Archive of Our Own

Louis sits in front of the mirror in his dressing room, eyes lost in his reflection as the memory of Harry’s guttural moan last night infects his thoughts. Nevermind that they have to get on stage in, like, an hour. Louis doesn’t have time for nerves when all that festers his mind is how sinful Harry was. Louis almost had to stop eating him out to make sure Harry was the one who made that noise, and not some experienced legend of a pornstar. 

Lou’s gentle yet firm voice is what shakes him out of his little daydream.

“Alright, Louis, you’re gonna wear these,” she says, gesturing towards the clothes she layed out for him on the sofa. “And then you’re going to call me when you’re done so I can do your makeup, yeah?”

“Yup,” Louis says, giving her a reassuring smile in the mirror. “Go on then. Pretty sure Niall needs help pulling up his trousers, or something.”

Lou rolls her eyes and mutters “wanker,” before wiggling her fingers in a goodbye, grin plastered on her face, and slips out of the dressing room.

It’s only a few minutes before a rhythmic chain of knocks echoes against the door, Louis raising his voice when he says “Come in!”

Louis doesn’t spare a glance at the door at first, too focused on peeling away at his chipped nail. But when he hears a familiar voice, his favorite voice say, “Louis,” his attention is no longer trained on his chipped nail-- only on the desperate figure that stands in front of him.

“Harry? What are you--”

Louis is cut off by a pair of lips lunging at his own, Harry’s tall, lanky body crashing into him and almost knocking him off the chair. They skip chastity and go straight to teeth and tongue, Harry grabbing Louis’ hand and bringing it towards his crotch, where Louis can tell he’s so hard it probably hurts. Louis instinctively squeezes around Harry’s bulge, which is constricted by his impossibly tight skinnies, eliciting a low moan from Harry.

“Fuck,” Harry whines, rolling his hips into the firm grip of Louis’ hand, “More, need more, please Louis, more--”

“Harry,” Louis says firmly, pulling his hand away from Harry, despite the choked whine that leaves Harry’s lips when he does. Louis’ tone spells out patience, Harry, but if the hardness in his own jeans is anything to go by, this is all just an act and Louis would very much like to get Harry naked and fuck him so hard the only word in Harry’s vocabulary is Louis’ name.

But they have to get on stage in 45 minutes. They can’t. Louis still has to get changed, and Lou still has to do his makeup to ensure that his face won’t be rendered glaringly shiny with sweat. He isn’t even sure Harry is done getting ready, and even if he was, he’s not sure Lou would be thrilled with the idea of Harry’s stage clothes getting ruined with cum.

“Louis, please, just a quickie, a handjob or a blowjob or something, no sex. Promise. Just-- please.” Harry’s words come out between broken pants, and Louis almost gives in. Almost.

“No, Harry. We’ve got to get on stage way too soon.”

Harry sighs, hanging his head in defeat. His breathing is still labored, Louis unsure if the source of it is due to racing down labyrinths of hallways in search of Louis’ dressing room or the sheer arousal that radiates off of him.

Harry wordlessly strides to the couch, Louis stepping off of the chair, brows furrowed, watching Harry sweep the clothes Lou had previously laid out for him onto the floor. 

“What the fuck are you doing? I have to wear those--”

Louis almost chokes as he watches Harry push his jeans and boxers off in one big swoop, stepping out of them. He collapses on the couch, slouching a bit as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table in front of him and wraps a hand around his cock. His strokes are slow and agonizing, despite the clear desperation in his demeanor.

“Harry--” Louis starts, but is quickly cut off by the other boy-- and thankfully so, he isn’t sure he would’ve found words to say if Harry had let him continue.

“You won’t get off with me, so I’m doing it myself.”

Louis stands there, mouth gaping, as Harry’s pulls grow faster. Harry throws his head back, writhing and moaning every time he spares a glance at Louis, hand twisting around his cock. Every now and then he lets his thumb swipe beads of pre-come off of his tip, spreading it down his shaft. Louis knows he probably should stop staring, knows he should either leave the room or put an end to it. He decides on the latter.

“Harry, you need to stop,” Louis chokes out, picking up Harry’s discarded jeans and pants off the floor and throwing them at him, forcing his eyes to stare up at the ceiling while he hopes Harry gets decent.

