Chapter Text
Late March 2025
Louis was greeted by complete darkness as he entered the foyer of his home. He reached blindly for the wall, turning on the lights and throwing his keys into the ceramic catch-all dish by the door. He toed off his shoes with a heavy sigh, leaving them on the welcome mat as he closed the door behind him. Louis was grateful for the silence. Not that he didn’t enjoy Zara’s company, he did. But he knew her well enough to know she would’ve been on him the moment he entered the door, face full of concern, asking a million and one questions he had neither the energy nor desire to answer.
He made his way towards the kitchen, feet heavy with exhaustion as he shuffled across the hardwood floor.
He needed a stiff drink and a smoke pronto.
Louis opened his liquor cabinet, pouring a stiff shot of vodka, before immediately throwing it back. With that brewing in his system, he made his way around the kitchen island, reaching in the lower cabinet for his stash of weed. He pulled out a wooden box, setting it on the countertop and plucking a pre-rolled joint from inside. Louis slipped the joint between his lips as he busied his hands with finding his lighter. He patted down one side of his jacket, then the other, eventually finding it in his left inner pocket. Louis lit the joint, taking a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly.
Going into today’s meeting with his record label, Louis had expected the conversation surrounding his next release to be uncomfortable, maybe somewhat tense. Sales for Walls and Faith in the Future had both fallen short of expectations, and his Faith in the Future tour didn’t bring in the revenue needed to make up the deficit.
What he didn’t expect was to be absolutely grilled on his plans for increasing sales for his next album. He barely had a chance to sit down before they were asking him about musical direction, marketing tactics, and expanding reach for his next project.
He understood their frustration. They poured a lot of money into his last project and were eager to see a return on their investment. Hell – he did too. He fronted a significant portion of his own capital to fund his ventures for the Faith in the Future rollout and was now overleveraged. He took out a second mortgage on his home, sold a property in California, and liquidated some of his investments to avoid touching Freddie’s trust, all with the hope that if he saw moderate commercial success with his next two albums, he’d be able to recover financially.
But now the message from his record label was clear – give us a hit record or you’re out.
A wave of panic washed over Louis as the reality of how doomed his situation was, hit him. He was at a loss for what to do. It wasn’t like he could just hire a new PR team and magically find himself on the cover of every magazine. The truth was that there were outside forces contributing to his stagnating career.
Ever since he released his debut album, Louis had been effectively blacklisted from all major radio stations and media outlets.
And it was all due to one man...
Harry Styles could be the sweetest, kindest, human being you ever had the pleasure of knowing.
He could also be an absolute nightmare when he didn’t get his way.
Louis discovered this unfortunate truth the hard way when he found himself on the receiving end of Harry’s ire when he ended things – for good – almost a decade ago.
Their relationship had been strained for a number of months leading up to the break-up. They were in constant friction due to disagreements within the band, and when they weren’t arguing, Harry was always on the go – flying off to Hollywood in-between gigs to schmooze with the Gerbers or Kendall Jenner or whoever else the Azoff’s suggested Harry hang out with.
Louis suspected there was more to Harry’s trips then he was letting on. There was something in his demeanor after he returned home – the way he shied away from eye contact and overcompensated with physical affection – that made Louis question if something else was going on.
But he ignored his intuition. Told himself that he was just reading into things and being paranoid. Despite the fact that they were clearly drifting apart, Harry continued to make it abundantly clear that he loved Louis and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.
“It’s just a rough patch babe, we’ll get through this.” Harry would murmur into Louis’s collarbone as they cuddled after making up from yet another fight. “Trust me.”
So Louis did. Besides, what were they if they didn’t have trust?
Looking back, he felt like a fool for believing that Harry could actually love him more than he loved himself.
He should’ve trusted his gut.
If he did, he wouldn’t have been blindsided when Harry proposed the band take a ‘hiatus’ that cold November day in 2014. As Harry spoke, reciting talking points that were very clearly not his own, it all started to come together – the trips to LA, his reluctance to sign a new contract, the notebook full of lyrics that never made its way to their writing sessions. Harry had been conspiring with the Azoffs to leave the band this whole time, and deliberately kept Louis in the dark.
There was a lot they could come back from, but this - this wasn’t one of them. It was the final straw. Louis packed a to go bag that night and had completely moved out of their shared home by Christmas.
