SO SPECIAL

guess i'm gonna find another ride; guess i'll see you in another life; guess i'm gonna tell one more lie: i'm surprised you don't wanna stay by my side.

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis stands there momentarily, staring into the void that surrounds the two of them. All that’s heard is the way his feet hit the floor when he’s practically stomping around in frustration, heavy breathing that rumbles his chest and the way that Harry shifts in his seat. The older of the two just feels his breath leave his chest only for his anxiety to start settling in as of right now. He’s starting to feel like anything involving he and Harry is just going to be mass majority of Louis freaking out about anything they do, and he doesn’t want that to be the case. If it’s how it’s going to be then perhaps he and Harry shouldn’t be together at all, ever. He’s a little bothered by the fact Harry is so quiet, but maybe Louis isn’t coming off the best by being so strong in bitching about something that really isn’t that big of a deal. Though Louis does make note on how he’s sat there, quiet, just listening ; well that’s if he’s listening anyhow. For all he knows he could just be toning him out, as he deserves. 

The silence does scare him, it gives them both time to think and Louis begins to believe maybe they should’ve never got involved in the first place. Maybe this is something neither of them are ready for so soon. Not with the negativity that surrounds Louis consistently, especially when it involves every single person he’s ever been with long term. The last thing he needs is to actually start some sort of life with Harry only for it to blow up in their faces far too quick for their own good. A deep sigh rumbles through Louis’ just as he’s just picking at his fingers at this point, trying to distract the fact he’s even nervous in the first place. He hates how vulnerable he feels in this position, the awkwardness of just being around Harry although they’d just gotten over the hesitation. It feels like such a major set back for him.

It does manage to throw him off once Harry stands up, immediately bringing Louis to breathe in and hold it. It’s a bit scary, he’s a bit taller than he is and truthfully it does make Louis want to sit down, shut up and just not say anything else. No one has such an effect on him that brings him right back to reality like Harry, except for his mother, as those two they’re the only two whom have anything effect wise on Louis. Otherwise he’d just keep running his mouth, no problem about it. The only issue Louis has is that he gives up when things get too hard, and with the way his body practically quivers in that aspect does worry him a little bit. His arms fold over his chest while his knee practically buckles for a moment, chewing nervously to his bottom lip right before he’s able to capture Harry’s gaze seconds later. It doesn’t seem very phased, course, he hid his feelings for far too long so Louis doesn’t quite expect much different from him. It’s okay though, it’s well deserved when he’s overreacting the way that he is, treating Harry far from what he should be treated as.

“ M’not tryin’ t’ talk t’ you like you’re stupid, Harry. ” he replies with a shaky tone, he’s a little bit apprehensive to speak anymore if that’s the in tell on how he’s feeling. Or what’s going on between the two of them. He’s not trying to talk to Harry like he’s stupid, because he’s far from stupid. Fact, Louis is more the stupid one than he’d imagined it to be. Harry’s way beyond the intelligence that even Louis can’t handle, it’s pretty impressive if he’s honest. “ Look just . . maybe we rushed into this. Maybe we shouldn’t even do this. ” Louis shrugs in defeat, picking up previous print before tossing it to the rubbish seconds later. “ Can’t be quiet ‘bout anythin’ that isn’t there then. ” Another shrug makes its way to Louis’ shoulders, swallowing thick before feeling eyes sting briefly. He instantly feels a lump in his throat, turning away from Harry while digging the heel of his shoe right into the carpet.

Movement catches his attention, and green eyes flit down to the way Louis picks at his fingers, making him spare a thought towards the fact that, in all this, he might actually be nervous. It doesn't make the way he's treating him any better, of course, but it does lend itself to being an explanation. He's afraid, and he's irrational, and he's not thinking clearly, and Harry is the one who is bearing the brunt of it. His expression remains as impassive as it had been before, practiced and a little unnatural given the fact he's been raw with Louis up to this point. He doesn't like hiding his feelings from him, he doesn't like needing to hide them, and he certainly doesn't like the way he's looking at him right now. The way he's acting as if what they have -- what they're building -- isn't important enough to cope with a little press. His heart tugs, aches, and he feels a little nauseous, a little unsteady.

A soft breathe is taken in through his nose, quiet before he parts his lips to allow it to drift back out. He's really trying. Trying not to let his emotions get the best of him, trying not to sink into despair as Louis' words reach his ears, flowing from his tongue like fucking poison. He's not going to cry -- he's not drunk enough to let himself be that way, not this time -- but he feels his throat close up with what he says, with how he's just ready to give the fuck up so damn quickly. Aren't they worth more than that? He knows Louis has been feeling him too. He wouldn't touch him so gentle, wouldn't hold him so tight, if he weren't. It doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense, and he kind of wants to dive into his bed like he would if he were a child, hide under the blankets and hope that whatever is scaring him just...goes away. Just doesn't know how to reach him, somehow, for the piece of fabric in between them, obscuring his form. Louis is not a monster, though, and he's not just going to get better. He might go away. Harry doesn't want him to.

Harry tries not to take it to heart. He knows he's just anxious, just afraid, and he knows that there are going to be hiccups along the way. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. They've been adequately discreet, as far as he knows, and these photos are a direction violation of their privacy. They can be more careful. They can do better for each other. Only Louis is saying can't be quiet about anything that isn't there then, and Harry's chest is constricting, and the whole world fades out for a moment as his lips part, and the breath seems knocked from his lungs. It's like he's been punched right in the sternum, and for a moment, he has no idea what to do with himself. No idea how to collect the pieces that just shattered out of him.

Then he gets angry.

"Maybe we shouldn't even dothis?" Harry echoes him dully, not even touching on the fact he actually believes he isn't talking down to him right now. That doesn't seem important when he's trying to fucking break up with him. He knows they aren't together, not really, but it still hurts, for whatever it is. For whatever it means. Louis has known what he's been doing this entire time, he knew the risk he was taking, and now -- now he wants to back out. Wants to bury his head in the sand and ignore everything between them. Well, fuck that.

"Fuck that. You don't get to just -- you don't get to do this, Louis. Just fucking break it off before we're even -- before we're anything. Get my hopes up and then crush me because you're scared." He's trying to be empathetic, he really is, but he's still stepping forward. His expression is no longer something indifferent, but rather something heated and wild, burning with passion and with rage and with everything that he's experiencing right now. He doesn't want to be cold. He isn't good at it. Not at heart. "Well, boo-fucking-hoo; guess what? I'm scared too. We're both scared, but I'm not trying to run away from it. Something bad happened, something that we can handle without having to lie, without having to say anything at all, and you're panicking, but you're not going to break this off -- whatever this is -- right now. I refuse. I won't hear it. We can get through this, if you just bloody try!"

Louis has turned away from him at this point, and Harry swallows harshly past the lump in his own throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to ignore the flashes of faded bruises in his head. He needs him to not do this. "Just... Look at me?" He wants it to be worth it.

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

“ Well no fuckin’ shit this isn’t the best way it could’ve come out. ” He repeats Harry in such a mocking tone, it’s something mean, and even Louis realizes how harsh it might come out seconds after he’s come out with it and his eyes just travel down to the pictures. Frankly Louis isn’t more positive on what bothers him more. The fact it’s not bothering Harry nearly a sixteenth as much as it does Louis or just the mere fact their privacy is out for the world to judge, ridicule and just harass them over. Regardless, he hates it. God does he fucking hate feeling so vulnerable and Louis just wants to disappear. Even if it’s Harry’s house, he’d rather just hide away under the bed without having to come out and face the discomfort of their lives being put on blast for the thousandth time. He’s tired of it, surely Harry has to be as well, otherwise Louis feels absolutely fucking stupid for overreacting like this.

He takes a brief moment to process all that Harry’s said, and it doesn’t come to a shock to him that he wants to practically ignore the mere fact their business is just out there without him even knowing. He figures that Harry’s shut himself off from the world, as he does when he’s just not talking to Louis. He’s always in the mood to talk to Louis, even if Louis himself doesn’t want to face the fact of conversation. It’s not necessarily that bad, the idea of them being, but Louis just can’t face the idea just yet. He doesn’t understand the fear anymore than Harry doesn’t but it’s just there. Punching him over and over again within his stomach as much as it physically could, and does. He could cry out of the frustration he feels but he won’t, Louis doesn’t cry, he won’t cry. And he won’t start now right in front of Harry. He almost wants to forget about it, and just compliment how amazing his . . Harry looks. Louis can’t quite call him anything, he’s not positive what they are, or what he could even be. Boyfriend seems like quite a stretch with someone he’s got new profound feelings for and made cum just a few times. He shrugs it off though, intently watching him with heavy eyes.