“No,” Harry breathes out, throwing his clothes back at Louis. “Need to cum, gonna do it with or without you. There’s no stopping it, so don’t you think you should work this to your advantage considering it’s inevitable?”

“Big fucking words for a lad who’s masturbating on a sofa in front of his boyfriend,” Louis retorts, gaze traveling to the tight fist that’s wrapped around Harry’s cock, motions unwavering even as Harry speaks to him.

It’s when Harry sucks a finger into his mouth, lathering it with his own spit and trails it past his balls, down to his rim, that Louis is about to give in. How could he not, when the love of his goddamn life is about to finger himself and jerk off at the same time while making Louis watch?

But before Harry can slip his finger into his hole and Louis can get the words out, the simple, easy, “Alright then, you desperate slut, come on and suck my cock,” there is a knock on the door, a feminine voice announcing “I’m coming in.”

Well fuck.

Lou goddamn Teasdale. Louis really regrets not taking Harry up on his offer earlier. Not only would they have been able to (probably) get off in time, but it would’ve also saved them the experience of having Lou Teasdale, whom they see everyday, walk in on Harry wanking on the couch while Louis watches.

As soon as Lou, poor, sweet, innocent, cockblocker Lou realizes what exactly is going on, she’s slapping a hand to her eyes and yelping a “Bloody hell!”

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry, fuck. I’m-- Jesus Christ, Harry, stop wanking yourself and get dressed,” Louis says, Harry heaving a heavy (annoyed) groan as he reluctantly pulls his hand away from his hard cock.

“Sorry, Lou,” Harry mumbles, getting himself decent, a hand still strewn across Lou’s eyes. “You can look now, by the way,” Harry informs her, Lou dropping her hand with a sigh. He makes sure to kick Louis’ shin on his way out, giving Lou another “sorry” before he leaves the dressing room.

“Does he always do that? D-Do you always do that?” Lou asks, before shaking her head violently, two fingers pressed to her temples as she says, “No, wait, don’t tell me, don’t want to know.”

Louis laughs, motioning for Lou to turn around as he pulls on the clothes she laid out for him earlier.

--

The entire concert, Harry is impossibly hard in his jeans. Louis can tell. He’s pretty sure everyone in the fucking stadium knows it too. But that could only spur Harry on, he knows that his boy loves the humiliation.

As soon as they step foot on the tour bus (they’re almost always on the road, the tour barely leaves them idle), Harry is stumbling towards the restroom and Louis knows he’s planning on wanking.

He doesn’t stop Harry, although playing with him after he’s been edging an orgasm is very appealing at the moment. Instead, he sits patiently outside the restroom, enjoying the sounds of Harry's moans and occasional cries of his name. Niall, Liam, and Zayn are still on the bus, all three in their respective beds, knocked out from their long day.

But then he thinks he hears something dangerously close to “Daddy” being whimpered from inside the restroom, and the arousal clouding his eyes only gets denser as he hears it again.

“Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Holy shit. A Daddy kink?

How did Louis not figure this out? Harry almost never closes his tabs after he’s done watching porn, it would be impossible not to know his kinks like the back of his hand.

Is it new, then?

Before Louis can decide if he’s going to ask Harry about it, the boy emerges from the restroom, cheeks blotchy and eyes half-lidded. And--

“Harry, is that cum on your shirt?” Louis asks, making sure he sounds annoyed and not lustful. Harry doesn’t need to know that his little slip up made Louis’ cock harder, nope, definitely does not need to know.  

Harry peers down at himself, laughing amusedly when he finds a drop of cum on the hem of his shirt. He wipes it away with his thumb, cheeky grin gone almost as quickly as it appeared, as he sucks his thumb into his mouth. He holds unbearable eye contact with Louis the entire time, Louis swallowing around a lump in his throat. He can feel his jeans getting tighter, his thoughts mushing into one, just a mantra of Harry, Harry, Harry.

Fuck this.

Louis yanks Harry by the collar of his shirt and pulls the both of them into his bunk, snatching the curtains that give the cramped bunks a bit of privacy shut. He moves so that he’s straddling Harry’s hips, leaning down to press kisses and nibbles at Harry’s neck. 

