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“C’mon Tommo, get a shift on. Harry’ll be home any moment and this is meant to be a surprise, yeah?” Liam leans over the gear shift to peer at the keypad where Louis is industriously punching in numbers with the jab of his index finger.
With a frustrated sigh to accompany the annoying beeping, Louis glares at Liam, “I am doing my best, Liam! Now shush so I can concentrate.”
“You’ll get us locked out and the security company will send someone round and I am not getting arrested! Not today!” Liam unbuckles his seatbelt and bolts round the front of the Suburban, pushing Louis’ hand out of the way and quickly keying in a series of digits.
“Is there a day you’d prefer to get arrested?” Louis glowers as Liam flings himself into the car just as the ornate security gates swing inward with a happy little beep.
Liam raises his middle finger and motions for Louis to put the car into gear. “The code is Harry’s audition number from The X-Factor. How could you not know that?”
Eyes narrowing behind his aviators, Louis hitches himself up to his full height as he steers the big black SUV down the gently winding path to Harry’s house. “Of course I know the pass-code is his number, Liam. And of course I know what that number is. Well, numbers, I suppose. I’ve got all the digits in me head, just not sure of the order, am I?”
“Of course not. Just drive then would you?’ Liam reaches for the handle above the door as Louis revs the engine and takes a turn in the drive at a less than responsible speed.
“Don’t need to. I've got you.” And the smile Louis turns on Liam is so bright and so blinding, and Liam is so very smitten he can’t at that moment remember exactly why he was being so tetchy in the first place.
Louis pats at Liam’s jean-clad thigh and eases the rental car into a spot under a palm tree at the front of Harry’s house. “Not here, mate! This is meant to be a surprise and there’s no way even Harry won’t spot the car. Take it round to the barn thingo where he stores those ridiculous match box cars of his. “
“Right, right.” Louis flicks off the stereo and steers the car to a large garage further up the hillside that makes up most of Harry’s property. He allows Liam to key in the same code as the main gate, and pretends he doesn't see Liam’s little knowing smirk as he eases the car to a stop, casually throwing it into park beside an old Rambler.
Liam is muttering about schedules and time lines, and looking at his phone, worry lines creasing his brow as he and Louis climb out of the SUV. “Little help?” Louis says, motioning to his arms full of carrier bags.
“Cal says Harry is just getting set to leave. Which you and I both know means he won’t actually be on the road for another good half hour. Then perhaps another half hour til he arrives home. Let’s shake a leg, yeah?” He rolls his eyes when Louis smirks, tossing his floppy fringe out of his face and shaking his left leg out to the side.
Snaking an arm around Louis’ waist and pressing a kiss to his messy hair, Liam says, “All right, all right Hokey Cokey Man, let’s get tea on the go shall we? Want to be proper set up by the time Hazza arrives.”
Laughing and flashing a smile at Liam that’s all teeth, Louis tosses the shopping to the flagstone steps and keys in the entry code with ease. “Mummy Anne’s birthday!” he tosses over his shoulder as he steps over the bags he’s abandoned and into the foyer.
With a huff of fond frustration, Liam picks up the bags and follows Louis inside. The house is dark and inviting, and the windows all along one wall flood the open floor plan with the cool green light as the sun filters through the many trees that fill Harry’s garden.
Louis hops up onto the granite work top of the large kitchen island and, taking a huge bite out of the apple he’s pilfered from a bowl by the sink says, “Right. So. What we making? I do an excellent chicken breast stuffed with mozzarella and wrapped in parma ha--”
Fingers pinching Louis’ lips closed Liam says, “Yes, yes. I know. With a side of home made mashed. Everyone knows. How bouts we put together something that won’t destroy Harry’s kitchen? Whilst you were off levelling the liquor store I got things to do a spag bol. Simple. But idiot proof, I think.”
