Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

The thing about it is, Louis has known, for a long time, that he's a bit of an attention seeker, an extrovert if you will. He likes it - being the loud one, the ring leader, the one who draws the eyes and looks. In some ways, it lets Louis be known in the way he wants to be known. It's better to put himself out there, put it all on display, than to be speculated about. There is nothing worse than the whispers behind hands, the judging eyes, the rumors that fuel people’s interest. This way is a much more direct approach – a this is me, take it or leave it.

It helped him when he got to university. Starting first year with a football scholarship got him in the right circles, sure, or at the very least, know who was some of the right people were. But it was Louis' personality - charming, hilarious, and with just a pinch of mischief - that pushed him from new freshman to popular within a few months. If college, like most of the world, runs on a sort of class system – Louis Tomlinson, in one full term, managed to become campus king.

Unanimously chosen as youngest footie captain in the school's history.
Elected Fraternity President at the end of his first year.
Social chair on the student body government.
An entire crew of mates who are nothing but wholly loyal.

But, like all kings, Louis needed a queen. Someone to even out that rambunctious, tenacious attitude of Louis'. A sugar to his salt, if you will. They needed to have enough of a gleam in their eye to keep him interested, but could sooth the wild inferno always burning up in Louis' heart. It couldn't be just anyone. Louis wasn't interested in quick flames. He wanted forever.

It happened at orientation in Louis' second year. He was working the welcoming table, ushering parents and new students to their respective dorms, giving out pamphlets, being a good member of student government. It was between straightening one stack of paper from the next that Louis heard a shuffling before him and looked up into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

Harry Styles.

Six feet tall with dimples, a Canon rebel around his neck, and a button up shirt that looked like it was thrifted from a grandpa's basement. His mass of curls, long enough to brush his shoulders, was half pulled from his sharp angled face into a small bun on the top of his head. It didn't contain the few strands he tucked behind his ear though, staring shyly down at Louis with his knees knocked together. Louis hadn't been able to settle on what he liked more - Harry's little, bashful grin at Louis' staring or the way his legs seemed to stretch forever in those black jeans.

Harry had raised his camera, carefully fitting the viewfinder up to his eye before he took a picture of Louis – awestruck and shimmering in the summer glow. The little giggle he let out afterwards was addicting, explaining in a slow drawl that Harry always made it his mission to photograph the most interesting thing in his day - and he already knew nothing else would compare today.

It had been the final blow. The shooting star across Louis’s vision. Here he was – bright like the moon and just as enchanting. Louis didn't even make it all the way through orientation week before he was sequestering Harry off to a coffee shop, charming him with stories of his little sisters and college life.

That was all it took - a few little dates and some romantic kisses down by the river. A very eventful night including half of Louis' frat keeping watch when they snuck up on a roof. And, like some cosmic force pulling them together, Harry and Louis became HarryandLouis.

It's known around campus now - the unit that they've become, practically domestic at this point. So, it makes no sense, none really, that Louis feels such a strong urge to remind people that they're together. That Harry is his and his only.

It started with just hand holding, innocent PDA, walking Harry to class and sending him off with a gentle kiss, a hand on his waist. They've been together a year now. It's normal to see them walking around campus together, going for tea at the local shop, lounging on the lawn on Harry's vintage blankets. But to Louis, as sweet as cream as it is, it's not enough.

Louis couldn't leave it like that, couldn't just leave it at that. He isn't blind. He sees the looks that Harry gets, the open stares when he struts across from the photography building to the dorms, that camera always in his hand. The darker glances at parties, wandering hands and comments slurred when Harry goes to dance in the living room with Niall or Zayn. When he’s all dolled up in his sequin dresses and chiffon. It doesn't mean anything. Louis knows that. He trusts Harry more than anyone else. Loves him like his own heart is in Harry's chest. It's just everyone else that can fuck off.

So, Louis started leaving marks, just love bites a little too high to be covered by Harry's shirts, his jumpers, his collection of scarves. Harry never minded, delirious on pleasure and spread out over Louis' bed. There is an ego in that too - the knowledge that Louis and Louis alone has ever had Harry like that, has been the only one to bring Harry to that point, to watch his eyes glaze over and his mouth open - gasping 'Daddy' like a prayer over and over.

But jealousy is a vicious sin and Louis doesn't know why he needs people to know but he does. He wants to show off, vanity rearing its head when Harry seeks him out, pushes his way through a crowd with that grin that is only for Louis. When he watches the disappointment spread over Harry's admirers when he curls into Louis' arms, kisses all over his face.

It's why he doesn't feel bad when it turns up a notch. When it's so blatant it can't be ignored.

They're back from a weekend away - Louis having stolen Harry to a cabin on a lake a few hundred miles away to celebrate their one year. It was just them for miles, trees and water and bright sunshine in the fall air. Louis had only seen the surrounding woods from the back deck, but still. Why would he go hiking when Harry woke up every day looking like that? Calling for Louis in that sweet voice of his? So soft and open Louis wanted nothing more than to stay inside of him forever?

Campus is pretty busy in the late September air, leaves crunching under foot as they make their way across the quad. Harry is tucked into Louis’ side, a small blanket and pillow rolled up under his free arm. They’ve had to go it a little slow, even if half of Louis’ frat is waiting on him for a pickup game of footie. Louis would feel bad about it, should probably feel a bit more responsible than he does, except for the fact that every time Harry flinches, he blushes a brilliant shade of pink.

“You okay, baby?” Louis grins, can’t help it, soothing a hand down Harry’s spine. He’s got the softest jumper on today, cranberry red with flecks of gold in it that Louis can’t seem to keep his fingers off. “Not too tired from the trip?”

“Mhm.” Nodding, Harry ducks his head as he skids his boots on the brick walkway, grimacing a little. He’s not hobbling as much as a slightly limping, a little bow legged. “I’m alright. Just peachy.”

“Aw, love, you sure you want to come?” Louis asks, easing his hand down further until he can hook it into Harry’s back pocket, careful when he curls his fingers in to grip his ass. Louis likes teasing him, but he would let Harry leave if he wanted to, isn’t as cruel as the bruises would imply. “I won’t be mad, darling, promise. You can go nap at the house. Take a bath.”

“No. No, I promised Z I’d have a create date with him.” Harry dismisses, leans into kiss Louis’ cheek, sugar sweet with a hand on Louis’ chest. “Plus, I um. I don’t mind it. Them. I deserved it. So.”

“It was a punishment you earned.” Louis nods seriously, can’t help cracking a little smile at the easy affection and the way the sunlight is playing off of Harry’s curls. Even when he isn’t trying, he still manages to dance right across Louis’ heart strings. “Daddy did warn you. It was you that decided to be a brat.”

