is taking him so long? It’s three o’clock and I haven’t even washed my fucking hair yet.”
Harry curls his knees in tighter to his chest, resting his chin on top of them. They’re watching a show about the Kardashian sisters and he wonders idly where Liam is, because he’s got a thing for the one with the big butt (the biggest butt), but then he remembers that he’s probably off in a dark corner somewhere moping. Harry figures he should go and make sure he hasn’t done something drastic, like…ripped a piece of paper in half or messed up his already made bed. “I’m gonna go check on Liam,” he says out loud.
Zayn doesn’t give him any attention, eyes glued to the riveting drama on screen.
“Liam?” Harry calls once he’s upstairs, walking carefully down the hallway, hovering near the Wolverhampton lad’s door. He hears a door swing open from behind him and before he has a chance to turn around, an arm is pulling him roughly backwards.
“Woulda thought after all this time we’ve spent together you’d have learned how to pronounce my name right,” and Harry thinks to himself just how dumb Louis could be sometimes, but how could he know what Harry’s intentions were with Liam, really? And yeah, he doesn’t mind all that much when Louis’ kissing him like this. Harry’s lips part willingly under the older boys, like second nature, pulling him closer like he’s trying to inhale him.
When they pull apart Louis’ got his arms loosely wrapped around Harry’s middle and he’s grinning up at him, all squinty eyed and cheeky and loving and Harry kisses him again, unable to stop himself. “Was waiting for you to come and find me. Do I need to talk to Liam or something?” he questions, pushing himself onto his toes to kiss the younger boy’s jaw. “You’re mine.”
Harry squirms, almost uncomfortable with how giddy things like this make him, his chest all fluttery and belly tingling with excitement. “Duh,” he says.
Louis kisses his nose gently and pulls back, striking a ridiculous pose, one hand on his hip and the other on the back of his head. “How do I look?” He asks, grinning in a way that’s supposed to be seductive (but totally failing).
The younger boy laughs, about to say something like ‘hideous’ or, ‘you remind me of a young Tyra Banks,’ until he actually looks at Louis and realizes that, yeah - uh, “you look really hot.”
“Thanks, babe,” Louis says smirking, cocky as always. Harry wonders briefly how his arse had managed to fit into a pair of pants that tight before he remembers that he’s sort of magical and he just accepts it, his eyes lingering on Louis’ backside as he leans over the sink to do whatever he’s doing - brush his teeth or something, who even knows.
“Harry?” Louis asks curiously, collecting his scattered belongings lining the granite of the counter.
“Mm?” Harry mutters, snapping out of his reverie and meeting Louis’ blue eyes.
Louis licks his lips briefly and crosses his arms before he says quietly, “Is it just me, or does Liam seem to be acting a little like, I dunno…strange, to you?” The taller boy freezes, giving an unintelligent ‘ummm, I uhhhh, I, er,’. “Like - I know him and Dani are fighting or whatever. But he’s being so quiet and like, I could’ve sworn I heard arguing this morning and when I went to ask him something before I took my shower he like flung a shoe at my head,” he explains, still seemingly shaken by the traumatic experience, eyes gone wide.
“Well what’d you say to him?” Harry asks.
“Hm. That’s not really important, is it?”
“As long as you didn’t make a tampon joke it can’t be that bad.”
“Yeah…I guess,” mutters Louis airily, turning around with his near pile of beauty products (and he made fun of Zayn) and heading toward their room. “Well, keep in mind that I found the nutcase lying face down on his bed talking to himself like an absolute weirdo. So, I jokingly asked if he was having a midlife crisis, you know - to lighten the whole scary movie feeling happening, and when he didn’t reply, I told him Midol always helped my sisters. He usually laughs at period jokes but this time he reacted quite violently. I dunno, mate, he’s being weird.”
Harry holds back a groan, closing his eyes briefly and telling himself this was his fault. He should’ve just told Louis this morning.
“Lou,” he begins once they’ve entered their room, taking a seat on the large, unmade bed. “Him and Niall got in a bit of a fight this morning. I guess he’s seriously upset about it.”
The older boy looks surprised, eyebrows shooting up high onto his forehead. “You’re sure?”