“Speak for yourself, Smelly Pasta Boy.” Louis’ comment earns him a cuff to the back of the head, then a kiss to make up for it. Louis just hunches his shoulders in silent laugher and takes the carrots and onions and celery out of one of the plastic bags.
“Good lad. You chop the veg and I’ll start the mince and the sauce.” It only takes a moment for Liam to locate pans and a chopping board. He and Louis had been to Harry’s LA house countless times before but had always done take away, or had Harry cook for them.
Precious little of their time was ever spent in Harry’s gourmet kitchen, anyway.
Liam sets his iPod into the counter top speaker dock and the two set about work in a comfortable silence, accompanied by a Big Payno remix playlist. “That’s that then!” Liam sprinkles handfuls of herbs and spices from Harry’s well stocked pantry into the sauce pot and then puts the lid on it. He’s got water seasoned and salted for the fresh pasta, which won’t need cooking til Harry gets there. “Did you put the drinks in the fridge to cool?”
“Course I did! What do I look like to you?” Louis looks sleepy and grumpy and jet-lagged, slumped against the oven door, arms crossed over his chest and scowling.
“Bloody adorable, that’s what.” Liam presses a chaste kiss to Louis’ lips, then hooks his fingers through the handles of the last remaining carrier bag. “C’mon. Let’s finish up here. You know how much our Hazza likes his candles and roses.” They gather crockery and silverware and set three places at the large lacquered dining table Liam isn't sure Harry has ever used for anything more than piling up papers and packages and mail. He pulls a bouquet of red roses out of the bag, setting all but one in a funky ceramic vase he’d found in the china cabinet. The single rose he sets across one plate, stepping back to look at his work at Louis lights the tall white taper candles they’d had to search the shops for.
Standing back with a look of pride, Louis puts his hands on his hips and says, “Dead romantic, we are. Curly’s gonna melt.”
“I do hope he likes it. It’s been a wonderful year. I'm so glad it’s all worked out.” Liam comes around the table to gather Louis into his arms, kissing him carefully but thoroughly.
“Aw Payno, ya old softie.” Louis whispers, but traces the pads of his fingers along the fullness of Liam’s bottom lip before kissing him again, deeper this time, licking over the seam of his mouth with his tongue.
Just as Liam’s hands trace along the delicate curve of Louis’ back to squeeze at his bum, Louis’ stomach rumbles comically loud in the quiet room. “Bloody starving,” he mutters, untangling himself from Liam’s embrace and making his way back to the kitchen.
When the flow of blood returns to his brain, Liam blurts out, “Don’t you dare take the lid off that sauce pot, it’s just got up to a nice simmer.”
Dumping the noodles in the gently boiling water Louis says, “Do you actually hear yourself when you talk, Leemo? Worse than my Nan, sometimes.” Louis picks up a wooden spoon Liam had left on a tea towel and tips up the lid of the pot.”Oh fuck me!” Louis exclaims, jumping backwards just as the sauce bubbles up and explodes all over his chin, neck and vest top.
“Ow,” Louis says blandly. As soon as Liam is sure Louis isn't injured he bursts out laughing then runs his finger along where the sauce is trickling down Louis’ neck. “Mmm. You taste good!” he pulls his finger from his mouth with a wet pop, eyes closed but still smiling.
Louis’ expression darkens, blue eyes trained on the slickness of Liam’s lip and finger. “Yeah?” he manages to husk out.
Blinking, Liam swallows heavily and watches the path of his own finger across Louis’ clavicle and under his stained vest top. “Yeah,” he says with quiet intensity as he presses his sauce covered fingertip against the mueue of Louis’ lips.
The tip of Louis’ tongue darts out, delicate as a cat, to lick the offered spaghetti sauce from Liam’s fingertip. He draws Liam’s finger deeper into his mouth up to the second knuckle, sucking and licking. “C’mere,” he says, with a wicked grin around his mouthful.