Harry begged him not to go. Pleaded through tear filled eyes for Louis not to throw away what they had over a professional disagreement. He reasoned that what happened with the band had nothing to do with them. They were strong, solid.
But to Louis, Harry’s request to go on a hiatus had everything to do with them. The five of them had spent almost every waking moment of the last four years pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into the band, making it the once-in-a-generation success it was. They experienced the highest highs and survived the lowest lows together. Hell, there wouldn’t even be a he and Harry if it weren’t for the band.
And now Harry was willing to throw them out like yesterday’s trash, spurred on by Jeff Azoff’s promises of solo fame and fortune. Louis didn’t recognize the man Harry had become. The sweet, eager sixteen-year-old boy he fell in love with all those years ago was gone.
The year that followed their break-up was tumultuous to say the least. There was Zayn’s sudden departure, the Briana drama, and constant questions about the length of the hiatus that no one could answer. But by the time they stood on that X-Factor stage for the last time, they had gotten to a good place. After a few desperate attempts to win Louis back, Harry finally seemed to get the hint that Louis was truly done and moved on with Xander. Meanwhile, Louis swore off dating altogether and focused his attention on becoming a new father. Louis hoped that, out of respect for the love that they once shared, they could remain cordial or possibly even grow into good friends with time.
But Harry had other plans.
It started small. Louis’s team would have an interview scheduled for him with a big magazine one minute and then the next they’d receive a cancellation notice, only for Harry to end up on the cover a few months later.
Louis brushed it off as a coincidence the first few times it happened, but by the third occurrence it became clear what was going on.
Louis knew that while Harry’s team were the ones acting out the plan, Harry was the one pulling the strings.
And it didn’t stop there; there were snide comments he snuck into interviews, his monologue at SNL, the way he carefully planned his promo for Fine Line to overshadow Walls’ release.
Harry made it his life’s mission to undercut Louis’s career at every turn.
What made the situation even more bizarre was that he appeared to alternate between wanting to destroy Louis one moment and wanting to wear his skin the next. Lyrics proclaiming his love, a wardrobe full of clothing named after him, dressing up as his favorite movie character Danny Zuko and singing songs from Grease during one of his concerts, all interspersed with acts of career sabotage.
It was creepy, insane, obsessive – and honestly sad.
Louis decided that the best approach was to ignore him. He poured all his focus into his music and hoped that he could find success despite Harry’s efforts.
But Louis no longer had the luxury of ignoring Harry. He was desperate. He had people relying on him – Freddie, Oli, his sisters – a whole team of people whose well-being depended on his financial success.
Louis knew what he had to do.
He let out a deep sigh as he reached for his phone, scrolling through his chat history, searching for a familiar phone number. Louis didn’t have the number saved in his contacts. He would’ve blocked it if it weren’t for the fact he thought it prudent to have available in case of an emergency – a decision that Liam’s untimely death had only served to reinforce.
Louis clicked on their last chat, a slew of unanswered texts sent by Harry the day after the first photos of Louis and Zara at dinner were published online.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Louis muttered under his breath. He’d almost forgotten how vile they were. Bitch this, skank that, cunt this. A never-ending torrent of insults targeted at everything from Zara’s appearance to her intelligence. Louis wasn’t spared either, a few ‘faggots’ and digs at his sexuality sprinkled among the insults directed at his new girlfriend.
He didn’t dignify Harry’s behavior at the time with a response. Proper psychosis, that, Louis thought to himself.
Louis typed his message before he could stop himself, aiming for a cordial yet neutral delivery.
Louis: Hi H, it’s me. Louis.
Louis set his phone down, preparing to grab himself another drink when he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of three dots popping up on his screen right away. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d think that Harry was waiting by the phone for Louis’s message. He dismissed the thought. That’d be insane – even by Harry’s standards.
Harry: Thought you were ignoring me…
Harry: Is this about me calling you a faggot?
Harry: If so I’m sorry
Harry: About the faggot part. Not the whore
Harry: I meant it. She is.
Harry: And a cunt
Louis had thought that, given some time, Harry would come to terms with his new relationship.
Evidently, he hadn’t.
Louis: That’s not why I reached out
Louis: I need to talk to you.
Louis: It’s important
Harry’s talk bubble appeared, then disappeared as if he was processing Louis’s request, before reappearing again.
Harry: My place, tonight?
Of course. Harry had wasted no time trying to get Louis back into his bed.
Louis: No. Lunch. Somewhere mutual.