“I know.” Harry flushes darker now, glancing around like the freshman behind them with the huge stack of books is eavesdropping. He is but that’s never stopped Louis before. So, what if he finds out that Harry had blatantly ignored specific instructions not to come when Louis was in the shower and when he failed to do so, was punished for it? Even brand-new freshmen are smart enough not to ask Harry questions when Louis is around.

“Then, what do you say?” Louis pauses at the edge of the field, the grass spread out before them. On the other end, Liam is already waving at them, Niall too. Louis isn’t going to move until he hears what he wants though.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Harry is so pretty when he's obedient, eyes wide and bottom lip curled into his mouth. Louis has half a mind to turn them around and head back to Harry's dorm at the sight of it. He has a single in one of the buildings on the other side of the quad, a quaint little space that Harry is usually absent from considering he basically lives at the frat house with Louis. Louis loves that dorm though. It's so Harry - filled with old movie and concert posters, a plethora of pillows on the small mattress, always smelling like cloves and cinnamon. Plus, the sunlight spills in through the tree right outside the window in the late afternoon and turns Harry gold in the light. Louis’ background has been a snapshot of that for ages.

"Good boy." Louis leans in, kisses Harry slow and open, can't even consider pulling away until he's explored his mouth thoroughly. When he does, Harry looks dazed and a little rosy, head tilted to the side. "You alright to sit with Zayn now, baby? Got everything you need?"

"Yeah. I'm alright." Harry mumbles, leans back in for one more kiss. It's always one more with him - Louis' greedy boy. One more minute in bed. One more kiss. One more moment basking in each other's company. "Go play with the lads."

"You gonna watch me?" Louis smirks, tilts his head in the direction of where the other boys are waiting on him. "Don't want you to miss me kicking their arse."

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it." Harry nods with a little grin, seems to snap himself out of whatever daze he slipped into from the kisses. He's all wide grins and mischievous eyes when he nudges the tip of his nose against Louis. "Have fun!"

He watches Harry retreat across the grass, strut slow and a little awkward, basket clutched in his arms. There are a few people lounging who look up when he passes, but they’re quick to turn away. Harry still meets Zayn with a jovial sort of wave though, mouth open in a delighted grin. His blanket today is a flaxen sort of yellow with large sunflowers on it, faded from age and use, the tassels on the edge a little stiff. He spreads it out across the grass, tucking the corners down, before Harry suddenly straightens, turning back with a hand up to block the sun.

"Lou!" He waves Louis over from where he was already halfway across the field, stopping in his tracks. Liam groans audibly when Louis instantly turns around and comes back to his boyfriend. Like there was even a chance he wouldn’t.

"Alright darling?"

“Mhm. Just forgot something.”

Drawing in close, Louis accepts the kiss Harry gives him, all syrupy slow and deep. It's the type of kiss that feels dangerous, warm heat and saccharine. a precursor to something else. And it is - Louis freezing when Harry boldly reaches into the pocket of his shorts. They're loose, adidas stripes up the side, and Harry tilts his hand, brushing a purposefully palm over Louis' cock before he grabs what he's after.

"You asked me to hold these." Shameless and dimpled, Harry shows off the pack of Marlboros he just stole from Louis' pocket, lighter between his fingertips.

"Oh, the cheek." Louis reaches up, grabbing Harry's cheek between his fingers in a pinch, shaking it a little. “Bold as brass, you are. Didn’t get enough all weekend?”

“Never get enough of you.”

Harry hums in amusement, leaning in to slip his hand back in on the other side, repeating the motion with a little more purpose this time. He curls his fingers around the crown of Louis’ cock, flicks his thumb over the tip through the fabric just how he knows that Louis likes, gets him hard every time, before slipping away with Louis’ phone in hand.

“You're treading thin ice, darling.” Louis releases Harry’s cheek, reaching up to tug on a curl, slipping it behind Harry’s ear. He can never seem to keep his hands off of Harry, always has to be touching him somehow, connected. “What you aiming for? Getting me hard before the lads? You think I’m going to be concentrating on footie now when I had your hand around me cock?”

“Just wanted to wish you luck.” Harry bats his eyelashes, innocent and demure as he leans in, presses a cute kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose. “Promise.”

“You’re a tease, Curly. You know that?” Louis rolls his shoulders back, releasing his hold on Harry completely. If he doesn’t, he’s never going to leave. “Now be good, alright?”

“I’m always good. Best baby.” Harry giggles but does as he’s told, stepping back to the blanket, his stolen treasures in hand.

Louis runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before heading across the grass again. It’s never easy to leave Harry, to create space between them, but it’s almost torture coming off this weekend. When everything is still so fresh, still high from the intimacy and pleasure of being secluded with one another. Louis grew addicted to the freedom of it, the way no one was around to interrupt, to draw one of them away for a study date or class or footie practice. All that mattered up in that cabin was the two of them and that king size bed.

“Oi! Tommo!” Calvin bumps his shoulder into Louis’ roughly, slapping him on the back. “Welcome back. Trip alright?”

“Yeah, Louis, how was the honeymoon?” Niall ribs good naturedly, twisting this way and that, stretching out his shoulders. This isn’t a real game or practice, more of a fun thing to do in the late afternoon, but all of the boys take it seriously. Louis will be shocked if someone doesn’t bleed today.

“Alright. No complaints.” Louis shrugs a little, lets Liam wrap his arm around his shoulders in a brotherly hug. “Hazza and I had a good time.”

“I bet.” Luke nudges into Louis, lowering his voice and waggling his eyebrows. “Saw the princess pillow. And the limp.”

“Well, what can I say?” Louis isn’t usually one to kiss and tell. He’s private with Harry, likes to protect him a bit, but Louis can’t deny the warmth that spreads through his stomach when he gets to brag a bit. And brag he should after the weekend he just had. “You know H. Always up for a challenge. Just doesn’t always know when to stop.”

“What’d you do? Lots of hiking, I bet?” Jason – a new guy who just got recruited to the frat at the beginning of term – interjects into the conversation. He’s eager to please, eager to get on Louis’ good side, and just dumb enough he usually does. “Harry likes to run, doesn’t he?”

“Oh.” Louis’ eyebrows raise, feeling just facetious enough to play along. “Yeah, he does. Really into physical exercise. Full body work outs and all that. Yoga. Pilates. Anything to loosen him up, that deep stretch.”

“I should ask for some tips on what he does to keep his quads like that. He has great legs.” Jason - sweet, stupid, blond Jason – stares over to where Harry is half lounged back on his hands, perched on top of that faded pillow. He’s grinning with Zayn, chatting with a pair of white sunglasses on top of his head, oblivious to the group of men staring at him. “Does he bench? Do you know? Or is it just sports?”