“L-Louis, please, just came, sensitive--”

“--Bold of you to assume I would let you cum,” Louis hums against Harry’s pulse, “let alone touch your cock. I’m here in this bunk with you for you to get me off.”

Harry’s breathing becomes labored even more so at Louis’ words, the pattern almost identical to his wrecked state when he stumbled into Louis’ dressing room this morning. It spurs Louis on, causing him to grind his hips down aggressively against Harry’s, pulling a growl from him when he feels Harry’s cock hardening under him. 

“You’re gonna take my cock, Harry, m’gonna fuck your mouth and you’re gonna take it like the proper slut you are-- and you definitely won’t complain if I won’t let you cum.”

Louis strips the both of them of their clothes, tossing the offending items where they won’t bother them. He moves up Harry’s chest, and just watching his boy waiting under him, ready for his cock makes Louis’ spine tingle. He takes a moment to just take it in, bask in the realization that he’s the luckiest man in the world, admire the way Harry gets so pliant for Louis like this… perfect, is what he is. Absolutely perfect, but Louis knows Harry needs to feel used and slutty and disgusting, so he doesn’t tell Harry how beautiful he looks right now, lips red and bitten, cheeks filled with color, silver-green eyes glassy and shining with hunger. Hunger for Louis’ cock, Louis realizes, the thought pulling him out of the little “Harry Styles admiration” bubble he made for himself.

He brushes the tip of his cock along the seam of Harry’s lips, shining them with his pre-cum. Harry’s fighting the urge to open his mouth and shove his head forward, effectively choking himself on Louis’ cock, Louis knows so from the way his brows furrow and his eyes stay trained on Louis’ dick.

“Hm, don’t really think you deserve my cock anymore, not after your little bratty display today. What do you think, Harry? Do you think you deserve my cock?” Louis says, all the while rubbing his cock along Harry’s cheekbones, slapping it against his lips every now and then. He lets his gaze waver to the side, where Harry is clutching the sheets so hard his knuckles are white. But his eyes are back on Harry just as quickly as they left him, feeling the way Harry melts under his trained eye.

Before Harry can respond, Louis’ saying, “No, it doesn’t matter what you want, anyway. I do what I want to do to you, and you take it, don’t you whore? You take it because you’re--”

But Louis’ dirty talk is rudely interrupted by a terrified shrill from the bunk above them. Shit. Niall woke up.

“OH MY GOD PLEASE STOP I’LL CRY IF YOU DON’T STOP--”

“Niall fucking Horan,” Louis hisses, interrupting Niall’s cries, “You cockblocking, moment-ruining, Irish little shit, if you don’t fall back asleep in the next five minutes, I swear to god, I’ll start right back up and make sure Harry’s as loud as he can be.”

But Harry’s laughing underneath Louis, apparently finding Niall and Louis’ exchange amusing, and Louis just can’t have that, so he shoves his dick into Harry’s mouth, interrupting him mid-laugh.

“Alright, Alright!” Niall yells, “Jesus! Five minutes, just please don’t do anything until I’m sleeping--”

“--Tick tock, Niall!” Louis tuts, not even thrusting his hips, just keeping his cock buried in Harry’s throat.

Louis’ dick stays in Harry’s mouth, idle, for the full five minutes. Every time Harry chokes or sputters around his cock, Louis lays a slap to his face-- not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough to feel tentative either. When Louis calls out Niall’s name and doesn’t get any response, he looks down and smirks at Harry. He pulls his cock out for only a second, Harry barely catching his breath, before he shoves it back in, moaning when his tip hits the back of Harry’s throat. He pumps in and out of Harry’s slack-jawed mouth, deep and hard and fast, tears staining Harry’s rosy cheeks.

“Gag,” Louis says, needing to hear just how affected Harry is by his cock. Harry immediately gags himself on Louis’ dick, eyes rolling as he moves a hand to stroke his own length. Louis shoves his cock in especially deep when he realizes Harry’s about to touch himself, deeper than any previous thrust.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Harry. Did you hear me when I said this is about me, or is your horniness interfering with your basic cognitive function?”

