Archive of Our Own

Friday afternoons always feel like a drag. 

The office around him has begun to thrum with more than just the anticipation of the weekend, and Louis finds himself ignoring his half written email in favour of watching the clock at the bottom of his computer screen.

He glances around the space, noticing that he isn’t the only one that has mentally clocked out early. Ties have been loosened, pens are tapping instead of writing. More than a few people are staring at their phones or out the window, keeping an eye on the sun sinking lower outside.

A sudden ding breaks him from his thoughts and he glances at his screen to see a Teams message pop up.

Harry Styles (Creative Director)

You’re on the clock Mr Tomlinson. Eyes on the screen.

Louis doesn’t look up, already knowing that Harry will be smirking from his desk on the opposite side of the room, eyes sparkling with mischief and a dimple hollowing his cheek. 

Louis Tomlinson (Senior Project Manager)

Since when do you care about office policy, Mr Styles? And I’d suggest you take your own advice, or you wouldn’t know what I was up to.

He does glance up then, just in time to see Harry chuckle quietly to himself at the screen of his computer. His cheeks have turned a pretty shade of pink, and the setting sun catches the tips of his curls through the window behind him, turning them gold.

Louis’ stomach does that ridiculous thing it always does around Harry, flipping and fluttering, all tied up in knots before Harry’s eyes flick up and lock onto his— wide and bright and so green even from a distance.

Then he sends Louis a wink and Louis almost falls out of his swivel chair.

He’s about to reply with an attached copy of the workplace Health and Safety manual since his smile alone is a hazard, but then Marianne from reception cuts between them, leaning over Harry’s desk and stealing his attention away.

With a sigh, Louis checks the clock again. 4:43. Close enough.

He quickly saves the email to drafts, logs out of everything, and powers down his monitor. By the time the screen goes black, his bag is packed and ready to go.

Around the office, others are doing the same. Laptops are snapped shut, and the low murmur of conversation drifts from the lunchroom where several people have already gathered, despite still having seventeen minutes left on the clock.

Frank’s retirement party was being held in the office’s function space upstairs, which meant productivity had been hanging by a thread since lunchtime. When Louis steps out of the lift, cheerful conversation is already spilling into the corridor. Someone has attempted to decorate the space, fairy lights blink unevenly against the windows and catering trays line the tables along the walls. Beyond the glass, the city is slowly disappearing into darkness.

He spots Niall immediately, his usual quirky work shirt now rolled up at the sleeves and his tie discarded as he leans against one of the walls with a drink already in hand. Around him, several of their coworkers have changed out of their office clothes, swapping stiff button-ups and pencil skirts for something with more personality.

“There he is!” Niall says the second he notices him approaching. “Thought you’d abandoned poor Frank on his big night.”

Louis snorts quietly, reaching for one of the champagne flutes from a nearby table. “I was working, unlike the rest of you apparently.”

“Please.” Niall waves him off. “Nobody’s done anything productive since at least two.”

He’s probably right. Near the windows, several people from marketing are already halfway through a bottle of red wine while Frank himself stands surrounded by employees eager to congratulate him on his retirement, his laugh carrying above the music flowing through the speakers in the corners. Every now and then another person steps out of the lift looking slightly more themselves than they had downstairs. 

Louis takes a slow sip of champagne, scanning the room until he finds Zayn, their IT technician, chatting with Liam from Legal.

He cocks a brow when he sees the usually stoic and composed Liam break into a full on giggle at something Zayn says, his hand shooting out to brush Zayn’s bicep in a way that looks far too familiar to be accidental.

Louis huffs a quiet laugh to himself. Clearly the open bar had started well before he arrived.

Niall is called away moments later to help someone from the event team wrestle with the PA system, leaving Louis no choice but to interrupt whatever is going on between Zayn and Liam.

“You two look cosy.” Louis says as he approaches, reaching for one of the mini quiches from a passing catering tray.

Liam nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide like he’s been caught out. Zayn on the other hand, barely reacts beyond lifting a single unimpressed eyebrow.

“Jealous?” He asks smoothly.

“Obviously.” Louis deadpans around a mouthful of pastry.

Liam laughs awkwardly, a little pink around the ears while Zayn shakes his head. The three of them fall easily into conversation after that. It’s comfortable and easy enough that Louis almost forgets he’s still technically at work, and not out for drinks with mates.

Almost.

Zayn suddenly goes quiet. Louis notices the shift just as an elbow nudges his side, just hard enough to get his attention.

“Uh oh.” Zayn mutters into the rim of his glass, sounding far too amused.

Louis frowns. “What?”

Zayn just smirks, then tilts his chin towards the lift doors across the room. Louis looks up as the doors slide open with a soft chime that cuts through the noise of the room.

And then Harry steps out.

“Oh, fuck off.” Louis mutters under his breath before he can stop himself. Zayn’s grin widens behind his glass. 

Harry doesn’t look like he belongs at a retirement party held in a corporate office. That’s the first thought Louis has.

The second is significantly less appropriate.

Most people had arrived in the expected after work drinks attire, looking a little less polished and a little more relaxed than they had in the office. Harry, apparently, had taken a very different approach.

His trousers are dark and fitted enough to make Louis actively annoyed about possessing eyesight, paired with a black shirt so sheer it leaves very little to the imagination whenever he shifts beneath the glow of the fairy lights. The collar gapes open low on his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows to reveal heavily tattooed forearms, silver rings catching the light every time he lifts a hand to push his curls back from his face.

Several conversations near the lift visibly derail.

Louis watches one woman from accounting fully lose track of what she’s saying mid-sentence.

Honestly, fair enough.

Harry either doesn’t notice the attention or is pretending not to as he moves further into the room, greeting people as he passes with that warm, effortless charm of his that Louis has spent months trying not to think about too closely.

It’s impossible tonight. Because Harry knows exactly what he’s doing. Louis can tell. Harry is always intentional with everything he does, from the way he dresses to the ease with which he moves through every room he enters, like he knows people are watching and plans to let them. 

Tonight, he gives every person he stops to speak with his full attention, his smile warm as he leans in close to hear them over the music, fingers brushing against arms and shoulders. It should feel insincere, but somehow Harry always manages to make people feel like they’re the only person in the room worth looking at.

Beside him, Liam lets out a low whistle. “Christ.”

“Mm.” Zayn hums. “Interesting outfit choice for the office.”

Louis says absolutely nothing. Mostly because he no longer trusts himself to speak.

Harry laughs at something someone near the bar says, his head tipping back slightly and Louis has to look away before he does something deeply embarrassing like fall to his knees in a room full of his coworkers.

The problem is that looking away doesn’t actually help. Because now Louis is aware of him. Of where he’s moving through the room. Of who he stops to talk to. 

It’s unbearable. What's even worse is that Harry hasn’t looked at him yet. Not even a glance. Which feels intentional too.

He takes a long sip of champagne that does absolutely nothing to help compose him.

“Breathe.” Zayn says quietly beside him, far too entertained by Louis’ suffering.

Louis tears his eyes away from Harry long enough to glare at him. “Shut up.” He hisses. And then, like he’s sensed Louis’ attention from across the room, Harry finally glances up.

His eyes find Louis instantly, something warm flashing across his face before the corner of his mouth curves into a dangerous smile. He says something to the people around him, then slips away from the conversation and makes his way across the room.

Louis takes another slow sip of champagne, forcing his expression into something far more neutral than he feels. Because he absolutely refuses to be one of the many idiots currently falling apart over Harry Styles in the middle of Event Room C.

By the time Harry reaches them, Louis has managed to slip back into himself, his shoulders relaxed, expression easy, one elbow resting casually against the cocktail table like he hasn’t spent the last ten minutes mentally undressing the man approaching him.

Harry slows as he reaches the group, eyes flicking slowly over Louis before settling into something suspiciously innocent.

“Hello everyone.” He says smoothly.

“Harry! You’re looking very nice tonight.” Liam says kindly, and Harry preens, looking down at himself with a little shimmy.

“Thank you, Liam. Just something I threw together.” 

Harry’s smile lingers as he smooths a hand down the front of his shirt before glancing towards Louis, his voice a little softer.

“Hi Louis. How is your evening?”