“Yup. Heard it all this morning, it was pretty nasty,” he sighs.
“I know,” agrees Harry. “I thought it’d be all blown over by now so I didn’t wanna tell you, but - Niall still hasn’t come back yet. He went for a walk a couple hours ago…”
Louis frowns, his eyebrows furrowed worriedly like he’s wondering why nobody had told him when suddenly, and it’s like they’re on some ridiculous teen drama the timing is so cliche, they hear the sound of the front door swinging open and slamming shut, Niall’s loud complaints about the freezing temperature outside echoing through the house.
Louis grins. “There he is,” he says, stuffing his shampoos and such in his suitcase and flinging himself into Harry’s lap. “You look quite nice today, have I told you that?”
“My hair is dirty and the I’m wearing pajama pants are disgusting, Lou.”
“Well who do you think made them like that?” Louis says lowly, provoking light laughter from the younger boy and moving himself so he sits on his knees. “Can’t I take pride in my hardwork?”
Harry nods, craning his neck back so Louis (who has the height advantage for once in their relationship) can lean down and kiss him meaningfully, moaning lowly into his mouth when Harry unashamedly gropes him, rubbing up and down his thighs and squeezing. “Swear to God,” says Harry in the spaces between long kisses, “if there was an award for best arse in Britain -”
“Hm?” Harry mumbles, feeling momentarily confused, before realizing that most definitely had not been Louis. (He hadn’t even heard the door open for Christ’s sake.)
Louis, who’s currently straddling the younger boy, back arched in pleasure and undeniably hard in his (seriously constricting) pants, freezes like he’s just been caught stealing from his mum’s purse. Harry feels stuck, like he can’t move because this isn’t just a cuddle or a lie in, this is literally them bordering dry humping and they didn’t even bother shutting the door all the way.
Harry looks like he’s about to vomit on the spot when the older boy clears his throat, reaching behind his back to brush away Harry’s hands. Louis gives him a reassuring look, urging him to calm down.
When he turns around, Liam looks awkward, but not surprised. “Hello Liam,” says Louis, smiling in a way that he hopes is casual and rolling off of the taller boy’s lap.
“Hi,” Liam greets them with a small wave. “Sorry for - er, barging in. Didn’t mean to like…uhm, intrude or something.”
Louis waves his hand like it’s no big deal and all Harry can think is thisissuchabigdealnobodywassupposedtoknowholyshitI’mgoingtovomitonyourshoeswhydoesthisshithappentome. “I wanted to apologize, for how loud we were this morning. Wow, that came out weird, uh. I mean, when Niall and I - when we were arguing. Have you talked to him about it?”
Harry shakes his head vaguely, eyes stuck somewhere on the wall over Liam’s shoulder. “Heard it all this morning.”
“I feel so guilty, Haz, you’ve got no idea. But Dani - she er, she cheated on me,” says Liam, sounding utterly broken. “I knew something weird was going on, she’d been getting really emotional before break and I think it’s ‘cause she felt guilty about it. But, she told me and I - I was really upset. And I told Niall last night ‘cause I thought if I didn’t I might explode but then she called and I was like, ‘hey well, we can talk about it’, because I mean, I love her, really I do, and I swear I didn’t even know he was listening and then he got all pissy so I told Dani I’d call her back and then Ni was like calling me an idiot and I was upset so I got really defensive and…I mean, you know Niall. He’s the most laidback person I’ve ever met in my life but once something upsets him he just loses it,” Liam finishes breathlessly, hands shaking slightly as they toy with the buttons on his flannel.
Harry blinks, glancing over at Louis nervously. Liam had just - he’d totally caught them - and…he wasn’t even giving it a second thought. It’s like it hadn’t even happened.
“I just. I don’t know what to say to him. People are coming soon and Danielle’s on her way and I want to have fun because what if I spend my New Years Eve miserable and I jinx myself and like the rest of the year is just terrible? What if we never make up, you know? He’s my best -”
“Liam,” Louis says sharply, effectively cutting him off. “Stop working yourself up, mate! He’s gonna forgive you in like a second. Once he gets a few drink in him I bet he won’t even remember. He’s like a goldfish.”