“Louis.” Liam starts in warning, seeming to already know what the other man is going to say before he does, but it doesn’t stop him.

“Actually, funny you ask. Harry is actually a skilled equestrian.” Louis answers matter of fact delighted when he sees Niall’s head whip around, his mouth already spread in a wide grin. He won’t give away the plot though.

“Really?” Jason asks, shocked as he glances from Louis’ innocent face to where Harry is still sprawled, smoothing his too short shirt over his hips. Louis knows quiet intimately “I would have never guessed.”

“Took up the hobby beginning of freshman year, actually.” Louis ignores Liam’s muttered ‘Christ’s sake, Lou’ under his breath and continues. “He’s really, really good at it. Watching him ride is really an out of body experience.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.” Jason nods a few times, still staring openly. So innocent it’s almost painful. “I’ll have to ask him about it sometime. I’d love to get some tips.”

“About Harry’s horse-riding abilities?” Niall finally breaks, cackling loudly as he slings an arm around Jason’s shoulders, jostling the boy roughly. “I’m sure he’d love that. Let’s go ask Haz about how well he rides.”

“Oi. Come on lads. We playing or what?” Oli finally speaks up, turning from where he had been talking distractedly to another boy Frankie. He’s just caught the end of it, but he knows Louis’ grin well enough to know when something is going on.

“Yeah! I’ve only been waiting here for nearly half an hour.” Liam is quick to get them back on task, complaining loudly. “Shirts and skins then? Louis is on my team. Niall, Frankie?”

“Oi! You can’t take all the upper men.” Oli snaps, reaching out to tug Calvin to him. “Not fair. We should count off.”

“It’s a pickup game, Oli. Not the pros.” Liam rolls his eyes, glancing around. “Fine. You can have Frankie.”

“Hey!” Frankie protests, throwing his hands up. “What if I wanted to be on your team?”

“Fairs, fair, mate.” Liam shrugs pointing his head towards the other side. “Don’t blame me. It’s Oli who threw a fit.”

“I did not!” Oli starts to shout but Louis is quick to get between them, throwing his hands up. “You're not even Captain!”

“Alright, alright lads! Calm down. Oli, let’s keep the teams as they are. Show our newest the best and put them to task, yeah? No better man to lead them than you.” Louis reaches out, patting Oli on the shoulder and shaking him a bit. “Promise you can choose next time, yeah?”

“Fine, but then you get skins.” Oli shrugs, bumping his fist against Louis’. “Captain’s choice, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Louis rolls his eyes good naturedly. “You heard him, lads. Off with the kit.”

Louis turns towards the blankets, far enough away that he can’t really make out what Harry is saying to make Zayn grin like that, but he can tell Harry is peeking at him. Louis makes a point then when he strips off his shirt to go slow, inches it over his stomach, his chest, and then off his head- tossing it to the side. It gives Harry a front row seat to the way Louis’ ink curls over his chest, abs flexing a little as he straightens his shorts. He’s about to cheekily blow him a kiss when a shout behind him startles him.

“Holy fuck, Louis!” It’s Calvin, voice raised high and sharp, startling a couple walking on the path. “Did your trip include you getting mauled by a bear?”

“What?” Louis looks over his shoulder, something warm and churning growing in his stomach. He knew they were there, just wasn’t expecting to show them off like this. It feels good though – in an unexpected way. Let them look. Let the whole world see them. See what Louis does to Harry, what only Louis can.

“Your back, mate! What the fuck happened?” Jason this time, comes up behind him, smooth forehead now wrinkled in worry. He goes to touch Louis’ shoulder and then thinks better of himself, holding his hand awkwardly up in the air. “Christ’s sake!”

“Oh, we know what happened.” Niall cackles loudly, nudging his arm into Louis’. He looks entirely too amused, matching Liam’s grim expression. “Good job mate. Proud of you, really. Had a real go of it?”

“It wasn’t all at once.”

Louis shrugs a little, feigns disinterest. What the boys are staring at is a masterpiece really. Louis hadn’t realized in the moment what it was going to look like, but later when he got up to shower, he saw the whole thing at once in the mirror. There are scratch marks marring his shoulder blades, thin, red lines stretching from the base of his neck down to his ribs. Around his sides, where the curve of his waist is, are the worst ones. Those look angry, deep welts from someone scrambling to hold on, keep Louis close to him as Harry was nearly fucked through the wall. If Louis closes his eyes, he can almost see Harry’s desperation, his mouth open in loud cries as Louis slammed into him over and over again.

"What in the-" Jason mutters, leaning in closer to see the furthest scratches on Louis' shoulders. These ones are jagged and deep where Harry's fingernails dug in, probably in the middle of coming and mindless on pleasure. “Have you gotten these checked out? Has a doctor seen them? What in the world happened to you?”

“They’re sex scratches, Jason.” Liam mutters, coughing a little as he straightens his jersey. It’s not like he’s a prude. It’s one thing to get sex hinted at; it’s another to have it shown so blatantly in his face. It’s also that Liam knows Harry, is one of his best friends. Liam’s own boyfriend is sprawled out on the blanket next to Harry. The last thing Liam needs is Zayn getting any ideas. “Honestly, lad. You’re nineteen.”

“Oh.” Jason’s pale face burns crimson, cheeks gone a ruddy shade of red. “I see.”

“And what did you do to him then?” Niall interrupts Jason’s quiet muttering, glancing out across the grass, squinting his eyes against the sun. “If you look like that. Can Hazza even walk?”

“Only what he deserved.” Louis smirks, leans back so Liam can’t see him and opens his hand towards Niall. It’s enough of an indication for Niall’s voice to carry again, his laughter loud and contagious as it echoes around the field.

“Alright lads. Thought we were here to play footie, yeah? Come on with it.” Louis glances up, sees Harry and Zayn staring at them now. There is no way they didn’t hear Jason shouting, both of them with their heads cocked slightly to the side. Louis hears Zayn’s gasp all the way from across the field when he turns around to steal the ball out of Niall’s hand.

“Hazza!” Zayn hisses, smacking a hand into Harry’s shoulder. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Harry whispers back, voice barely lowered. He’s never really been that good at whispering. He just knows that freshman is going to pop out of nowhere and eavesdrop again. “I didn’t even know it happened. We were kind of marathoning and I was. I mean. There was no break to check.”

“Marathoning? What? So, he didn’t pull out ever?” Zayn glances from where Louis is dribbling the ball to Harry again. They do look like they sting. It’s Harry’s bright flush that gives him pause though. “Wait, what?”