Harry: Groucho club, 12pm, tomorrow?
Harry: Private dining room.
While meeting someplace discreet was smart, considering their history and the rumors, Louis was hesitant to be alone with Harry. He didn’t trust Harry to not use their setting to his advantage.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice.
Louis: Oi, works for me.
Louis: See you tomorrow.
Harry reacted to Louis’s last message with a heart.
Harry: See you then…
That was settled.
Louis set his phone down and reached for the bottle of vodka to pour himself another shot.
The task was fairly straightforward: meet up with Harry, make his case for why he should ease up on the blackballing, and hope that by some chance Harry was feeling charitable enough to throw him a bone.
If that was the case, why was he so nervous?
Louis arrived at the Groucho club at 11:55am sharp, complete in a graphic jumper and pair of distressed jeans. He was rather casual for the environment but opted for comfortability over appropriateness.
The staff guided him to a private room at the back of the first floor, There were a number of round dining tables and a full-service bar on the side of the room, all unoccupied. The waitress took his order, a scotch, and disappeared back into the hall.
Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated this place. He’d only been a handful of times, but It always gave him bad vibes. Maybe it was because that creep Nick Grimshaw loved it so much, loved taking Harry with him, that he didn’t like it. Louis was reminded of the time, backstage at some concert, when Nick wouldn’t shut up about how popular Harry was with the patrons – most of whom were older men and women. Industry power players. Corden. Winston. There was something about the way Grimshaw wiggled his brows in Harry’s direction, the way Harry clammed up at the comment, that made Louis want to punch him right there.
Louis pushed the memory from his mind.
The waitress returned, handing Louis his drink, which he accepted with a polite smile. He had been waiting for twelve minutes when Harry finally arrived.
As Harry walked into the room, Louis paused mid-sip, his glass of scotch still at his lips.
He looked insane.
Harry had on a silk button up that was half tucked into a pair of straight leg jeans, the top four buttons of the top undone, revealing his sculpted pecks and swallow tattoos. A stack of gold necklaces dangled from his neck – a cross, his banana ‘dick’ necklace, and a few other delicate pieces that Louis didn’t recognize – accentuating the bare skin underneath. He wore a pair of oversized sunglasses that he promptly pushed up as he approached the table.
He looked like sex on a stick, confidence oozing from every pore.
Louis realized that he was staring and jumped into action, placing his glass on the table and standing up to greet him.
“Haz! Good to see you.” Louis opened his arms to wrap Harry in a light hug, Harry’s intoxicating scent – a mix of Tom Ford’s Oud and the faintest hint of his natural musk – flooded his nostrils, temporarily causing a heat to rise in his groin, though he quickly recovered.
Harry returned the embrace, giving Louis’s back two light taps before pulling away. “Sorry I’m late, I had a meeting that ran over.” Harry apologized as he took a seat two chairs down from Louis.
“Nah, no worries,” Louis assured him as he took his own seat. “I know you’re busy running an empire,” he joked, placing his napkin over his lap, “venue investments and all that.”
They were interrupted by the waitress who had come back to take Harry’s order. “Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Styles?”
Harry turned to face her, flashing his trademark charming smile, all dimples and cheeks. “Can I have a glass of alkaline water, room temperature, with a fresh lemon slice on the side?” He started. “And a glass of Sauvignon Blanc? Nothing to eat for me, thanks.” He added, handing the menu back to her graciously.
She turned to Louis, “Anything to eat for you?”
Louis pondered for a moment, looking over the menu. He was too nervous for a big meal but thought it a good idea to at least have something to settle his stomach. “Could I have some chips?”
“Of course. Coming right up.” She collected Louis’s menu with a nod. She was about to leave when she paused, turning back to Harry with a nervous air. “I just want to say - I’m a massive fan.” Her professional demeanor giving way to giddiness. “I went to three of your shows during Love on Tour and they were amazing! By far, the best concerts I’ve ever been to.”
“Thank you, thank you. That’s so kind.” Harry ducked his head, a bashful smile tugging at his lips, his tone modest as he accepted the compliment.
Louis sat there awkwardly as the love fest carried on between the two, a small part of him hoping for a glint of recognition in her eyes. But when she left without so much as a backward glance in his direction, Louis felt acute disappointment. He was chopped liver, the forgotten member of one of the biggest boy bands of all time, completely unnoticed in the shadow of his former bandmate. Louis swallowed down the bitterness with a sip of his scotch, plastering a polite expression on his face to mask the hurt.