Liam shrugs sadly, looking down at his feet. “I dunno. He’s not always so forgiving, you know. Like, one time I said his red Supras were obnoxious ‘cause they totally were and now every time he wears them he gives me this snotty look and makes a big show of tying them all the time.”
“I remember that,” says Harry. It’s been two years and the entire third floor remembers that, he thinks. “Niall is pretty ace at holding grudges.”
“Okaaaay. Well, how ‘bout this then,” says Louis, hopping up from his spot on the bed and crossing his arms. Harry’s eyes follow him, drinking in how impossibly gorgeous he is from literally every angle. “While Harry gets ready up here, I’ll go downstairs with you and try to help smooth this situation over. We can, I dunno, watch a movie or something, relieve the tension with a good ol’ romcom, yeah?”
“Zayn hates romcom’s,” interjects Liam.
“Well you’re not bloody trying to woo Zayn now are you?”
“I - well, no but I’m not trying to woo Niall, either! I just…want this to be all be done.”
Harry stands up next to the older boy, clearing his throat slightly before speaking, “Li, I don’t think Niall’s mad at you. I think he’s upset because he cares about you. I think you should just go down there and be casual, don’t try and make a big thing out of it, ‘cause he won’t want to deal with it. It’ll make the situation even worse,” Harry tells them, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. He turns his head to Louis, his tone changing slightly when he says, “and please, for the love of God, Lou, don’t say anything stupid or offensive or whatever.”
“I won’t!” Louis protests, trying to look offended at the younger boy’s desperate plea. He turns around so he can face Harry fully, widens his eyes dramatically like he’s telling him to shut the fuck up. “I’m trying to be a good friend here,” says Louis in a quieter voice.
“You are a good friend.”
Louis scoffs. “Every time I say something I piss someone off.”
“You don’t piss me off,” Harry tells him, grabbing at Louis’ hand and smiling sweetly. “Well, most of the time anyways.”
“That’s ‘cause if I do I can always make it up to you,” the older boy says smugly. “I don’t quite have the same advantage with the other boy’s.”
Harry’s eyes widen, the mere thought of it tugging at his heartstrings. “If you ever -”
“Never in a million years babe,” promises Louis, turning around quickly and throwing his arms out wildly. “Let’s go then. Time for quality family fun, yeah?”
Liam nods, giving him a grateful smile as they leave the room. “Sorry ‘bout the shoe, by the way.”
“It’s fine, mate, in the past,” says Louis indifferently. “Oh, but. One thing.”
“Be a good lad and don’t tell anybody about what you saw in there, ‘right? Harry might actually die if you do,” he tells him, looking seriously at the boy next to him and adding, “and I mean that quite literally. He will go into cardiac arrest -”
“Yeah, ‘course mate. Long as you don’t tell anybody that I talk to myself,” the brown eyed boy laughs.
“Er, yeah,” says Louis, making a guilty face that Liam doesn’t catch. “Won’t tell a soul about that.”
Harry’s got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach from the moment he steps in the shower ‘till the moment he steps out. He knows Louis’ intentions are good and all but he’s never spent much one-on-one time with Niall. He doesn’t quite get how the Irish lad acts in situations like this. Or at all, really, as the older boy chooses to avoid him as much as he can around school.
Niall hates confrontation. He feels awkward calling people out on what they’ve done, even if he’s completely right in the situation, which is generally why he doesn’t - always making a joke out of everything. That being the reason why when he’s actually the one in an argument, he essentially goes into hiding, avoiding the boys at all costs and coming back when he’s ready with a quick ‘sorry’ and (occasionally) a warm hug, depending on the severity of the fight.
Harry’s never actually gotten into a fight with the boy. He’s never gotten into a fight with any of the boys, he doesn’t think. He’s too lazy to get into it with any of them. Who even has the energy for that?
His stomach ache is also stemming from something else - something a bit more personal. Something infuriatingly beautiful and familiar and intimidating and wonderful and yeah, it’s Louis. It’s always Louis lately, it seems.
