Work Text:
"Grease."
"How original."
Louis sighed, rolling his eyes petulantly as he bent down to grab the movie from his and Harry's extensive collection. They often had this little spat, where Louis would insist on a movie night because "Face it. Outside of the band, we're boring as hell and utterly domestic. Movie nights are a must," and Harry would smile along and nod as he always did when Louis wanted something.
But Grease. Harry and Louis had watched the movie so many times together that Harry was sure, if given the chance, he could type a script pretty similar to the original by memory alone. But, "It's a classic, Harry. And you don't hear me complaining about that god awful shit you play in the car that you insist are classics, do you?"
So. Harry was unashamedly whipped and Louis was not afraid to use it to his advantage. Just like always.
"It's a classic," Louis muttered and Harry sighed, deciding that he'd save them both the few minutes of arguing the same old argument and just skip ahead to the part where Louis wins.
"Mhmm, sure," he whispered quietly and Louis raised an eyebrow in question. He wasn't used to winning so easily, but he wasn't about to complain.
Once Louis had the DVD in the player and the remote in hand, he flitted his way back to the couch where Harry was sprawled out with his back against an arm rest and his feet nearly hitting the other side. His arms were open, inviting, and Louis easily slid into them, his back pressed to Harry's chest as he slung his legs up onto the cushions in a similar fashion to Harry's.
It had only been twenty minutes and Louis was enthralled while Harry was bored out of his mind. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the genius of the musical, it was just... old, for lack of a better word. And if Louis hadn't been snuggled up to him, looking so mesmerized by the screenplay it would've been a crime to disturb him, Harry would've left ages ago.
Instead, Harry began thinking up ways to distract himself.
As per usual, his mind automatically goes to Louis and how absolutely precious he looks while mouthing along to the lyrics of the songs humming in the background. He looks so innocent, and that had always tempted Harry. He took it as a challenge: see how quickly he could wipe the purity from Louis' eyes and replace it with lust-filled blackness.
Harry wasn't one to turn away challenges.
So he let his hands wander from Louis' sides where they'd previously been resting and to his stomach, the barely noticeable tummy Harry had grown quite fond of poking out adorably. He rubbed his fingertips over the skin where his shirt had ridden up just a sliver, then underneath the clothing to squeeze gently, yet affectionately. He could see Louis smiling from the corner of his eye and no, that's not what he wanted. He wanted whines and looks of desperation. He needed a different approach.
Harry's fingers left Louis' stomach, instead inching up further until they were brushing Louis' nipples. He could feel Louis tense just the slightest as his fingernail caught on the nub and there it was. The reaction Harry had been wanting.
The thing was, Louis' nipples were sensitive. Abnormally so—something Harry had discovered only a few weeks after they'd shared their first time together. They'd only been undressed, simply snogging stark-naked in the comfort of their bed. Harry had been feeling particularly affectionate and in turn found his mouth all over Louis' body. Somewhere in between the praise and contact, Harry naturally sucked one of Louis' nipples into his mouth and the reaction was immediate. Louis fisted his fingers into Harry's curls, began moaning helplessly and came untouched onto Harry's chest.
After that, Harry liked to ignore Louis' nipples during sex. For one, he didn't want them to be done so soon; yeah, he'd made Louis come again that first night, but he didn't want to over-exert his boyfriend. And two, he liked to save it for special occasions. Like when Louis needed just that extra bit of convincing, Harry played with his nipples until he was begging for more—which he got, as soon as he saw reason.
Tonight was nothing special, but Harry was feeling adventurous. And sometimes, he just liked to treat his boyfriend for simply being that.
He continued his movements, light as a feather. He ghosted his fingertips over the cloth of Louis' shirt, only barely making contact but a whimper escaped his lips nonetheless.
"What are you doing?" he hissed lowly, shifting against Harry's body.
"Watch the movie," Harry replied, taking both of Louis' nipples between his fingers and rolling them softly.
Louis groaned again, squirming the way he did whenever Harry whispered dirty things to him during interviews when he knew Louis could do absolutely nothing about it. Harry smirked, flattening his palms against Louis' chest and moving them up and down.
Louis tilted his head back against Harry's shoulder, closing his eyes as his hips thrust absently into nothingness. Harry decided that it had been enough for now, slipping his fingers back to Louis' stomach and turning his attention back to the movie screen.
Once Louis' breathing had calmed enough, he was nearly fuming. "You..."
"Watch the movie, Louis," Harry repeated, pointing to the screen with the hand that had just been all over Louis' chest moments before.
Harry smiled, drawing nice little patterns onto Louis' tummy with his fingers. It wasn't long until Louis' full attention seemed so close to being back on the movie and the movie alone and, okay, good. That was exactly where Harry wanted him.
He slipped his fingers back up to Louis' chest, rubbing the hardened nubs in slow, torturous circles. Louis let out a whine, tilting his head back to give Harry a look.
"You little shit," he whispered. "You know what you're doing."
Harry laughed, lightly pinching Louis' nipples just enough to regain his complete attention. "I don't think I do, Lou. Could you tell me?"
"You—" Louis paused, moaning when Harry scraped his nail against him through his shirt. "You're fucking teasing me. Stop."
"I don't really think you want me to," Harry replied, going back to rubbing circles around his nipples. He pressed down, putting more pressure on them as the seconds ticked by. Louis began to whimper, and Harry was sure he had him now.
