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Harry has to admit that it's quite beautiful here, the forest stretching on all around him, the campsite in a clearing that's a small bright spot right in the middle of nature. He's even passed a small lake on his way over here, and he wonders if it's possible to swim in it.
Despite the beauty surrounding him, Harry can't help but let out a small sigh. This wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his summer, but he didn't want to wait tables or stand behind a till either. He needed a job to help his parents out with university payment. It might as well be this one.
“Camp counsellors this way ◟̽◞̽” a large sign in front of the biggest house says. Harry tries his best not to pull a face as he drags his too-large suitcase out of the taxi and over the uneven ground. The clearing doesn't only look idyllic, it's also hauntingly empty, not a soul around who might help Harry carry his suitcase. He bites his lip. He's still a bit unsure about this whole summer camp thing, never having been to one as a kid. But better late than never, right?
“Hello,” someone greets him, in the cheerful kind of tone that Harry would definitely associate with a summer camp manager.
He starts to reply, but stops again when he looks up. Because in front of him might be the most beautiful human being he's ever laid eyes on. Sitting behind what looks like a makeshift reception, there's a man, wearing an easy smile and in all likelihood trying not to scare Harry off. Harry probably looks like he feels: considering if he's actually ready to interact with this gorgeous creature. It's just, this man's eyes. They are so blue.
“Hi, love, I'm Louis, the camp coordinator! And you are...” he trails off, looking at Harry expectantly. Slowly, Harry tries to drag his gaze upwards again from where it had gotten stuck on Louis' arms. He has tattoos. He called him love.
“Oh, umm, yes. I mean, I'm Harry. Hi,” he gets out, slower than usual. His brain probably needs to recover from the shock.
“That's all well and good, love, but I'm afraid I need a last name.” Louis is laughing a bit now. Harry can feel his face start to burn.
“Oh, yeah, umm, Styles. Harry Styles.”
“Okay Harry Styles, it says here that you're a first time counsellor, and as it happens, you've also been assigned to the first years! So, here are some ground rules: breakfast is around 8 every morning...”
Harry doesn't mean to zone out again, but, well. Louis' mouth looks very fascinating when he's, like, forming words. He also notices he has a bit of stubble, just the right amount for it to look like he's grown it out on purpose, but not like he's trying for a beard quite yet.
“...So, top or bottom?” Louis asks when Harry tunes back in. And... what? Harry knew he should have been paying more attention but he has no idea how in the hell Louis explaining camp rules to him could have led to discussing sexual preferences this quickly.
He must have smiled and nodded at the wrong place one too many times.
“Umm, well, I don't really believe in labelling gay men only according to their sexual preferences I guess? I mean, there's a lot more to it than that, but if I had to choose... I'm not ashamed that I like a cock up my arse sometimes? And it's really just a bonus if my partner wants to hold me down a bit while he's at it, or rough me up a bit. So I prefer to bottom most of the time, but it really depends on the other person I guess, and....” Harry trails off awkwardly, having realized that Louis is staring at him, his mouth hanging open slightly, forming a little 'o'.
Then Louis, inexplicably, starts laughing.
Harry pulls a face. He thought Louis was gay as well, asking such a leading question, but maybe he's homophobic instead. Fuck.
“You know, I really don't think it's right for you to judge, when you are the one who asked in the first place,” Harry scowls.
Louis, infuriatingly, is still grinning. Also, and Harry might be imagining this, there's a sparkle of something else in his eyes. Maybe even something similar to intrigue.
“Of course I'm not judging, love,” Louis says, his soft tone only betrayed by his smirk. “I'm just still unsure where you'd prefer to sleep in your cabin. You know, the top or the bottom bunk? Because there are bunk beds here?”
Oh. Oh. Harry can feel the blood rushing to his face, embarrassment crawling up his spine and into his whole body.
He just stares at Louis, afraid to say anything, blinking a few times in quick succession in the hopes that all of this is going to turn out to be a bad dream in a few moments.
Then, before he can humiliate himself further, he just grabs the key for the cabin that Louis thankfully already provided, and bolts from the room. He'll just choose a random bed, whatever.
A few hours later, Harry has compiled a helpful list in his head.
Pros to not leaving his cabin bed (he chose the bottom bunk, thank you very much) for the rest of the summer:
-
He doesn't have to face Louis again.
-
His pillow is quite soft.
-
He doesn't have to talk.
-
Sooner or later he's probably gonna dehydrate or starve to death and at this point, that might be a welcome relief.
-
He doesn't have to face Louis again.
Cons: None, as far as he can see.
It turns out, starving actually is a con, his growling stomach reminds him a few hours later, so Harry has to drag himself out of bed to at least get some dinner leftovers.
Of course, because clearly he can't catch a break today, Louis is one of the few people still in the dining room, helping with clean-up.