Harry whimpers, and that’s all the response Louis needs before he snatches Harry’s wrists and pins them above his head, fucking his mouth in ernest. “You were really bad today, Harry. Jerking off while Lou was in the room. Putting on a show for her, hm? So whorish that you even want to show Lou just how slutty you are for me?”

Harry moans around Louis’ cock, sending thrumming vibrations through his groin. That, along with the sounds of Louis’ balls slapping against Harry’s chin and the wet, gargling sounds of Harry getting his mouth fucked, is what sends Louis to the edge of orgasm.

“Where do you want it, hm?” Louis asks, thrusts becoming sloppier and less consistent as he approaches relief.

Louis pulls out to give Harry a chance to speak. “My face,” Harry says, not even needing any time to think about it. Like he was imagining having Louis’ cum on his face since forever.

Louis’ hand begins to fly over his cock at Harry’s words, jerking himself so fast his hand is a blur, watching Harry open his mouth, stick out his tongue, and peer up at Louis. The heat in his belly becomes unbearably hot, the spring in his abdomen tightening, and Harry closes his eyes in preparation for what’s to come and—

Release. Thick white-hot ropes of cum splay over Harry’s face. The first pulse lands high on his cheekbones, the second lands across his eyelashes, and the third and fourth land sloppily in and around his mouth.

“Fuck, did so good, Harry, took my cock so well,” Louis praises, still straddling Harry’s chest, spent cock still centimeters from Harry’s face.

Harry darts his tongue out to lick around the cum that’s around his mouth, humming at the taste. “God, so hard Louis, please, fuck, wanna cum too.”

Louis sighs. “I’ll think about it, Harry. Don’t ask again.”

Louis scoots back his hips so that they are aligned with Harry’s and leans down to lap up the cum that’s splattered on his face with his tongue, licking into Harry’s mouth and letting him have a taste. 

“Mm.. You... taste so... good… fuck.. so hot…” Harry mumbles in between kisses. They make out until there’s no trace of cum on their tongues or on Harry’s face, tongues lazily sliding together, lips swollen and red.

“I’ll let you cum,” Louis says finally, tracing Harry’s eyebrow with his thumb, “But on my terms.”

“Yes. Anything, just— yes .”

“Want you to cum untouched,” He’s on his hands and knees now, hovering above Harry so that the boy can’t get any friction on him.

Louis watches Harry’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“Louis—”

“Cum untouched or not at all. Your choice, Harry. Show me just how desperate you are for orgasm by cumming without my hand on you.”

Harry whispers a little “okay,” as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he focuses all his attention on his hard, leaking, neglected cock.

“Jesus, So slutty for me like this Harry, so filthy and all for my cock, hm? How bad do you want to cum, Harry? You’re gonna do it untouched, just like I asked, aren’t you? You’re my desperate slut, right? So prove it. Want you to cum for me, dirty whore, cum.” Louis punctuates his sentence with a harsh bite on Harry’s collarbone, pulling a broken groan from Harry as he arches under Louis and orgasms right then, ropes of cum landing everywhere as Harry’s cock bobs uncontrollably. 

In a few seconds or a few hours (Louis honestly could not tell you, he was too lost in the way Harry’s cum managed to get on the sheets, on Harry’s own torso, and even on the back of Louis’ arse), Harry’s orgasm has reduced to weak drops of cum bubbling at his tip, his breathing still labored. When Louis rolls over so that he’s next to Harry rather than on top of him, he accidentally brushes a leg over Harry’s cock, Harry hissing from oversensitivity. Louis almost says “sorry,” but refrains, instead moving to spoon Harry from behind once the effects of his orgasm are over. 

“Did so good, baby,” Louis whispers into his nape, kissing his skin softly. Louis knows that Harry needs him to tend to him like this after they have sex, the degradation in Louis’ voice evaporating when he knows Harry is done. Louis had kind of hoped Harry would call him “Daddy” at some point, but it didn’t happen, so he has to convince himself that he misheard Harry earlier (twice in a row, he thinks, which is too much to mishear, but he suppresses logic in favor of sanity).

Harry just hums, clutching at the arm Louis has wrapped around his torso and sighing contently. “Thank you for like… doing this.”