“He just, um, keeps going? Until he’s hard again? Like he stays in me.” Harry mutters, reaches down to play with the fringe on the end of the blanket. “It keeps me, um, well, I’m really soaked down there. For him. You know. And it’s kind of like. A girl. But also. Overstimulation? And I wasn’t in my right mind. Cause like. Sub. Space. Yeah.”

“Okay.” Zayn sets his sketchbook down, turning to fully face Harry. “I got a lot of what you just said and some of it I’m not sure I wanted to know. But Haz-”

“It’s not as bad as my ass!” Harry bristles, voice sharp a little.

“Your ass?” Zayn’s eyebrows raise. It’s not like Liam and him have a vanilla sex life. There have been handcuffs, toys, questionable food choices, but this is something else.

“See, look.” Harry dig his phone out of his pocket, opening it to the gallery and turning it sharply to face Zayn.

On it is a picture of a bathroom mirror, the edges stained with fog from a shower. It's been brushed away just enough to capture the backside of Harry, a towel aesthetically draped across his front to hide any explicit details. It seems a little ridiculous though because Harry's whole ass is on display - his cheeks and thighs a deep, violet red, stamped out in overlapping hearts.

“Oh my god.” Zayn slowly raises his hand over his mouth, glancing from the phone to Harry to the pillow he’s perched on and then back to the phone. “Was this…a paddle?”

“My favorite. Got it last Valentine’s Day when I-“ Harry starts rambling, only to be interrupted by a shout of his name.

“Oi! Harry!”

The boys, soccer ball left at Louis’ feet, have all lined up in a single file line across the field – matching serious faces and chests puffed out. Louis, who is in the middle, looks entirely too amused by the whole thing as slowly, each of them raises their hand in a two fingered salute. It’s followed quickly by a bow – like some sort of congratulatory wave boasting towards him. Harry feels the heat curl up his spine, over the bridge of his nose, down onto his throat. He must be scarlet now.

“Did they just-“ Zayn starts softly, cut off by Harry’s small whine.

“Congratulate me for Louis’ back? Yes.”

“Prettiest kitty cat I’ve ever seen!” Louis shouts jovially with his friends, Liam quick to wrap his arms around him and tug him back towards the field, shouting the whole time about finally getting to it.

2.

Louis isn't sure when it started, really. It's not like he's trying to make Harry uncomfortable or cross any boundaries. He knows Harry likes his privacy, doesn't like too many people knowing too much about him. And Louis loves that. He loves Harry more than anything, only wants him to feel happy and comfortable, well taken care of. It's just that Louis gets this warm, little thrill every time he gets to show off, give others a glimpse into what is Louis', proud of their relationship, ridiculously happy with his baby. If he could, he would shout it from every rooftop - look what I have and look what I, and I alone, do to keep it. If it's exhibitionism then fine, Louis is guilty of it. But he can't help that he gets an ego every time somebody watches Harry walk across campus and directly into Louis' arms. It's where he's meant to be and Louis has earned the place to do it.

It's late on a Tuesday and Louis has been agonizing over a psychology paper for hours now. When he signed up for the elective, it had seemed like a fun add on to the semester – exploring how the mind works, why people do the things they do, but now he's three weeks in and Louis is so sick of Freud it's almost comical. He doesn’t care about his obtuse ideals on hysteria and the female infatuation with punishment. Louis just wants the term to be over with already. It doesn't help that the frat group chat has been blowing up for the past half an hour, phone vibrating insistently on his desk. There is a footie game on, something Louis is only marginally bitter about missing, and the whole crew seems to be holding four different conversations at once.

It’s the reason Louis will give for his slip of hand, distracted and frustrated, trying hard to ignore the plethora of memes and picture messages flooding over in a constant stream while he slaves over linking together Jung and Skinner’s opinions on trauma. It’s in the middle of a debate about what they should all do this weekend that Calvin asks for the video from the party last week, the one with the keg stan. It’s honestly impressive – Liam beating Nick out for Keg King again. Louis hadn’t really paid attention when he flipped his gallery open and clicked the first video with a hat in it that he saw, knew Frankie was wearing one in front of him while Louis film. It's only when it fully loaded in the group chat that he realizes what he’s done.

The general video folder on his phone is right next to a hidden one and Louis must have hit that one instead, glancing between the computer screen and his phone. He hadn't even noticed that it was the folder - the one that contains about eighty videos and photos in extremely good focus that Louis almost always password protects. Except this time - it didn’t ask for it. And now, Louis can do nothing but stare down at the group chat in absolute horror as the video begins playing in preview.

It's shot from above, the phone having been held just shy of Louis' chin, camera facing down at the bed before him. Harry is on his hands and knees, his long, muscular back taking up most of the screen, still a little tan from summer holiday. Perched backwards on his head is a familiar red and black snapback, Chicago Bulls logo spread just above the brim. It shifts a little on top of the curls as Harry trembles. He's impatient, needy, but he's being good - waiting for instructions.

Above the low music and murmured conversations of what sounds like a party shut out behind a door, Harry’s voice can be heard making these frantic moans, held down and in place by Louis’ hand in the center of his back, the 28 tattoo across his knuckles giving away who is filming. It’s hard to tell why Harry is so desperate, practically begging, until Louis pans the camera down, follows the length of Harry’s spine to where he's just barely pushed inside of him. His cock looks thick as fuck, a flushed, deep red against Harry’s pink hole.

"Come on, little dove. Take what you want." Louis' gruff voice commands in the video, thumb tapping down on his hip, and Harry lets out a high, reedy moan as he finally gets what he wants.

He rocks back while Louis stays still, fucking himself down until Louis' cock disappears from sight, taken to the root in one smooth glide. Harry's whole body shudders from the pressure, but he doesn't stop, rocking forward and then back down again, taking Louis again even when it’s clear it’s too much. He looks like he wants to go down on his elbows, shifting around, but Louis' hand sliding down to his side, smacking his ass with an audible crack.

"You can do better than that, baby. Come on." Louis rubs over the large red mark he left. "You begged for it and now you're barely fucking yourself. Do I have to do everything myself?"

"No! No, I'll do better. Fuck. It’s just-" Harry whines, voice going unnaturally high, yelping when he gets another spank. It forces him to shove back though, thrusting down onto Louis' cock roughly. “Shit, Lou, you’re so big.

It's after that the clip ends, though Louis knows there is another video later on of Harry riding him in that snapback, nearly screaming his way through coming untouched, striping white up his stomach and onto his chest. Louis has watched that video enough times to have memorized the shocked, wide mouthed stare Harry had given him, hands held behind his back.