Louis hums softly instead of answering straight away, letting his eyes drift slowly down the length of Harry’s torso before returning to his face. “Isn’t nudity against the company dress code?”

Liam lets out a startled laugh into his drink while Zayn outright chokes on his champagne beside him.

Harry, meanwhile, looks delighted.

“Do you like it?” He asks innocently, though the corner of his mouth is already threatening a smile.

Louis gestures vaguely towards him with his glass. “You look like you’re about to ask if they’ve got cocaine in the bathroom.”

“Do you think they do?” Harry asks without missing a beat, glancing around the room as though he’s genuinely considering who might know.

“Oh my god.” Liam mutters, visibly horrified as he steers Zayn a step away and starts a new conversation. Presumably not about illegal substances.

Harry only grins wider before stepping in closer to the table, near enough now that Louis catches the warm scent of his cologne beneath the champagne on his breath.

“You still didn’t answer my question.” Harry says softly.

Louis arches an eyebrow. “I’m at a work event, drinking warm champagne out of plastic glassware. How do you think my evening is?”

“Tell me anyway.”

“It—“ Louis starts, then shakes his head. “Improved significantly about thirty seconds ago.”

Harry’s expression softens into something pleased and unexpectedly shy beneath all that confidence, before he ducks his head with a quiet laugh.

Then someone appears at Harry’s shoulder, touching his arm to get his attention before leading him away. Liam heads for the bar with Zayn close behind, and Louis spends the rest of the evening drifting from one conversation to the next, never quite managing to focus on any of them.

Ever since Harry had joined the company four months ago— all shiny curls and easy charm and ridiculously pretty smiles, Louis has been steadily losing the ability to focus whenever he’s nearby.

At first it had only been little things, like Harry lingering by Louis’ desk longer than necessary under the guise of discussing a project. Sitting too close during meetings, his knee brushing Louis’ beneath the conference table as though he didn’t notice. Appearing in the lunch room whenever Louis was there, their break time usually dissolving into pointless conversation, easy laughter, and Harry leaning over the table like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

And then there was the staring.

God, it was like Harry’s eyes could find him across a room no matter how many obstacles were between them. 

Something about tonight feels different though. 

Maybe because they’re outside office hours now. Maybe because Harry is wearing a shirt that seems to have been designed with the sole purpose of destroying Louis. Or maybe because Louis has finally admitted to himself that he likes looking back.

A lot. 

Whatever the reason, the tension between them has become impossible to ignore.

The evening stretches on. Louis talks to people, has a laugh, congratulates Frank properly at some point, but Harry remains a constant thought at the edge of everything. 

While Brenda from payroll is showing him photos of her grandchildren, Harry squeezes past behind him near the bar, his hand settling at the small of Louis’ back for a moment.

“Sorry.” Harry murmurs, sounding anything but apologetic as he saunters off again.

Later, Louis catches him watching openly from across the room while someone attempts to tell a story he doesn’t seem remotely interested in.

And every time Louis looks away, Harry somehow ends up closer the next time he glances back.

By the time Louis drifts towards the dessert table, the room has reached that point in the evening where every conversation blends into a constant stream of noise beneath the music.

He pauses at the edge of it all, taking in the crowd before reaching for the last chocolate dipped strawberry on the platter before anyone else can get to it.

“There you are.”

Louis’ pulse ticks up as Harry steps up close beside him, his eyes immediately dropping to the strawberry in Louis’ hand. “Oh.” He says softly. “Is that the last one?”

Louis looks down at it before meeting Harry’s gaze again. “It is.”

Harry actually pouts, eyes going wide beneath his lashes as he looks between Louis and the strawberry.

“Absolutely not.” Louis laughs immediately, already pulling the fruit closer to himself and shaking his head.

Harry exhales through his nose, his plush lip dropping lower. “I love strawberries.”

It’s quiet and sulky, all soft and wounded like Louis has genuinely ruined his entire evening. Louis stares at him for a second, because fucking hell.

Harry already looks unfair enough tonight without adding that voice and those big, pleading eyes into the equation too.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Louis mutters.

“Do what?”

“That.” Louis gestures vaguely towards him with the strawberry. “With the lips and the eyes.”

Harry’s mouth twitches like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I just think you should give it to me.”

“And why’s that?”

Harry leans a little closer, his mouth stretching into a sly smirk. “Because I asked nicely.”

Louis arches an eyebrow. “You haven’t actually asked for anything yet, darling.”

Harry blinks slowly, then his expression melts into something dangerously sweet.

“Please?” He asks quietly.

And fuck.

The word hits Louis deep, and warm heat curls low in his stomach. His mind betrays him instantly with flashes of Harry saying that again in a completely different tone— breathless and needy, pupils blown wide, curls a mess, voice wrecked and desperate.

Please, Louis.

Jesus Christ.

Louis narrows his eyes at him for another second before finally sighing and holding the strawberry out. Harry brightens immediately, and it’s honestly embarrassing how much Louis enjoys being the reason for it.

“Thank you.” Harry says softly.

Louis expects him to take it from his hand. Instead, Harry closes the distance between them slowly, eyes never leaving Louis’ face as he bends forward and bites directly into it where Louis holds it between his fingers.

The chocolate shell cracks softly beneath his teeth and for one stupid second, Louis completely forgets where they are.

Harry’s mouth is close enough that Louis feels the warm puffs of breath against his knuckles, his lips brushing lightly against Louis’ fingertips as he pulls back with the bitten strawberry between his teeth.

Louis instinctively glances up. The rest of the party carries on just several metres away. From where they’re tucked near the end of the dessert table, half shadowed beside a potted plant, nobody seems to be paying them any attention at all.

Harry chews slowly, watching Louis the entire time as his tongue flicks out to catch a drop of strawberry juice from his lower lip. Louis feels hot all over and it’s clear that Harry notices.

Louis can tell in the way his eyes darken, satisfaction flashing across his face before he sways closer again, close enough now that Louis can feel the heat coming off him.

“So generous of you.” Harry purrs quietly beside his ear. His mouth curves softly before he adds, even quieter. “I’ll have to think of a way to thank you properly.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry.” Louis takes a steadying breath, his eyes closing for a second like that might help clear the image of Harry’s plush lips from his mind.

It doesn’t. 

“You’re making it really hard to stay professional here.” When he blinks his eyes open again, Harry is beaming, clearly thrilled with himself.

“It’s about time I got you to slip up, Mr Tomlinson. I’ve only been trying for four months.”

Louis exhales slowly through his nose. “Careful.” He says in a quiet warning. Harry’s expression shifts with the tone. It’s subtle, but unmistakable as his mouth parts slightly, eyes sharpening with interest.

Interesting.

Louis catches it immediately, and suddenly a lot of Harry’s behaviour over the last few months starts making perfect fucking sense. The pushing, the teasing, the deliberate little acts of disobedience. Harry winding him tighter and tighter all evening just to see what would happen when Louis finally snapped.

Harry takes a tiny step closer again, still smiling. “Or what?” He cocks his head to the side, daring Louis to take the bait. 

Brat.

Louis glances past him towards the rest of the room before lowering his voice. “Or somebody’s going to see how bloody desperate you are for my attention.”

Harry doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “If they do.” He says smoothly. “I think they’ll mostly be impressed by your self control.”

Louis laughs at the audacity of him, then reaches up to fix the slightly crooked collar of Harry’s shirt, tracing the line of fabric against his chest with slow fingers. The movement shuts Harry up instantly.

“At least pretend to behave.” Louis murmurs.

Harry goes very still beneath his hands and it almost trips Louis up, because for all the teasing and provocation tonight, this is the first time Harry’s gone genuinely quiet.

Louis smooths the collar flat, giving Harry’s chest a light pat before stepping back.

“Go and mingle.” He says lightly. “See if you can give me five minutes without causing any problems.”

Harry visibly falters at that, lips parting as fresh heat floods his already wine-flushed cheeks.

And Christ, Louis likes that far too much.

Harry sways closer before seeming to realise it, and Louis catches him with a hand at his hip. The touch steadies him immediately, leaving him almost boneless beneath Louis’ palm.

Harry’s eyes flick down to Louis’ mouth and Louis’ grip tightens before he forces himself to let go.