The younger boy shakes out his hair much like a dog and heads back to their shared room, remembering how he’d spent his entire break in near pain, missing him so much it sent an dull ache through his chest every time he thought of him. He wanted him, in more than one way, in every way, from the moment they’d left each other at the train station. It was cheesy, really, but Harry’s only fifteen and his first boyfriend ever had just told him he’d loved him so whatever, sue him, he had emotions.
Harry had swiftly avoided all talk of a new girlfriend the entire length of his visit, telling his family at dinner that he was really just focusing on his studies and making new friends and informing them, quite honestly, that no girls at school had caught his eye. Gemma had sighed, muttering to herself how she’d gotten stuck with such a boring little brother. Robin laughed, stage whispering to him from across the table, “girls are no good anyways, son,” to which Harry promptly replied, “I couldn’t agree more.”
Gemma had definitely picked up on his strange behavior. She’d noticed his constant texting and secretive phone calls, his unfamiliar items of clothing and, worst of all, his faded bruises of obvious love bites scattered across his chest. They’d been hidden well enough while he was wearing his school uniform but he wasn’t expecting her to pop into his room that day (and it’s not his fault he liked to be naked as much as possible. It was his room).
“What are tho -” the brunette had managed to choke out, eyes widened and laden with amusement, before Harry had quickly slammed the door on her face.
Truth be told, Harry had spent most of his holiday locked away in his room, a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders, cellphone protectively resting on his tummy, and some ridiculously cheesy teen romance playing on the TV. He’d watched Love Actually so many times he’d lost track and one night after watching The Notebook, Never Been Kissed, and A Walk to Remember, he’d fallen asleep with a funny feeling in his stomach, thoughts of Louis fresh in his mind.
It’s not like Harry’s childish - maybe a bit camp, considering his choice of movies, but not childish. Just because he was fifteen years old (sixteen in two months, thanks), his brain was far from it. He wasn’t dumb, and he definitely didn’t think things were going to stay how they were forever. Harry was well aware Louis wanted more, but he also knew that he wanted more himself, as well.
It was fun, beating around the bush and all, teasing and taunting his boyfriend over late night phone calls and dirty text messages, but by the end of break, Harry was certain that he wanted to have sex with Louis. A lot. And he wanted it soon, like, ideally that night, because when else would they have an opportunity as great as now? They’d have an entire bedroom to themselves, with a huge mattress, and a bathtub, and provided champagne downstairs that they could easily steal.
Things had sort of turned to shit, though. As much as he loves his friends (really, he loves them) they’re insistent, horribly timed fighting was driving him mad.
Why did Louis have to choose to be such a good friend at such a shitty time?
The first guest arrives at around 8 o’clock. His name is Andy and he knows Liam through third period chem, apparently. None of the boys were very fond of the kid but he brought an entire bottle of Svedka so nobody was really complaining. Following Andy is Cher, who seems incredibly nervous, fixing her appearance from the moment she steps through the door. Niall greets her with a hug and Harry worries she might faint.
After that it’s like people start arriving in packs, each room filling up quicker and quicker, and Harry’s once stylish blazer has become an incredible burden on him as he struggles to breathe in the overheated area. Eleanor and Danielle arrive together, a few friends in tow, immediately finding Louis through the herds of people. “Hey, babe,” she calls, kissing his cheek affectionately. “Nice outfit!”
It seems to be some sort of inside joke, because even Louis laughs. Harry doesn’t.
“Do you know where Liam is?” Danielle asks, looking uncomfortable.
“I think,” says Harry, hopping off the barstool to get a better view of the living room. “I think he’s over there, near the fireplace. With Andy and them.”
“Thanks, hun,” she says, patting his arm before walking off. Louis taps his shoulder and tells him he’s gonna go show Eleanor where her and her friends can put their coats, and Harry doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before he’s off, leaving Harry alone in the middle of the kitchen. He shakes his head, incredibly annoyed.
Through the crowd of the living room, Harry can see Zayn (well, mostly just his quiff) at the DJ booth, his arms waving wildly in the air with a drink in hand, a small brunette leaning against his side, clearly wasted.
He meets up with Louis again a few minutes later, until Eleanor is tugging at his sweater and telling him she’s just has to introduce him to someone. “It’ll just be a minute, promise.”