Louis should know better than to put Harry in such a discomforting situation of lying. He wishes that it weren’t the case, he desperately wishes he could shake the fear and just go out and do whatever he pleases with Harry. Take him on dates, hold his hand, just be with him without a single fucking care in the world. Yet he can’t, unfortunately. Louis just can’t and he hates himself for that fact. He gathers his thoughts before hands tangle brief into his messy hair, tugging entirely which somewhat manages to give him a little reminder that he likes when Harry does it. He likes when Harry touches him in ways no one’s ever managed to touch him before. He wishes it were that easy though, he wishes the feel of the younger would just leave his head and leave him alone. So much easier said than done for him.

Lying isn’t quite a good thing for either of them. Especially for Harry. 

It’s far from wrong, nowadays it seems quite normal for these types of things to happen. Ultimately, Louis is fine with it in some way. His mind accepts it, his heart does, however he’s not just willing to throw it all out for the media to comment on. It’s none of their business, it’s strictly between the two of them and he doesn’t quite understand why that isn’t something Harry would necessarily want. Louis can’t stand the idea of what they have being put under a microscope to be examined. Picking at their flaws and just how much of a right disaster they could end up being for one another. Between the consistent push of Harry being some sort of womanizer, as well as Louis’ consistent desire to not get involved in long term things. Then his child, baby mother, and God knows what else ends up on his plate.

“ I don’t see ‘ow you don’t find things wrong with this Harry. ” Louis continues finally, thoughts somewhat jumbled but well put together as far as he’s understanding. “ ‘ow does this not fuckin’ . . dawn on you that this could be fuckin’ terrible ? ” his voice is defeated, his hands are shaking continuously before just walking back and forth behind the table that lays their secrets, that really shouldn’t end up being secrets. “ I figured it out already, we ‘ave t’ tell them s’not like this. That’s somethin’ that ‘as t’ be done. There’s no way around it, Harry. Not even a little bit. We can’t fuckin’ figure it out. ” he shakes his head, eyebrows knitting irritated just before his gaze finally moves on over to capture Harry’s. 

In the past, Harry might’ve flinched away from hearing Louis snap at him that way; he would’ve flinched away from hearing him speak to him in any sort of disapproving tone whatsoever. He’s stronger than that now, though, and he cries, and he feels, and he can be so, so soft, but he doesn’t have to be soft like this. His teeth clench, a muscle in his jaw going tight and popping out, and he hangs his head a little more, unwilling to look at him for the moment. If he’s going to be a prick, then he doesn’t deserve to have Harry looking at him, regardless of whether he’s afraid or not, or what ground he thinks he has to stand on. He’s not allowed to treat him poorly. He’s not allowed to take his head off when he’s trying just as hard as Louis is to figure this situation out. And no, maybe it isn’t hitting him quite as hard as it’s hitting the older male, but it’s not like he’s not afraid at all. That’s not what he’s trying to say. He realizes all of this isn’t just happy-dandy, and he realizes that they’re going to have to walk on eggshells until they can work through how to handle it.

God, it would be nice to just not feel like he has to hide himself for once. It’s different when no one knows, when it’s kept between them because that’s how they want it to be, not because that’s how it has to be. Yes, Harry does like keeping his private life private -- he always has, though before it was more because he never felt as much for the people he was dating as they did for him -- but he also is sick of needing to tiptoe around the things that make him happy, the things that no one else should have any say in. The only people who should be contributing their opinion to this ‘relationship’ is Harry and Louis. Fame comes with a price, though. Money comes with a price. Being where they are in the world, doing what they do -- that comes with a price. Sometimes, to Harry, it seem as if that price is far too high. Right now, he’s having to swallow it down past that lump in his throat that just won’t go away, and he feels sick. He feels so, so sick. At least this time if he throws up in a sink, it’ll be his own. Hah.

A soft breath is drawn in, only to be let out with a puff to his cheeks, and he finally lifts his head as he gets to his feet. Standing at his full height, he’s a bit taller than Louis, and he turns so that he can look at him, his face rather neutral, which is surprising considering how terrible he generally is at hiding his feelings. He’s mad at him, though, at least to some small extent. Mad that he’s telling him he has to lie right now. Mad that he doesn’t even seem willing to explore their other options. Mad that he’s already tired to make Harry feel stupid by talking down to him, by practically taking his head off just because he’d made a comment. Blunt teeth work against the inside of his cheek, chewing on the tender flesh, and his fingers twitch a little as he considers reaching out for him. Considers easing the strain his fingers are causing in his hair by replacing them with his own. He doesn’t know if Louis would want that, though, so instead he just stands there.

“I do find something wrong with it, Lou. I’m not bloody stupid, y’know? So don’t treat me like I am.” People used to joke that he was. They used to more than joke that he was, back years ago when One Direction had just begun to take off. He thinks slower, talks slower than the other lads, than most people do, really. It doesn’t constitute a lower intellect, but some people had thought that it did, evidently. He’s read enough about it for it to of stuck by him, and he hates it when he’s made to feel that way nowadays. Louis isn’t going to get away with it. “You can tell them whatever you please. M’not gonna say anything, just like I never say anything. The best way to communicate that it’s none of their business is to not communicate at all. If you respond, you’re just going to feed into it, and they’re going to know you’re lying. We’ll be more careful. We’ll make sure that nothing like this happens again, yeah? Shut the curtains, be more discreet. We don’t need to lie about it.” More than likely, his own agent will tell him the same thing. That he should just keep his mouth shut like he always has. Louis panicking and trying to order him to do something else isn’t going to change it. 

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

anxiousness pools within louis’ stomach as he’s watching a flood of text messages rush in from his agents about leaked pictures. there’s so many emotions he’s feeling right now. fear, sadness, anger, frustration, practically name it and louis more than likely feels it after everything he’s reading. it’s no surprise pictures of he and harry managed to be leaked to the media, after all, things seemed far too good to be true and it really fucks with his head that they’d managed to get something so personal. what he really worries about is whether or not harry’s seen them yet, and what he could possibly be thinking. louis feels terrified that the possibility of any sort of secret they’d managed to hold so dear could be revealed and he’s just not ready for that yet. he’s not ready for harry, just yet. he’s too quick to run to his laptop, scrolling through between printing a few of the photographs for physical evidence beyond the text messages only before grabbing his keys and practically running to his car. 

god he feels his heartbeat rush to his head, it seems to be any familiar feeling when it comes to harry but he’s choosing to ignore it anyways given the simple fact anger is just covering every other emotion he’s properly feeling at this very moment. he speeds on over to harry’s, fumbling around the compartment for the key to his place while parking in a secluded area that maybe and he extensively prays won’t be discovered so easily. with evidence, keys and his phone in hand, louis rushes up to the door as shaky hands fiddle with the keys to get the right one for the door. “ harry ! ” he calls out, it’s far from hidden that his voice is upset and more so scared more than anything he’s ever felt in his entire life. he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out again, hell, it was better off to put up this straight forward heterosexual act before he’d actually been caught with harry in the first place. his keys fall to a table near by, not even bothering to slip off his shoes as he’s on a foot search for harry and god knows wherever he just might be right now. 

once he’s finally tracked him down in the lounge, he practically flops the pile of photographs onto the table while hands instantly land onto his hips seconds later. “ do ye’ know these exist ? the whole fuckin’ world just might know ‘bout us before i fuckin’ do. that’s just absolutely fuckin’ great, innit. ” louis’ voice is ten different octaves at this very moment as his hands travel up to flushed face, rubbing over it while fingertips press heavy into his eye sockets to avoid the concept of looking at harry, but he can’t just do that, he has to face the fact that he’s not ready for this type of media yet. not when it comes to the two of them. “ we ‘ave t’ tell them it’s not what it’s like. we can’t just . . fuck, we can’t do that. m’not ready t’ do that yet. s’gotta be fake, a lie, we can’t. ” he rambles out quick, shaking his head all too quick in between frustratingly dropping his arms right to his sides.

Harry’s phone has been on silent for hours. It’s not that he’s avoiding anyone in particular, it’s just that he sometimes gets into these moods when he feels like he needs to unplug. To stop texting people -- even if it’s just his mum, his sister, or Louis -- and to stop scrolling through twitter and to stop staring at a screen in general. Queen plays softly through the sound system his entire L.A. house is done in, set to a low volume to serve as nothing more than background noise for the book he’s currently get spread across his thighs. He sits with his back to the arm of his settee, his legs sprawled over the cushions, resting comfortably in nothing but a large sweatshirt and shorts with leggings underneath them. He’d meant to go out running today, but had ended up opting against it when he realized just how much his muscles were already aching, and he simply hasn’t opted to change back into something more presentable. He doesn’t have anyone to impress, after all.