“Five minutes.” He says quietly, stepping away before he does something reckless in the middle of the party. “Then take yourself to the bathroom before you do something that gets us both fired.”

Harry blinks at him, momentarily caught between surprise and satisfaction, as though he’s trying to decide if he’s finally gotten his way.

Louis cocks his chin towards the room and Harry nods immediately, dragging a hand through his hair before forcing himself back towards the crowd.

Louis stays where he is for a moment after Harry disappears, fingers tightening around the stem of his champagne flute before he forces himself to relax. He drags a slow breath through his nose.

Five minutes.

Surely he can manage five fucking minutes.

He drains the rest of his drink in one swallow and immediately regrets it when the cheap champagne fizzes unpleasantly down his throat. Around him, the party carries on completely oblivious. Louis needs another drink.

Preferably several.

He heads towards the makeshift bar near the back wall, swapping his empty champagne flute for something stronger this time. The bartender hands him a whiskey neat and Louis scans the room until he spots Niall leaning casually against the coat check desk while the woman managing it laughs at something he’s saying.

Louis wanders over, stopping beside him. “Are you bothering this poor woman, Ni?”

Niall looks deeply offended and the woman snorts.

“I’m being charming.” He defends, glancing between Louis and the woman like he’s searching for confirmation.

“Debatable.” The woman says dryly, but the smile she sends Niall gives her away entirely. Niall makes a sound of betrayal and presses a hand to his chest like he’s been wounded.

Louis shakes his head, taking a deep pull of his much stronger drink. The liquid burns as it slides down, but Louis lets the feeling distract him from the incessant buzz beneath his skin.

“Have you seen Zayn?” Louis asks. “Or Liam, actually.” He glances around the room. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen either of them in a while.

His mouth twitches.

Niall follows Louis’ line of sight for exactly one second before bursting into scandalised laughter. “At Frank’s retirement party? I guess love always finds a way.”

Louis hums absently, only half listening now because across the room, Harry has reappeared near the windows. And he’s looking directly at Louis.

The conversation around Harry keeps moving, people stopping to speak to him as they pass, someone saying something that earns a polite smile from him, but his attention never fully leaves Louis. Even from here, Louis can see the restless energy in him now. The anticipation.

Louis subtly checks the time on his watch before taking another slow sip of his whiskey.

Niall is still talking beside him about something work related now, but Louis barely catches any of it. Harry shifts again, fingers tapping against his thigh before he finally slips away from the conversation around him.

Their eyes meet again, and Harry hesitates just long enough to make sure Louis is watching before turning towards the hallway leading out of the function space.

Every instinct in Louis’ body is screaming at him to follow immediately, to drag Harry into the nearest private room and finally do something about the unbearable tension that’s been winding tighter between them for months now. Instead, Louis stays exactly where he is, finishing the last of his drink while Niall continues rambling beside him.

Another two minutes pass. Then three. By four, Louis can practically feel Harry’s impatience from the other end of the floor.

It’s deeply satisfying.

“Are you even listening to me?” Niall asks suddenly.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Rude.”

Louis huffs a distracted laugh and glances towards the corridor again. Niall follows his eyeline, confused. “What are you—”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

“Oh my god.” Niall gasps, delighted once he pieces it together. “You’re finally gonna climb him like a tree, aren’t you?”

Louis nearly chokes on his drink.

“Niall!”

“What? I’ve had to watch the two of you eye-fuck each other at every meeting for months now. This is a win for everybody.”

Louis stares at him before draining the last mouthful of his drink. He sets the empty glass down on the coat check counter with a quiet clink. “If anybody asks.” He says smoothly, loosening his tie. “I’ve gone to answer emails or something."

Niall bursts into helpless laughter as Louis turns and walks away before he can say anything else.

The music dulls the second he leaves the main function space behind, his footsteps soft against the carpet as he moves past closed meeting room doors, his pulse thudding harder with every step.

Louis deliberately slows when he reaches the bathrooms, checking his watch one last time even though he already knows it’s been well over five minutes.

Then, finally, he pushes through the door.

The bathroom is empty except for Harry. He’s leaning back against the sink counter, one arm folded across his stomach while the fingers of his other hand toy absently with his bottom lip. His shirt is somehow even more obscene beneath the softer bathroom lighting, the sheer fabric clinging across his toned chest, curls messy like he’s been running his hands through them impatiently.

The second the door clicks shut behind Louis, Harry looks up, then stands immediately.

For a moment they just stare at each other across the bathroom, the tension between them suddenly so thick it feels almost unbearable.

Louis watches as Harry’s chest rises slowly beneath the black fabric. When he finally drags his eyes back up, Harry is already looking at him.

There’s no teasing left in Harry’s face now. No performance. No playful grin. Just Harry standing there looking at Louis like he wants him to ruin him a little bit.

His lips are pink and bitten raw enough that Louis instantly knows exactly what he’s been doing in here alone.

Waiting for him.

Louis takes a slow step forward and Harry’s breath catches, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t say a word. He just watches Louis approach with dark eyes and parted lips like he’s trying very hard to stay still.

The control of it has heat pooling in his groin. Because Harry had been all teasing grins and bratty little comments out there. This is different.

This is Harry standing quiet and expectant because Louis told him to wait.

Louis stops directly in front of him. Harry tilts his head slightly to look at him and Louis’ gaze drops immediately to his wet mouth.

Fuck.

“You said five minutes.” Harry murmurs, soft and breathless.

Louis hums. “And yet you stayed exactly where I told you to.”

Harry’s lashes flutter slightly at that, unraveling more and more each time Louis takes control of the situation instead of reacting to his teasing.

Louis reaches up slowly, brushing two fingers beneath Harry’s jaw before gripping lightly enough to tilt his face up properly. His breath catches harder.

“So patient for me.” Louis praises quietly.

Harry swallows, nodding slowly. The movement presses his throat against Louis’ palm and Jesus Christ.

Louis’ restraint finally snaps, and he leans in and kisses him.

Hard.

Harry makes a wrecked little sound against Louis’ mouth, both hands grabbing fistfuls of Louis’ shirt like he’s been holding himself back for the last several minutes by sheer force. Louis kisses him deeper before Harry can properly recover, backing him against the sink with a dull thud.

Harry melts into it instantly, his mouth warm, and Louis’ head spins as the taste of whiskey and strawberries and Harry floods his senses.

Louis has pictured this moment for months, and yet somehow it’s still better than he ever imagined.

Harry chases after him desperately when Louis pulls back just enough to breathe.

“God, finally.” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips.

Louis’ lips quirk into a half grin, still close enough that their mouths brush when he speaks. “Yeah? Is that what you’ve been waiting for?”

Harry nods immediately.

“Could’ve just asked, love.”

Harry lets out the softest, most impatient little whine at that and Louis nearly loses his fucking mind.

Before he can spiral, he grabs Harry’s wrist and tugs him towards the toilet stalls without a word.

Louis barely gets the stall door locked before Harry is back in his space again. Louis turns them easily, pinning Harry against the door of the cramped space and standing between his legs. He looks wrecked already.

Harry opens his mouth like he’s about to utter something bratty, but whatever he planned to say dies the second Louis grabs his jaw and kisses him again.

He takes his time with it now that he finally can, dragging his mouth against Harry’s until he’s making a helpless little sound low in his throat. Harry’s hands slide up Louis’ chest, fingers bunching into his shirt while Louis presses him harder against the door.

The wood rattles behind Harry and both of them freeze.

Harry laughs softly, his breath warm against Louis’ mouth. “This is deeply inappropriate for a corporate event.”

“You wore that slutty shirt to a retirement party.” Louis says flatly. “You lost the right to judge anything appropriate hours ago.”

Harry beams at that.

And there it is again— that dangerous little spark in Louis’ chest every time Harry looks pleased with himself because of him. It makes him feel reckless.

Louis’ hand slides down to Harry’s hip, gripping firmly enough to pull another sharp inhale from him. Harry’s head tips back against the door, his throat exposed, and Louis has to physically stop himself from biting him.

“Lou.” Harry breathes quietly. “Please do something.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Mhm.” Harry nods, eyes heavy. “You’ve been very bossy tonight. Let’s see you follow through.”