Now though, Louis doesn’t know what to do. Left staring in abject horror and fascination as the clip begins to play again. It goes through three whole rotations before his phone starts blinking at him, buzzing so hard it feels like a constant vibration as the group chat seems to explode. It’s not just the plethora of texts and emojis filling his screen though. Through out the frat house, there seems to be the distant sound of yelling, like someone opening their phone expecting to see a footie video and instead got their frat president fucking his boyfriend.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.” Louis gasps, can’t even turn his phone off it’s notifying him too much to get to the screen. He tries to type a message, maybe an apology or something, but he’s not even sure what to say.

Like look, it wasn’t appropriate and it’s not really fair. It’s pretty obvious who is in the video. Even if Harry doesn’t have any distinguishable tattoos on his back, Louis’ hand is pretty obvious, and their voices. And in some ways, in a dark corner of his mind, Louis is pleased. Or at least he’s kind of gloating about it. Because this is evidence that no one else can do to Harry what Louis can. That anyone who ever had a doubt in their mind about them – it’s now obvious in technicolor.

He already knows who it's going to be, flipping over the phone to be met with Harry's pretty face taking up the screen, a glowing red and green light at the bottom. The picture was taken this summer on the beach, Harry's curls wind swept and spilling over his shoulder, large sunglasses covering his eyes. Just to the left of his jaw is a dark, love bite that Louis worked on for half an hour.

He clicks the red button.

Louis has never ignored Harry’s call before in his life, but he guess there is a first time for everything. It doesn’t matter though because it instantly starts ringing again just as the sound of pounding footsteps hits the floor outside. Louis recognizes Liam’s loud shouting before he even gets to the door, throwing it open so hard that the wood bounces into the wall and ricochets, caught by Zayn’s hand. Oli and Calvin open their door across the hall and then Luke seems to materialize out of nowhere, his laughter echoing all down the length and to the stairs.

“What the fuck? What the fuck was that?” Liam is nearly screaming, gesturing with his hand first at Louis and then at the phone. “Louis!”

“Oh Tommo, you’re dead meat.” Zayn is half chuckling, half scoffing, running a hand into his hair. He looks more amused than traumatized though. “Dead fucking meat, mate. Just wait until Nialler gets out of class.”

“It was an accident!” Louis manages to get up from his desk chair, abandoning his phone by his laptop even as it continues to vibrate loudly. The group chat has at least twenty people in it. There is no way it’s going to go silent anytime soon. “I clicked the wrong thing! I didn’t realize, I swear, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t think to check before you sent us porn?” Oli’s face is as red as his hair, hands buried in the large pocket of his hoodie. “Like literal porn. I’ve seen your cock now, mate. I didn’t need to see it! I’ve known you since primary!”

“You’ve seen it before.” At least Calvin tries to be helpful, shrugging a shoulder. “Might not ever be able to look at Harry in the face again. Not without thinking of that kind of view.”

“Oi! Watch your mouth.” Louis defends, brow furrowed. That’s a bit rude. It’s Louis’ favorite view, thank you very much.

“Watch his mouth? You sent us a sex tape! Why do you even have a sex tape?“ Liam stops talking, mouth just held open as if it indicates what else he was going to say.

“Personally, I think it looked good. The angle. Lou, you really should consider movie making-“ Luke starts to say but is cut off by a sound starting downstairs.

It’s hard to figure out what it is at first, a slow steady beat that seems to grow in speed and volume the longer it goes. It nearly drowns out the sound of someone coming up the stairs, the sharp tap of heels on wood, until the applause and wolf whistles grow too loud – nearly deafening in the house. Louis, and the boys around him, all lean over to look and see what’s going on just as Harry makes his way into view, coming up the last few steps.

His face is a rosy shade of pink, nearly matching the pastel hue of the dress he's wearing, cut high and poofy above the knees and covered in little flowers. He's matched it with a pair of heeled, white boots, the toes knocking into each other as he stands there, shyly staring at them. He looks so soft, devastatingly pretty in the dim light of the hall, seeking out with his gaze through the mass of lads huddled in front of Louis' door. When Harry finally spots his boyfriend though, it seems to give him the confidence boost he needed, striding forward with sure steps until he's reached him. Harry doesn't even look at the other boys, snagging Louis' hoodie sleeve just above his elbow, and tugging him into the room, promptly shutting the door in Luke's face.

“Baby.” Louis starts, careful with how he says it, gauging Harry’s expression. He hasn’t been crying, face red but it’s more from the slow clap entrance he got and not sadness. “Listen-“

Before Louis can say anything, Harry shoves him, hard enough that Louis back peddles and promptly crashes onto the bed. He’s barely steadied himself on the edge, spreading his legs for balance, before Harry’s hiking up his skirt and sliding into his lap. The kiss is rough, warm hands sliding into Louis’ hair, tugging a little as Harry guides him up and closer. Louis’ hands fall naturally to Harry’s thighs, smooth and silky under the cotton of his dress.

“Shit.” Gasping, Harry mumbles, rocking down a little, spreading his legs open so he can fully sit in Louis’ lap. “You’re such an arsehole.”

“I didn’t mean to-“ Louis tries to get in, cut off as Harry starts kissing him again, wide mouthed and panting into it, making those little mews that drive Louis crazy when Harry’s too horny to think. “Baby, I swear-“

“Shut up.” Reaching down between them, Harry starts tugging the hem of Louis’ hoodie out of the way, reaching for the front of his joggers. He gets them untied, instantly plunging inside, wrapping a ring clad hand around Louis’ cock. The cold metal against his hot skin has him going instantly hard, so fast it makes Louis’ head spin.

“Didn’t even know you recorded that.” Harry leans back, gasping in a sharp breath when Louis’ hand slips under his skirt, feeling over his panties. “Then sharing it? Letting all your mates know how well I take it from you. How good I am for you.”

“Wait, little dove.” Louis lifts his other hand, holding Harry’s chin, guiding him so he can see his face clearly. “Are you…Are you into this?”

“Into you.” Harry laps over his mouth, bruised strawberry pink, already puffy from the rough kisses. “Like I need you in me.”

Euphoria. That’s the only way to describe it. Liquid heat descends through Louis’ veins, so pleased and so turned on, all he can do is reach for Harry’s waist. He grounds his feet on the hardwood before Louis lifts them both up, turning sharply and tossing Harry down on the bed, hard enough he bounces up by the pillows. Harry’s loud, delighted cry and giggles gets smothered when Louis follows him down, pressing him deep into the mattress.

3.

Monday through Thursday are all class heavy days with 8ams and practice going late into the evening. Friday and Saturdays are for parties and recovering from previous weeks workload. Sunday is for games and brunches and laundry. Somehow though, sandwiched between footie practice and lights out, the fraternity has turned Thursday nights into movie nights.