Of course, being cut off from the world means he’s bound to miss a thing or two. No doubt his phone is being blown up by loads of people by now, though he’s none the wiser with how he’s got it face down on his coffee table, studiously ignoring it in favor of words on a page. It isn’t until he hears Louis’ voice calling through his home, a particular tone to it that spikes his blood with ice, that he thinks it was maybe a bad idea to go off the grid for so long. Harry moves from where he’s lounging, placing the book onto the cushion beside him without bothering to mark his place, and by the time he’s got his feet on the floor, his... Well, his whatever Louis is to him, is charging into the room. He’s all violent energy, and a storm of negativity crashes into him the moment he looks at him. Louis isn’t meeting his gaze, for whatever that’s worth, and Harry finds himself leaning forward, his heart jumping into his throat when he catches sight of the photographs. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Shaking hands move, one of them flicking aside the top photo, and though he knows exactly what he’s going to see (he remembers every time they’ve touched each other in startling, vivid detail), he feels this sick compulsion to look at it anyway. To verify with his own eyes what he knows he’s already being told. It’s bad. It’s really bad. Perhaps even worse, though, is the fact that Harry is feeling nauseous not only because their private business has been leaked to the media, but because the way Louis is reacting to it is pretty much the stuff of nightmares. Like it’s the end of the world or something that they’d be seen tied together in any sort of romantic context. Hell, over the past few years, seeing them together at all had seemed like the end of the world. He finds himself swallowing hard past a thick lump in his throat, still staring at the pictures, and wishing beyond anything that he could just make them go away. That he could just get that fear in Louis’ voice out of his head, though he knows that he’s going to be torturing himself with it for days and weeks to come. That’s kind of his thing.

Louis wants him to lie. Of course he does.

Eyelashes flutter as he dips his chin down, one of his hands coming up to tangle into his own short curls, and he leans forward, hunching his body over while he thinks. God, but he doesn’t want to lie. He doesn’t want to have to feel like he’s hiding, ashamed anymore. He doesn’t even properly understand what has Louis so fucking afraid, and maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe he needs to understand. Maybe he needs to be told in simple terms why the idea of them is such a problem. He could be with those girls, so why can’t he be with Harry? He realizes their fans and their history make it sort of complicated, but why does it have to be a bad thing?

“I didn’t -- I haven’t talked to anyone all day. So no, I had no idea these exist. Fuck, I’m... Fuck.” He tries, his mouth feeling incredibly dry right now, and when he slips his hand from his hair, it’s just to scrub it over his eyes. He’s suddenly insurmountably exhausted. “I guess I’m not really following why we can’t? I know this isn’t the best way it could’ve come out, or like... it’s really gross that our privacy was invaded, but it’s not the end of the world, right? We can figure it out, Lou.”

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis can’t seem to muffle the evident laughter that falls from his mouth as fingertips meet with Harry’s mouth, he shakes his head ever so briefly just to make note of the way Harry’s lips meet so delicately with his knuckles. “ straight is definitely far from it, love. ” he replies, amusement lacing in his tone seconds later. It’s no surprise to Louis that he knows what he likes, of course to anyone else it seems like quite the stretch of the truth. Most would assume he was straight, even if he’s not quite close to that. With how much he’s denied any sort of interaction with Harry, especially in regards to the romantic light it would seem as if he were intentionally intending to seem as heterosexual as possible. Louis shifts carefully in his position so he’s not too uncomfortably slick against the younger’s back, but still managing to keep the closeness as much as possible between the pair for as long as he can.

“ Not t’ be that guy but ye’ were definitely wrong on this aspect of it. ” Louis replies, his other hand brushing delicately against Harry’s skin as ghost like as possible. They’ve done quite enough tonight, there’s plenty of opportunities for more and ultimately he’s not over the way Harry’s head just delicately lays upon his mattress. It’s beautiful, if he’s honest. Course he’ll keep that mental image and comment to himself, staying within his head where it sounds best. It’s a little too sappy for him, at the end of the day. “ Can definitely say that you’re undoubtedly the best ‘ve been with. N’ will probably ever be with. ” He mumbles tired, another kiss finding its way to Harry’s shoulder before his own head rests against the mattress, stifling one final yawn only to ease into the comfort of the surface beneath them.

There’s a smile on his lips as Louis speaks, amusement at himself welling up in him above all else. Yeah, probably not the best assumption to make, but the truth is it was easier to just think he was straight this entire time than it was to reconcile his vehement denial of anything even remotely romantic between them just purely as him not wanting Harry. He’s happy to admit he was wrong in this case, considering everything between them is ignited, fresh and new and beautiful and the epitome of all the things he has ever fucking craved. He lets out a soft sigh of a breath, and he opts to not reply verbally, hearing how close to sleep Louis is, and knowing that he’s not far off of it himself. He lets his body relax into the mattress, and he closes his eyes, and he just listens to the sound of his breathing. In the end, the only thing that he says is a quiet, “Goodnight, Lou...” before he’s drifting off into sleep himself. He’s more comfortable than he’s ever been.

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis feels quite at peace right now with Harry in his arms. It feels nice, it just about feels as close to home as he’s been able to feel in so long. He contorts thoughts and ideas on how they’d be able to do this all of the time rather than just whenever they’re around one another. So many thing with him, Louis loves the idea of yet he can’t seem to shake the inevitable fear that manages to work its way right back to the front of his mind. Once more, Louis attempts in forgetting about it while he scoots in closer against Harry, closing off any space in between them while hands work against the warmth of his skin. It’s still hot, between the pair of them it’s just a comforting environment for Louis. There’s plenty of thoughts roaming his head right now, more so on what they’re going to come to an agreement on. Harry loves him, and loves him entirely and Louis of course, loves him in return but can’t promise all of him. It’s not fair to Harry, the older knows that for a fact and it almost angers him knowing such little things keep him from giving his entirety to Harry like he deserves. More than anyone in his world. Harry deserves the absolute most of anyone he’s loved. 

“ I didn’t imagine it would be, you’re right. But m’very glad that it is. ” he replies gentle, another yawn falling from his lips before he’s pressing a delicate kiss upon Harry’s shoulder. Louis moves his hand so that it finds Harry’s, taking it into his own before he’s lacing fingertips in between the spaces where Harry’s fingers aren’t. “ M’glad m’with you too. ” he mutters in reply, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he nuzzles his nose against the soft skin of Harry’s shoulder. Hands rest comfortably to his stomach, pulling the younger back against his own chest just to smile fondly to the comfort this particular position brings him. It’s almost insane how comfortable they manage to be with one another, though it’s not quite surprising given their past and the amount of extreme they used to be even at such a young age while barely knowing one another. It doesn’t fail to make him pretty happy though considering it’s been far too long for not only Harry but definitely to him.

Harry allows the conversation to drop off then, for a moment, his fingers squeezing gently in between Louis’. He can feel the heat emanating from him, pressed all along the curve of his back, and when their body temperatures regulate, he’s not sure where he ends and Louis begins. It’s a nice feeling, and it makes him think of other things too; makes him think of ways they can be connected, ways they can be physically connected as well as emotionally. A thought occurs to him that makes a small, quiet giggle bubble up in him, and he wriggles his bum just a little bit, just enough to be noticeable. He’s amused, and he blinks his eyelids heavily, pressing his face into the mattress on a particularly big yawn. He has to let it out before he can speak, after all, and even still, he’s not sure which words to use. There are loads of different ways he could phrase this, and after tonight, each one seems equally as silly. Harry has only partially disclosed his own sexuality to the public, and never in anything more recent than a reference to his school boy days. He takes it very seriously when someone says one thing, and that definitely counts for Louis.

“I thought you were straight.” He tells him after a few moments, and there’s another small giggle to go along with it. Like he was dead convinced that he was entirely heterosexual, and he doesn’t know if he necessarily needs him to label anything -- Harry isn’t about labelling things that are so fluid -- but he finds it a little strange to reconcile his picture of Louis with the same man who is currently plastered against his back. The same man that has made him cum not once, but twice today, and was teasing at perhaps doing it again. He sucks in a deep breath, filled to the brim with his scent, with the comfort of him, and then he brings both of their hands up to his mouth so he can kiss Louis’ knuckles. “Guess I was wrong.”