“Oh, Harry,” Louis spots him immediately and waves enthusiastically. Harry feels the blush creeping up again. He has a feeling it'll become permanently etched onto his face by the end of summer.
Louis is standing right next to the remaining food, so Harry reluctantly makes his way over there.
“I've been looking for you at dinner, I'm glad you made it after all! Have I accidentally told you the wrong time earlier? Sorry, it usually starts at 6, not 7, but I made sure to save you a portion.”
“Oh, umm, no. You've said 6. I just... lost track of time,” Harry mumbles, and grabs the plate of food, awkwardly sitting down at the same table as Louis. Somehow, walking to a different table to sit all by himself away from him would have probably been more awkward, if that is even possible at this point.
“Hey, Harry,” Louis clears his throat, and then starts in a gentle tone, “Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have laughed about our misunderstanding, I'm sorry if I came across as rude.”
Harry frantically starts to shake his head before Louis has even finished talking.
“Oh no, it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for being so weird. I start rambling when I'm nervous, and I guess you...” he trails off, not really wanting to finish that sentence. He has the feeling he's just manoeuvred himself into another embarrassing situation.
“I...?” Louis prompts gently.
“Make me nervous,” Harry admits. “I don't know if you've noticed, but you're very beautiful and to be fair, it doesn't happen every day that a fit guy asks me for my sexual preferences immediately after meeting.”
“Well, they should.” Louis is grinning at him again, but it doesn't seem like a mean grin. “You're obviously very fit as well.”
Harry raises his eyebrows and grins back. “Glad we've established that.” He notices that his voice has gotten a flirty edge to it, but Louis is clearly on the same page as him.
“So,” Louis continues in a teasing tone, not breaking eye-contact. Harry notices that they've both moved closer to each other during their conversation. “Now that we both know we think the other one's attractive, I guess there's only one thing left to answer.”
“What?” Harry has to work hard not to lean even closer to Louis.
“Well, you haven't asked me for my sexual preferences yet.” Louis expectantly raises his eyebrows.
Harry's mouth goes dry. “Oh?” he gets out. He doesn't think he can form actual sentences anymore after that.
“Yes,” Louis grins. “Shame.”
Then he turns around and leaves the dining hall, and Harry swears he's swinging his hips exactly as if he knows that Harry is staring at his arse. Well, he's not wrong.
And Harry now has a not-so-small problem to take care of in his bunk immediately.
The next days are filled with so much fun and chaos that Harry almost forgets all about his and Louis' flirty dinner conversation.
The kids arrive, and they are amazing, but also a handful. Almost five ten-year-olds immediately declare Harry their favourite counsellor on day one, so they won't leave him alone all day, wanting to sit with him during meals, and refusing to participate in any activity if Harry's not personally there to cheer them on.
After three relentless days of entertaining the kids, he's ready for a break.
Luckily, it comes the next evening in the form of a grown-ups bonfire after the kids have gone to sleep. It's the first chance at an actual conversation with Louis Harry has had in days and he's determined not to waste it.
Seeing him sitting next to the bonfire in soft joggers, a beanie and a hoodie makes his resolve crumble though.
He can't do this. He's way too awkward to flirt with cute boys, his last two relationships have only happened because the other guys always made the first steps while Harry kind of went along with everything. Not that those relationships have lasted long, so maybe that wasn't such a foolproof tactic.
He breathes in and out a few more times, then gathers all of his courage and sits down next to Louis.
He needn't have worried, because Louis just smiles at him, inviting and kind as always.
They participate in the group conversation for a while, roasting marshmallows and singing along to a few campfire songs that a blond Irish guy, Niall, plays for them on guitar.
Louis' voice is, just like the rest of him, beautiful and soft, and Harry finds himself harmonizing with him almost subconsciously.
At some point, Harry doesn't realize exactly when it happened, they are suddenly only talking to each other anymore. Harmless stuff, mostly, like their past few days, their lives at home, their past camp experiences. Harry can feel himself leaning closer to Louis as the evening gets colder, and eventually their sides are fully pressed against each other.
Harry doesn't know if it's that closeness, the fumes of the fire, or the two beers he's had, but for some reason, after a few hours of getting lulled into security by Louis' body heat, he blurts out, “So, what are your sexual preferences then?”
Louis, to his credit, doesn't appear particularly shocked or offended by this question. He's probably expected it ever since he left a flustered Harry in the dining hall a few days ago.
“Mmh, I think we might match quite well, if you catch my drift,” he smirks at Harry. There's that sparkle in his eyes again.
“Yeah?” Harry tries for flirty, but it just comes out a bit breathy.
“Yeah.”
Harry might be imagining things, but he thinks Louis is leaning even closer into him at that.
Fuck it, Harry thinks, takes a deep breath, leans in as well, and lets their lips meet.