It's been a lasting tradition since the beginning of the year - someone orders take away or they'll bully someone into cooking. Then half the frat will pile into the living room, draped on the couches and over the bean bag chairs. Upper classmen always have the choice where to sit first, a right of passage really, with the younger guys filing in after.

Louis almost always claims the loveseat against the wall. It's a little ratty, a gray corduroy that has pilled up a bit, a few throw pillows tossed into the corners, padding it out. There is a nice blanket on the back too, an old quilt with large squares in various colors. It's where Louis is now, curled in the corner with his phone out, tapping through Instagram when the front door opens.

He hears Niall first, that thick accent shouting in the entryway followed by Zayn's lower laughter. Liam is there too, probably greeted them from the stairs. Louis watches them walk in, late with Chinese take away bags weighing heavily down in their arms and big gulps from the 7 Eleven. It’s a feast for champions – or at least for a dozen rowdy, exhausted college students on a random Thursday. As much as Louis loves his friends, brothers for life, he keeps his eyes peeled until who he really wants to see makes his way through the door.

Holding a plastic container of salad in one hand, Harry comes in through the door with his other holding his phone to his ear, head cocked to the side and grinning. By the soft tone of his voice, he must be talking to someone important, dimpling as he toes off his Vans. He's distracted enough by not tripping over the plethora of stuff in the hallway that he doesn't notice Louis' careful gaze on him, assessing from the loveseat. If he was hungry before, Louis is starving now.

Harry has on a vintage Doors t-shirt - the one he cropped with a pair of scissors, fabric so thin you can see the swallows just above Morrison's head. It leaves a cap to where his sweatpants are, showing off the laurel tattoos, the very bottom of the butterfly, waistband rolled across his hips. Louis is pretty sure they're his, the gray fabric looking worn in and soft.

"Alright. I just got in so I'll talk to you later." Harry, seemingly noticing Louis, grins around the words, wiggling his fingers around his salad. "Of course, Mum. I love you. Yeah. I'll tell him. Goodnight."

He hangs up then, slipping his phone into his pocket and coming further into the room, making sure to step over the random backpacks and shoes scattered around. Harry doesn't even spare a glance to where Frankie and Jason are already on the two beanbag chairs, waiting TikToks loudly, laughing with each other. It's not what Harry wants. Instead, he slides his food onto the coffee table, leaning down to kiss Louis slow and sweet, a hand on his cheek.

"Hi." It's all dimples and sparkling eyes and Louis wants more, slipping a hand on the back of Harry's neck to pull him in again.

It's one of his favorite things in the entire world. The soft way Harry goes pliant, opens his mouth the moment Louis pushes for it, lips smooth and trembling just a little. When they kiss like this, it's like every kiss is the first kiss. Louis gets lost in memorizing the curves of Harry's mouth, his tongue hot and teasing at Louis' teeth, wickedly addicting when Harry gasps into him.

"Hey baby." Louis finally releases his mouth but moves his hands down to Harry's hips, pets his soft skin. "Good day?"

"Mhm." He stands up, gentle in his recoil, blush on his cheeks. "Your mum wants you to call her tomorrow."

"Is that who you were talking to?" Louis raises his eyebrows. He knows Jay and Harry talk, just wasn't aware they're on the 'I love you' stage now. Louis should probably talk to her about it. He doubts she doesn't know everything that Louis knows. Though, Louis is good about filling her in.

"Yeah. She knows I'll actually answer my phone." Harry grins, nudges his knee into Louis' in a playful tap. "I'm going to go get you a plate, okay, before Niall and Calvin demolish it?"

"Extra duck sauce, please!" Louis calls out to him but Harry only shakes his head, laughing as he goes towards the kitchen.

"I know, Lou."

Louis tries not to roll his eyes when he's tucking into his own serving of lo mein and shrimp tempura and he looks over to see Harry chasing a garbanzo bean off the top of his salad. He gets like this sometimes - weird around food - gets it into his head that he needs to cut out carbs or gluten or sugars. It nearly drives Louis insane - the weird health kicks he goes through. It's not like he can really complain - Harry never really pushes for Louis to join him - but there are only so many kale pineapple smoothies Louis can choke through.

"Baby, you sure you don't want any real food?" Louis uses his fork to poke at a piece of tomato and Harry is quick to bat it away. "Maybe something with substance? I think Zayn has some crab ragoons."

"I'm fine. I wanted something clean tonight." Harry presses a quick, fleeting kiss to Louis' cheek. "Start my detox off. I was reading up on this new diet that you mix lemon juice with a bit of cayenne pepper. Supposed to shred a stone a week."

"You know you're literally perfect, yeah?" Louis asks, trails his fingers down Harry's side, slips his palm over his waist. Harry's stomach flutters against his palm, flexing a little, warm to the touch. "Don't need to change anything about you. Promise."

"I think you're a little partial." Harry dismisses with a soft laugh, shaking his head. He doesn't look upset though, settling more comfortably into the couch. "Thank you though."

It sits a little strangely in Louis' chest. He's been proudly showing Harry off any chance he gets. Is never one to shy away from loudly and openly claiming him anytime someone asks, someone looks his way, makes a comment. Calls Harry baby and angel and love and darling and his boy in front of everyone, explains to whomever will listen how amazing and wonderful Harry is. But maybe, it's not enough. Maybe Harry needs to hear it just as much. Maybe he needs to know, right now, how much Louis adores him - every perfect and imperfect inch.

"Hey." Louis leans in, kisses that soft spot just behind Harry's ear that always has goosebumps breaking out over his skin. "You know I love you, right? More than anything."

"Love you too." Harry smiles, chewing slowly on a piece of lettuce. He's watching Frankie and Jason fight over the remote, arguing loudly about some movie on Netflix with a giant monster in it, but Louis can tell he’s listening. Harry gets this little wrinkle in his nose when he’s thinking about Louis, a fond bunny scrunch of his face.

“Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.” Louis murmurs, forgets his plate on the arm of the couch as he wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, hugs him tight. “Thought you were an angel the first time I saw you. All that light around you, like a sunshine halo.”

“Louis.” Harry’s cheeks are turning pink, ducking his head to the side to look at Louis over his shoulder. His eyes are so green this close, gold around the iris, and Louis can’t help grinning at him, charmed at the way Harry still looks shy. A year later and he still gets bashful under Louis’ undivided attention.

“Heaven. That’s what you are.” Louis murmurs sweetly, kisses the tip of Harry’s nose. “Your lovely face and your perfect body and the way you taste. Heaven sent.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry tries to laugh it off, the sound getting caught in his throat as Louis leans in, kisses him slow and deep – puts all his love and devotion into the press of their lips, the curl of their tongues. If Louis can’t make Harry listen to his words, he can try it through physical affirmation.