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis’ hand firmly presses against Harry’s stomach, pulling him back against his chest the moment an arm wraps around his own waist. It warms him heart to properly press himself entirely against the younger, he’s almost positive that he might be able to feel the steady beat of his heart against his back. The thought alone kinda scares Louis, he doesn’t want to appear a lot more fond than he actually is. It’s some sort of tough, emotionless guy he appears to come off. Truth be told, Louis is one of the most affectionate people, especially with someone he’s romantically interested in. The older of the pair shivers slightly as fingertips trace shapes into his hip, snuggling in closer against Harry’s back just as his own fingers drag lightly against his skin. Head dips down to watch the way he’s tracing the moth upon his stomach then down to the leaves lain perfectly over the prominent part of his hips.

A stifled yawn falls from his mouth while he keeps close to Harry as much as he possibly can, feathered chuckle following his yawn. “ Not like you’re naked n’ all in this spoon session, damn good thing m’actually dressed or we’d end up doin’ other shit. ” Louis teases though he’s quite semi serious, he’s certain to not make much else sexual for the moment considering it’s involving serious feelings at this point in time. “ M’glad you’re enjoyin’ it though. Bought me bed in mind o’ keepin’ me n’ whoever comfortable, innit. ” he replies in between a slight shrug while the tips of his digits continue on Harry’s skin. The thought he’d keep him sounds promising, comforting, and well, protective. Louis loves that, he trusts Harry would never let him get into some sort of terrible situation that’d end up a mess. It’s pretty comforting for Louis to know that someone would be so willing to keep him, and be happy with him and all of his miscellaneous pieces of baggage.

That doesn’t sound so bad, actually. Harry doesn’t know if it’s just Louis, or if it’s Louis paired with the fact that he hasn’t gotten laid in a good long time, but he finds it difficult to not show off just how absolutely insatiable he’s feeling right now. Of course, given the fact he’s also quite sleepy, it’s not all that far fetched to think he’ll be able to settle into sleep with him as well. Seems as if that’s the direction Louis is going with this, at any rate, and there are butterflies exploding in Harry’s tummy at the very thought of it, the slow pace of his mind slowing even further with each passing second. He lets it wander a bit, lets himself mull over random things, little facets of where they are, what they’re doing, and where they have been. He knows he loves wildly, loves out of control, loves intense; he knows he’s too emotional, too soft, too weird; he’s done a lot over the years to keep these parts of himself hidden from the general public, projecting only his charismatic aura, his charm. Louis, though... Louis knows him. Louis has always been the one who was the most exposed to those odd bits of him, the ones that are a little off-kilter, a little goofy. He wonders what he thinks of them now. He wonders if he sees how they match his own.

“Bet you didn’t imagine that whoever would’ve been me.” It’s meant to sound lighthearted, and maybe he even succeeds to some degree. Fingertips continue to move over him, just light, and he wishes Louis were just as naked as he is. It’s okay that he’s not, it would just be nice. His voice and body are equally as worn, and the sleepies are definitely, definitely settling in. He lets out a soft sigh, smacking his lips and poking his tongue out to wet them, his eyelashes fluttering. “Really glad I’m with you, Lou.” He doesn’t mean anything by it. Not like... that. He just means he’s glad he’s here with him, now, and glad he’s holding him, and glad to be surrounded by his scent and his warmth, in his place. In his soft bed. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not a big deal, right?

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

It’s already disgustingly teasing, Louis sweats his heart melts in such an instant he could feel it dripping within him. He’s chewing briefly to the inside of his cheek, lips poking out in a brief pout at the momentary fact. Nothing seems to matter aside from the two of them being here. Together. Not the world, not thousands of opinions, just … the two of them, here. It’s not some sort of tied in deal with them being as one, it’s just them both individually sat here telling the other they deserve so much, the world even. Louis adores the fact, no doubt about it. He adores Harry. God does he adore Harry in every little notion he’s got to offer. He’s absolutely alluring and Louis couldn’t be more lucky to even be around him to say the very least. He feels warm, happy, for once in his life he’s not worrying about where he’s got to go next. He has confidence knowing he’ll be here with Harry, laying with him, basking in the entirety that is his perfection. Louis is undeserving of it, so fucking undeserving to even be in this spot with Harry, and to now knowingly have his heart after so long. 

“ Would that make ye’ quite ‘appy then ? ” Louis preens in inquiry before he’s watching Harry shift, smiling warm to the motions he’s making that result in him following slow behind. The fact he’s so quick to make room for him, as well as cuddle with him while he’s naked somehow marks an importance in Louis’ mind. It’ll forever stay there, that’s for sure. “ Alright but only cause ye’ said please pretty fuckin’ cute like. ” He hums in reply, moving to pull the duvet back only to tuck himself underneath, filling the space while he spoons Harry. After all, he does enjoy to be the little spoon. Louis’ hand slips gently to Harry’s hip, fingertips wrapping around bare flesh before he’s pressing a small kiss upon his shoulder. “ Ye’ never fail t’ look amazin’. Even like this, bit teasin’ but reckon I can deal with it for a little white. ” Louis mutters a bit tired, chin resting in the crook of Harry’s neck only for his fingertips to slip down by ghosting over the full of Harry’s stomach.

Nothing has ever felt better than this. The sex was good, having Louis' hands on him was so good, but this... This is some other level of intimate, one he's never experienced before. His heart is so fucking full, and despite the fact that just a few days ago Louis' was spooned around him too, this is different. It's different not only because they're naked this time, but because he knows where they stand as well. He knows that they're on the same page in wanting to work towards this, whatever this is, and it's so fucking important to him, and he feels so safe. He feels safer than he's ever felt, and he lets out a small rumble of a hum at the sensation of his touches, his palm running over his hip, and then his belly. He likes that. He likes that a lot. He sort of wants to touch Louis back too, and he finds himself eaching one of his hand behind him to do just that, immediately letting it slip over his waist to grip his hip too. He strokes him, tracing little patterns into his skin that have no real rhyme or reason, nor any conscious thought behind them.

A soft giggle is bubbling out of him, perhaps a bit belatedly, and oh, of course he's going to make him blush now. What else would he do? On top of that, Harry can tell when Louis starts sounding a bit more tired, and he wiggles just a bit, pressing himself even more snug into him, and settling with a sigh. "Teasing, huh? How'm I teasing you?" He murmurs back, his words running together just a bit. He's tired himself, but also oddly more awake than he has been in a very long time. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to fall asleep and have to stop enjoying this for everything that it is; he wants it to last as long as possible, and sleeping means waking up, and waking up means having to move. He doesn't want to move. He just wants to be here with Louis. "Your bed is comfy. You're comfy. Your arms. Think I'll keep you." Harry's turn to be playful, apparently.

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis distinctively remembers the time’s he’s consistently mentioned that Larry wasn’t anything for anyone to worry about. He almost feels a bit embarrassed swallowing his words now given that this is far from nothing. It’s got him a little on edge to even admit now considering he’s denied it for as long as he has, with no logical reason as well. He’s eating his own words with the way he’s sat inches away from Harry right now, hand within his as he just watches carefully. His anxiety can’t be more in his head just before he’s closing his eyes in attempt to slow down his heart rate some. Louis wishes it’d just end and that he could be all figured out, which of course that in itself is way too far fetched even for him. Nothing in his life seems to be well put together, ever way beyond him being some known figure. Louis just isn’t a very organized person, almost everyone knows this by now ; Harry especially. He wishes things were a little bit easier, maybe it wouldn’t come off so difficult most days, or maybe he’d be able to breathe more than just a sharp breath in between such a busy schedule. As much as he loves his job, and the pace of it, when it all catches up he’s unfortunately unable to know what to do in the aspects. The idea of no rush however, does sound pretty nice. A good change, he seems to agree with a small nod of reassurance.

“ Shut up. ” he bites back with a small smile, watching Harry’s thumb brush delicately over his own hand, earning his cheeks a light rose complexion. It’s so affectionate and Louis could throw up at the amount of sap it pours through, he wants to kiss him again and again for making him like this. It’s an endless cycle, Louis’ mind, it never seems to stop going once it starts and there’s so many different possibilities of how this could go right now. Harry obviously wants one thing, Louis is entirely uncertain of whatever he’s aiming for between he and the younger. It’s a little gut wrenching to know that he possibly could’ve been part of a reason for Harry to hurt so much, fact, watching him the other night not being able to look at him was painful enough in itself. Louis couldn’t imagine the other tolls of hurt he could’ve conflicted upon him, and he really doesn’t want to know either. “ I’d like t’ do it right as well. If we’re gonna do it. ” he breathes out, throat grainy from previous moaning fits within the evening. “ I want you t’ be happy as well though. S’like, massively important t’ me that ye’ are. ” Louis rambles out, calming the moment Harry’s kissing against his wrist, a fond smile easing to still briefly flushed features before his free hand brushes through now shorter locks upon the other male’s head. “ Deserve t’ be very very happy, you. ”

Shut up, Louis says, and Harry's insides go all melted and soft. His anxiety fades into background noise, and he feels himself easing into something more authentic, more in-the-moment than he'd felt before. They can make this work, if that's what they both want, and judging by what Louis is saying right now, it is. They can do absolutely anything. Suddenly, all of those things he's said about 'Larry', all of the years he's spent fighting off the rumors whilst Harry himself has just been ignoring them, don't seem all that important. It's different now, clearly, and he can't be focused on the past when the present is already turning out to be so bloody beautiful. Louis is so bloody beautiful. He knows he's said it already, and thought it about a thousand times, but he finds himself swelling with it again anyhow, his tongue aching to form the words, to give them to him. Instead, he swallows them down, keeping them inside of him, saving them for later when he's hoping to be all tangled up with him, soft and sleepy and sated. They might not be quite done for the night, but Harry's ready to find out what else there is for them in the next few hours.

