harry styles/louis tomlinson
nc-17, 4,510 words
by 1842 and amongseafarers
Harry feels the press of Louis’ leg against his side and the flimsy cotton of Louis’ pajamas. “Soft,” he mumbles, curling his hand around Louis’ thigh and using the grip to pull himself closer, nestling his face into the side of Louis’ hip.
Usually it’s the three swift knocks on his door that will wake him up, but today Harry doesn’t even stir until he hears the dull clink of a teacup against his nightstand and feels the mattress dip beside him.
“Morning, sunshine,” Louis murmurs, slowly swinging his legs up onto the bed. Harry blinks up at him, vision still clouded, but shuts his eyes again quickly when Louis flicks on the lamp beside them. “Budge over, Haz, give me some room.”
He inches over lazily, dragging the pile of blankets with him; Louis prods indignantly at Harry's side, “Come on, greedy, sharing is caring.” Barely smiling to himself, Harry lets go of one of the corners of the blankets and allows Louis to tug it over his legs, twisting it around as he shimmies up to prop himself against the headboard on a stack of Harry’s pillows.
Harry feels the press of Louis’ leg against his side and the flimsy cotton of Louis’ pajamas. “Soft,” he mumbles, curling his hand around Louis’ thigh and using the grip to pull himself closer, nestling his face into the side of Louis’ hip.
“Yeah, guess where I found these the other day, hm?” Louis pushes his fingers through Harry’s hair, lightly dragging his nails to ask for his attention. “Sticking out of someone’s laundry basket. Along with a couple of my shirts, I think.”
“Mm,” Harry hums, noncommittal, his nose buried almost inside the pocket of Louis’ pants. They smell sweet and comfortable, lingering traces of their fabric softener and maybe a bit of Louis’ cologne. They’ve become his favorite because of how smooth and thin they are, worn to death between the years of Louis owning them and the times Harry’s stolen them for his own for days at a time. He lets his fingers run over the fabric covering the inside of Louis’ thigh, petting softly, and breathes out a deep sigh.
“Not falling asleep again, are you?” Louis asks, wrapping a lock of Harry’s hair around his finger to pull at it loosely.
Harry hums again and shakes his head, opening his mouth to yawn widely, keeping his face pressed against Louis’ body. “Time s’it?”
“Time for you to get up and keep me company,” Louis says, trailing his hand down, his fingertips tracing gently along Harry’s bare shoulder.
Holding back another yawn, Harry slurs, “M’keeping you company now.”
“Yeah, but it’s weird like this. Too naked,” Louis teases. Harry shifts when Louis gently scratches up his spine, turning onto his side to escape the ticklish pressure. Twisting his neck to look up at Louis, he says, “No excuses, you already knew what you were in for.” He coughs to clear his throat, voice sounding too rough, and Louis smiles at him; Harry returns it sleepily, blinking his eyes hard a few times to try and keep them open.
“You look like a baby deer,” Louis says. “A little fawn just coming out of his slumber.” He brings his hand up to cup Harry’s cheek, stroking fondly, and Harry laughs as his eyes close again.
The cup of tea - the one cup - that Louis brought in must be sufficiently cooled; Louis moves his hand from Harry’s face to grab it instead. Settling back against the pillows, he takes a loud, slurping sip and lets out a satisfied ahhh, grinning down at Harry’s best attempt at a hurt face.
“In the kitchen waiting for you to make it, I think,” Louis says. He’s joking, of course, but Harry still grumbles as he sits up, digging his fingers into Louis’ thigh a bit harder than he needs to support himself before slumping against Louis’ side.
“I make you breakfast,” Harry sighs. Just behind his eyelids, his mind is still working sluggishly and he can’t be bothered to think up a more heart-wrenching complaint. Instead, he wedges one arm between Louis’ back and his pillows, stretching the other across his stomach and lacing his own fingers together to let them rest on Louis’ hip. When Louis drapes his arm over his shoulders and affectionately pats his chest, Harry drops his head down onto Louis’ shoulder and closes his eyes again, trying to wake up all the way.
Louis rests his palm flat against Harry’s sternum, thumb stroking the dip between his collarbones. “I’ll make you a cup in a bit,” he says. Harry cracks open one eye just in time to see Louis bring the tea up to his mouth, sipping softly now. He touches his forehead to Louis’ jaw and pulls back to get his attention, letting his eyes rest pointedly on the cup cradled in Louis’ free hand when Louis glances at him.
“You know you’re not going to like it,” Louis says incredulously, eyebrows raised. He brings the cup closer regardless, letting the rim rest against Harry’s lower lip.