“Yeah, yeah.” Liam slowly draws his finger from Louis’ mouth and rests his hands at the curve of Louis’ small waist. They kiss, loud and ragged in the still of the kitchen. Breath hitching, Liam drags him mouth away from Louis’ to once more flick his tongue across where sauce still sticky-clings to Louis’ skin. Louis shuffles from foot to foot, trying to get closer to Liam while pulling him closer at the same time. “Take this off,” Liam pants, tugging at Louis’ ruined vest when Louis manages to slam them both into the island counter top.
Wriggling in a way that makes Liam groan with impatience, Louis manages to remove the top without letting go of Liam. He flings it across the otherwise tidy kitchen and winds his arms around Liam’s neck. “Now,” he says, a feral grin lifting the corners of his mouth and making his eyes flash, “Where were we?”
Liam chuckles and lets himself be reeled in against Louis’, heedless of his messy state. “Right,” he peppers kisses along Louis’ jawline and neck, biting gently at the tendon there, “about,” then licks at the freckled skin across his neck and shoulder, “here,” Liam slides one hand palm flat into the back of Louis’ jog bottoms and at the same time leans forward to suck one sauce splattered nipple into his mouth.
“Holy shit, Liam, please!” Louis shouts, his hands coming up to tangle in the short strands of Liam’s hair and they both laugh, breathless.
“So, is that what it takes to get him to be polite, Liam?” The startle at the voice, jumping apart like teenagers caught mid-make out at a high school dance.
“Harry!” Liam exclaims lifting his arms in the air like he’s about to go in for a hug.
Louis runs a shaky hand through his hair and, tugging at the knotted string of his joggers says, “We, uh, we didn't see you there.”
Harry stands up straight from where he’d been leaning his hip against the door frame, gold motorcycle helmet in one hand and a large brown paper bag cradled like a toddler in the other. “Well, you were otherwise occupied.” He nods solemnly. “Made quite a pretty picture, actually.” As he crosses the kitchen to set his things down on the worktop, he mimes holding up a camera and makes a clicking noise.
“Well, um...surprise?” Liam’s cheeks are pink and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “We were meant be surprising you with a nice romantic dinner.”
“So I see,” Harry walks over to the stove, nose wrinkled up at the smell of the burning sauce and gloopy noodles. He flicks on the range hood fan and then leans back against the wall, cheeks dimpling as he watches Liam and Louis shift uncomfortably. “Very romantic.”
Louis is the first to stand beside Harry, snaking out an arm and whispering, “Happy anniversary, babe.” as he stands on his tip toes to press a kiss to Harry’s smiling mouth.
Not to be outdone, Liam slots himself under Harry’s other arm and nuzzles at his jaw. “Yes, happiest of anniversaries, Hazza. We’re so lucky to have you.”
Beaming, Harry kisses them both soundly, slapping Liam’s bum and scratching a line through the sticky dried sauce on Louis’ throat. “Yes, you are very lucky to have me. Because I’ve brought tacos!”
“Oooh,” Louis’ stomach growls again and he reaches over to snag the paper bag on the counter, only to have his hand slapped away by Liam.
“Don’t you dare! That’s Harry’s dinner! Not his bloody fault you’re so damn distracting and we've burnt our tea, is it?” Liam affects what he fancies is his best intimidating look, which causes Harry to burst into laughter because he looks rather like a constipated Paddington Bear.
Harry takes the bag and heads into the dining room. “C’mon you two, there’s loads of food for all of us. A certain Irish birdie named Niall might have let slip there was a plan afoot.” Harry laughter stops when he takes in the sight of roses and candle light and he tilts his head to listen to the special Big Payno playlist. “Oh it’s lovely!” he says softly. When he turns to look at Liam and Louis his eyes are shining.
“Oi! Styles! There’s no crying on anniversaries. Let’s eat yeah?” Louis tosses the bag of take away at Harry, who just laughs good naturedly and starts setting its contents on the shiny surface of the table.
"I'm just so happy. This makes me happy--the two of you make me happy. The three of us together make me happy." Harry picks the lone rose up from where Liam had placed it across his plate and inhales its scent deeply.