“What do you mean?” Louis questions, momentarily getting distracted by the lovely smell of Harry’s hair, but he shakes his head and brings his attention back to Harry’s comment.

“I just.. I know it’s weird that I, like, want you to call me all those nasty things. So thank you for doing it even though you probably hate it--”

“-- Harry. Enough. What we do in bed is for the both of us. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. Ask my dick if you don’t believe me, feller gets hard in half a second whenever I talk dirty to you.”

Harry chuckles, jabbing at Louis’ rib with his elbow, tangling their legs together, Louis’ face burying deeper into the back of Harry’s neck. “Love you, you insufferable twat,” Harry whispers, twisting around so that he’s facing Louis just to watch his reaction. Louis fake gasps, acting offended. “Ugh, should punish you just for that, really.”

“You should,” Harry nods enthusiastically, grinning just hard enough that his dimple pops. 

“Shut up.”

“Was your idea,” Harry fires back, giggling softly.

What did Louis do to deserve such a beautiful person? Louis kisses Harry softly, chastely, mumbling “I love you too,” into his lips.

--

There’s a little (rare) break in the tour, and they mutually decided they would be spending the three days cooped up in their house, having sex, watching shitty movies, and eating takeout.

Louis is scrolling through Twitter, wrapped up in their bed, while Harry takes a shower, even though he had taken one that morning. It’s almost 11 P.M, and at first he was confused as to why Harry had the sudden urge to shower. But Louis understands now, why Harry had insisted he take another one-- or at least he does once he hears a moan of “Fuck, Daddy,” from within the bathroom.

Now Louis can’t even tell himself he misheard Harry on the tour bus that night anymore, because he just heard it clear as fucking day. That’s ace.

He tries to focus on whatever the people on his Twitter feed are saying, but he ends up reading the same sentences over and over again as Harry keeps moaning that damned word. He doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up in fear of embarrassing Harry, but since when has Harry ever hated humiliation? Louis throws caution to the wind as he decides he’ll ask about it.

Not long after, Harry emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, face flushed red. Louis goes to sit on the foot of the bed and watches as Harry discards the towel, now buck naked, and shuffles through the dresser for clothes.

“So. Have fun, Harry?”

Harry freezes. “I-- what?”

“I said, did you have fun?”

“Uh-- yeah-- I guess? I mean the water was nice, if that’s what you’re asking, I had to drag myself out of there. Felt too good.”

Louis laughs then, “Your hand or the water?”

Harry’s eyes stay glued to the floor as Louis watches his face in the mirror.

“How did you--”

“--You’re loud, Harry.”

Harry spins around, the boxers he retrieved from the drawers clutched tightly in his white-knuckled grip. “Louis, whatever you heard, you didn’t, okay? You didn’t hear anything. Nothing. Nada. Got it?”

Louis taps his index finger on his chin as he says, “Hmm, except I did.” Louis gets up then, padding towards Harry, snatching the boxers out of his hand and throwing it somewhere.

“See, Harry…” Louis starts, tracing his finger around Harry’s nipples. “I, for one, think that,” his airy finger trails down his torso, towards his happy trail, “your new kink,” his hand shoots down to Harry’s cock and grips it tightly, so hard it almost hurts, eliciting a shocked squeak from Harry, “is very much a thing I don’t want to ignore.”

Louis doesn’t stroke Harry’s cock, just holds it tightly in his fist. His free hand climbing up towards Harry’s face to smooth a thumb over his cheekbones. “Say it, slut.”

“Louis-- ”

“--No,” Louis grits through his teeth, enunciating it by squeezing Harry’s cock so hard his legs begin to shake.

“Daddy-- fuck!” Harry yelps, knees buckling at the pain spreading through his groin. Louis is quick to lift him up, though, dropping him down on the bed.

“M’gonna fuck you so hard, little slut, the neighbors are gonna hear you screaming.”

Harry whimpers strings of “Please” and “Yes, fuck me,” as Louis reaches over and grabs the lube that stays on their nightstand. But when Louis pulls open the drawer and finds no condoms, he groans.

“Of course we have no condoms. Didn’t I tell you to buy more?” Louis says, a pointed look on his face.