“Hey now! Family dinner!” A packet of soy sauce flies across the room, landing sharply on Louis’ temple, Niall crowing in delight at his good aim. “Keep it PG, mates. There are children about!”

“Fuck off.” Louis groans, but lets Harry lean away from him with a delighted, nervous laugh. He’s still flushed from the words.

They're done with their food when Jason finally steals the remote from Frankie and picks the movie. It's some trashy action one with lots of explosions and serious men in office fighting wars. There is a small uproar from the upper classmen - Oli, Calvin, Luke, and Niall to be exact. Louis would usually join in - just for the hell of it - but he gets distracted when Harry gets up, slipping off the loveseat with a little groan. He goes to help Liam clear out the dishes and the take away container, giggling about something Zayn says to him, but it’s not the soft sound that Louis zeros in on.

There is a strip of pale blue lace peeking out from above the waistband of Harry's sweatpants, it's scalloped edges playing peek a boo with the rolled hem. Louis knows, instantly, what pair of panties they are. Louis bought them himself. Lace all the way around and cut high on the cheeks, a deep midnight blue silk strap around the hem. Louis has sucked on that silk before, has snapped it against Harry's skin, seen it contrast against the pale pink of his thighs.

“Oi, Louis.” Oli is trying to catch Louis’ attention but he can’t seem to divide it, watches Harry as he pads into the kitchen, arms laden with dirty plates.

“No use, mate. He’s miles away.” Calvin ribs good naturedly, flopping down on the loveseat beside Louis, tossing his legs over him. “Practically brain dead now, huh? Distracted by Hazza in sweats? God, you’re a bird.”

"Fuck off!"

Louis bats away Calvin's hand that was going towards his hair, shrugging his legs down too. He wants them all to shut up. The last thing he needs is Harry over hearing this shit. He gets self conscious about the boys sometimes, quiet and a little shy. They’re a rowdy crew, always into something, and Harry is often times tagging along for the ride, but it’s different like this. He likes attention but only on his terms.

“Telling you, Louis has been brain dead from the moment those legs stepped on campus.” Luke smirks, shaking his head. “Second he got between them, it was over.”

“Oi. Watch it.” Louis grimaces, shaking his head. He’s not going to get into vulgar talk. Especially not with Harry a wall away.

“You know, when you first got together, it was cute.” Frankie drawls from the floor, leaning his head back. “Now, man, it’s a little ridiculous. You can be two separate people, you know? I can’t remember the last time I saw you guys apart, like actually apart. Without texting each other. Or fucking facetiming in Tesco.”

“Oh yeah. Last week.” Jason agrees, flopping over onto his side so he can address the group at large. “We hadn’t even been in there ten minutes and this bloke is all ’Oh hey, baby. Need anything? What sort of fruit do you want this week? Are you good on tea?’. Ridiculous.”

“You’re barely twenty-two, mate. You need to spread your wings a bit.” Frankie gives Louis a withering, pitiful look. “For your own sake.”

“So what? Why are you bitching?” Zayn looks up from where he was tapping on his phone, dropping a knee to the side to better see the group. “You seem awfully concerned with how Louis spends his time and his relationship with Haz. Sounds to me like all that carrying on last week about being the only straight one is a bit of lie, huh? Got a bit of a crush, then?”

“Aww.” Luke adds in, rising to the bait easily, making a kissing noise with his mouth. “Does little Franklyn have a crush on Louis? Hot for president, then? Is it the footie kit? The socks, bet it’s the socks.”

“No! What the fuck? I am straight.” Frankie’s eyes go wide, leaning on the edge of the couch and pointing a finger towards Louis. “"I'm so fucking straight. You know that girl Melissa I-"

"Why are you getting so red?" Reaching down, Luke grabs Frankie's cheek in a rough pinch. "Embarrassed? Come on lad. Tell us. Getting hot under the collar when Louis comes by. All Ooh Lewis at night, huh?"

“Oh gross.” Niall cackles, kicking out his foot towards Luke. “Don’t go there.”

“Who is his roommate in the house? Should we ask him?” Oli goes to pull his phone out, already scrolling through his contacts.

“It’s Nate, I think. Or Aidan?” Calvin gets up and goes to sit by him, peering down at the phone. “Should we check how often he does laundry?”

“Poor Frankie. How hard it must be for you to just sit there while Louis and Harry make out all over the house.” Luke shakes his head slowly, pouting out his bottom lip. “You must be so jealous.”

“No! I just think it’s important for two people to be independent of one another.” Frankie sniffs, tilting his nose up in a haughty little tilt. “What’s going to happen if Harry starts feeling a certain way? Someone hits on him and then he takes them up on it. Louis will be devastated.”

“Yeah. He’s popular around campus. You don’t know what he does all the time.” Jason tries to help his friend, running a hand through his curls. “We’re all just worried, Lou.”

“I’m sorry what?” It draws Louis’ attention, snapping him out of his casual pose on the couch and into the conversations. “Watch your mouth.”

“Sounds like jealousy to me.” Luke sing songs, sharing a look with Niall.

“Sounds like bullshit to me.” Zayn snaps, dropping his phone onto his stomach, sending a narrow eyed glare towards the boys on the floor. “You want to try that again before you start spewing shit?”

“You know Lou and H are practically married, yeah?” Calvin raises his head, nudging his elbow into Louis for affect. “Disgustingly domestic the two of them, eh?”

“Maybe Franklyn wants to be a third? What do you say, Tommo?” Luke calls loudly, making sure his voice carries over the chatter of the group. “Think Harry would be up for another? Or maybe Frankie here just wants to watch.”

“Oi, mate. No.” Louis grimaces, swinging his hand in a straight line before his throat. He’s praying Harry can’t hear them in the kitchen, but considering how thin these walls are. “End it. Yeah? Enough?”

"Shut up! I just said-" Frankie's whole face has gone crimson, quick to jab his hand out and smack at Luke's shoulder. "Jason! Tell them!"

"I just find it a little ironic you're so upset. So, what if you have a crush? Stop bitching about it." Zayn's voice carries over the yelling, smirk caught in the corner of his mouth. "Louis is hot.”

“He is.” Luke and Calvin agree together, Oli pink around the ears. Frankie is still protesting loudly, turned on his side and shaking his head.

“That is so fucking gross. Do you have any idea-”

“Alright, alright.” Louis raises his hands, swinging his legs off the couch and putting a pause on the argument. “Let’s watch our words before we get offensive, lad, yeah? Think this conversation is over.”

“I wasn’t even saying anything. I was trying to be a good fucking mate and warn you about your shit.” Frankie mutters but he flops back down on the beanbag, rolling over to face the television, the room falling into an awkward silence around them.