He knows. “M’thirsty,” he says anyway. Even so, he can barely contain his grimace when Louis tilts the cup up slowly to pour bitter tea into his mouth. Forcing himself to swallow, he turns his face against Louis’ shoulder and groans, “Christ, how do you drink that?”
“Told you,” is all Louis says. He presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead, his lips warm and wet from his awful tea - Harry rubs the moisture from his face onto Louis’ shirt before propping his head up on Louis’ shoulder to look at him.
His face must still show his distaste, he thinks. Louis lets out a quiet snort and pats Harry’s cheek, loosely gripping onto his chin after to keep him steady as he dips his head down and gives Harry’s lips a quick kiss. It’s not unusual, really, but it still surprises him this time; he blinks up at Louis and gives him a lazy smile, feeling the grin he gets in response against his own mouth when Louis leans in for the second time. The taste of the tea isn’t quite so strong coming from Louis’ lips instead of the cup, and Harry lets himself linger a second longer than he usually would.
He’s still a bit groggy, though, head heavy and mouth tingling faintly. He slides down the mattress a few inches, pressing his bare leg up against Louis and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder again, mouth brushing the collar of his shirt. They’ve gone quiet now - Louis sips lazily at his tea and Harry listens to the sounds, him breathing steadily against Louis, the birds chirping insistently outside his window and the distant rumble of traffic. He nuzzles up against the side of Louis’ neck, letting his lips drag, and contemplates sinking his teeth in, giving Louis a lovebite right on his throat that would be impossible to cover up. Feeling mischievous, Harry digs just his top row of teeth into Louis’ skin, giving him a warning before he nips there sharply. Louis twitches under his mouth, and he cups the back of Harry’s neck, gently squeezing once before letting go. He turns away from Harry to set down the rest of his tea on the bedside table - Harry’s jostled a bit from the movement and lets himself slip down lower until his shoulder blades touch the mattress again and he can stretch out onto his back.
There’s hardly a chance for him to get settled, tugging the sheet up to cover his stomach, before Louis is curling up close beside him and leaning in again to drop a soft kiss onto his lips. The easy affection makes Harry smile, and he sighs quietly when Louis kisses him again, just a few gentle pecks - one for each lip, top and bottom, and one for his chin. Louis keeps trailing them lower, though, ducking his head down to kiss the underside of Harry’s jaw and the front of his neck. Harry hums quietly enough that he’s not sure Louis even heard, licking his lips; he feels his pulse pick up when Louis places one last fleeting kiss to his collarbone before popping his head back up into Harry’s space.
“Cheeky,” Harry murmurs. One side of Louis’ mouth turns up to hint a smirk, and Harry’s eyes drop down to see just as Louis presses their lips together again. It’s more of a proper kiss now, his bottom lip nestled between Louis’ - he tilts his head when Louis does, letting their mouths fit against each other slowly. The skin of Louis’ back is warm under his fingers when he slips them past his shirt, and Louis’ forehead knocks gently into his as he moves closer, leaning his weight up on his elbow to hover over Harry as they kiss.
Louis takes several sluggish kisses and Harry gives them up willingly, parting his lips more when Louis does and less when he doesn’t, learning the way they move together best. It’s only the hot slip of Louis’ tongue past his lips that he’s not expecting, and the feeling makes him hum low in his throat, nearly like a moan. Harry waits a beat too long to respond and his breath leaves him in a rush when Louis pulls back - he lifts his head just enough to kiss Louis again, lightly sucking his lower lip before Louis’ smile pulls it from his mouth.
“If I’d’ve known I could slip you some tongue that easy, I would’ve tried ages ago,” Louis whispers, nuzzling along Harry’s jaw. He tucks his face against Louis’ throat, only managing a breathless laugh, but even that turns into an unsteady sigh as Louis’ tongue darts out to lick over a tendon in his neck. Harry tries to reciprocate, kissing distractedly at Louis’ neck; for a moment they mirror each other, mouths against the same spots on each other’s bodies, but when Louis starts to suck a mark into his skin, Harry lets his head drop back down onto the pillow.
Louis lifts himself up to look at Harry for a moment, his eyes tracking over Harry’s throat and pausing at the pulse flickering under his skin. As he lowers his head again, Louis brings one hand up to thread his fingers gently through Harry’s hair; Harry shuts his eyes and feels the press of Louis’ lips, wincing slightly when it becomes the sharp sting of his teeth instead. Harry can feel that spot throbbing faintly, his blood rushing to the surface, and he inhales shakily when Louis’ tongue slips against him. The gentle kisses placed there straight after send a surprising tug of arousal through Harry’s belly, and without thinking he tilts his head back, encouraging Louis to suck firmer kisses over his reddened skin. Louis presses closer, and the worn fabric of his pajamas brushing against Harry’s thigh reminds him of exactly how exposed he is - he feels hot all of a sudden, overheated under his blankets and Louis’ mouth, but he can’t move.