Taking another rose out of the vase, Louis chucks Harry under the chin with it. "Ya sappy thing. Know what would make me happy? A taco or five. Food on the plane was proper shite."
Harry guffaws loudly and Liam scowls at Louis, piling foil wrapped packets onto a plate and shooing Louis away to sit down. "Mr Romance, you are. Thanks for the food, Hazza, it smells amazing."
Harry takes his place at the table, cheeks glowing and eyes shining in the candle light. He raises his head in anticipation of Liam's kiss and smiles softly at Louis. Despite his joking around, Harry knows he's happy too. "Yeah there's fish tacos and carnitas and all the veggies are organic. I buy them from a stand this lovely old man Marco and his wife Anita run. She makes the tortillas from scratch every morning. There's chips, salsa, and guac too." Harry spreads the feast out on the table and passes around the tortilla chips and their various dips.
"Wait a second--I thought you hate avocado?" Louis looks up from where he's inhaling his second fish taco.
Mouth turned down in frustration, Harry says “Louis, that’s on sandwiches. Guacamole is an entirely different animal. Well not an animal because it’s a vegetable. Or wait, I believe it’s actually a fruit. Anyway Anita, Marco’s--the man who owns the taco stand’s-wife, she grows these avocados in her yard and only picks them when they’re perfectly ripe and just perfectly sun warmed and she says that one day she might give me her recipe for the guac--”
“We need drinks!” Liam hops to his feet, hoping to curtail a very Harry Styles type of tale before it can become the most Harry Styles story ever. He comes back to the dining table, bottle of Bollinger held aloft in triumph. His distraction seems to work, as Harry and Louis are happily tucking into their dinners, the virtues of avocados forgotten.
“Liam, you don’t have champagne with tacos” Louis admonishes, chasing the last dollop of salsa around his plate with a chip.
Liam stares in confusion at the magnum in his hand. “We’re pop stars. Surely champagne goes with everything?”
“Cervesa por favor!” Harry shouts happily in a comically bad Spanish accent.
Defeated, Liam heads back to the kitchen to snag a six pack of Corona, nicking a few sliced limes from a bowl in Harry’s ridiculously well stocked wet bar.
The three of them stand huddled at the end of the dining table, clinking their beer bottles and laughing at Louis, who has fitted the lime over his teeth and crossed his eyes as he takes a quick selfie. Harry’s expression shifts into something hooded and evaluating as he takes in Louis’ still bare chest and Liam’s gentle eyes, wrinkled in mirth. “You know what’s better than tacos and beer?”
“Nothing?” Liam sighs happily, giving each of his boys a pinch at the hip before taking his seat again.
“Tacos and beer in bed.” Harry supplies, along with an over the top leer.
Louis spits the lime out of his mouth and thumbs it into his beer bottle. He licks his lips and stares at Harry, gaze raking him from the tips of his flip-flop clad toes to his plump lower lip. “Yeah?”
“Disgusting,” Liam tuts “You too, Tommo,” he flaps a hand at the beer bottle that Louis’s drained. “Think of the mess.”
“Oh I am” Harry supplies in a voice growing more and more gruff. “This is my anniversary, Liam. My surprise. My bed. It’s been ever so long since I’ve had the both of you all alone and to myself.” He launches into a chorus of California King Bed licking his lips and twitching his hips in his seat.
Delicately dabbing at the corners of his lips with a take away napkin, Liam says, “Can we just try to finish a meal before...dessert? Harry, honestly, what would your mother say.”
“Can we leave Foxy Coxy out of discussion that involve bedrooms, please?” Louis crosses his arms over his place mat and glares at Liam.
“Please.” Harry’s shaggy curls bounce as he nods his head in agreement. “And to honour Liam’s new found delicate sensibilities, let’s finish our meal and then...retire for ‘dessert’.” Harry smiles good naturedly at Liam as he makes air quotes.