Harry tells himself to calm down when Louis gives him a helpless shrug. “C’mon, babe. It’s a party, go talk to some people, yeah?” and when the younger boy says nothing in return, Louis adds, “I’ll be back in no time.”
Louis is not back in no time. It’s been nearly an hour since Louis left his side and Harry hasn’t been able to find him anywhere, let alone any of the other boys. Or anyone else he even remotely likes. He now sits completely resigned at the bar, hand propped on his fist, playing an intense game of Angry Birds. He considers calling it a night at this point, but decides not to, knowing full well he’ll just lay awake all night thinking of Louis. He’s wanted the twat since he opened his eyes this morning. Why didn’t he just do it then?
“You wanna dance wif me?” a high pitched voice screeches into his ear, successfully interrupting his thoughts. Harry jolts backward, turning his head quickly to find a skinny blonde looking up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused, lashes caked with dark mascara.
The girl is quiet for a moment, though she doesn’t leave. “You wanna fuck me?”
“Er - not really,” Harry mutters uncomfortably, shifting away from her. “Although I really suggest you stop asking that because 50% of the people here are total creeps.”
“…are you gay, mate?”
Harry closes his eyes, putting his face in his hands and groaning loudly. When he looks up, he sighs with relief. “Oi, Liam!” He calls, getting up and walking toward him.
The boy in name whips his head around, finding Harry quickly. “Hey, mate,” he says, giving him a broad smile. “How’re you?”
“Good. Well, not really. Pretty shit, actually. Have you seen Lou around?”
“Lou?” Liam repeats, leaning in closer. “I think I saw him outside, near the bonfire, yeah? With Eleanor and them.”
Harry can feel his face turning red, fighting the urge to tear his own hair out. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he laughs bitterly, already walking away. “Hasn’t even bothered to fucking find me! Absolute twat!”
“Don’t make a scene, Hazza!” Liam calls from behind the younger boy seriously.
“He doesn’t even like girls! What the fuck!”
Harry finds Louis on the patio outside, standing next to Eleanor and a boy much taller than both of them, roasting marshmallows like they’re jolly good friends gathering around a fucking campfire or something.
Someone knocks his shoulder as they rush past him inside, yelling at him to ‘move out of the fucking way’.
Louis looks up then, smiling sheepishly like he’s just been caught. Harry can actually feel his chest explode when the taller, unnamed boy nudges his arm and whispers something in his ear.
Harry moves hastily toward the older boy, smiling widely at the group of people before gripping Louis’ arm and pulling him along behind him.
“Hello, Hazza,” he says nervously, dropping his melted marshmallow somewhere on the cobblestone surrounding the porch. “Where are you leading me?”
Louis is silent, most likely checking his cell phone. “There’s only like - 40 minutes ‘till midnight, babe.”
“Good thing I found you then, God knows you wouldn’t have bothered to find me.”
“Oh, baaaaaabe,” Louis sings, jumping forward to wrap his boyfriend in a hug. “Don’t be mad at me, please. You know how much I love s’mores.”
Harry says nothing, pushing past herds of drunken individuals until he reaches the staircase, stopping suddenly to push Louis against the banner. He pulls him into a rough kiss, tugging impatiently at his feathery hair, drawing his impossibly closer. His mouth tastes delicious and his tongue is warm as it pushes between Harry’s lips, moving up a step so he can tilt the taller boy’s head back, lick into his mouth even deeper. “Want you,” mumbles Harry, fingers toying with the smooth leather of his belt. “Now.”
“Are you drunk?” Louis asks him offhandedly, pulling back, his lips red and bitten, already bruising.
“No, not really. I just think that I…I kind of want to remember this night.”
Louis blinks, and Harry thinks he can feel his heart jump from where their chests are pressed together. “Why’s that?”
Harry is silent before leaning forward, pressing his lips against the older boy’s ear when he says evenly, “Wanna remember exactly what your face looks like when you come inside me.”