This is -- Louis’ given him lovebites, probably more than he can count on both hands, but all except for a few were in front of other people - none were in bed, none with Harry naked and seconds from getting hard with no way to hide it. He wants to stay still, wants to see what Louis will do if he just remains pliant and relaxed, but he tries to twist away slowly when his dick starts to stir, too wound up to let it happen.
“No,” Louis says - his voice is quiet and gentle, but the hand still wound in Harry’s hair tugs him firmly back into place. Harry exhales heavily once before holding his breath, and he clutches at Louis’ shirt, stretching the collar out of shape.
The kisses against Harry’s throat become noticeably more sensual, and it takes all of his willpower not to start panting. He feels more - it’s not just Louis’ teeth biting him now, it’s Louis’ tongue slipping against his skin between kisses and Louis’ nose brushing along the underside of his jaw when he tilts his head. There’s an ache in his scalp from the tight hold Louis has on his hair, but he’s more focused on the weight of Louis’ thigh on his hip as he moves in even closer.
He wants to say something, maybe something lighthearted to pull them out of this, but he knows he’d be breathless - every time he starts to talk, the words hitch in his throat and never make it out. Louis’ mouth slows on him, like he’s waiting, maybe waiting for Harry to actually push him away this time. When he pauses completely, mouth resting against Harry’s neck as he breathes slow and heavy, Harry angles his head down as subtly as he can to try and catch Louis’ eye.
Louis pulls back obligingly, far enough to meet his stare, but Harry’s eyes trail down to his lips instead. They’re shining and pink, parted while he breathes - when his tongue comes out to lick over his bottom lip, Harry’s dick twitches faintly and he looks away again, embarrassed.
“That’s gonna be there awhile,” Louis says softly. He sounds like he’s teasing, but his voice is light, and the breaths in between seem louder than his words. Harry tries to laugh again, to keep it lighthearted, but it comes out as a harsh exhale and he still can’t think of anything to say - this might be on him now, whether Louis dips his head back down or climbs out of Harry’s bed and leaves the room, but he makes the choice not to choose, fingers stiffly tangled in Louis’ collar. He can feel himself flushing under Louis’ eyes, heat slipping down in tendrils all the way to his chest. There isn’t even darkness to hide in, with the light from outside slipping past cracks in his curtains - he wonders suddenly how badly he’s bruised now, if there are just dark spots of color or individual marks from Louis’ teeth imprinted on his neck, if his lips look as swollen and sensitive as they feel.
The fingers still holding Harry’s curls loosen slowly, and Louis moves his hand away, sliding it down to Harry’s jaw. He presses gently, trying to pull Harry’s attention back to him - Harry follows the direction, locking his eyes determinedly on Louis’ this time. Louis shifts closer, leaning up, and brushes his thumb over Harry’s cheek once. Harry forces himself not to look away, watching Louis watch him. Louis drops a quick, gentle kiss to his lips before pushing against his jaw with just enough insistence to make Harry move obediently, tilting his head back - Louis’ hand moves to Harry’s chest as he leans down, fitting his mouth softly over the front of Harry’s throat.
He stops at the edge of Harry’s jaw, sucking just under his ear, and the heat of his mouth makes Harry squirm. When Louis moves that minuscule bit closer and his pajamas brush teasingly against the side of Harry’s dick, he has to bite back a gasp - he reaches down quickly and grabs onto Louis’ sides, hoping to keep him from moving any closer. Louis barely hesitates, pausing only briefly before leaning up to nuzzle the shell of Harry’s ear, placing a kiss there. His thigh presses down deliberately against Harry’s erection, ignoring the hands trying to keep him from noticing.
“Can feel that,” he murmurs, mouth still on Harry’s ear, and Harry gives up on his composure, panting as he digs his nails into Louis’ sides through his shirt.
“Lou,” Harry breathes out - Louis gently rolls his hips down, closing his teeth over Harry’s earlobe, and Harry can’t stop the gasp this time. His heart is beating so quickly that it’s all he can hear, an anxious pounding inside his ears - he wants to know what to do, where he can touch, because this isn’t something he’s allowed himself to have and he’s still not even sure that he’s allowed to have it.