"Would make me quite happy if you came down here and cuddled me." He says, voice low and rumbling, his mouth moving slow as it ever does. He's shifting beneath the duvet, holding it open in a clear invitation to showcase exactly what he means. The tone to it is more lighthearted than the way Louis speaks to him, but Harry is taking all of that very seriously nonetheless. He's never going to forget what he sounds like when he tells him he deserves to be happy, it's just that if he lingers on it too much right now, he's probably going to start crying, and he doesn't want to do that. He wants to keep everything the way it is, and he wants to feel his naked body in every way, and that's that. "Pleeeeease."

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

There’s so many different levels that Louis is trying to focus on, it’s leaving him a little hazy. Though maybe bringing it up right after a sexual encounter was probably not the smartest thing he could have done, but he needs some sort of start before he leaves Harry once again with no answers. Or any idea as to what he should, could, or would do otherwise. His fingertips dance along Harry’s skin, slowly working down his arm just to have some sort of excuse to touch him. It feels warm, inviting actually and it feels like he should keep his hands there forever. That’s a scary thing to Louis, forever with someone, forever with Harry for that matter. The idea does manage a slight flutter to his heart though, between the way he’s just touching on him mixed with the many different scenarios that could involve him in the future, his future, hell it does scare him . . a good scare though, for the most part. Louis isn’t one to be nervous, so when he is, he’s most certainly serious about any given matter. His fingertips brush along Harry’s bicep, to his hand as he reaches for his hand to hold it carefully. 

It seems as if neither of them look all too prepared to have this conversation with one another. He’s not too positive about Harry but for Louis anxiety and fear jumble immensely in the pit of his stomach at this very moment. The elder feels as if he’s probably giving that away with the clammy feel of his fingertips, maybe the nervous tick to continuously keep fixing his hair when it looks just fine no matter how much or how little it looks. There’s so many different things he’s got to question before even considering much of anything with Harry. He’s got a son, quite the dramatic baby mother and millions to billions of people who won’t leave him alone about this. “ S’not like I don’t feel anythin’ here, Haz. S’very complicated, I guess. You’ve felt this way ‘bout me for . . a long fuckin’ time. I don’t know how ye’ did it, or could do it. ” Fingertips manage to lace with Harry’s, shaking his head carefully as he attempts to find the right words for this. “ It wouldn’t be fair of me t’ make you wait. ” Louis adds, frowning slightly while his thumb brushes over the little hills of Harry’s knuckles seconds later. “ Not any longer than ye’ already have. ”

Every time Louis brings up just how long Harry has felt this way about him, it gives him a very distinct sinking feel in his chest, in his stomach. It’s almost like nausea, like anxiety and a little bit of panic, and he feels so exposed because yeah, yeah, he is the desperate one who has done nothing but pine for him for years. He feels kind of pathetic for it, and the fact he didn’t say anything at all is just.. Some other level of weird, now that he really takes the time to examine it. Especially from Louis’ perspective. He’s not really sure how it is for Louis himself, considering whenever he brings it up it doesn’t seem to necessarily be in a negative context, regardless of anything else. Maybe Harry is just misreading it, he’s not sure, but it automatically makes him want to tumble over his words in his haste to make sure that he’s aware that he isn’t trying to pressure him into anything. He’s waited this long already, and he never expected any of this to happen in the first place, so even though he craves every part of him with every fiber of his being, he thinks that he’s capable of being patient. There is no rush, and he cannot stress that enough. He doesn’t know how to stress that enough when it comes to reassuring Louis.

Their hands are tangled together, and Harry’s thumb is gently stroking over the back of Louis’, mapping out the feeling of his tendons with the pad of it again and again. He’s also looking right at his face, studying delicately features like he hasn’t already committed them to memory a hundred times over. Like they aren’t permanently ingrained in his mind. “You’re daft.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, and in fact, his tone sort of melts around the word. It cradles them like he’s telling him something completely different, like he might be saying this is why I love you without even saying it at all. “M’okay, Lou. Like... I can’t lie to you and tell you it wasn’t hard, ‘cause it’s always been hard, especially watching you with other people. But -- but I don’t want you rushing into anything with me either. I wanna do it right, if we’re gonna do it, and I wanna think everything through and make sure we aren’t making any mistakes. I can’t... I couldn’t do this, if we’re going to do it, and have it just...” Have it go wrong. Have it fail spectacularly. Have them fail spectacularly. He’s scared, and it was easier when they weren’t talking about it, but this is definitely a conversation they need to have. Especially after sex. A deep breath is drawn in, slow, and he curls himself down until he can bury his whole nose in against Louis’ hand. He presses kisses to him, turning both of their hands so he can let his lips rest against his inner wrist, over his pulse. “Want you to be happy.” With me, preferably, but just happy if nothing else.

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis feels an anxious shiver roll up his spine as he’s just sat there, still as could be, he’s a little on the chilly side both physically and mentally right this minute. Part of him wants to get up and find an excuse to leave the room to avoid this conversation, he’s not entirely positive if he’s even ready for this type of level with Harry at the moment. His breath almost leaves his lungs too before he’s just watching Harry turn to face him. A small smile of find wavers over his features before he’s just shaking his head to the suggestion of kicking him out. Louis wouldn’t do that, especially to him, he’d be the one to leave first before he’d go on and ever let someone leave him that way. He turns entirely to face Harry only to reach for the duvet to cover him up, maybe in a few he’ll decide to spoon him but it’ll just result in Louis getting himself into a more difficult situation than expected. Even now as he’s inches away he can hardly stand the fact he’s going to end up just pretending, or trying to pretend, that this never even happened in the first place. he can’t, and won’t get attached now.

“ No, love. No. M’not gonna kick ye’ out. ” Louis musters a small chuckle, fingertips playing with the blanket close to Harry’s arm before just staring down at his motions. He really feels anxiety settling in right now, course, it’s been there for the past few days but it’s definitely sitting at the bottom of his stomach right this very moment. Brave, he reaches up to caress Harry’s face ever so delicately. Maybe it’s a post climax thing to be this soft, but he’s so careful to touch his face, his beautiful, glowing face. “ Meant ‘bout this . . ‘bout you n’ i. ” he mumbles, eyes meeting up with his hand as it brushes against the flush skin of Harry’s face. God would Louis wake up to that face every single day, unfortunately it’s far from admittedly whilst he just imagines the facts in between awaiting Harry’s suggestions, if he’s got any.

Being covered up with the duvet is an immediate flood of warmth, though it doesn’t actually have all that much to do with how he feels physically. It’s just the care with which Louis does it, tender and gentle and conscious of how Harry is feeling, even when he doesn’t say it. He flushes with it, rose blooming high on his cheeks, and his eyelashes flutter as he looks up at him, eventually propping his head up in his hand. His elbow sinks in against the mattress, and he clears his throat, studying the dips and structure of Louis’ gorgeous features. The set of his mouth and the light in his eyes gives him away the most, the little things that he wouldn’t know how to pinpoint if he wasn’t currently looking at his best friend of years, and the man he’s been in love with since he was sixteen years old. No amount of time spent apart can erase that for him, and he feels his heart give an unsteady tug, lurching nauseatingly as he considers the way he pursues the topic. They really are going to have to talk about this, and the truth is, Harry has no idea what to say. He doesn’t want to fuck anything up by being too intense too quickly, and he doesn’t know what Louis wants from him (aside from sex, which is evident).

He’s not gonna kick him out, though. That counts for something, right?

