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With Harry's head buried between his thighs, everything becomes a bit fuzzier.
Louis can't focus on anything other than Harry's tongue, Harry's mouth, Harry as he licks languidly over the skin of Louis' balls, teasingly. He's got a hand digging into Louis' upper thighs, just threatening him to move and he's breathing onto Louis' most sensitive parts. Louis feels wrecked already.
His lips are drawn between his teeth, tongue on the roof of his mouth as he tries to keep himself from moaning out obscenely. But Harry's been at this for the past half hour, been breathing over and kissing up and down Louis' cock without doing anything to relieve the pressure he'd been building in Louis' stomach. It was excruciating.
"Lou," Harry says, softly, then pinches Louis' thigh when he receives no answer. "Lou. Wanna try something."
He plays a finger against Louis' rim, just letting the pad of it rub soothingly. Louis wants to burst with his desire for this stupid, stupid boy. "I wanna taste you."
It was as simple as those four words, but Louis whimpers despite.
"Fuck. Harry, please," Louis murmurs, moving a hand to tug at Harry's curls in approval. And he hadn't realized how badly he wanted this, wanted Harry's tongue inside of him, stretching him open and fucking him earnest, until Harry had asked.
He pulls on Harry's hair insistently when Harry continues to mouth over his cock carelessly. He seems intent on working Louis up, getting him as close to coming without actually doing so as possible. But he couldn't do that, couldn't ask to eat him out and then just not.
"Patience," Harry mutters, and Louis can feel the words leave his mouth against his hardened cock.
Louis whines, just to show his distaste with how Harry's going about this, but Harry's more than used to Louis' pouting behavior.
Louis' thighs tense when Harry's nails scrape against the skin of his hip; his breath comes out shallow, quick. He's thinking of begging, remembering how easily he'd gotten Harry to suck him off in the stalls one day by telling him how badly he wanted him, how he couldn't possibly wait any longer. He bites his lip.
"But—" Louis starts, cutting off when Harry licks around the base of his dick. "I want—need you now, Harry. I need you so bad, it hurts."
He wasn't lying; his cock was now an angry, blaring red color that shouldn't be as appealing as Harry says it is. It was curved against his stomach, thick and looking more than ready to release. Louis stares at the way Harry's lips look just resting against it, imagining how much better he'd look when his face was pressed against Louis' hole—Louis groans.
"Please," he adds on, sounding only a fraction as desperate as he feels.
Harry doesn't answer for a while, just sits, and Louis wonders if he's somehow miraculously fallen asleep with his mouth against Louis' cock; his eyes were closed, his breathing was slowing, and Harry had been known to doze off at the drop of a hat, so it was plausible. He's about to wrap his hand around his dick and finish himself off—it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as Harry's mouth, but he just needed to come or he'd simply die—
As soon as his hand moves, though, so does Harry, and he's finally kitten-licking around Louis' rim.
"Shit," Louis swears, unable to keep it in. He feels Harry's mouth licking so, so slowly at his skin and it's pure torture. He bites his lip harder than before.
"Don't swear," Harry says, and he's being a placating piece of shit, Louis thinks. A teasing piece of shit. Louis wants to murder him.
"Shut up and fuck me with your tongue," he replies, trying to keep his voice normal. From the looks of Harry's smirk, he hadn't done a very good job.
"I don't think you're in any position to be making orders," Harry mutters. Louis' got a witty reply on the tip of the tongue, he really does, but then Harry's licking a thick stripe over Louis' hole and all that leaves his mouth is a depserate moan. "And I just told you not to swear."
"Oh God," Louis breathes out, a hint of a whine in his voice. He's so hard, been hard for the past two hours, and he can't focus on anything except Harry's mouth.
Harry licks right around the edges of Louis' hole, continuing at a slow pace. He waits until Louis is clenching his hands into fists, rocking his hips backward in efforts to drive Harry's tongue in further, to begin sliding his head away gradually. Louis tries to follow him subconsciously, body searching for the friction it's been so deprived of yet yearns for all the same.
"Harry," Louis groans; it's all he can think to say, really. "Harry, Har—Harry."
He leans up on his elbows to get a better view of Harry's head between his legs—and God, it's a miracle he doesn't simply explode that second. Harry's mouth is moving like it does when he's kissing Louis soft and slow, when he's savoring the taste of Louis' lips against his own. Louis is sure that's what he's doing now, tasting the most intimate part of his body, the part that's only for him, and revelling in it.
Louis can't take it; his thighs are trembling, his lip is going numb between his teeth, his hands are fisting into the sheets, he's close.
"Want me to go faster?" Harry asks all of a sudden, petting along Louis' inner thigh. "Want me to make you come?"
He doesn't have to wait for a response; the way Louis' body tenses then relaxes in no longer than a second is answer enough. He spreads Louis' thighs further apart and takes a moment longer to stare at Louis' hole, causing Louis another beat of panic, worried that Harry will leave him on the edge that much longer, which. Louis doesn't know if he could handle the next ten minutes without coming.
Louis' upper body is still propped up enough that he can see Harry point his tongue and lean in closer, close enough that Louis can feel him breathing right against his skin.
He can't help the whine that leaves his lips, nor the "please," that follows. He can't really regret it when it drives Harry to push his tongue inside of him.
His tongue fits perfectly inside of Louis, fucking in and out rapidly—a nice change from the slow pace he had set before. Louis' arms give out, letting him fall back onto the sheets with his mouth wide open and moan after whimper leaving his throat.
He tries to voice his praise, knows how much it spurs Harry on when he knows just how good he's making Louis feel, but all he can get muster are sounds he hopes aren't so vague that Harry doesn't understand them.
Judging by his renewed energy and vigor in licking into Louis—fucking him with his tongue—he figures Harry got the message one way or another.
"Harry—I'm gonna," Louis begins, his train of thought failing him completely when Harry's tongue goes a little bit deeper.
And then he's moaning against him, like it's the greatest pleasure for him to have his head buried between Louis' legs, and that's it for Louis.
He comes completely untouched, the majority of his orgasm falling into his navel as his mouth forms noises he's sure to be embarrassed about later. He watches his own abs clench up and release with it, knows Harry's watching it too because he said he'd always loved watching Louis come and took note of every detail every time—watching Louis' body go entirely tense then relax as he pulses out his come was apparently a huge turn on.
His breathing is ragged, but it's on the road to recovery as Harry kisses along his thighs and barely there tummy because of his lying position. By the time he's stopped squirming and has regained his ability to breath normally, Harry is on his knees staring down at him.
"Ready for my cock, babe?"
And, really. The first orgasm has left him reeling and he feels like he could sleep for a few hours with no problem, but. It's Harry, so. He nods.
When Harry gives him a big, goofy grin in reply, Louis doesn't regret it at all.