Louis laughs softly despite himself. “You can’t tell me this isn’t exactly what you wanted.”

Harry grins lazily and shrugs a shoulder. “Worked though, didn’t it?”

Unfortunately, yes.

Louis kisses him again before Harry can get smug about it, and this time Harry melts immediately with a soft noise against Louis’ mouth and fingers tightening against his shirt every time Louis presses him harder against the door.

Louis can feel the exact second Harry starts losing the ability to think properly. His breathing changes first. Then there’s the little impatient shifts of his hips. Then the way he stops trying to talk altogether and just clings to him, letting Louis take full control. It goes straight to Louis’ head in a dizzying rush.

“Look at you.” Louis murmurs quietly against his mouth. “All that trouble out there and now you can barely string a sentence together.”

Harry lets out a frustrated sound that’s dangerously close to a whimper and hides his face against Louis’ shoulder.

“Shut up.”

“No.” Louis says, amused.

Harry glares weakly up at him, cheeks pink and curls completely wrecked, and Louis genuinely has to bite back a grin.

Because Harry Styles— smug, confident, charming Harry Styles is standing in a bathroom stall at a work function looking thoroughly fucked.

And Louis hasn’t even touched him yet.

Louis drags his thumb slowly across Harry’s flushed cheek before catching his jaw again, tilting his face up properly.

“You look good like this.” He murmurs softly. “All soft and obedient.”

Harry’s eyes roll closed. The reaction is immediate enough that Louis clocks it easily. Harry tries to recover from it straight away, lifting his chin slightly even while pinned against the stall door.

“You’re smug.” Harry says, voice rough.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Louis replies easily. “You’ve spent months acting like you were the one in charge here.”

Harry opens his mouth immediately. “I was—”

Louis tightens his grip lightly against his jaw with a soft tut. “Ah.” It's barely even a warning. Still, Harry stops talking instantly.

Harry’s lips part on a sharp inhale, his eyes flicking back up to Louis’ face with something dazed that makes Louis’ heartbeat kick hard against his ribs.

Fuck. Louis hadn’t even meant to do that.

But now he’s seen the reaction, now he’s watched Harry go still beneath nothing more than a quiet correction.

His cock gives a desperate throb, trapped against the fly of his trousers and barely an inch away from Harry’s.

“Better.” Louis says softly, pushing down the rush of arousal.

Harry visibly swallows and nods, biting at his bottom lip. Louis brushes his thumb across it, already pink and swollen from kissing.

“You get mouthy when you’re nervous?” He asks.

Harry huffs out a weak laugh. “I’m not nervous.”

“Hm.” Louis hums like he doesn’t quite buy it. 

Harry’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue this time. Doesn’t push back. He just watches Louis with blown pupils and flushed cheeks while Louis keeps him exactly where he wants him.

“You know what your problem is?” Louis murmurs, leaning in close enough that Harry’s breath stutters again. “You spent all this time flirting like you thought I wouldn’t eventually do something about it.”

Harry’s fingers tighten in his shirt like he’s afraid he’ll step away. “I hoped you would. I was waiting.” He admits softly. That nearly fucking does Louis in.

With a groan, Louis finally lets go of all the restraint he’s been clinging to. He crashes their mouths together again, pressing himself fully against Harry until there’s no space left between them. He can feel Harry’s cock— just as hard as his, pressed against his thigh and his hand immediately drops from Harry’s jaw and slips between them. 

Harry gasps when Louis finally touches him, the heel of his hand pressing firm against his shaft but he doesn’t move it, just gives Harry the small relief of pressure without letting him fall too far. 

Harry’s own hand slips from Louis’ shirt and starts moving between them, searching. But Louis is quicker, pulling his hand away from Harry’s cock to catch both wrists and pin them above his head.

“I didn’t say you could touch.” Louis tuts, mouth brushing close to Harry’s ear.

Harry makes a frustrated sound immediately, hips shifting like he wants to chase the loss, but he holds still anyway— fingers curling against nothing, knuckles whitening where Louis has them pinned.

“Good.” Louis adds softly when Harry doesn’t lower his arms. “Good boy.” 

“Fuck. Louis—” He tries, but it comes out frayed at the edges. 

Louis hums, a hand returning to Harry’s waist and sliding beneath his flimsy shirt. The skin there is soft, and Louis presses closer, basking in the warmth against his palms. 

Harry shifts into the touch, hands balling into fists with the effort, his biceps flexing as his muscles strain to stay raised.

“Stay still for me.” Louis says, leaning in to kiss the line of Harry’s throat. “Or I stop.”

Harry goes rigid immediately. For all the teasing and stubbornness, he folds for a real instruction without hesitation.

Louis keeps his eyes on Harry’s as he begins to toy with the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one until he’s exposed down to the waistband of his trousers. When he reaches the button of Harry’s fly, his fingers still. He searches Harry’s face for a moment, silently asking for permission to continue.

Harry nods— rapidly, his head thudding against the door with the enthusiasm. His eyes flutter closed and Louis chuckles under his breath. 

“What happened to that pretty voice?” Louis murmurs against his skin, still not popping the button. 

“Hm?” Harry hums, eyes still closed. 

Louis’ voice drops. “You said please before.”

Harry lets out a broken little laugh at that, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I did, yeah.” Then, soft and wrecked, he whispers, “please, Louis.” 

Louis’ fingers slide the zipper down slowly, and Harry’s head tips back harder against the stall door with a soft thud.

“Fuck—”

Harry opens his eyes enough to look down just as Louis pulls his cock from his trousers. Louis keeps his hand still, just feeling the warmth and the weight of him, then Harry makes another frustrated sound low in his throat and Louis finally relents, holding him tighter and dragging his palm up to the head.

Harry’s entire body jerks at the contact, his mouth parting on a sharp breath as his wrists flex instinctively above his head before he catches himself.

“Easy.” Louis says. “I’ve got you.”

He draws his hand slowly back down Harry’s length and watches the exact second it stops Harry’s brain from functioning properly.

Harry’s lashes flutter, lips parting wider as a broken breath leaves him. And fuck, Louis could probably get addicted to the sight of him like this.

“All that cocky attitude.” He teases. “You’ve got half the office falling over themselves every time you smile at them.” Louis watches his expression crumble a little further before adding quietly. “And look how easy you are for me.”

Harry shakes his head like he’s trying to recover enough to answer, but nothing useful comes out. Just another wrecked sound under his breath as Louis strokes him again, slow and measured, giving him enough pressure to make his knees threaten to buckle without ever quite letting him chase it properly.

“Louis.” He breathes helplessly.

Louis watches, completely transfixed by the sight of Harry pinned beneath him— cheeks flushed and wrists still obediently held above his head despite how badly he’s trembling.

“Yeah.” Louis murmurs, thumb dragging slowly over his slit. “I know, love.”

Harry groans loudly, his cock throbbing in Louis’ palm.

And then the bathroom door swings open outside the stall. Noise crashes into the room all of a sudden, voices and laughter and footsteps against the tile.

Harry freezes, his breath hitching as Louis slaps a hand over his mouth, fingers pressing tight against his cheek. His other hand stills around Harry’s cock, feeling it pulse hard against his palm, slick precum gathering over his thumb.

Both of them go dead still in the cramped stall, breathing hard in the sudden silence between them while the sounds outside swell louder. Harry’s hips jerk involuntarily, grinding against Louis’ tight grip.

Someone laughs near the sinks and another voice answers, muffled slightly when a door slams shut in the stall beside them.

Harry’s eyes are wide now, pupils blown dark and breath coming short and sharp against Louis’ palm as he tries desperately to quiet himself. For a second Louis genuinely thinks maybe he’s pushed too far. Maybe the reality of where they are has finally caught up with them both.

But then Harry squeezes his eyes shut with a tiny nod of submission, still trying to be good for him even now.

Heat floods Louis’ stomach at the sight of it. Harry’s cock leaks over his fingers, swollen and hot in his grip, wrists still pinned above his head while voices drift around them completely oblivious.

“Fuck.” Louis whispers near his ear, rough enough that Harry visibly shivers. “That’s it. So good for me.”