Louis doesn’t seem to care if he’s allowed. The heel of his hand presses against Harry’s nipple, and he drags it down slowly as he kisses his way back over the side of Harry’s neck. Everything makes Harry shudder - he weakly rocks his hips up once, trapped between Louis’ thigh and the bed. Louis trails his kisses up again to Harry’s jaw, all the way to his cheek, and it almost distracts Harry from the movement of his hands - one comes up to settle back into his hair, pushing some stray strands away from his forehead, while the other slides down, palm still dragging until he reaches Harry’s hip. Almost all of Louis’ weight is on him and he feels breathless enough as it is - he breathes in shallow bursts, pulling the hem of Louis’ shirt higher on his torso.
The hand combing through Harry’s hair slips between his head and the mattress, cradling just above his neck. Louis stays close, fingers brushing along the jut of Harry’s hip as he looks down their bodies. The front of Louis’ thigh is still pressed lightly against his dick, and Louis pushes gently, watching as it twitches toward the contact. Harry wants to cover himself so he does the opposite, arching up into Louis’ hand on his hip as he splays his own over Louis’ torso under his top, fingers slotting into the indentations between his ribs.
The muscles of Louis’ stomach jump under Harry’s thumbs so he pushes them in a bit harder, likes knowing that Louis can be surprised by sensation too. Louis drops his head again and begins to suck little bites along Harry’s collarbone, laving over each spot with his tongue; the damp heat against his skin feels more assertive than before and it makes Harry’s head spin. He rolls his hips up against Louis’, almost unconsciously, searching for more friction than the gentle slide of Louis’ pajamas. The head of his dick catches roughly on the waistband when Louis shifts down and Harry bites back a gasp, moving his hands to insistently tug Louis’ shirt higher until Louis sits up, lifting his arms to let Harry pull it off. When he leans back down to kiss him, Harry’s dick drags against Louis’ bare hip unexpectly, leaving a cool trail of precome in its wake; they both jolt at the touch of skin on skin, gasping into each other’s mouths.
“M’gonna touch you,” Louis murmurs, breathless and half into his cheek, no question behind the statement. Harry inhales sharply - he knows Louis wouldn’t if he said no, but the authority in his tone makes Harry’s heart knock around painfully inside his chest.
“Feel free,” he says back. It sounds too loud, but Louis looks up at him and grins and he feels less vulnerable, for a moment.
Louis leaves more distracting kisses along his jaw, but Harry can feel Louis’ hand curling into the sheet that’s covering his body, and he tenses when it’s pulled away. Keeping his eyes on Louis’ face as he draws back, Harry watches as his gaze travels slowly along the length of his own body, momentarily lingering over his stiff nipples and continuing down until it stops between his legs. Harry’s skin prickles with goosebumps at the way Louis holds the sheet back, eyes flickering from Harry’s face, down and back again - the silent observation makes him feel antsy, aching for Louis to do something other than look.
The feeling doesn’t last long. Louis kicks the sheet to the other side of the bed and pushes himself up to properly straddle Harry’s thigh; his dick looks like it’s straining hard against the thin material of his pants and Harry wants to touch it, wants to get him naked and make him look more like Harry feels. He settles for sliding his hands up Louis’ leg, resting it as high as he dares.
Louis reaches between them to lightly brush the back of his knuckles along the length of Harry’s dick, and Harry can’t keep the groan he’s been holding in any longer. He exhales shakily, breathing out Louis' name but Louis pays him no mind, fingers teasing feather-light up his dick until he reaches the head; Harry’s hips jerk sharply when Louis runs a fingertip right over his slit. Louis’ eyes are focused, trained downward at first to watch his own hand but with each increasingly bold brush of his fingers, Harry feels him glancing up to gauge his reactions: to see when Harry’s cheeks flush, or when his eyes clench shut, or when he presses his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering. It’s like Louis’ memorizing what makes him respond - he hasn’t even stroked Harry yet, lazily exploring instead, trailing his fingers into the grooves between Harry's groin and thigh as he keeps a watchful eye on his face.
Even with just the brief, teasing touches, Harry already feels wrecked. He can’t make his mind work quickly enough to catch up, so he digs his fingers into Louis’ biceps and lets his body react, hips rhythmically lifting and lowering against Louis, hoping for his hand again. Instead, Louis trips his fingers up along Harry’s side and chest, stroking over the fading lovebites scattered across his collarbone.
Feeling anxious, Harry slides one of his hands down Louis’ naked back and around his waist, trying to pull him closer with a quiet, pleading, “C’mere.” Louis leans back in to kiss him indulgently - deep, consuming kisses that make Harry lose what's left of his breath - and drags a hand down the side of Harry’s torso to trail across his skin. The edges of Louis’ fingernails scrape gently against his lower nipple on the journey downward, and the sound he makes in response is lost between their mouths when Louis sucks on his tongue.