“Um...” Harry begins, his slow words like treacle just the same as they ever are. He knows he needs to work it out in his head before he tries to articulate it aloud, but he feels quite put on the spot right now, so he’s doing his best on the fly. Harry isn’t a very quick speaker, and he’s not a very quick thinker either. It’s just how he is. “I dunno. I guess... I guess whatever you want to do? Uh, you know where I stand, I think. Like -- I’d be right here, Lou, no matter what. So.” That’s not all he has for him, but it’s all he has at that particular moment. A soft clearing of his throat follows, and he’s looking down at his own collarbones no, where the covers have slipped a bit. His free hand moves to finger over the bruises, and he smiles, just a little. Just enough. “Sorry. I’ve got thoughts, I’m just finding it hard to make them coherent. What m’saying is I understand if you need time, or like, you need to really um, mull it over and all that. Work it out in your head. We’re not at the same place, I think? And it makes sense, ‘cause it’s been a really long time for me, and our responsibilities are different.” Louis has Freddie to worry about, not just himself. Harry gets that. He just wants to make it clear he isn’t trying to pressure him one way or another.

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis enjoys the fact he’s able to mark Harry up without one single complaint of it otherwise. In fact, he’s definitely the type to make sure he’d wear things that’d properly show them off. Leave the world knowing who he’s with, course they’d never guess it was actually him. However, a mass majority probably would figure it out at the end of the day. That’s the odd thing about it, just the simple fact that for so many years the world has been wondering as to whether or not they’ve been doing this behind the scenes since day one. The answer being no, obviously, but as of now he just might be a little keen on doing this more often. Not even the sex but just having Harry around much more often, make up for the years he’s been avoiding him and the feelings he could potentially be burdening. It’s obscene to watch the way Harry comes undone by just his lips and a hand, it’s like an art of some sort that’s so euphoric and he’s taking about five hundred mental images of this right now. God it’s going to make good material for his lonely evenings after this, he’s thankful, ultimately. 

He continuously brushes thin lips to Harry’s skin, nuzzling the spot delicately with his nose while he’s finishing the younger off with the messy movements of his hand. Louis’ humming content as he cums all over his hand, his stomach and even all upon himself. First instance is that it’s going to be fun to clean, the second simply being the exhaustion Harry’s going to feel afterwards. They’ve already cum twice today, it has to be tiring for him as it relatively is for Louis. He could keep going, but he won’t for the moment. “ S’good love, very good. ” he mutters upon Harry’s throat, kissing down his body before he’s retracting his hand to clean it up by the pure use of his tongue. Licking it clean he works on wiping his stomach just to pop his fingertips into his mouth, not long after he’s dragging his tongue lazily around Harry’s stomach, then the entirety of his cock with a soft gag the moment he hits his throat just to ease up with a pop. It’s dirty, he knows but he doesn’t care. His concern now is where it leaves the two of them. They should talk about this, course, Louis’ never offered the initiative to discuss the matter but the second a deep sigh falls from his mouth he knows it’s coming. His hands reach for his own feathery locks to attempt in fixing them before he’s just sitting back hesitantly. “ What do we do ? ” he breathes shaky, hands finding their way to his lap almost instantly with a thick swallow following his question.

The praise goes right to his head, and Harry’s body is spent and softening as he settles into the mattress, a gentle, quiet hum resonating from him. Louis is so attentive, even in the aftermath of his orgasm, and he hasn’t stopped touching him as of yet, so he intends to soak up the attention with more than a little gratefulness. Endorphin-powered pleasure filters through him like beautiful sunlight through the windows in the early morning, and everything feels new, feels right. That is, until Louis’ endeavours to lap up the mess he’s made go a little too far. A squeak sounds form him, his entire body jumping as the other goes from licking up the cum off his tummy, to taking his whole cock into his mouth. He’s far too sensitive to be able to stand that, and he’s wriggling away before he even realizes it, his reactions instinctive and automatic. Whimpers leave his lips when he forces himself to hold still after a moment, overly tender and blinking back the moisture in his eyes that never quite spilled over. It doesn’t last very long, but he still twitches and shakes from it, watching as Louis pulls off of him, evidently having collected every drop. Fuck. He breathes out a sigh of relief, melting into the bed again after just a few moments.

Only then he isn’t being touched at all, and Louis is sitting up, and Harry is just now noticing how cold the room really is. Has it been this cold since he came in? He doesn’t know. But it is now, and that’s what seems to matter. Turning onto his side so he’s facing where Lou is sat, he curls himself up a little, drawing long limbs in, and blinking over at him. The question is... Not exactly unwelcome, but neither is Harry certain of how to respond to it. What does Louis want him to respond with? Part of him wants to be completely honest with him, to lay out all his wants and desires as bare as his body is right now, but most of him is way too much of a little bitch to be able to do that. So instead, he goes with something a little more lighthearted, allowing his lips to curve up slightly in a smile that’s wamer than the goosebumps on his skin make him feel. “Have a cuddle, I’d hope. Unless your planning to kick me out?” His anxiety is given away by the slight falter at the end of his words, though he maintains his demeanour. 

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

If anyone were to ask Louis a week ago what he’d be doing Valentine’s Day, he would’ve told them absolutely nothing. It’s absolutely insane for Louis to think that within a span of just a few days that he’d be here with Harry, near second climax, in his bed. It’s hard for him to even wrap his mind around, it’s almost hard to believe and he feels like maybe if he closes his eyes hard enough he’ll wake up from a deep sleep. Oddly enough, this is reality and it’s such an amazing reality at that. Louis’ hand relatively quickens its pace, biting down against Harry’s lip the moment he feels the warmth of precum collecting up against his fist in a span of seconds. He’s painfully hard, it’s a damn wonder he hasn’t came in his jeans and with that Louis is pretty impressed he’s succeeded so well with that. Louis figures he could see himself like this in so many different situations with Harry ; sexual or not, more so. As long as it’s with Harry, he can’t find himself to imagine it with anyone else. Not any of his exes, random hook ups or anyone else, but he does imagine it with Harry. Louis shakes the thought as he focuses on watching Harry intently to each of the notions upon his length. 

Louis swears he can feel tingles run up his spine the moment Harry moans his name, it brings him such content knowing he’s able to please him so well that he’s whining for him. He wonders if he’d done that when he’d sexted him hours ago, but it sounds pretty fucking hot if he’s honest. It has him a little lost when Harry stops kissing him, licking slow over his bottom lip but Louis is certain to keep the pace on his cock going until he’s finally cumming for him. His throat immediately exposes once his head shoots back and Louis is so quick to press his lips against pale skin, sucking not one but two more places to call his own into Harry’s skin. He parts before kissing down to his collarbones, a low moan against a spot that he’s seconds later marking only to mumble “ cum for me, baby. ” as he mercifully pumps his hand, destined to get him to cum quick and hard.

Louis is marking up his neck when he exposes it, which Harry hadn’t been banking on, but he really, really fucking enjoys nonetheless. The feeling of his bruises being left behind on his skin is hot as hell, and the sting is something he welcomes. He’s always loved a little bit of pain to go along with his pleasure, and sometimes that can get way more intense than just was hickeys have to offer, but for now, that’s exactly what he needs. He needs to belong to him, to feel that possessiveness not only emanating from him, but being poured out into physical manifestations of itself. He will wear him on his neck and his collarbones, proud, and his cock is twitching in his grip as a strangled moan gets caught inside of his chest, heaving with it. The muscles in his stomach are so tight it’s bordering on uncomfortable, and he feels like there’s a white hot spring stuck in there, coiled so much that it’s only a matter of seconds before it explodes loose and has him emptying everything he has onto their bodies. He can’t even think of anything aside from yesyesyes and LouisLouisLouis and he doesn’t want anything else either.

All it takes to finish him off is hearing him say that. Cum for me, baby. Cum for him. Cum for Louis. Harry’s entire mind comes apart when his body does, pure ecstasy building up and washing over him as he releases into his hand, onto their stomachs. Quivering and shaking, he’s entirely silent aside from the whispering of his name, of Louis, just once before his breath gets stuck and he has no hope of getting anymore words out at all. His lips are parted around a moan that doesn’t quite make it, and his back is arched as he paints their skin with his pleasure. It really does hit him so hard and so fast, when he finally manages to shudder a breath in, he’s dizzy and his vision is going a little dark. He’s looking at him, though. Only at him, at whatever part of him he can see, his face, his profile, his hair, where Harry’s fingers are twisted a bit too tightly. He forces them loose as his muscles go lax, cock twitching in his hold, spent as he rides the last waves of his climax to their end. “O-Oh...”

[harrustylez-blog1]

tvmlnsns.