Outside the stall, somebody starts complaining loudly about Frank’s speech running too long. Another person snorts with laughter as water splashes into one of the sinks and the hand dryer roars to life.

Inside the stall, Harry trembles beneath Louis’ hold but doesn’t make another sound, cock throbbing in Louis’ fist while he fights for composure.

Louis can feel how hard he’s trying.

He leans in closer. “Keep quiet for me, baby.” He murmurs against Harry’s ear, thumb circling the leaking tip, spreading the slickness slowly before his hand starts moving again.

Harry nods immediately, breath catching hard through his nose as Louis keeps him balanced right on the edge. Every few seconds Harry’s composure slips. Louis feels it in the way his body jolts beneath his hands, the twitch of his fingers overhead like he wants to reach for him and doesn’t dare.

And Christ, Louis has never seen anything prettier in his life.

Eventually, the noise outside starts to fade. Voices drift towards the exit, the sinks shut off one by one, and another burst of laughter disappears through the bathroom door before silence settles over the room again.

The second the heavy door clicks shut, Louis pulls his hand from Harry’s mouth and slides it down his throat instead, his thumb pressing beneath Harry’s jaw with just a hint of pressure. 

A damp shine of spit remains across Harry’s chin.

Harry gasps sharply like he’s been holding himself together by a thread.

Then he snaps.

His arms finally drop from above his head and both hands cradle Louis’ face immediately, dragging him into a deep, desperate kiss before Louis can say a word about it. Harry kisses like he’s overwhelmed by it, all wrecked breaths and open mouths and relief after being forced still for so long, his tongue sliding past Louis’ lips to taste him properly.

And Louis gives in completely. He kisses Harry back just as hard while Harry melts against him with a ruined sound into his mouth. The control Louis had been holding onto snaps clean through at the feeling of Harry clutching at him like that, and suddenly the whole thing turns messy and desperate and unbearably hot after all that restraint. 

Louis’ free hand slides down, gripping Harry’s arse where his trousers have slipped low on his hips, squeezing hard before dipping the tips of his fingers between his cheeks.

The kiss falls apart instantly. Harry shakes against him, his grip tightening on Louis’ jaw as a wrecked moan spills into his mouth, hips bucking forward to fuck himself into Louis’ hand.

And then Harry’s head drops heavily against Louis’ shoulder, breath uneven as he comes, Louis holding him steady through it. He continues stroking Harry’s cock, slow and firm, drawing out each throb as come spills over his fingers. 

Louis leans in, biting Harry’s neck hard enough to leave a mark, his own cock pressing against Harry’s thigh, desperate for the friction but keeping himself teetering on the edge.

Harry stays folded against him for a long moment afterwards, forehead pressed into Louis’ shoulder while he catches his breath in uneven heaves. His entire body still twitches every now and then with oversensitivity, and Louis keeps one arm firm around his waist to hold him steady.

Louis smooths a hand up and down Harry’s back beneath the sheer fabric of his shirt. “I’ve got you.” He whispers.

Harry lets out a weak little laugh against his collarbone, still breathing hard. He finally lifts his head, his hair a complete disaster now, cheeks still flushed pink all the way down his chest. Louis can’t help himself, he brushes a kiss against the corner of Harry’s mouth, then another against his cheekbone. The frantic edge from earlier has melted away, leaving a softness between them.

Harry’s eyes drift shut again at the touch.

“You alright?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry nods against him before opening his eyes again, still glassy and unfocused. “Yeah.” His mouth twitches. “I think my soul left my body, but yeah.”

Louis laughs softly under his breath and reaches down for a handful of toilet paper. He takes his time cleaning Harry up properly, despite the way Harry visibly shivers beneath every touch.

“You’re being very sweet about this.” Harry mumbles. 

“I think you like it.”

Harry smiles, lazy and a bit ruined. “Yeah.” He admits it easily. “It’s a bit embarrassing how much.”

Louis shakes his head fondly, before carefully tucking Harry back into his trousers and fixing the button of his fly. Harry watches him the entire time, his expression lax now that all the sharp teasing edges have faded away.

It catches Louis off guard a little. Because this part somehow feels more intimate than having Harry come apart in his hand.

Once Harry’s trousers are sorted, Louis smooths both hands slowly up his waist again before stepping back just enough to look at him properly.

Harry stays slumped against the stall door, boneless and satisfied, smiling crookedly.

Then his eyes flick downward pointedly. Louis huffs a quiet laugh, thumb still rubbing lazily along Harry’s waist beneath his shirt. 

“You still haven’t come.” Harry says like he’s only just remembered.

Louis hums. “I’m aware.”

Harry pouts as though he’s the one who’s missed out. “Seems unfair.”

Louis smiles and brushes Harry’s curls back from his forehead before finally stepping towards the door.

“Come on.” He says quietly, flicking the lock.

“I physically can’t.” Harry says with a helpless gesture towards himself. “You rendered me useless.”

Louis glances back over his shoulder, expression coy enough to make Harry straighten slightly in interest. “I have an idea.”

He looks at Louis with wide eyes, still flushed and kiss-swollen and visibly recovering, yet somehow immediately attentive again, curiosity sparking behind his tired eyes.

Harry's legs are still slightly unsteady when he steps forward. Louis catches his waist before he can stumble properly, steadying him close against his side.

Harry grins without embarrassment, and Louis shakes his head but doesn’t let go of him as they move towards the sinks. The bathroom is quiet after everything that happened inside the stall, the harsh fluorescent lights almost sobering compared to the haze they’d both disappeared into minutes earlier.

Harry stops beside the mirror, staring at his own reflection before bursting into startled laughter.

“Oh, I look thoroughly fucked.”

Louis steps up behind him, meeting his eyes in the reflection. He looks disheveled, a darkening mark already visible near the side of his throat where Louis bit him.

Louis feels a deep pulse of satisfaction at the sight.

“You do a bit, yeah.” His hands reach around Harry’s waist, fiddling with his buttons until they’re fastened.

Harry tilts his head slightly to inspect the mark. “Frank’s retirement party might end with HR involvement after all.”

“Says the man who wore a transparent shirt to a corporate function.”

“It did exactly the job it was supposed to.”

Fair point.

Harry watches him in the mirror for another second before his interest piques. “What’s this idea then?”

Louis holds his gaze in the reflection, his smile breaking free. “My flat’s ten minutes away.”

They make their way back into the function room with a respectable distance between them, even as Louis’ fingers itch to reach out and tangle into Harry’s. To pull him into his side and kiss his cheek right there in front of everyone. 

He doesn’t. Instead he heads right for the lift, avoiding Niall’s wide grin as he presses the button. He glances at Harry by his side, his eyes are downcast and there’s a soft smile playing at his lips, his dimple shallow but real. 

They don’t say anything as the doors slip open, or when they climb inside, the noise of the party fading as they’re closed off and then suddenly they’re alone again. 

Harry leans against the far wall as Louis presses the button for the ground floor, and the second they start their descent, Louis is crowding his space. 

He lifts a hand and presses it to the side of Harry’s neck, his thumb brushing over his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” He asks and Harry smiles and raises his hands to grip Louis’ hips, pulling him in until they’re pressed flush. 

Harry doesn’t answer, instead he tilts his chin until their lips are connecting, far softer than the desperate kiss from earlier. Louis’ head spins with it, a rush of heat flooding through him as his fingers tighten on Harry’s jaw like he needs to hold himself steady. 

When they pull apart, they stay close, foreheads touching and hands moving slowly over the other’s body like they can’t help it.

Louis barely notices the lift already slowing down, too distracted by the feeling of Harry’s warm fingers spread against his hips, and the lazy little smile still sitting on Harry’s mouth.

The lift dings softly and neither of them move. Then the doors slide open and—

“Oh.” Liam says.

Harry immediately folds forward against Louis’ chest with a horrified laugh while Louis jerks upright so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

Because standing outside the lift doors are Liam and Zayn. Or— a very dishevelled Liam, and a deeply smug looking Zayn.

For a second, nobody says anything as the four of them stare at each other.

Liam’s tie is gone, the top few buttons of his crisp shirt uneven like somebody had been in a rush to do them up, and his hair looks like hands have been through it repeatedly. Beside him, Zayn is leaning casually against the wall with Liam’s suit jacket folded over one arm and an expression that says he’s enjoying this far too much.