There was a beat of awkward silence as Louis mulled over what to say, finally deciding to jump right into it. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” Harry looked up, eying Louis intently as he began. “I know things have been –” Louis searched for the right word to describe their toxic dynamic, “tense, between us since the band ended. But I was hoping we could get together and talk things out so that we could move past everything. Once and for all.”
Harry cleared his throat, looking down at his lap as he fixed his napkin. “If I recall correctly, I believe I reached out to talk to you after Liam’s funeral and you ignored me.” Harry stated matter-of-factly. “So it’s funny that you’re concerned about smoothing things over now when you didn’t seem to give a shit a few months ago.”
Louis let out a heavy sigh, lolling his head to the side in annoyance. They had just gotten started and Harry was already up to his usual antics, shifting blame and rewriting history. “You texted me at 2am, begging me to stop by your hotel room, after we buried our bandmate.” Louis countered.
“I was hurting and needed to talk to you.” Harry replied.
“It was a booty call.” Louis corrected him. “And I couldn’t deal with that Haz. Not while I was mourning.”
Just then the door opened and the waitress returned with Harry’s drinks and Louis’s chips. They both paused their conversation, regarding her politely as she set down their items.
Once she left, Harry started again. “Still, the fact remains that you were the one who closed off communication between us. Not me.”
Here was Harry again with the revisionist history, downplaying his horrid behavior. “Because every time I try to be civil with you, you end up lashing out at me.” Louis reasoned. This conversation was off to a bad start. If he was going to make any headway with Harry, he was going to have to turn the temperature down a bit.
Louis took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you, okay?” Harry took a sip of his wine, silently dropping the argument for now. “I came here to ask if you would be willing to talk to your team and have them ease up on the blacklisting – just a little bit.” Louis petitioned. “You won. You’ve made your point. You’ve proven that you have the power to destroy my career.” He conceded, lifting his hands in surrender. “Can you finally drop it now?”
Harry sat quietly, appearing deep in thought as he considered Louis’s request. After a few moments, he sat back in his chair, crossing his legs. “How about we make a deal?”
Okay. He could work with that. “Shoot.” Louis answered.
“I’ll talk to Jeff, have him call in a favor for your upcoming album’s promo…” Harry offered, “if you sleep with me.”
Louis’s brain short circuited.
Surely, he must’ve heard that wrong.
But Harry continued, completely undeterred by the look of shock on Louis’s face. “I have a room, upstairs,” Harry leant forward, placing his hand over Louis’s to stroke it gently, lowering his voice to almost a whisper “a suite. You can join me. No one will see us. We’ll have complete privacy.”
When Louis realized that his ears hadn’t deceived him, he let out an incredulous laugh. “What? You can’t be serious. You want me to sleep with you in exchange for some album promo?”
“Well, I’d rather sleep with you for free,” Harry answered candidly, “The promo’s for you.”
The smile dropped from Louis’s face as he realized that Harry was being one hundred percent serious. He yanked his hand away, sitting back in his chair to create as much distance between them as he could manage. “You’re insane. I’m not sleeping with you for a favor.”
“Why not? It’ll be just like old times,” Harry teased, his voice sultry “when you used to fuck me into the mattress – ”
Louis cut him off sternly, heat rising up his neck “The answer is no.”
There was a beat of charged silence as Louis’s rejection landed.
Harry quickly collected himself. He shrugged, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulled his hand back calmly. “Fine.” He surrendered, grabbing the cloth napkin from his lap and placing it on the table “It’s a shame – ” he uncrossed his legs, “because if your last album’s sales were any indicator, you could really use the promo.” Harry commented, his cutting remark landing somewhere in-between Louis’s ribs.
As Harry stood, a sense of tension washed over Louis, mixing with the lingering anger at Harry’s insult. There was no way he’d given up that easily. He had to have something else up his sleeve.
Harry took one last sip of his wine before pulling out his wallet, prying a key card from between its folds. He leant down, mouth level with Louis’s ear as he placed it down on the table. “If you change your mind...” He slid the key card in front of Louis, “i’ll be upstairs for an hour.”
So there it was.
Harry knew that Louis needed the promo badly and was fully prepared to call his bluff.
“Oh, and don’t worry about the bill,” Harry added, standing upright “it’s on me.” He stated flatly, giving Louis a quick once over before turning to leave.