Louis wants to moan at Harry’s desperation, it really turns him on to know that fact he’s just getting him off this well. He’s hardly touched him, which seems pretty undeserved for as much as Louis wants to do it. He’d rather he pleasing Harry than vice verse, after all it is something he’s dreamed about for as long as he has. The elder of the pair is certain to get his dominance through with the way he’s holding Harry down, fact, he can only imagine so many other ways to do it. He’s fucked, he knows it. He’s already thinking of so many other things he could do to Harry, do with Harry, in that thought it makes his heartbeat pick up almost five times to where it’s disturbing the tinnitus in his ears. For as long as Louis can remember he can just think of the times back when they were just learning about each other, and Harry’s weird fascinations of never wearing clothes ; Louis is almost too thankful for that fact because if it were now he’d be far too anxious to even see. Regardless of anyone he’s ever been with, or seen. His cock seems to take up Louis’ hand pretty well, fact, with every little crook and cranny of Harry’s body, Louis seems to fit just perfectly. 

He’s almost frustrated that he hasn’t got more hands to touch Harry with, as odd as it might seem he’d want to be able to feel every aspect of pleasuring him. For now he’s just using the hand tucked behind his head to play with the slight curls of his Hair that’s finally growing back while the other slowly pulls Harry off. Louis wants to make sure he feeling every wave of arousal that he’s offering just by his slow movements, that and he wants this to last as long as possible even if it doesn’t. A lazy smirk rises to Louis’ lips the moment Harry’s pulling at his hair which as response allows his hand a gentle squeeze against his cock seconds later. The older is humming gently against Harry’s mouth, lips moving slow but lacing as much passion through as he’s able to muster in between the timed movements of his hand. 

If Harry could pick one moment in his entire life that complete epitomises sexual intimacy, it would be this one. He doesn’t know what it is about the way that Louis kisses him and that hum, but it’s enhancing every movement of his hand, every breath that he takes with the older man on top of him, surrounding him. He’s so glad he’s with him. He’s so glad he came around, so glad he texted him today at all, that he just knew -- he knew. This is the best fucking Valentine’s Day he has ever had, the most romantic without having to try to be romantic. He’s not going to delude himself into believing he’s more important to him than he knows himself to be in reality, but perhaps with the squeeze of his hand around his cock, the taste of his lips on his tongue, and the scent of him filling his nostrils, he can enjoy it without really needing to think about it. Without needing the romance, the love, the affection that he pours out from every part of him and into Louis. No, no -- it’s okay. It’s okay. Harry doesn’t need it back. Not right now.

And he’s moaning.

Louis’ name gets lost somewhere in the slick of their mouths moving together, in the tightness of his fingers in his hair, and the strain of his muscles when he tries to buck his hips into his touch. He’s being held down, which makes that impossible, but it’s not doubt the way his body tries will be felt regardless of that fact. He’s not embarrassed by the neediness of it, the raw desperation that emanates from him in such a way it thickens the air. He really, really is not going to last long; the sinful slide of Louis’ hand over him is surging pleasure through him with each stroke, and precum is a near constant presence at this point as the tightness builds and builds and builds. He’s got tears gathered in his eyes again, this time from pure ecstasy rather than strain, and he’s breaking their kiss so he can turn his head in suck in deep, greedy breaths. He wants it to last, to make it good for him, but he’s having a really, really hard time. He’s just so fucked up, so sensitive, and it’s him. It’s all him. “Lou -- m’not gonna m-make it, gonna cum. Fuck...” He breathes out the expletive, writhing a bit under him, and tilting his chin back, his throat all exposed. He’s quite close. 

[harrustylez-blog1]

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Louis takes such a pride in marking someone’s skin, this case being Harry and it’s a lot more satisfying than he’d ever imagined. For the fear he feels he’s had one too many dreams about this type of experience with Harry, he’d never verbally admit it much more than it was a short dream but that’s far from true. He’s had long, extensive, as well as different circumstances types of dreams about Harry ; and he’d never take them back for a second. Fingertips hardly ever seem to be enough to Louis, he wants Harry to feel him for days after he’s leaving to do God knows what but maybe for the moment this is all what’s best. He shouldn’t be pushing for something he knows is going to end up in such a complex state of mind. They’re confusing for much better words, simplistic even, Louis can’t seem to shake what they’re even meant to do after this. Is he meant to call Harry later ? Perhaps even spoon afterwards ? He’s never had this type of situation come to leave him in such a lost state of mind. It’s pretty crazy how they’ve both managed to actually be without one another for so long, though it must have been harder for Harry given his feelings. Louis could never imagine dealing with being in love for so long and staying as quiet as he had. Not now, he reminds himself, he’s got to get back to the situation at hand before he’s confused again. 

It’s not long after that a gentle lull of laughter falls from Louis’ lips to Harry’s desperation, he loves it though, he absolutely does. The buck of Harry’s hips that work into his hand is enough to get Louis to push his hips back down to his bed, other arm pulling around to unbutton his jeans just to push them down and entirely off of his legs. If he’s going to see Harry, he wants to see all of him which results in every last bit of clothing he’s got upon him. Louis tosses the articles of clothing away to the floor, hand wrapping around the base of Harry’s cock just to slowly work his hand back up as the rest of his body moves back up. “ pretty ‘ard for me, aren’t ye’ darlin’ ? ” he purrs before an arm tucks up underneath Harry’s neck so he’s able to get a good look at him, lips pressing against the corner of his mouth just to finally meet with his lips entirely while his other hand works a thumb around the head of his length.

He’s being laughed at. For a moment, Harry’s lower lip juts out into a petulant little pout, his entire being balking at the teasing tone to him, like how desperate he is for Louis is something funny. Of course, he’s still just as aroused, and even more so because of the fact he loves the way his laugh sounds, but it’s the principle of the matter! Of course, the looks is wiped right off his face the moment he feels him begin to take his clothes of, and yesyesyes goes through his head like a mantra. He’s surprised he’s not chanting it out loud, wanting to lift his hips up to aid in the removal of his jeans and pants, but Louis is holding him down (and he’s fucking hot for that too, for being held down, for being manipulated and controlled). Still, he seems to get him naked quickly enough, and Harry is utterly exposed to him, the hard, heavy length of his arousal resting against his lower belly, and twitching for each and every bit of attention Louis gives to it. He thinks he’s going to come apart just from the feeling of his hand wrapping about his base, and everything just gets more intense, just gets better from there on out.

The feeling of Louis’ lips brushing the corner of his mouth is exquisite, and Harry parts his own to taste his words, a soft moan reverberating from his chest as his hips twitch again, and he’s once more tangling long, lithe fingers into his hair. He grips him, holding him to his lips, and kisses him back in earnest, whimpers repeatedly sounding into the embrace because fuck. His head is spinning with pleasure, his skin on fire with goose bumps and contradictory chills, and he arches his back, messily licking his tongue across the seam of Louis’ mouth. He needs him, he needs to taste him, and he needs the intimacy and the affection while he pulls him off. He isn’t going to last very long at all, too worked up to be able to drag this out, and just the swipe of his thumb over the head of hos cock has him leaking obscenely for him. He nips at his lower lip just gently, just playfully, and gives his hair an experimental tug.

[harrustylez-blog1]

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Something about the uncertainty of their relationship brings Louis comfort. He’s not entirely positive as to whether or not it’s because of his consistent fear of submitting himself on being in love, or whether or not he’s just trying to figure everything out. Ultimately, these types of things aren’t new to Louis, as are being with men. He’s been with a few in between his relationships, merely just club fun, as he’d call it. But to no surprise, Harry’s far from just club fun in that aspect. Harry’s his best friend, maybe even a lot more than what Louis is willing to admit he is, that’s for sure. The way Harry’s skin bumps up to every one of his touches gives him such a confidence he’s never felt with anyone before, it does make Louis happy knowing someone genuinely wants him for more than just sex. Though he’s learned to push feelings down pretty well, sometimes he’s even confused as to whether or not it’s just sex. The conflict sits in the back of his head this very moment, however he’s pretty positive there’s more to Harry and Louis than he’s even prepared for. For the moment Louis just basks in how prepossessing Harry looks from this angle, it’s so arousing as far as he’s feeling but God what he’d give to see this every single day in so many different aspects. 