But then Louis' hands were pushing Harry's away. "Stop," he repeated, hopefully more firmly.
Harry grinned—he'd seen the reluctance Louis had to make him stop, all the will power it took to shove his hands away. He smirked, putting his hands to his sides and away from Louis.
"Okay," he murmured. "I'll stop."
But that was the thing with Harry; he liked to be in control, liked to tease and touch until Louis crumbled and let Harry do whatever he wanted with him. Louis was on the edge now, so close to leaning back and taking whatever Harry had to give.
It was only three minutes later that Louis was groaning, muttering a, "Fuck it," and leaning his head back to plant his lips against Harry's.
He brought his hands back up to Louis' chest, flicking his fingertip experimentally over Louis' nipple. Louis groaned instantly, back arching off of the couch and Harry could faintly see the outline of his dick pressed against his thigh. He drew his index against the nub, pressing the palm of his finger against it harshly and moving it vertically until he heard a satisfactory amount of moans.
Louis whimpered, scrunching his eyes up in what seemed to be pain but Harry knew better. If he kept at it, toyed with Louis' nipples long enough, his angel would come without Harry touching his dick once. It was unbearably hot to think about and Harry could feel himself hardening at the thought.
He rubbed his hands down the entirety of Louis' torso, kneading at his stomach once again before quickly getting to work back on Louis' nipples. He'd had enough of teasing Louis, so set on making him come that he'd thrown his own motives out the window.
"Nngh," Louis moaned out, arching up into Harry's touch. Harry began to tug roughly, easing his pressure ever so often to bring Louis so close to orgasm, just to be brought back down.
His hips were wild now, his limbs thrashing with every touch Harry gave. He watched, blissed out as Louis squeezed his eyes tight and panted harshly, thrusting up into the air in search of some desperately needed friction. But Harry didn't budge, kept his fingers on Louis' nipples and touched, felt, pulled—anything.
Louis looked positively wrecked; his fringe was damp and sticking to his forehead, his teeth pulling at his lower lip, his lips then parting and letting out breathless pants of desperation. He was squirming at every bit of contact, ending with his body rubbing up against Harry's crotch. His legs were kicking absentmindedly, struggling to keep still and fuck, Harry needed this to last.
He slowed down his movements, feeling around Louis' nipples and squeezing, providing just the right amount of relief to keep him on edge. Louis was so ready, though, so full he felt like he could explode. His noises became higher, quicker.
In seconds, Louis was reaching for Harry's hands, enclosing them as best as he could with their outrageous size difference and forcing Harry's index and thumb to pinch at his nipples. He shouted loudly in a sort of half-scream, lifting his hips off of the couch as he came.
Harry followed soon after, the sight and sounds Louis was making too much to ignore. He rutted his hips up into Louis: his back, his bum, him. Once he had come, he rested his hips back against the cushions, feeling Louis follow suit.
Harry reached around to pull Louis closer to him by the waist but his hand ended up in something wet instead. He looked down, finding that Louis' sweats had been soaked through by the massive loads of come he'd just spilled into his pants.
"Fuck," he whispered, the word coming out choppy and quick through Harry's ragged breathing. He tentatively reached out and touched at the come-covered clothing, dragging his finger across and collecting what he could before slowly sucking the digit into his mouth.
Louis was still too out of it to notice, whimpering softly against Harry's chest. Harry did what he normally did in these situations; he kissed at Louis' neck, leaving little lovebites loitering about his collarbone. Louis began to stir softly, opening his eyes to meet Harry's smiling, happy ones.
"Get up and restart the movie, you absolute devil," he said, turning away when Harry offered a kiss. But he was smiling, so Harry wasn't too worried.
"Really?" Harry asked, just barely running his finger over Louis' nipple. "You want me to do that?"
"Don't even think about it," Louis hissed, carefully maneuvering himself out of Harry's touch to make sure he didn't get to where he wanted. "They're even more sensitive now, thanks to someone who can't keep his hands to himself."
"I didn't hear any complaining," Harry reminded him, pressing his lips to the back of Louis' neck, despite.
"Restart the movie," Louis grumbled again, crosing his arms like a child and sitting up so Harry could move. "And get me some fresh boxers, would you?"
Harry smiled. Louis thought he was punishing Harry and, admittedly, Harry really didn't want to get up, would much rather sit with Louis for the rest of the night. But it was definitely a small price to pay for what he'd just had the pleasure of witnessing.
"Anything for you, Princess," he murmured, placing a kiss on Louis' forehead.
When he returned with a new pair of underwear for Louis, he found his boy looking on the verge of passing out on the sofa. Harry grinned, knowing Louis would be asleep in no time, but he slid the pair of boxers towards him anyway.
Louis reluctantly got up to put them on, mainly because, "I'm not sleeping covered in my own come, no matter how long that could've been a sexual fantasy of yours, Mr. Styles." When he was done, he stood there and Harry realized he was waiting for Harry to resume his position.
Harry tugged off his shirt and joggers, getting into a similar position as he was before on the couch. Louis crawled back into his arms, curled himself up into a ball and pulled the blanket tight over himself and his boyfriend. He was so close to falling asleep, but Harry restarted the movie from scene one anyway.
When Louis was fast asleep and Harry was teetering on the edge himself, he still couldn't bring himself to regret what he'd done, and likely never would.