After about thirty seconds spent staring at eachother (Louis looking much like a deer in headlights and Harry looking like he wants to rip Louis’ clothes off on the spot), things begin to move relatively quickly. Louis’ got the younger boy’s blazer off by the time they stumble, very ungracefully, into their bedroom together.
Harry moans gratefully as Louis tears off his thin cotton t-shirt, smiling up at him widely when he lets Harry tug off his jumper. The younger boy runs a large hand up Louis’ chest, fingers splayed and moving to cup the back of his neck, kissing him messily.
“You know I love you, right?” Louis says, looking uncertain when he pulls back. “We don’t have to - if you feel pressured, or whatever.”
“Do you not want to?”
“No, I -” Louis sputters, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. “I want to, of course I want to. I just - this is like, a big thing. You’ve never done it before and like, I dunno, I just thought -”
“Well it’s better than doing it in my dump of a dorm, is it not? Besides, this way we can be as loud as we want and nobody can say a damn thing,” he says, heavy eyes locked on Louis’ anxious ones. “Been thinking about it for so long. Want you in me for real this time.”
“Jesus Christ,” the shorter boy whines, voice wavering. “Lay down, I’ll go - yeah.”
Harry does as he’s told, laying back on the soft comforter and staring dazedly at the ceiling as Louis rifles through his suitcase. Louis’ back in less than a minute, crawling on top of the younger boy and kissing him gently. “Have you been practicing like I told you to?” he asks, referring to the night before break when Harry had responded outstandingly well to Louis’ fingers.
“Every night,” Harry tells him in a low voice. Louis makes an approving sound as he unbuttons the younger boy’s jeans, fingers shaking slightly in excitement. “Always thought about you when I did.”
“Fuck,” Louis moans, yanking at Harry’s jeans until they were completely off (which took forever because his legs were like, never ending) and moving immediately on to his boxers. “Did you watch some pornos and study their dialogue, too?”
Harry laughs, tossing his head back. “Obviously. Got my lines of the back of my hand.”
“I’m sure,” says Louis, leaning into kiss him again when the taller boy’s legs wrap around his hips. He reaches out blindly, clambering around his bedside table until he’s grabbed what he was looking for. When he sits up straighter, Harry parts his legs immediately, propping himself up on his forearms to watch as Louis lubes up his fingers easily.
Louis moves forward then, resting one hand next to Harry’s head and the other on his around his cock, pumping lazily a few times before his fingers move lower.
“Lift your hips a bit,” he instructs.
Harry takes a shaky breath and complies, gasping suddenly as a slick finger teases at his hole pushing slowly inside of him, so much more skilled than Harry had ever been alone. The younger boy whimpers, clamping down on his bottom lip without breaking his eye contact with Louis.
“You’re still so tight,” mutters Louis, already so hard he’s unsure he’ll actually be able to last being inside of Harry.
“More,” Harry mutters impatiently, moving his hips slowly. “Fuck, you - you’re amazing, yeah.”
Louis tries not to laugh, thrusting deeper, not stopping until he’s got three fingers buried inside of the younger boy, curving them upward incessantly until Harry’s a quivering mess, clutching tightly at the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.
“Are - er, do you think you’re, um. Ready?” Louis asks, wincing slightly at his poor choice of words. Smooth.
“Yes,” Harry practically hisses, ignoring Louis’ awkwardness. His hips stutter oddly as Louis’ fingers leave him, suddenly feeling very empty. “So ready, please Lou.”
Louis feels guilty for a brief moment as he goes to wipe his fingers on the expensive sheets before Harry takes his fingers and sucks them into his mouth.
Louis moans, jaw dropping slightly as he watches Harry’s cheeks hollow around them. When he’s done, smirking triumphantly at Louis’ stunned expression, the older boy leans backwards, returning with a condom pinched between two fingers. “You wanna put it on me?”
Harry nods hurriedly and rips the package open, sliding it on with unexpected ease that confuses Louis. Harry looks up at him through his lashes and shakes his head like he was expecting it. “Health class, babe.”
“Right,” nods Louis, feeling like an idiot. He leans down and kisses him once again, runs his hands along his chest and shoulders and pushes Harry back, parting his legs even further. “Love you. So much, babe.”