Then Louis notices the glowing sign above the lift.

LEVEL 14— INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY.

“This isn’t the lobby.” Harry mumbles into Louis’ shoulder, still laughing quietly.

Louis closes his eyes briefly. “Apparently not.”

Zayn’s mouth twitches. “Enjoying your evening, lads?”

“Don’t start.” Louis warns immediately.

Liam looks like he wants the floor to open and swallow him whole. “We were just—”

“Not a single person asked, love.” Zayn cuts in smoothly, resting a hand on Liam’s shoulder.

Harry finally lifts his head from Louis’ chest and the second Liam gets a proper look at him his eyes widen in recognition.

Because Harry very clearly still looks kissed stupid.

“Oh my god.” Liam says, glancing between them.

“Right back at you.” Harry replies, glancing pointedly towards the faint bruises along Liam’s jaw.

Liam makes a strangled noise and slaps a hand over his neck while beside him, Zayn outright grins.

The doors start trying to close again before Zayn sticks a hand out to stop them.

“Our Uber’s downstairs.” He says casually, steering Liam into the lift beside them. Liam refuses to look directly at anyone as the doors slide shut again, clutching his hands together in front of him. 

The four of them stand there in complete silence while the lift continues its descent. Then Harry quietly loses it again. He presses his mouth against Louis’ shoulder trying to muffle his helpless giggles while his whole body shakes against him.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to hurt.

Across from them, Zayn looks perfectly composed. “You know.” He says, tilting his head to look at them both. “I actually thought you two would crack first.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Louis groans immediately. Liam caves and laughs into his hand as the lift finally opens into the lobby.

“Right.” Liam says immediately, stepping out with urgency. “Lovely seeing everyone.”

Zayn follows at a far more leisurely pace, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt before glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

“That leaves absolutely nothing.” Harry calls after him.

Liam makes a distressed sound somewhere near the revolving doors while Zayn’s laughter echoes back through the lobby before the two of them vanish out onto the street.

The cool night air hits them the second they step outside. The city is still crawling with Friday night crowds, people spilling from nearby bars in groups, cigarette smoke and laughter curling through the air.

Harry breathes in deep beside him like he’s only just now coming back down to earth.

Louis loosens his tie another inch as they move towards the edge of the footpath, already reaching for his phone to call an uber when Harry steps closer.

“Hold still.”

Louis glances up just as Harry reaches for his tie. His fingers move slowly, loosening the knot completely before sliding the silk free from beneath Louis’ collar. Harry folds it neatly, then tucks it into Louis’ pocket with a small frown of concentration.

“There.” He says quietly. “You looked uncomfortable.”

Louis watches him, the way the wind catches in his curls, pushing them across his forehead, and there’s still the shadow of Louis’ bite visible near his throat beneath the open collar of that ridiculous shirt.

Something warm lodges itself in Louis’ chest, but it’s not just lust this time, it’s something far worse. 

He has the sudden thought that he’s in serious trouble and has to look away, thumbing through the uber app before booking the nearest car.

“How bad was it really?” Harry asks after a moment of drawn out silence, crossing his arms over his chest.

Louis hums distractedly. “What?”

“The flirting.”

Louis snorts softly. “Subtle as a house fire.”

Harry laughs under his breath and rubs his palms over his biceps, Louis unconsciously steps closer to shield him from the cold. “Niall definitely knew.”

“Zayn too apparently. He notices everything. It’s unsettling.”

Harry goes quiet after that, watching traffic crawl by at the intersection. Then, he asks softly without looking at Louis. “Who do you think started it?”

Louis immediately looks at him. “You.”

Harry looks scandalised. “Me?”

“You’ve been hovering around my desk like a lost puppy since the day you started.”

“I had work questions!”

“You work in a different department.”

“And?”

“And none of your questions required sitting on my desk and staring at me.”

Harry’s grin turns soft around the edges. “Alright. Maybe it was a little bit me.”

Louis huffs a laugh.

“But you still encouraged it.”

“How?”

Harry turns properly towards him now, their shoulders brushing. “You think I couldn’t see you looking back?”

Louis opens his mouth to argue and then stops because, unfortunately, Harry is correct. He looks deeply smug about it too.

Louis shakes his head, smiling, and without really thinking about it he reaches out to catch Harry’s hand, his fingers settling through Harry’s. Harry looks down at their joined hands before glancing back up, his expression softer than Louis has seen all night.

There’s a shift, and it’s clear they both feel that this is no longer confined to office flirting.

Neither of them mentions it, but Harry steps a little closer, shoulder warm against Louis’ arm while they wait for the car to appear.

When it arrives, Harry slides in first and Louis follows after him, their thighs pressing together immediately in the cramped backseat. The driver barely glances at them beyond a tired greeting before pulling away from the curb.

The city slips past outside in a blur, the streetlights flashing across Harry’s face every few seconds as he gazes through the window. The adrenaline from earlier has burned down, leaving both of them loose limbed and dazed.

Louis rests a hand against Harry’s knee and Harry’s fingers drift over Louis’ knuckles, tracing the shape of them distractedly.

The touch sends warmth crawling all the way up Louis’ arm.

Harry keeps smiling to himself every now and then, small unconscious smirks that appear and disappear while he stares out the window.

Louis catches the third one.

“What?”

Harry blinks and looks over. “What what?”

“You keep smiling.”

Harry ducks his head a little, suddenly looking shy. “It just feels a bit unreal.” Louis understands exactly what he means. Because just hours ago they’d been pretending they didn’t see the others' glances across the office and now Harry’s sitting pressed against him in the back of an uber with Louis’ hand anchored on his knee like it belongs there.

Louis’ thumb strokes absently against the fabric of Harry’s trousers.

“I genuinely couldn’t tell if you liked me at first.” Harry adds quietly.

Louis turns towards him properly. “Are you serious?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder, still tracing idle patterns over Louis’ hand. “You flirted, but you also looked at me like you wanted to strangle me half the time.”

“That’s because you’re annoying.”

Harry laughs softly. “See?”

Louis smiles, but something about Harry’s tone catches his attention. It sounds an awful lot like insecurity.

Harry keeps his eyes on their joined hands when he speaks again. “Thought maybe it was just a bit of fun for you.”

And suddenly so much of Harry’s behaviour over the last few months rearranges itself in Louis’ head. All the teasing, all the effortless confidence, the way he was always chasing a reaction. Harry had been pushing because he hadn’t actually known if Louis would ever give him one willingly.

“You really were nervous.” Louis says finally.

Harry groans immediately and tips his head back against the seat. “Don’t sound so delighted about it.”

Harry peeks at him then, and Louis feels the urge to kiss him again right there in the backseat. Instead he squeezes Harry’s knee gently beneath his hand.

“For the record—“ He says quietly. “You weren’t the only one losing their mind over this.”

Very slowly, Harry turns his hand over beneath Louis’ and threads their fingers together properly.

The uber pulls up outside Louis’ building just after midnight.

The driver mutters “have a good one, lads,” and Louis blinks like he’s only just remembered there’s another person in the car. Harry’s hand slips from his grip as Louis reaches for the door handle, and he misses the warmth immediately.

Outside, the night air is cold against his overheated skin. Harry curls into himself as they step onto the footpath, his curls shifting in the breeze while Louis unlocks the building entrance.

“This is me.” Louis says as they stop outside the building entrance. Then he adds, “It’s not exactly luxury living, but it’s close to work and the bakery next door does unreal chocolate muffins.”

Harry glances up at the building, then back at him with immediate disbelief. “Oh, please.”

“What?”

“I live in a tiny loft above a bar in Camden.” Harry says. “The floors are so thin I can hear chairs scraping and drunk people yelling at each other until two in the morning.”

Louis laughs under his breath and shoulders the door open for them.

The lobby is quiet, with soft lighting and the faint rattle of an ancient radiator somewhere down the corridor. Harry glances around as they head towards the lift, taking everything in with a curiosity that feels strangely endearing after hours of watching him command an entire room with an effortless confidence.