Harry’s panting as he says, “Doesn’t matter, want you raw anyway, want you to fill me up, please.”

Louis makes a little sound in his throat at that, pushing Harry’s legs up so that he’s practically folded in half. Harry instinctively holds his legs in place with the back of his knees as Louis lubes up his fingers and reaches down to Harry’s hole, wasting no time with teasing as he shoves two fingers in at once, thrusting his fingers in and out of Harry. He scissors them every so often, pulling guttural moans from his lips. Eventually he slips his third finger in, the tight pressure of Harry’s rim on his fingers taunting him, forcing his mind to imagine what that same tightness would feel like around his cock. The way Harry is completely immersed into this doesn’t go unnoticed by Louis, either, he sees the way Harry’s irises blow in pure lust, hears the way his words slur from the overwhelming feeling of it all. This “Daddy” thing is bringing out a submissive side of Harry, a willing, obeying side of Harry that Louis hasn’t seen before. Normally Harry does random things that he knows will piss Louis off, either in hopes that he’ll receive a punishment or just to be a little shit. But this… this Harry is only being good so far.

“More,” Harry pants, bringing Louis back from whatever pondering thoughts are occupying his head.

“Beg for it,” Louis growls, letting his free hand twist Harry’s sensitive nipples. “You won’t get what you want that easy, baby boy.”

Harry whimpers through his teeth then, breathing coming out hitched. “Fuck, call me that again,” he manages to get out, writhing as Louis fucks his two fingers in and out of him at an unrelenting pace, left hand still pinching his nipples punishingly.

“Beg for it, baby boy, beg for it or I won’t give you my cock.”

“Ungh, Please please please, Daddy, fuck me with your cock, wanna feel you inside of me, please--”

Louis retracts his fingers from Harry’s hole, causing Harry to whine at the loss, but once he catches sight of Louis lubing up his cock, only anticipation stirs in his stomach.

Louis presses the tip of his cock at Harry’s entrance, not pushing in quite yet. He slaps it at his hole a couple times, rubbing it up and down his crack, and when Harry’s about to beg again, he shoves his cock in fast and deep, nailing Harry’s prostate in one go. Harry moans loudly then, a sound that erupts from the back of his throat, deep and wailing and desperate. Louis only hisses at the pressure on his tip, but it’s not long before he’s pulling out ever so slowly, leaving only his tip in, taunting Harry, and then shoving his cock back into him with sharp speed, his hips snapping into Harry’s arse. 

Harry’s crying now, yelping little yes’s and Daddy’s with every thrust Louis gives him. Firm, green-blue bruises bloom where Louis’ fingers grip Harry’s thighs, the urge to lick over them with his tongue crawling through him. Harry could not look any more delicious right now; hair sticks to his face, his jaw hangs open in silent moans that crack occasionally, giving way to choked, squeaky sounds. He’s brought his hands up above his head now, intertwining them as a makeshift restraint, while his knees dig into his shoulders and Louis dicks into him. 

“F-Fuck, m’gonna cum,” Harry wails, sobbing now as Louis fucks him so hard he’s riding up the bed with every slam.

“Not yet. You’re my good boy, right? Daddy’s baby?” Louis encourages, the pace of his hips slowing down to a human speed.

“Fu-- Yes,” Harry cries, “M’your good boy, your good slut, please, don’t stop, I’ll hold it in, won’t cum. Fuck me, please please please--”

Louis pents back up to his unrelenting velocity instantly, causing Harry’s words to break off and evaporate somewhere, any coherent thought or sentence Harry could possibly get out vanishing as he takes the constant abuse on his prostate.

“Fuck, fuck, feel so good, baby, feel so good on my cock,” Louis chokes out, bringing a hand down from where he held Harry’s legs in place to Harry’s cock to jerk him off in time with his thrusts.

“No no no, Daddy, no, don’t touch, I’ll cum, please, wanna be good for you please don’t touch-- Fuck!” Harry draws out the vowel with broken sobs as his hands fly down to the crumpled sheets, scrambling for anything to grip as Louis jerks him off even quicker.

“Baby has such a dirty mouth. Should gag you on my cock for that. Choke you with it. You’d love it, won’t you? Love Daddy’s cock in your mouth, filthy slut.”