Shoving the remains of his fourth taco in his mouth, Louis stands up, arms aloft in victory like a competitive eater and manages to exclaim “done!” around the food in his mouth.
“Eww,” Liam says, chewing his mouthful thoroughly. “You are the most romantic. I can see why Harry was so swept off his feet by one of us…”
Harry is laughing and slapping at the table, and Liam is once more left to ponder exactly what it is he’s said or done that’s so hilarious. “Well, we’ve made short work of everything I’ve brought. So...Bed? Now?” He bats his pretty pretty eyes at Liam. who manages to last roughly a second before he stands and holds a hand out to Harry, who in turn holds a hand out to Louis.
The three of them; hand in hand in hand, run tripping and laughing up the few steps to the back of the ranch style house and into Harry’s large master bedroom. Harry immediately pushes them towards the immense bed, pawing and fussing at Liam’s red henley. “Shouldn't we brush our teeth or something first?” Liam asks. “Shouldn't Louis have a wash?”
Louis makes an indignant squawk and Harry leers, “Dunno, thought the pair of us could help him out with that.” And without another word, Harry tugs his t-shirt over his head, folding it carefully onto the bedside table.
“Yeah buddy!” Louis high fives Harry, then kisses Liam, a tease. “C’mon Leemo, get your kit off!” as he tugs Liam’s shirt out from the waistband of his jeans.
“Lou, you help Liam with that, I've an idea,” Harry stands up, wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his tight black jeans, and trotting out of the room.
Liam and Louis share a look, before shrugging and continuing to undress Liam. When they’re both stripped down to their pants, kissing and pawing at one another as they roll around on Harry’s ridiculous, though necessary for the three of them to sleep as they've become accustomed over the past year, bed, Harry once reappears, kneeing onto the mattress.
“Ohhh,” Louis says, instantly knowing what Harry means to do with the champagne in his hands. “Super fancy body shots! Very nice, Styles.”
“Here, let me. The pair of you will wreck it.” Liam, ever sensible, takes the magnum and starts to peel away the foil and wire cage surrounding the cork. He retreats to the en suite and returns with a hand towel wrapped around the rest of the bottle. With a soft pop the cork is freed with a minimum of mess and Harry and Louis turn from where they’re sat with Louis in Harry’s lap trading lazy kisses.
“Well done. Now get over here.” Louis says, voice tinged with arousal and impatience. “Harold, strip off, yeah?”
Needing no further instruction, Harry stands up and shucks his shoes and socks. Neither one of the other boys is surprised to see he’s fully nude, no underpants at all, when Harry peels down his skinny jeans. “Hell yes,” Harry says in an unironic American accent.
Liam manages to get Harry and Louis lying flat on either side of him and with a careful tip of the champagne bottle, fills each of their navels with the fizzy drink. Biting his lip and nodding to himself, he leans forward and sweeps his tongue first into the divot of Harry’s belly button, spreading the bubbly up through the sparse hair on his abdomen, licking and sucking. He draws nonsense patterns over Harry’s skin. Spilling rivulets of champagne over the dark shadows of his many tattoos, then chasing the taste and shape with his tongue. In no time Harry’s skin is pink beneath Liam’s attentions; shining with sweat and his chest heaving in arousal.
He turns his head and does the same to Louis.
Louis growls, pulling Liam up by the shoulders and kissing him deeply, tongue licking traces of the alcohol still on Liam’s tongue onto his own. “Shit,” Harry says, voice aged whiskey rough, “That’s so hot. You two are so fucking hot.” Harry takes the champagne bottle and spills a little of it at the join of Louis’ neck and shoulder, where the majority of the spaghetti sauce, now dried and a little crusty, remains. He isn’t gentle, licking and dragging his teeth over Louis’ skin in a way he knows will make him squirm.
Sure enough, Louis lets out a low moan and his hand shoots out to knead at Liam’s bare thigh, knuckles grazing his hardening cock. Liam hisses and grinds up into the ghost of Louis’ touch. “Go ‘head.” Louis says, catching Harry’s eye, “ask him.”