The closer Louis’ hand gets to Harry’s dick, the slower he moves; he’s doing it on purpose, Harry knows, trying to draw it out. Despite Harry’s soft pleas mumbled between kisses, “Lou, will-- touch me, c’mon,” Louis rests his hand flat over Harry’s hip, his thumb teasingly rubbing at the jut of his bone. It’s not until Harry thinks to slide his own hand down between them to feel over Louis’ dick that Louis moves, lifting himself away from Harry’s mouth even as his hips press forward against Harry’s palm.
Harry’s skin chills quickly in the open air when Louis pulls his hand away, but when he brings it up to his mouth and licks messily from his palm to the tips of his fingers, Harry body flushes with heat all at once, his dick jerking against his belly. The sight of Louis’ tongue slipping between two of his fingertips distracts Harry - Louis’ hand drops down to circle his dick, and his hips roll up to meet it before he can think to react consciously. The tight warmth of Louis’ hand around him makes Harry’s body arch up, spine bending as he bares his neck, a whine caught in his throat. Arm still in between their bodies, Louis bends down to nip at the underside of Harry’s jaw and slowly pulls upwards, squeezing at the ridge just below his head.
Distractedly, Harry rubs his palm over Louis’ dick through his pajamas and fits his fingers against the shape of it, curling around the shaft. It makes Louis huff out a breath against his jaw and work his hand a few times, wrist twisting to jerk Harry off properly. He’s too close already, hips pushing up in time with Louis’ rhythm, and his hand on Louis’ dick feels more like he’s anchoring himself than anything. Just as he resolves to return the attention Louis is giving him and hooks his fingers into the waist of Louis’ pajamas, Louis shifts away; the band snaps back against his lower stomach and he tugs at Harry’s dick hard once in response, grinning when Harry gasps.
Louis settles himself between Harry’s thighs, placing a hand on his chest when he leans down to kiss him. It’s sloppier now with Harry rapidly losing focus, his concentration stuck on Louis’ hand jerking him steadily, so he lets Louis suck and bite at his bottom lip. He wraps the hand he had on Louis’ dick around his wrist instead, feeling the thin tendons under his fingertips flexing with each upward stroke. Louis breaks away from the kiss again to look between them, slowing down his hand and watching his thumb trace through the drops of precome Harry’s leaking, spreading it down along the underside of his dick. Harry watches with him; the head of his dick looks flushed and dark, especially against the palest skin of Louis’ palm. He curls his toes into the sheets bunched at the bottom of the bed to keep himself from making noise because he feels too loud already, the one panting heavily and letting little sounds slip as Louis touches him.
His dick twitches helplessly against Louis’ hand when Louis starts to shift down; the muscles in Harry’s stomach jump nervously when Louis presses his mouth against it, moving himself lower to hover over Harry’s hips. Louis doesn’t ask, but he looks to Harry’s face and holds his gaze until Harry nods; Louis lowers his head, licking anxiously at his lips before placing a too-gentle kiss to the tip of Harry’s dick.
It’s hardly enough to feel - the firm grip of Louis’ hand around his shaft holds more sensation than the kiss - but Harry still has to fight the urge to squirm. He takes his hand from Louis’ wrist to push Louis’ hair back away from his forehead and clenches the bedsheet in his other fist, desperate for something to do with his hands. Louis begins to explore again, letting his tongue glide across the tip before dipping straight into Harry’s slit, coaxing more precome out of him with his lips framed around the head. He sucks softly, just once, and Harry shifts away from it, his body tensing; Louis’ mouth follows him though, lips bumping against his cock before he laps over the tip again, and Harry knots his fingers through Louis’ fringe, too far gone to stop himself from coming.
Through the white noise of his orgasm he hears Louis curse and feels the hand around his dick go slack - shamelessly, Harry whines and tangles his fingers with Louis’ to make him grip tighter again, helping jerk himself through the aftershocks. Louis’ other hand leaves his hip, and the absence makes him glance down again. He barks out a surprised laugh at the sight; Louis is up on his knees, one hand still trapped under Harry’s on his dick while the other cleans Harry’s come from his cheek, more of it dripping onto his neck from his chin.
“Christ,” Harry breathes out. Louis attempts an affronted glare, but just ends up wiping his hand on Harry’s hip, squeezing his dick almost too tightly.
“You haven’t got very good bedside manner, have you?” he asks.
Harry snorts and ends up dissolving into a fit of laughter that manages to stay silent until Louis buries his face in Harry’s belly, both of them shaking with it.