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I don’t want to look back in five years time and think, ‘We could have been magnificent, but I was afraid.’ In 5 years I want to tell of how fear tried to cheat me out of the best thing in life, and I didn’t let it.
“i wanna suck you off,” louis says and harry thinks the world might end before his eyes. louis is on his knees, spine curved and hunched over between harry’s spread legs and he’s breathing against harry’s pale thigh. the other boys are out, somewhere with tan girls pressed against them and too many tequila shots, but it all blurs, stretches out and disappears, when louis exhales against the quivering skin of harry’s inner thigh.
the air inside of their shared room, the sign “boys” nailed to the door, is all purple and blue, lights soft and blurred. it’s the middle of november, and harry believes it might be a raging thunderstorm outside of their house and there’s a pretty boy over him, all around him.
the thing is, he’s all new to this. there were girls back home, but he had only touched their tender breasts under printed sheets, in the darkness of their childhood bedroom, hands shaking with anticipation. he doesn’t fuck girls every weekend, doesn’t get blowjobs in bathroom stalls because he’s harry. he’s nothing special. he is limbs too long for his body, he is the ghost of a laugh. he’s just harry from holmes chapel, but louis is still here. louis is still touching him, he’s still looking at harry’s like he’s the goddamn sun.
“tha- that’s okay,” harry whispers, voice cracking a bit when he speaks up. louis grins, white teeth almost luminescent in the dark. he crawls upward, stealing a kiss from harry and fisting his hands through harry’s curls.
louis lips are a bit chapped, november air and too much vocal practice leaving his skin dry to the touch. but he’s all smooth and the swell of his belly is soft when harry rests his head against it when their soundcheck has been an hour too long and harry just wants to sleep, get off the whirlwind that is the x factor. but he thinks better of it, because if it wasn’t for the x factor, he would have never met louis. and he can’t imagine a life without louis now, not when he feels louis’ lips against the jut of his chin.
“so pretty, haz, you’re so pretty like this,” louis murmurs, voice hidden where harry’s collarbone meets his shoulder. his hands are pressing into the bottom of harry’s spine, just where his arse juts out. harry can feel the press of louis’ fingers against his skin and he’s so hard, aching against the fabric of his trousers.
“want to jerk you off, haz,” louis says, voice hoarse and thick all at the same time. when harry nods yes fuck please louis need you louis’ hands scramble for the buttons on harry’s trousers, needy and a whine high in his throat. it amazes harry to no end that louis wants this with him, wants to be this close.
as louis reaches inside harry’s briefs and wraps his hand around harry’s cock, the thunderstorm outside rages on.
his hips go towards louis in a stutter, the feeling of someone else’s hand on him too much, overwhelming. it’s like they were born for this, created for this exact moment. something clicks into place when louis’ hand reaches the head of his cock and he swipes his thumb over the slit there, smearing pre come down the sides of his swollen cock, heavy against louis’ fingers.
he can hear louis’ breathing pick up, can feel the heaviness of louis’ cock against his thigh. he thinks maybe he wants to put his lips around louis and suck. that’s when louis tucks his other hand down next to the other one, fingers finding the softness of skin between his arse and his balls. his body goes tight all over, and he’s scrabbling for louis’ skin, the sheets, anything to anchor him. there’s nothingnothingnothing, but maybe there’s something, he thinks as louis removes his hand and finds harry’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
louis’ hands are soft. they’re nothing like niall’s calloused digits. not that harry would know what niall’s fingers would feel like wrapped around his cock, but nonetheless, louis is softsoftsoft. he goes so willingly, looks harry in the eyes as he keeps his hand steady over the head of harry’s cock and swipes his thumb back and forth, sensitive skin there aching for more just louis please more.
it’s too soon, but also not soon enough, when harry feels his gut turn inside out, his shoulders jutting forward, entire body aching to be closer to louis. his hand is still sliding up and down harry’s cock, and he’s littering kisses all over harry’s collarbones, and it’s like the world is turning inside out.
“‘m. i’m gonna… louis. please.” and it’s breathless, desperate. the words tumble out of him, and he catches louis’ eye when he puts his fingers through the other boy’s hair, fringe hanging low over his eyes.
“come for me. harry, you have no... you have no idea. please, haz.” it’s with a mouth to the underside of his jaw and a speeding hand around his cock that harry comes, toes curling and eyes sliding shut. it feels like jumping off a goddamn bridge, like everything is zeroing into this exact moment and he’s made of nothing, no, of everything that floats.
harry feels like he’s soaring, stomach dropping another notch when louis puts one finger in his mouth and tastes him, tastes harry. harry’s hands pulling louis towards him says come here and louis comes, goes pliant against him.
“that was… love you. i do.” harry’s being noncoherent, just wants louis closer, can’t speak properly when there’s this bright boy over him, all around him.
“you’re pretty when you come, haz. so pretty. you have no idea what you do to me,” but harry does know, everything so clear now with louis slowly thrusting against his thigh. and when he pulls louis’ trousers down and kisses the head of his cock, he thinks that they’re a goddamn revolution.