The lift ride is calmer this time. No frantic kissing. No hands wandering. Harry leans back against the wall beside Louis with his sleeves shoved halfway up his forearms and a sleepy smile lingering on his face while the numbers tick up.

Once they reach Louis’ floor, Louis unlocks the door while Harry lingers just behind him, close enough that Louis can feel the warmth coming off him.

The second the door swings open, Louis regrets everything.

“Before you say anything.” He says quickly, turning around to half block Harry’s view. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Harry tilts his head, his eyes darting past Louis and immediately starts smiling.

The flat isn’t dirty, but it’s certainly well lived in. There’s a hoodie abandoned over the arm of the couch, several shoes strewn by the door, and an uneven stack of half read books on the coffee table. 

“I like it.” Harry says quietly, already wandering further inside. “It’s cosy.”

Louis watches him untie his shoes and kick them off beside the door before padding into the living room in his mismatched socks.

“You want a drink?” Louis asks, mostly because he needs something to do with his hands.

Harry hums distractedly, attention already elsewhere. He stops in front of the shelves beside the window, fingers trailing over the spines of Louis’ records.

Louis heads into the kitchen while Harry continues snooping through his flat with zero shame whatsoever.

He grabs two beers from the fridge, then pauses when he hears music suddenly crackling softly from the living room. He leans around the doorway to find Harry crouched beside the record player, grinning to himself while something familiar starts filling the room.

“You just make yourself at home everywhere, don’t you?”

Harry looks up at him from where he’s crouched on the floor. “You invited me.” He smiles.

Then he pushes himself to his feet and slips past Louis, immediately hopping up onto the counter like he belongs there too, long legs knocking lightly against the cabinets while Louis twists the caps off the beers and tosses them into the bin.

Harry accepts the bottle from him, their fingers brushing lightly. He takes a slow sip, eyes flicking towards Louis over the rim before tilting his chin in silent invitation.

Louis shakes his head, smiling as he steps between Harry’s knees. He takes the bottle from Harry’s hand and sets both drinks aside.

Then Harry is kissing him.

It’s different from earlier. Slower. Softer. Harry’s mouth moves against his without any urgency, and Louis feels him relax into it bit by bit. Everything feels strangely unhurried now, the adrenaline finally burning away.

Eventually Harry’s mouth drifts along Louis’ jaw and Louis laughs quietly against his skin.

“We should move this somewhere more comfortable.” Louis says and Harry snorts.

“That was a cheesy line.”

“Come here.” Louis tugs Harry’s hand gently until Harry is sliding off the counter and following him into the living room. By the time they reach the couch, Harry’s mouth has already found his again.

They kiss slow and lazy, hands roaming over clothes and into hair and against the flashes of skin.

Harry makes a soft sound when Louis sucks on his lip, and Louis’ grip tightens against his hip as the kiss breaks.

Harry stays tucked against him, one leg thrown across Louis’ thigh like it got there without either of them noticing.

His fingers drag lazily over Louis’ wrist, and Louis can barely think, too distracted by the weight of Harry beside him, by the warmth seeping through their clothes and the way Harry keeps absently rubbing his thumb back and forth over the inside of Louis’ palm.

Louis lets his free hand drift slowly up Harry’s back beneath the thin fabric of his shirt and Harry leans into the touch until he’s practically folded into Louis’ chest.

His chin tilts and then his mouth is moving softly against Louis’ while Louis cups the side of his neck and keeps him close. Harry sighs quietly into the kiss, shifting again until he’s fully in Louis’ lap, knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of him.

Louis’ hand settles against Harry’s thigh, and Harry’s forehead brushes Louis’ as they pull apart, his cheeks are pink and lips swollen from kissing. He catches Louis looking and huffs out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

“You’re really gorgeous.” Louis says easily.

Harry shakes his head, still smiling, before leaning in again.

This time the kiss starts slow but doesn’t stay that way. Harry’s fingers disappear into the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck while Louis’ thumb drifts higher against the inside of Harry’s leg.

Harry’s eyes flutter when he pulls back for a breath. He swallows before leaning down again, kissing Louis deeper this time, slower but with something needier underneath it. His hips rock forward, almost like he doesn’t even mean to, and Louis exhales sharply against his mouth at the feeling of Harry settling properly into his lap.

His grip tightens against Harry’s thigh and he kisses him again before either of them has properly caught their breath. Then again a moment later. Every time they drift apart, Harry follows him back in, never quite letting more than a few inches come between them.

Louis huffs out a quiet laugh against his mouth.

“So needy.”

Harry’s eyes flick open. “Hm. Can’t help it when you keep touching me like that.”

Louis smiles. “You’re the one who’s already come tonight.”

A faint flush creeps across Harry’s cheeks. For a second Louis thinks he’s embarrassed him. Then his expression shifts into something dangerous.

“We can change that.” Harry seems entirely pleased with himself as he leans in and steals another kiss before Louis can think of a response.

Louis shifts beneath him, trying to get comfortable. Harry immediately starts laughing.

“This couch is awful. My knees have gone to sleep.”

As if on cue, Louis tries to move again and manages to catch the armrest with his elbow.

“Fuck.” He snorts. “We can move. You’ve got half a flat to choose from.”

Harry’s eyes immediately drift towards the hallway. Louis follows his gaze to the bedroom door that’s visible from where they’re sitting. When he looks back, Harry is already watching him, the corner of Harry’s mouth lifting.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, cocking his brow.

Harry nods and is already climbing from Louis’ lap. 

Louis’ bed is still unmade from where he crawled from this morning, some discarded socks on the floor and an empty tea cup on the bedside. Harry doesn’t seem to notice any of it, his eyes locked on Louis as he pulls him further into the room. 

“Your sheets look really soft.” Harry purrs, still not looking away from Louis as he backs up to the bed. “Mind if I feel them?”

Louis snorts. God, this man is ridiculous. “You said I was cheesy.”

They fall onto the mattress unceremoniously and Louis immediately finds Harry’s lips, kissing him hard. Harry’s legs part, falling open as Louis nestles in between them. 

They’re both hard, this entire night catching up to them as they finally let themselves go. 

Louis shifts his weight, one hand bracing beside Harry's head as he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding against Harry's. Harry moans into his mouth, fingers clutching at Louis’ shoulders. The kiss is wet, sloppy and desperate. Louis breaks away just long enough to drag his mouth down Harry's jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath his ear.

"Is this what you’ve been thinking about for months?" Louis murmurs, his voice low and rough. His hand travels slowly down Harry's chest, palming the hard length straining against his trousers.

Harry gasps, his hips bucking up instinctively. "Yes— fuck, Louis, yes. I've wanted you since the first day I saw you. You gave that presentation for the Jarvis account and I don’t think I heard a word you said."

Louis hums approvingly, pressing his palm more firmly against Harry's cock, grinding it down in slow circles. “Yeah?” 

Harry nods. "I couldn't stop looking at you." He admits, breath hitching as Louis' thumb rubs over the head of his cock through the material. "You're so— god— you're so fucking sexy."

Louis pulls back just enough to pop Harry’s shirt open, sliding it from his shoulders and tossing it somewhere across the room. Then he pushes himself to his knees and works on his own, letting Harry see the lean muscles of his torso, the light dusting of hair across his chest and down his stomach.

“Fuck.” Harry reaches out, fingertips tracing Louis' collarbone then down his sternum. "Can I touch you now?"

Louis nods, catching Harry's hand and bringing it to his own cock over his pants. "Feel what you do to me?"

Harry's fingers curl around the shape of it, squeezing gently. Louis lets out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Then he's reaching for Harry's fly, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Harry lifts his hips to help, and soon the trousers are gone, kicked off the bed along with his boxers, leaving him naked and flushed.

Louis takes a moment to look at him— the long stretch of his pale legs, the flush spread across his chest and throat, the freckles scattered over his shoulders. His skin looks warm beneath the dim bedroom light, a light sheen of sweat catching along his collarbones. He looks thoroughly kissed, thoroughly wanted, and the sight of him like this in Louis’ bed sends a fresh wave of heat through him.

"Beautiful." Louis breathes, and Harry's cheeks darken.

"Louis.."