Harry whimpers high in his throat, the power of his orgasm crashing into him before he can warn Louis, spilling all over Louis’ fist. There isn’t a lot of it, considering he had only just orgasmed in the shower, but it’s enough to coat both Louis’ fist and Harry’s butterfly tattoo.

“Came without my permission, Harry, what do you think I should do to you?” Louis asks, as if he didn’t jerk him off with every intention of making him cum. He’s still fucking the boy, knowing the sensitivity is positively wrecking him.

“I- It wasn’t-- shit-- sorry, I’m sorry, Daddy-- ohmygod,” Harry’s crying into his arm now, writhing, but Louis is quick to pin him down by pressing his legs to his torso, pumping in and out of Harry’s arse and purposefully pinning his prostate each time.

“Do you-- fuck-- do you think you deserve my cum? Do you think Daddy should cum inside of you after you came like a dirty whore without his permission?” The question is rhetorical, and even if it wasn’t, Harry did not have the strength to answer. A beat later, Louis says, “I’ll fill you up with my cum, and then eat it out of your pretty arse, hm? Gonna make you cum with nothing but my tongue. It’s gonna hurt, so bad, but you love the pain, such a slut.”

Not even two seconds later, Louis is pulsing hot cum into Harry’s wrecked hole, Harry keening as he feels it leak out of him. “Please, spilling out of me, Daddy, don’t let it spill out, please.”

Louis shuffles down, then, leveling his face with Harry’s arsehole. It’s just so pretty, cum dripping out of it, gaping from Louis’ thick cock, red and shiny with lube and Louis’ release. He licks up the cum that’s leaking, kissing his rim after. Harry’s whining, chest heaving, hands gripped in his own hair now.

Louis shoves his tongue into Harry’s waiting hole, feeling his cum squelch around it. The sounds, god, it’s so filthy. Louis knows the sounds are what gets Harry going, hearing the harsh slap of Louis’ hips on his ass, the sound of the cum in his arsehole, the sound of Louis’ low grunts. Hell, Harry’s own moans get Harry off.

Louis licks around Harry’s velvety walls, cleaning him. With his tongue still inside of him, he closes his lips around his rim and sucks, enjoying the way the cum spills into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow it, just holds it in his mouth as he continues to suck.

Above him, Harry is completely done for. Harry can’t even open his eyes, knows he’s going to orgasm if he sees Louis nestled between his arse cheeks, eating him out.

But he can’t miss it either.

So he opens his eyes, and fuck. Louis’ fringe is tussled, looking like sex, the entire lower half of his face shiny with cum and spit, lips swollen, eyes blown as he holds consistent eye contact with Harry. Then Louis opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and lets the cum in his mouth spill back into Harry’s gaping arsehole.

Harry keens loud as he orgasms, focusing on the feeling of Louis’ release dripping back into him. He cums dry, only a few blurts bubbling at his tip and dripping down his flushed cock. Louis sucks hard at Harry’s arse, the cum sucking back into his mouth, and crawls up so that his face is hovering over Harry’s. 

Louis taps Harry’s jaw, and Harry knows it means open your mouth, so Harry does it without question. Louis spits the cum back into his mouth, some landing on Harry’s chin and by the corners of his mouth. Louis leans down to kiss him then, licking into his mouth, sucking at his bottom lip. The kiss is slow and sensual and sexy and if Harry hadn’t came three times in the last hour and a half Harry would be hard again. They snowball until there’s no cum left.

A few minutes later, once Louis has his front curled around Harry’s back and Harry’s come down, Louis lets his hands caress the soft curves of Harry’s hips and waist. So, so pretty.

“You did so good, princess, so so proud of you. Love you so much,” Louis whispers into Harry’s hair, but all he gets in response is a snore. He glances at the alarm clock and it reads 12:13 A.M, so he decides he’ll let Harry sleep. They’re sticky and gross, so are the sheets, and he really wants a shower, but they’ll clean up tomorrow. And, well, with his beautiful boy curled up beside him like this, naked and beautiful, hair still smelling pleasantly of coconuts and vanilla despite the overwhelming smell of sex in the room, could you blame Louis if he falls asleep to the soft rhythm of Harry’s snores?