“Oh god,” Harry gulps down a swig of champagne.
“Ask him? Me? What?” Liam swallows, singularly aware of Louis’ hand being a hairsbreadth away from his erection and puzzled by Harry’s reticence. One of the things he loves best about being with Harry like this is how he’s always up for anything, and Harry should know by now that Liam could never refuse him anything.
Louis takes the champagne bottle from Harry, taking a swig and then letting a fizzy stream trickle down Liam’s back, making him jump and Louis laugh like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.
“It’s only just,” Harry is fussing with his hair and squinting over Liam’s shoulder. He should look ridiculous, his long legs hunched up underneath him, naked and chewing at his lip. “For like a long time now I’ve this...this fantasy, I suppose you’d call it.”
“Harry,” Liam smiles and takes Harry’s hand in his. He kisses at the cross tattooed at the base of Harry’s thumb. “You can tell me anything. Anything at all. It’s okay, I promise.” Behind him Louis’ stretched out fully naked now, trailing a finger down the sticky wet track of Liam’s spine.
“Okay, okay. So maybe I’ve been thinking. You know…” he stops and makes grabby hands at the champagne bottle. Louis passes it over and Harry swallows some in gulp. “You know how sometimes I like it when you tie me up?” His cheeks go pink and he bows his head. Liam ducks down, nodding in encouragement for Harry to continue. “Well, from like the first time I saw your, you know, your body, I’ve rather fancied kind of holding you down and, like, maybe sort of lickingstuffoffyou.” He finishes all in a rush.
Unable to help himself, Liam takes the champagne bottle and laughs, “Really? Like from the first time we,” he inclines his head backward to include Louis, “started doing this?” he kisses Harry, firm and reassuring, tracing his free hand over the swell of Harry’s shoulder.
“Um, not exactly. But like from X-Factor. Like in judges houses? You remember? The time we all shared a room and that time you and…”
“What happens at X-Factor house stays at X-Factor house!” Louis yelps. He scrambles up and knee walks over to Liam, promptly shoving at his chest until Liam tips over, flat on his back.
“Okay,” Liam says, still smiling.
“Okay?” Harry takes the champagne bottle, holding up and tilting it a little, asking permission.
“Okay!” Louis practically shouts in exasperation. He shuffles up to the tufted headboard and leans back against it, roughly pulling Liam’s head and shoulders into his lap. He draws Liam’s wrists into either hand, spreading them out across the pillows. “For god’s sake, I flew all the way from bloody London, let’s get on with it!”
“Lou!” Harry scowls, but Liam smiles reassuringly.
“S’okay, Hazza. Do what y’like, yeah? And if I don’t like it, I’ll say. Promise” He smiles his best and brightest reserved for Harry only smile.
Before Harry does anything that involves champagne, he kisses Liam, breathing him in and getting his bearings. Liam kisses him back, rising to meet him, as he’s still being held in place with Louis’ strong hands wrapped round his wrists. Harry straddles Liam’s waist and ever so slowly inches his pants down his legs and off his feet until their lost somewhere at the end of the bed.
“S’gonna be so so good, Li.” You know how crazy good Harry’s mouth feels on your prick? Imagine how much better it’ll feel with his mouth full of bubbly.” Louis bends almost in half to whisper directly into Liam’s ear.
Liam gulps and whimpers in anticipation, closing his eyes at the sensation of wet and cold trickling across his chest and down and into his navel. Harry’s tongue traces a long spiralling path through Liam’s chest hair and across his nipples before ducking down again, filling his navel with the Bollinger and Liam squirms as he feels Harry’s hot breath across his sensitive skin. Harry shifts further down as Liam parts his legs. Eyes still closed, he hears Harry take a long draught from the bottle and then feels Harry’s hands press into the mattress on either side of Liam’s hips.