Kissing Louis Tomlinson might have been the biggest mistake of Harry's life.
Not because it was bad. No, because it might have been the best kiss Harry's ever had, and it led to them giving each other, in Harry's humble opinion, fantastic blowjobs in Louis' cabin. Louis' single cabin, that he doesn't have to share with anyone because he literally runs this whole camp.
The downside is, that Harry doesn't know how he's ever supposed to do anything else after this. He can't stop kissing Louis, or touching him, and even when those things are physically not possible, he keeps thinking about him. The kids have called him out several times by now for how distracted he's been, and he can't blame them.
He's a mess.
Because of all the thinking he's been doing about Louis, there's also the nagging thought that usually, he doesn't do casual sex. Louis has given no indications that it's anything more than a bit of harmless fun for him, and Harry's spent the past few days convincing himself that he can do this. He can be chill. So what if he wasn't the type for casual sex before? He has plenty of time to grow as a person, and what better place to grow than summer camp?
“Harry, can I ask you something?” Louis mumbles against his lips a few days later.
It's a day at the lake with swimming and picnics, so Harry and Louis have decided that enough responsible adults are watching the kids, and to treat themselves to an extensive lunch break.
Which, for them, means that they grabbed a picnic blanket and found a spot surrounded by a lot of high grass where they can only faintly hear the children's laughter anymore, and it has, as it usually does these days, evolved into a make-out session.
“Yeah, 'course,” Harry breathes back, not really paying attention to anything but Louis' lips, the touch of Louis' skin against his hands and the feeling of Louis' leg pressed right against his crotch.
“Remember our talk about sexual preferences? Should we revisit that at some point?” Louis asks. His tone is light, but Harry still freezes up a bit.
He's been good about the whole casual sex part until now, but probably only because it hasn't been actual sex yet. They only get a few stolen moments here and there, so there wasn't really time to actually fuck until now, at least not the kind of time that Harry usually likes to have.
So they stuck to blowjobs and handjobs for now, but Louis is right, Harry's getting impatient by now as well.
It's just... not exactly the sex part that he has a problem with. It's the casual part of it.
“Yes!” he hurries to answer though. Quickly and way too loudly, like an idiot. “We should. Totally. Do that.” He tries to casually prop up his elbows on the blanket, resting his head in his hands, but his head misses his hands by a fraction and he ends up almost falling onto his face. This talk is going great so far.
Luckily, Louis doesn't call him out on it, but just giggles and resumes kissing him. Harry tries to lean into it, but he doesn't stop thinking about their conversation for the rest of the day.
They get the opportunity to have actual sex eventually, but Harry's a bit miffed about the fact that it's on their last night of camp already.
They just didn't define anything yet. This is actually going to be the casual sex that he's tried to tell himself he was so fine with these entire two weeks.
He did not secretly hope that Louis would profess his undying love – or at least his desire to date him – before they actually slept together. That would be ridiculous.
There's a “Last Night of Camp” party going on outside, but Harry and Louis have excused themselves to Louis' cabin as soon as the kids got sent off to bed at 9pm.
Well, Louis has tried to give a weak excuse of being incredibly tired and Harry just mumbled something and then hurried after him. Harry's pretty sure there were catcalls (mostly from Niall).
So, here they are, in Louis' cabin, that is – to Harry's great surprise – actually clean and tidy. Soft music is coming from Louis' phone and, “Are those fairy lights?” Harry asks incredulously. He's pretty sure those weren't here yesterday.
“Yeah,” Louis waves it off, not quite meeting Harry's eyes. “Found them during my last decorating workshop, and the kids didn't need them. Figured someone should use them.”
Harry just nods, a bit speechless.
Louis doesn't give him time to think about it in detail though, he just pulls Harry down onto the bed, and for a while they just make out, like any other time they've done this. Harry can feel himself relaxing into it. Even if this doesn't mean anything, it's Louis. They've only known each other for two weeks, but for some reason, Harry trusts him with this. He knows Louis will take care of him.
“Darling,” Louis starts after they've both gotten rid of their shirts and Harry's fumbling with Louis' jeans. “Remember what you said that day we first met?”
Harry blushes furiously. He thought it was implied that he would bottom in this scenario, he didn't think they'd have to talk about that embarrassing moment again.
He just nods.
“During your outburst, well, you said,” now it's Louis' turn to blush, “You said that you liked it a bit rougher? To be held down? Is that still something you might want?”
“Umm,” Harry chokes out. “Yes, yes, I do... but maybe... start slowly? I still want it to be...” he doesn't quite know how to describe the mood he's in, what he's hoping to get out of this.
“Gentle?” Louis finishes his sentence softly though, and Harry nods, relieved. He knows that he must have stars in his eyes when he looks up at Louis, who's so ready to give him everything he ever wanted out of a sexual experience.