Harry smiles, his eyes looking bigger than they ever have. It shakes Louis how completely trusting they are, filled with love and admiration and pride and well, probably a lot of lust and alcohol, too, but mostly of love and stuff.
Louis pushes in slowly and Harry’s eyes flutter, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his eyes burning at the overwhelming sensation of Louis actually being inside of him. He leans up to kiss the older boy despite the slightly awkward position, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Louis’ hips are unmoving above him, having yet to do anything in fear of hurting the younger boy, but he kisses him back fervently, fisting at Harry’s thick curls and tugging him closer to him.
Harry moans weakly, leaning back when he decides the pain isn’t as bad. “You can move.”
“Yeah, do it, ‘s not hurting anymore.”
Louis nearly cries in relief, shifting his hips and thrusting forward into Harry, whose jaw has gone slack, fingers digging into Louis’ biceps, undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” Harry’s hands drift over his head to clutch at the headboard, throwing his head back and moaning when Louis moves his hips faster. Louis’ got his arms wrapped around his thighs, watching every meticulous detail of Harry’s face as he changes his speed. “Go faster,” Harry begs, bucking his hips to meet Louis’ thrusts.
“‘S gonna hurt tomorrow.”
“Gonna hurt anyways - go faster, harder, whatever. I’m close, babe.”
Louis curses silently under his breath, wondering when the fuck his boyfriend had turned into a porn star without letting him know and speeds up his movements, hips thrusting impossibly fast as Harry loses himself, moaning and whining helplessly, his grip around the bed frame tight enough to snap it.
“Oh, shit - Lou,” the younger boy sobs, actually scaring Louis at first, thinking he hurt him. “Again, that, do that again, fuck,” and Louis’ bottomed enough times to know exactly what he’s talking about, so he does as requested and fucks into him like he was before. Harry cries out and his hips buck in response, legs moving so they wrap tightly around Louis’ waist.
“Are you gonna come for me?” Louis asks breathlessly, trying to sound, like, seductive or whatever, but also seriously wanting to know if he is because fuck, he was really close.
“Yeah,” the younger boy breathes, his limbs feeling like jelly as he moves his arm to jerk himself off. It’s better, but not enough, Louis can tell. He knocks Harry’s long fingers away and does it himself, quickly flicking his wrist until Harry moans obscenely, coming immediately over his fingers and onto his chest. Louis comes right after him, head tipped back, cheeks flushed and lips parted.
Harry watches him wordlessly, his arms collapsed (and officially turned into jelly) above his head. Louis smiles down at him once he’s finished, licking his lips deliciously.
“How was it?” Louis asks after a few moments of heavy breathing, leaning forward on his chest. “Watching me come inside you and all?”
Harry’s smiles, fucked out and breathless. “Fucking marvelous,” he says hoarsely. “Definitely gonna remember it tomorrow. Thankfully.”
“Perfect,” says the older boy, pulling out and disposing of the condom while Harry rolls on his stomach and moans, utterly satisfied.
Louis laughs softly, rubbing his back and lying down next to him on his side, pulling the covers over their bodies. Harry turns his head to look at him, green eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, pupils completely blown. “I really wanna kiss you right now but…I don’t think I can move.”
Louis smiles warmly and hooks an arm around Harry’s back so he can pull him closer, squeezing his face between his hands as he kisses him sloppily.
Harry bites his lip, smirking. “Happy New Year, by the way. Sorry I kind of, you know, got a bit jealous.
“I can’t say I really mind, babe. Pretty sure that was better than s’mores, if I say so myself.”
“True, very true,” Harry agrees weakly, eyes falling shut. “I’m gonna fall asleep now.”
“Don’t leave, please,” he says, throwing an arm heavily over Louis’ small waist.
Louis grins to himself, squeezes his hip reassuringly and kisses his forehead. “I won’t. Promise.”
Hi so that was my first ever like ~actual sex~ smut. And, I don’t know if you guys know this but - I am not actually a gay man, so like, this is probably terribly inaccurate. Also, I know they’re in high school, but the prompt basically asked for Harry to be a total cockslut and that’s what I’m making him, lol. Sorry if this was awful, but it was pretty fun to write.