Louis was left reeling as Harry exited the room.
He’d expected a difficult conversation, maybe even an argument, but he was in no way prepared for Harry to use Louis’s career, his livelihood, as leverage to force his way back into Louis’s bed — and life.
But the worst part was – he was actually considering going up there. It was insane, yes, but what choice did he have? He could either go upstairs and sleep with Harry, or watch the career he built over the last decade and a half go up in flames.
Louis downed his scotch in one go then reached for Harry’s still half-full glass of wine, finishing every ounce of alcohol he could get his hands on, and grabbed the keycard off the table. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed back from the table, making his way upstairs to Harry’s room. Once in front of the double doors, he tapped the key card against the sensor, unlocking one of the doors with a muted beep.
Louis entered the foyer of the suite and turned to close the door. As the lock clicked shut, he paused, letting his forehead fall against the lacquered blue door with a soft thud.
He took a steadying breath.
Right.
Louis turned to see Harry, still fully clothed, propped up on the bed by his forearms.
Watching. Waiting.
Louis’s footfalls came out muffled against the carpeted floor as he walked toward the bed, stopping shy of the edge.
Harry watched with bated breath, his eyes locked on Louis’s, waiting for him to speak, move, do anything.
“Take your pants off.” Louis’s command came out low and firm.
Harry’s hands flew to his fly as he undid his jeans hastily, pushing his jeans and briefs past his knees, kicking them off the rest of the way.
Harry resumed his previous position, this time naked from the waist down. His eyes had gone wide, chest heaving with every breath, watching Louis like he was a wild animal who was poised to either bolt or attack at a moment’s notice.
Silence filled the room, the tension growing thicker between them until something finally snapped.
Louis grabbed Harry’s ankles and pulled him down the bed. Harry let out a surprised gasp, falling from his forearms onto his back as Louis reached for the back of his knees and hiked them up to his chest. The position forced his cheeks open, spreading them apart to reveal his winking hole. Louis propped one knee up on the edge of the mattress and leant down to spit in it. The spit dribbled slowly between his lips, landing in a pool at Harry’s opening.
He glanced up from beneath his eyelashes and saw that Harry was watching him, transfixed. Louis maintained eye contact as he pushed the spit inside with two of his fingers, plunging them in slowly. He pulled them almost completely back out before pushing them back in deeper, going until they bottomed out. Once fully inserted, Louis craned his fingers, angling for Harry’s prostate,
Harry’s head fell back in pleasure, a strangled “Fuck...” escaping as his head hit the bed. His unrestrained leg bounced against his chest as Louis picked up the pace, hitting the spot over and over again, causing helpless moans to fall from his lips at the overwhelming sensation.
Louis moved his hand from the back of Harry’s thigh to his ankle, pressing it back until it almost touched his head. He used the new angle to prod deeper into Harry’s hole with every drive, attacking his prostate relentlessly.
Harry started to leak, drops of pre-cum streaking his silk shirt where his dick strained against his stomach, making a mess of the fabric underneath. He reached underneath his thigh to grab for his dick, tugging at it furiously, desperate for relief.
Louis suddenly became aware of his own aching need pressed against the seam of his jeans. He frantically reached for the button of his jeans to undo them, shoving them down past his ass alongside his briefs. He mounted Harry, holding himself up with one hand while the other reached in-between their bodies to guide the head of his dick to Harry’s entrance.
Louis buried his head in the crook of Harry’s neck as he thrust forward, letting out a muffled groan at the way Harry’s heat stretched around his length. He pulled his hips back then slammed in deeper, forcing a choked-off sound from Harry’s lips. Louis continued hammering into him, his body chasing the pleasure with single-minded focus, burying himself with every thrust.
Harry grabbed the back of Louis’s neck for leverage, his broken cries mingling with the sound of their bodies slapping together as Louis pounded him. After a few hard thrusts, Louis felt Harry’s body tense underneath him. His cries became stuck in his throat, rendering him silent as he came – warm ropes of his semen spilling out of his dick and soaking through the fabric of Louis’s jumper.
Louis fucked him through it, his thrusts reaching a fevered pitch as he chased his own orgasm. Harry’s silence was broken by a piercing scream, the last waves of his orgasm tearing through his body, leaving him breathless.
Harry came back to himself with a gasp. He reached for Louis’s ass, his other hand still poised on the back of his neck, to press Louis deeper into him. “Fuck, yes. Come in me, come in me.” Harry panted, bucking his hips desperately to meet Louis’s thrusts.