The feeling is electric--startling. Liam’s legs kick out and his eyes open wide and all he’s able to do is make a sort of “Ungh!” noise as Harry licks and slurps champagne over and around Liam’s achingly hard cock. All the while Louis is filling Liam’s ear with every filthy thought he’s ever had.
It’s been too long since Liam’s seen Harry, had this. He’s pretty sure he won’t last long. Not with his arms pinned flat and the weight of Harry on top of him, and the way he can feel how turned on Harry is--how he’s humping the mattress between Liam’s legs. Overwhelmed by sensation, Liam closes his eyes again, losing himself in the fucking unreal rhythm of Harry’s tongue as it traces circles across the head of Liam’s cock. He nuzzles into Louis’ thigh, mouthing at Louis’ hard dick through the thin material of his briefs.
This effectively puts a stop to his x-rated colour commentary of Harry’s every action. Louis freezes then groans and Liam’s tongue licks at the growing wet spot on Louis’ underwear, smug in the knowledge that he’s actually made Louis come in his pants, just with his breath and tongue. “Fucker,” Louis whispers, squeezing Liam’s wrists hard enough to bruise.
“Okay Lou?” Harry’s voice is thick and seems to becoming from far away and Liam feels like he’s floating.
“Yeah, yeah. You okay? Carry on then.” Louis manages to rasp. He leans over Liam to kiss at Harry’s slick mouth. Liam can’t tear his eyes away. He always thinks about how pretty the boys are like this. How much he likes to watch them. How lucky he is.
Harry takes another mouthful of champagne and then ducks down between Liam’s legs once more. He takes Liam deep into his mouth, at the same time gentle running his thumb over the delicate skin of Liam’s balls. And that’s it. Without any kind of warning an electric jolt shoots down Liam’s spine, leaving him panting and breathless as his come mixes with the champagne in Harry’s talented mouth.
Harry rocks back onto his haunches, a satisfied smile on his face. “Happy anniversary, Li,” he says, eyes shining with happiness. He takes a swig from the bottle and kisses a still fuzzy-headed Liam, and then Louis in turn his mouth flavoured with the dry sweetness of the wine and the slick of Liam’s orgasm.
“Shit. That was amazing. You’re amazing.” Liam babbles. Louis finally lets go of his wrists so Liam can turn and kiss him. “You too.”
“I know,” Louis says smugly. “You know what else is amazing? That young Harold here is still in his pants and has yet to shoot his load.” With that Louis bounces to his feet, nicking the bottle out of Harry’s hands. Standing in the middle of the mattress he springs up and down a few times, shaking the bottle with a thumb over the top. He pours a streams of sticky bubbles all over Harry.
Laughing at Harry’s shocked face, Liam and Louis pounce on him, with shouts of “Your turn!”
X X X X
“We should shower.” Liam slurs out.
“Absolutely.” Harry concurs, rolling over and nuzzling at Liam’s shoulder.
“Mmm hmm, definitely enough room for all of us in Harry’s posh shower. Could fit the whole of Holmes Chapel in there.” Louis says drowsily, carding his sticky fingers through the champagne stiffened spikes of Liam’s hair,
Harry giggles, “It takes a village.”
“To shower a pop star? What are you on about?” but Louis giggles anyway, high on champagne and being with the boys he loves best.
He feels Harry nod above him. “Yep. It’s an old African proverb.”
“Pretty sure it’s not.” Liam offers sleepily. “We really should shower though.” He sits up rubbing at his eyes and yawning.
“Mmm,” Harry makes a non-committal noise and sprawls starfish wide across the big bed.
In a flurry of motion, Louis sits up. “Last one to the shower has to clear up the mess in the kitchen!” He yells, slapping both their bums, and is off like a shot.
Harry and Liam look at each other, wide eyed. “How does he always do this?” Harry whispers. Then they both yell “Hell no!” and take off, hot on Louis’ heels.
All three of them are laughing and breathless, totally in love.