Soft fingertips brush against Harry’s hips as he continues his way up Harry’s body, humming as every press of his lips meets with his skin. He’s practically whining the moment hands find their way through his hair, nudging his head into Harry’s hands only to shake himself free so he’s able to continue. “ You would love me that way, wouldn’t ye’ ? ” he practically giggles giddy to the statement before he’s continuing his way up, finally to Harry’s collarbones which look so delightful and unmarked. Louis is shocked he didn’t get around to that when he’d practically annihilated his neck first coming in the door. He slightly shivers before his hands finally meet up with him, digits dancing over the leaves that covers Harry’s abdomen, then up stomach to where the butterfly sits ; it’s quite the cliche of butterflies in your stomach, Louis thinks, and he finds it so adorable to say the least. Now he’s worked up to the swallows which he kisses both just to teasingly peek up at Harry, feeling the scruff of his facial hair brush right against his chest. “ wanna kiss you, n’ get ye’ off at the same time. ” He breathes out, it’s hesitant but with the way his eyes stay trained on Harry and how his hand just ghosts slowly down to rub him over his jeans should give away he’s far from hesitant. “ s’that okay, love ? ”

Wearing Louis’ marks is something that Harry is going to have absolutely no issue doing, loud and proud. He knows even after he leaves here, he’s going to end up spending ages just looking at himself in the mirror, touching each and every one of them over and over, and pressing his fingertips into them to see how tender they are. Hell, chances are he’ll pull himself off to them, because he can only imagine how arousing it’ll be to be able to have Louis left behind all over his body. He shivers delicately for the kisses over his tattoos, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip as he makes his way over, to his moth tattoo now and going further and further up. He needs more. His skin is on fire, his muscles twitching, and he aches everywhere. Aches for his hands, and his tongue, and the press of his weight. He doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it, without him. He doesn’t know how the fuck he survived it. It pains him to even have the briefest thought towards this stopping after tonight. There’s no way he’d survive the rest of his damn life without feeling him, without having him, without having the option of it. Harry’s only had one taste, and he’s already addicted.

“Yeah! Fuck, yeah.” He sounds desperate, and he sounds needy, and he really, really doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. Louis is soft and he’s hesitating and Harry needs him to know how much he wants him, how much his body craves him, because if he doesn’t, then really what’s the fucking point? What’s the point if he can’t make this beautiful man feel like the god that he actually is? He wants to worship him. He wants to throw himself at his feet and dedicated the rest of his goddamn earthly existence to making him feel as incredible as he truly believes that he is. “Please, Louis. Please? Yeah?” The teasing touch just on the outside of his jeans is not nearly enough, and he’s bucking his hips up against his hand, needy and eager and shameless. He’ll have time to evaluate his behavior later, and while he’ll always know he never could’ve acted any other way, he might be a bit embarrassed about it still. For now, he’s too turned on to care. “Want to kiss you, want to be touched.”

[harrustylez-blog1]

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The excitement pools into Louis’ stomach as his fingertips dance along Harry’s hand within his own. If it wasn’t already apparent that he’s in desperate need to have Harry by the way he touches every surface of his body he’s able to each he’s not sure what would. It’s no hidden factor as far as the past time has gone, fact they could’ve been doing this so many years ago instead of catching up in drunken evenings, text messages or relative sexting. Louis believes he’ll manage to find time to catch up for all the years they’d been avoiding one another. With the way his lips press against Harry’s, he can already tell it’s going to be something he’ll unfortunately not be able to stay away from. Louis just might end up finding more reasons to text him aside from by accident just for a lap dance. Funny how time goes by them ever so quickly . . four years worth. “ as long as ye’ don’t care then. don’t wanna get ye’ all dirty again if you’re not up t’ it. ” He almost whines with the way he parts from his lips, a single hand reaching to fix his hair. It’s pointless to do, it’s going to end up messy anyways, he’s not quite sure why it’s so much of an issue to even look ruffled up any.

Louis watches Harry undress intently, it seems as if it’s taking forever and he’s barely got very many clothes on to begin with but it just seems like it’s taking forever in that aspect. He’s shifting his stance only to smile warm the moment Harry sits back on his bed. Oddly enough this reminds him of one of the many dreams he’s had about him, it almost feels fake even, bit scary if he’s completely honesty. Eyes dart around the ink that covers Harry’s body, biting down to his bottom lip as he tugs off his shirt to throw it aside before dropping to his own knees this time. Louis crawls over right in between Harry’s legs, hands running slow up his thighs but purposefully missing his clothed crotch only to kiss slow up his body. “ you’re so fit, fuckin’ ‘ell. ” he breathes out instantly, bright eyes flickering upward to meet Harry’s gaze. 

Oh, Harry wants to get dirty. He wants to get very, very fuckin’ dirty, and the only reason he’d taken that shower in the first place was because he’d been under the impression they were done, and he’d needed time to collect himself and think before carrying on talking to Louis. Time to rein in his feelings, really, only now that seems to of been a fruitless effort. He has no idea where he and Louis stand, and everything is a confusing mess that he wouldn’t be able to begin to sort out even if he had all the time in the world, but right now, he doesn’t wanna think about that. He doesn’t wanna think about that at all. Instead, he wants to focus on the feeling of his hands on his body, and the way his breath hitches in his throat as he drops down to his knees. Harry can feel his presence like a physical caress, and before his hands even touch him, he’s got goose bumps forming on the bare skin of his chest. By the time they get there on his thighs, he’s tipping his head back, a small noise of desire leaving him. He can’t believe this is happening. His throat is raw and scratchy from Louis’ cock being down it, and if he tries hard enough he can still taste his cum, and he can’t  believe this is happening. He’s so happy.

“Love you without clothes.” And just in general. He just loves him, even if he can’t say that. Even if he can’tlet those words fall past his lips without anything extra to add context. To make it less scary. He’s beautiful, all collarbones and ink, a light trail of hair on his chest that Harry wants to fucking lick and bury his face into. God, he’s throbbing in his jeans, and if Louis doesn’t get them off of him soon, he’s going to explode. That he’s sure of. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you’re so -- God, Louis.” He’s husky and wrecked, and he’s lifting his hips, one of his hands coming to card into the older man’s messy hair. He twists his fingers there, gently guiding them through the soft, feathery strands, and massaging the tips of them against his scalp. He’s submitting still, just waiting for him to do what he wants to him, with him. Harry is completely at Louis’ mercy, which is exactly where he wants to be.

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The pads of Louis’ fingertips brush against Harry’s chest, lips remaining moving slow against his and it’s almost as close as they could be. There’s slight room between the pair of them but most of that is due to their relative height difference. Louis loves it though, something about being able to look up at Harry in such admiration and fond is something he’s always enjoyed. Even way back when, nothing’s really changed in that area of flattery between them. His hands can’t stop wandering as much as they are ; between the way Harry’s shirt is bunched up in his hands, hair tousled up when Louis was pulling him closer into his cock, and even brushing against the soft skin of his face. He wishes his skin were that soft anymore, it reminds him of when he could lay in the bunk during X Factor season when they were teenagers. it’s hard to believe some days that they’ve managed to disappear for a few years, but still seem like the way beginning of meeting one another when they were around each other. mindless flirting, Louis used to say it was, now it just seems more than that.

“ mm, welcome. ” the elder lulls before he’s parting lips with Harry seconds later, though he enjoys the softness they seem to share he can’t quite shake the feeling of not getting him to cum just as much, and as well that he has. Louis wants to kiss him over and over again, perhaps he will ; and with that thought his hand finds its way to Harry’s, tugging him up the stairs to his bed. “ wanna please you, okay ? want t’ make ye’ feel really good. sorry ‘bout ye’ shower time. ” Louis apologizes, a cheeky grin on his face as he gently reaches for Harry’s shoulders to up upon his tiptoes, lips locking to his once more. Only this time aiming to give a much more sultry and sensual kiss more so than before. 

Harry follows Louis when he tugs him up the stairs, not a word in protest, and his cheeks heat up to a dark pink blush. He already makes him feel good, and he wants to tell him that, but he knows what Louis meant with what he said, and his cock is throbbing feebly where it’s trapped in response to it. He really does want to be touched by him, to be taken care of, and the fact he’s being brought to his bed right now makes all the blood rush south to his groin (as if enough of it isn’t already collected there). A soft breath leaves from between his lips when they finally get in there, and he’s melting for the grin on his face, for the kiss he presses to his lips immediately after. He could really, really get used to this. “Don’t care about the shower.” He mumbles back to him, parting his lips after a moment and licking over the seam of his mouth to chase his taste. He gives his bottom lip a little nip just after, and then he’s breaking away, drifting back towards the bed. There’s a playful little smile on his lips as he does.

Never having been the bashful type as far as his modesty goes, Harry has absolutely no problem in taking his shirt off over his head, dropping it to Louis’ bedroom floor. His shoes come off next, and then his socks, and he leaves them to the side, keeping his jeans on for now as he climbs onto the bed and then reaches for the older man’s hand. He gives him a tug, his teeth working into his bottom lip for a moment, and excitement bubbling up in him, clear and evident on his face. “Come to bed?” He purrs, voice still husky and cracked from the abuse his throat had taken. It was a welcome thing, and he’s proud of it.