That did it.
Louis slammed into him, once, twice, a third time - so hard he almost drove the headboard through the wall. He came with a shuddering moan, his dick pulsating as he emptied himself deep within Harry’s ass. He filled Harry to the brim, his semen spilling out of Harry and down his balls.
Louis collapsed on top of Harry, completely spent. He was so busy catching his breath that he didn’t notice Harry stroking his hair at first. It wasn’t until Harry brought his other hand up to hold himself to Louis tighter that he registered it. Harry’s touch was gentle, almost reverent. The gesture was soft and intimate enough to tell Louis that Harry was already attaching himself in a way that was dangerous.
Louis moved to sit up but was stopped short by Harry’s hand which was still firmly planted on the back of his neck. Louis could tell by the look in his eyes that one afternoon of passion would be enough to fuel Harry’s delusions for the next ten years. His eyes were glassy, a sea of emotion hidden beneath the surface as he stared at Louis.
Louis cleared his throat, breaking the moment. He looked down in-between their bodies, surveying the mess covering both of them. “I should get a towel.” Louis commented flatly.
Harry nodded wordlessly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, clearly still too affected by their encounter to speak.
Louis broke free of Harry’s grip and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He turned on the faucet and just stood there for a few moments clutching the edge of the sink, trying to process the events of the last half hour. A wave of guilt hit him as he remembered his girlfriend. That he’d just cheated on. Well, he didn’t so much cheat as prostitute himself. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d just had sex.
With his crazy ex.
Behind her back.
Without protection.
And came harder than he had in the last decade.
Right.
Louis let out a frustrated groan. He cupped his hands under the running water and splashed the water over his face to collect himself.
He wet a flannel, dabbing at the spots of cum on his jumper until they were mostly gone, then wiped off his dick. Once he was all cleaned up, Louis took out his phone to order an Uber XL.
He placed his phone back in his pocket and returned to the room to find Harry sitting at the edge of the bed with his silk shirt and briefs on. His fingers toyed with his banana ‘dick’ necklace; his bottom lip caught in-between his teeth as he chewed it absentmindedly. As Louis opened the door, Harry’s eyes snapped up to him. His hand stilled, letting the necklace drop to his chest.
Louis wiped his hands on his jeans awkwardly. “My ride should be here soon.”
Harry stood up from his spot on the bed and approached him “If you want, I can have my driver take you home. He should be here in thirty minutes.” Harry offered.
“No – it’s fine. They already charged me.” Louis replied.
There was a moment of awkward silence as Louis struggled with what to say next. Harry took another step forward, coming close enough that Louis could feel his breath against his lips. Harry glanced down at Louis’s lips hungrily, then back up to his eyes before lunging forward. He grabbed the back of Louis’s head and kissed him. A surprised Louis remained motionless as Harry’s lips moved against his, insistent and heated. Harry attempted to deepen the kiss with tongue when Louis pulled away.
“Look Haz,” Louis gasped, “this was a one-time thing, yeah?” he clarified.
Harry pressed their foreheads together. “Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Got it.”
Despite his words of assurance, Louis wasn’t convinced. He was going to probe further but was interrupted by his phone chiming. Louis pulled away and checked it. “That’s my ride.” A distracted Louis replied as he looked down at his phone and realized that he had a missed call and multiple missed texts from Zara about their dinner plans for the night. He shot off a quick Sorry, was in a meeting, wrapping up soon text.
Louis glanced up and saw Harry staring with darkened eyes, his gaze darting between the phone and Louis’s face as he watched him reply to her text. Harry realized he had been caught and quickly steeled his features, turning to sit back down on the edge of the bed. Louis put his phone away. He needed to get out of there. He could already sense the mood between them shifting, becoming more charged. “I have to go.”
Harry nodded; barely restrained anger evident on his face. “Okay.” He replied quietly. Louis turned to leave, making his way out of the room as quickly as his feet could carry him.
As the elevator doors closed, Louis let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips, priming to light it as soon as he was outside. He stilled as Harry’s kiss came rushing back to him.
The softness of Harry’s lips. The way they moved warm and hungry, against his. Louis brought his fingertips up to his lips at the phantom sensation but quickly shook it off.
Just then the elevator dinged, letting Louis out into the lobby. Louis fished for his lighter as he made his way outside.
A one-time thing
Louis reminded himself.