"Shh." Louis leans down, pressing a kiss to Harry's hipbone, then another lower, trailing a wet path along his inner thigh. Harry's breath stutters, his fingers threading into Louis' hair as Louis gets closer to where he wants him.

Wrapping his hand around the base of Harry's cock, Louis gives it a slow stroke. Harry whimpers, his hips jerking into the touch. Louis does it again, dragging his palm over the sensitive head before sliding back down.

"Feels good?" Louis asks, though he already knows the answer.

"Yeah— yeah, don't stop."

Louis works Harry's cock with a steady rhythm, twisting his wrist, watching the way Harry's mouth falls open, the way his chest heaves. Precum leaks across Louis' fingers, making the slide slick and easy.

Harry's eyes are half lidded, pupils blown wide as he watches Louis’ every move. "Please, Louis. I need more."

"More what?"

"Your mouth. Please."

Louis grins, then his tongue flicks out, catching a drop of precum from the tip. Harry shudders, a broken moan falling from his lips. Then Louis takes him in properly.

Harry's cock fills his mouth, the taste of salt and skin and heat filling his senses. Louis sinks down slowly, taking him as deep as he can go as his tongue works the underside. Harry cries out, his grip tightening in Louis' hair.

"Fuck yes. Louis, yes—"

Louis hollows his cheeks, pulling back with a wet sound before diving down again, setting a deep, slow rhythm. Each time he pulls up, he swirls his tongue around the head, and Harry's moans grow louder, more desperate.

"You're so good at that.” Harry gasps, his hips starting to thrust shallowly into Louis' mouth. "So fucking good. Feels amazing."

Louis hums in response, the vibration making Harry's whole body tense. He pulls off, breathing heavy, a string of saliva connecting his lip to Harry's cock. "You taste incredible. I could do this all night."

"No— no, I want—" Harry's voice cracks. He reaches down, tugging at Louis' arm. "Come up here. I want to touch you too."

Louis crawls up Harry's body, aligning their hips, letting Harry feel how hard he is. Harry's hand immediately finds Louis' fly, fumbling with the button. Louis helps him, shoving them down along with his underwear until his cock springs free, pressing hot against Harry's thigh.

Harry wraps both hands around it, and Louis groans, dropping his forehead to Harry's shoulder. "Fuck, Harry."

"You're so big." Harry murmurs, stroking him slowly. "So thick. Need to feel you inside me."

Louis shivers at the words. He pushes himself up, looking down at Harry who's watching him with hooded eyes, lips parted, utterly wrecked. "Yeah? You want that?"

"God, yes. Please."

Louis kisses him hard, then spreads Harry’s legs wider. He reaches for the bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He coats his fingers generously, then brings them to Harry's hole, circling slowly.

Harry squirms, letting out a needy sound. "Stop teasing."

"I'm making sure you're ready for me." But Louis relents, pressing one finger inside.

Harry gasps at the intrusion, his body tensing. Louis stills, letting him adjust, rubbing soothing circles against his inner thigh. "Breathe, baby. You're okay."

Harry exhales shakily, and Louis pushes deeper, curling his finger until he finds that spot. Harry cries out, his back arching against the mattress. "Fuck! right there—"

Louis pumps his finger slowly, then adds a second, stretching him carefully. Harry's moans are broken and desperate, and Louis leans closer to whisper into his skin. "That's it. You're taking me so well. So fucking perfect."

"More." Harry begs. "Louis, please. I can take more."

Louis adds a third finger, and Harry's breath stutters, but he doesn't pull away. Instead he pushes down against Louis' hand greedily. Louis scissors his fingers, then leans down, licking a stripe up Harry's throat, tasting salt and sweat.

"You ready for me?" Louis murmurs. "Ready to be fucked?"

"Yes, yes, please. I want your cock. Please, Louis—"

Louis withdraws his fingers, and Harry whines at the loss, but Louis is already rolling on the condom and slicking himself up, stroking his cock to spread the lube, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. He positions himself, the head nudging against Harry’s rim.

"Alright?"

"God, yes. Fuck me."

Louis pushes in slowly. The pressure is immediate as it engulfs him inch by inch. Harry's mouth falls open, a high pitched moan escaping him as Louis bottoms out smoothly, hips flush against Harry's arse.

"Holy fuck." Louis breathes. "You feel incredible. So tight— Jesus."

"Move." Harry begs, tapping at Louis’ arse impatiently. "Please move."

Louis pulls out almost entirely before thrusting back in, setting a slow, deep pace. Each stroke hits Harry's prostate, and Harry cries out every time, his nails digging into Louis' shoulders.

Louis groans at the sharp pain, his pace increasing. "Look at you. So fucking beautiful like this." He cups Harry’s face, stroking a thumb beneath his eye.

Harry's eyes are wet, tears beginning to slip down his temples. "Harder. Please Lou, I need it harder—"

Louis obliges, driving into him faster, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. He leans down, capturing Harry's mouth in a sloppy kiss, swallowing his moans. Harry's hand darts between them, fisting his own cock, but Louis catches it, hooking their fingers together and pinning his hands against the pillow.

“Do I need to tie your wrists? Or can you be good for me?”

“Louis—” Harry starts, but whatever he was about to say disappears when Louis tightens his grip.

“No. You’re gonna come just from my cock.” Louis growls. “I know you can.”

“That’s— I don’t think—” Harry’s protest dies as Louis thrusts sharply, hitting his prostate again and sending a jolt of pleasure through him. “Oh, god.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it for me.”

"Louis— Louis, fuck. I'm gonna—"

"Come for me."

Harry shatters, his body convulsing as he comes for the second time that night, hot and thick across his own stomach.

The feeling of it sends Louis over the edge. Harry clenches around him, and Louis follows right after, burying his face in Harry’s neck with a groan as he spills inside the condom.

For a long moment neither of them moves, holding each other through the aftershocks.

They lie tangled up, their breathing harsh and uneven. Louis presses a soft kiss to Harry's shoulder, then his jaw, then his lips.

"Good?" Louis asks, voice hoarse.

Harry laughs weakly, his eyelashes fluttering. "Perfect."

“Is this what you’ve been needing?” Louis asks and carefully pulls out, both of them shuddering with oversensitivity. 

Harry huffs. “Hmm. This was one thing.”

“Oh yeah? What was the other?”

Harry suddenly goes a little shy, his head turning further into the pillow. Louis kisses his cheek, nudging his chin with his nose, coaxing him to look at him. “Harry. What else did you want, baby?” 

“More. More of you.”

Louis stills, but not because he’s surprised. 

Somewhere along the way, between the coffee runs and the office banter and Harry appearing at his desk for absolutely no reason, Louis had started wanting the same thing.

Harry’s eyes stay fixed on the pillow like he’s embarrassed. Louis reaches up and brushes his fingers through his tangled curls, doing his best to smooth them out.

“Hey.”

Harry glances up and Louis smiles softly.

“Me too.”

The tension in Harry’s face eases immediately. “You do?”

“Of course I do.”

Harry lets out a breathless laugh and hides his face against Louis’ shoulder. Louis rolls to the mattress and pulls Harry into his side, and for a while they just lie there. The record player in the other room has long since reached the end of the album, leaving the flat quiet. Louis traces absent patterns across Harry’s back.

Harry eventually lifts his head.

“So what happens now?”

“Well.” Louis hums, then catches Harry’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“I’m thinking that tomorrow morning I’m taking you downstairs for one of those chocolate muffins I told you about.”

Harry's face brightens. “As a date?”

Louis huffs a tired laugh. “Yes, baby. As a date.”

“Okay.”

“Then after that.” Louis continues. “We’ll see.”

The smile that spreads across Harry’s face is impossibly wide. Louis thinks he could spend the rest of his life chasing that smile.

Harry shifts closer, fitting himself against Louis’ side while Louis pulls the blankets over them both. A moment later, warm fingers brush against his beneath the covers and he laces them together.

The last thing Louis hears before sleep finally drags him under is Harry’s sleepy voice against his neck. “Just so we’re clear.” Harry says and Louis smiles into the darkness. “I’m still going to find reasons to come to your desk every day.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you didn’t.” Louis laughs quietly, then presses a kiss into Harry’s curls. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Louis.”

Harry shifts closer against him, and Louis falls asleep smiling.