And Louis does, of course. Give Harry everything he wants, that is. After he's finished undressing him the rest of the way, he starts softly exploring Harry's body with his tongue and his hands for so long that Harry's already a mess when Louis finally starts opening him up.
Louis has been so gentle so far that Harry worries he's forgotten all about his promise to be rough as well, but when Harry starts whining and bucking up his hips after Louis takes forever to give him a second finger, he pushes him back down into the mattress.
“Be good for me,” Louis whispers, the words going straight to Harry's cock. He lets out another whine, but stills his hips.
When Louis finally pushes in, his hands find their way to Harry's wrists so naturally that Harry doesn't even realize that he's being held down into the mattress until Louis starts to fuck him more roughly. A noise gets pushed out of Harry at every thrust, and there's nothing to do but give in to the sensation, because Louis is everywhere, pressing his hips down with his body, holding his wrists above his head with his hands, occupying Harry's mouth with his own.
Harry doesn't know if someone has ever made him felt so free during sex, even though physically he barely has room to move, just has to take what Louis gives him. But his mind is almost blank, he's just completely given in to the feeling of Louis in him, Louis all around him, Louis, Louis, Louis.
When Harry finally comes between them, almost untouched, Louis praises him the whole way through, mumbling nonsense about how pretty he is, calling him Love, and Darling a thousand times.
“Baby,” Louis chokes out when he comes as well, and Harry would never admit it, but his cock gives a weak twitch at that, even though he's exhausted. It's safe to say that that pet-name might be his favourite.
His last thought before he drifts off to sleep, is that he wouldn't mind it if Louis called him his baby for a long long time, maybe forever.
The last day of camp is busy, both of them getting up in the morning with nothing more than a quick peck on the lips. So busy, that when the time finally comes to say goodbye to each other, they haven't had a minute to themselves all day. They haven't talked about anything that happened.
Harry is already exhausted from seeing off all of the kids, especially his favourite ones. Some have even started to cry and Harry has shed a tear or two himself. He's really come to love those kids, so he doesn't know if he's ready for yet another goodbye. The most important one.
“This is it, huh?” Harry starts, when he's standing in front of Louis a few hours later. The cabins are all cleaned up, the kids all gone, and the staff is slowly trickling out as well. Phone numbers, hugs and promises to write are being exchanged all around them.
Louis, usually so eloquent, just nods, looking at Harry with wide eyes. For the first time since Harry has met him, he seems to be just as lost for words as Harry is.
Harry hugs him, just like he hugged his other co-counsellors, but he has to admit that he holds on to Louis for a bit longer than necessary, letting himself melt into the hug.
“Harry!” there is a shout behind him suddenly, and there is his family, ready to pick him up. He reluctantly lets go of Louis and gets swept up in the excitement of seeing his mum and Gemma again, trying his best to answer all of their insistent questions about camp life.
“So, ready to go?” his mum asks a few minutes later, and Harry realizes that Louis isn't standing next to him anymore. He looks around frantically a few times, even asks some of the others where Louis went, but no one has seen him.
He tries to stall for a few more minutes, taking especially long to load all of his things into the trunk, but eventually he has to admit that Louis isn't going to show up again.
He gets into the car. While his mum is driving off, he turns around to have one last look at what's probably been some of the best few weeks of his life so far. And there, suddenly standing in front of the large camp sign at the entrance, is Louis.
“Stop the car!” Harry screeches, not expecting his mum to slam on the breaks quite so vigorously, looking around in panic for an animal on the street she may have overlooked.
“Oops, sorry,” Harry apologizes quickly, before he jumps out of the car without another word, running back towards the campsite and crashing right into Louis' arms.
“You didn't say goodbye,” Harry gets out, before he kisses him breathlessly. For moment, he worries that Louis is not going to kiss him back, that all of this was just a quick summer flirt to him, and by not saying goodbye he wanted to let Harry down gently.
But then Louis does kiss him back, and lets out a relieved laugh against Harry's lips.
“I thought it might be easier that way,” he admits quietly. “That way you wouldn't have to tell me that you had fun, but only wanted to stay friends.”
Harry quickly shakes his head. “I thought you wanted this to be casual. You know, we've never talked about where we live. I go to King's College. Didn't you mention something about London as well?”
“University of London,” Louis chokes out, incredulously. “Lived in London for three years now. You know, when I'm not managing this camp.”
They beam at each other.
“Well,” Harry grins at him, still shaking a bit from the adrenaline of running back here. He can feel a few eyes on him, his mum and Gemma probably included. Right now, he doesn't care at all though.
“Don't feel pressured to say yes, but... Louis Tomlinson, would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe next week?”
“Yes,” Louis smiles, and kisses him again.
Harry has a good feeling that his next few summer vacation destinations have just been decided.