“What’s going on?”

Harry has come in through the kitchen door, held open by Liam, with a cup of tea in either hand and with an awkward smile left frozen on his face. Louis recognizes the mugs as the matching ones they got on Spring Break last year – each with a small painting of a bear on it saying “I love you bear-y much”. Harry had laughed loud and sharp when he first saw them, so delighted Louis had no choice but to buy them.

"Yeah, Frankie, what’s going on?" Zayn teases a little snidely, leaning up on the couch for Liam to slip behind him. They're nearly as bad Harry and Louis, constantly need to be touching too, wrapped up tight. “Tell Harry your theory.”

"What happened?" Liam asks, settles into his own seat, Zayn draped over him. It takes one slow look around the room to realize something is wrong.

The room falls into an awkward sort of silence, tension tight and eyes quick to dart away. Harry glances around at the boys, brow furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn't bother lingering on the younger ones, won't be able to read them like the others, just focuses on Zayn's mirthful grin, Niall's snickering, and then to Louis. Louis, who doesn't look at him, instead rolls his eyes at Frankie.

"It's nothing." Frankie finally mutters, hands coming up to fiddle with the inseam of his trackies. His face is about as red as Jason's, both of them looking guilty.

"Are you sure-" Luke starts up again but Louis is quick to step in, shaking his head.

"Let it go, lad." He sniffs loudly, sass dripping off his tone. "I'm not going to say it again."

"Maybe someone needs to let go of their dumb ass opinions." Zayn mutters, shifting around in his chair. Louis sends him a look but there is no heat behind it. They both know they agree. Louis and Zayn together are a deadly team, like a double headed snake, full of venom if need be. No one tries to bad mouth Harry around them and gets away with it.

"Um." Shuffling on the edge of the carpet, Harry makes to step back, motioning a hand behind him as if he's going to leave. It pulls his shirt up, butterfly wings peaking out, enough of a recoil for Louis to notice, snapping his head up.

"Ignore them, baby. They're talking shit." Louis reaches out a hand, beckoning him towards the loveseat. If his voice is more gravel than grace, well, it’s a symptom of the anger. "Come on. Come here."

"I can head out. Have homework." Harry mutters glancing towards the front door even as he shuffles over, cheeks burning, trying to hide away from the multiple sets of eyes on him. Even with all his charm, all his laughter and easy conversation, there is a shyness to Harry. He's a quiet boy, soft in ways that Louis tries to wrap up and protect.

"Nonsense." Louis soothes, guiding Harry onto the loveseat and then to lay between his legs, hands firm on his waist. It puts his back against Louis' chest, curled up close enough for Louis to kiss behind his ear again. “What did you make me?”

“Yorkshire, of course. Splash of milk.” Harry hands back his mug with a small smile. “I have chamomile mint. You want to try?”

Louis hides his grimace in Harry’s curls but leans forward, taking a small sip. It’s not as bad as he was anticipating, herbal and a little bitter, but it isn’t that good either. Louis isn’t going to say that though. He’s pretty sure he’ll spend the rest of his life trying every weird health food trend Harry wants to go through but if it earns Louis a fond, nose wrinkled grin, he’ll do it.

“Not bad, love.” Louis kisses Harry’s cheek once, and then makes sure to kiss his dimple too. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

"We watching this movie, or what?" Liam, blessedly seems to cut the awkwardness in half, reaching out a foot to tap Frankie's shoulder. "Don't waste your pick, mate."

Frankie makes a point of not looking towards the love seat when he pushes play, curving in his beanbag more toward Jason. They've settled on some loud, dumb action movie with lots of explosions and serious men in suits talking about war. The very opening scene is a shot of a beautiful woman pulling herself out of the pool, dripping water everywhere from her scantily clad body. It’s basically the anthem of heteronormativity.

Needless to say, Louis loses interest instantly, especially when Niall gets the light and plunges the room into darkness. The film lights up the room into a dim, blue glow, enough to make out vague shapes of one another but not really see. Louis has to feel along the back of the loveseat until he finds the blanket, draping it over both of them, the fabric heavy and smelling of fabric softener.

It seems to settle Harry, who leans fully back into Louis, curling up small, knees tucked in close. It’s almost timid when he reaches up, unhooks Louis’ hand from the back of the couch to play with his fingers, tracing the 28 with the tips of his own. He isn’t that interested in the film either, Louis can tell by the way Harry keeps glancing away from the screen, looking around the room at all the boys. It’s distracting enough that Harry isn’t expecting it when Louis leans in, brushes his hair back, and kisses him just behind his ear again.

“Have I told you I really like this shirt on you?” Louis whispers, uses his free hand to gently trace Harry’s side, down onto his bare skin. “Look so soft, baby.”

“Thank you.” Being this close, Louis can basically feel the warmth from Harry’s blush, his dimples as he grins. “Thought we were having a comfy night in so I didn’t have to dress up for you.”

“We are.” Louis slips his palm under the hem, rubs small circles over Harry’s tummy, thumb flicking over his belly button. “Love you in anything you put on. All dolled up in one of your dresses or just like this, wearing me joggers and an old t-shirt. Beautiful either way.”

“Lou.” Harry turns his head, eyes glimmering in the tv light. He looks so pretty, so devastatingly lovely, that Louis has no choice but to lean in, kiss him soft and sweet. If he could, he’d spend all his time giving Harry little, romantic kisses in the dark.

“Love you, Daddy.” Harry whispers when they pull away, long fingers holding Louis’ face. “Love you lots.”

“Love you too.” Louis grins, nudges his nose against Harry’s in a soft nuzzle, rubbing it back and forth in a little bunny kiss. Harry takes the invitation, tilting his head and leaning in again, kissing Louis with a soft, contented little sigh. It's amazing how even after a year, hearing that name - Daddy - fall so sweet from Harry's lips makes Louis' heart skip up.

“You’re so good to me, baby.” Louis murmurs, tucking a few stray curls behind Harry’s ear. “Looking like a beauty every time I see you. Makin’ me perfect cuppas and cleaning up after me. Reminding me to do my laundry or eat real food.”

“It’s important you eat your vegetables.” Harry whispers, the tops of his cheeks gone rosy from the words. “If I didn’t cook for you, you’d live on McDonalds and microwave meals.”

“Mm, but it’s more than that.” Louis leans in again, sucks a little mark on the side of Harry’s neck. It’s just barely there, a soft sting as the precursor to what could be coming. “S’like you’re my little wife. Need to get you an apron and a good set of heels so you can wear them in the kitchen for me when you bake me something nice.”

“Oh.” Harry’s eyes have gone a little wide, glassy as he stares forward, watching the opening credits of the movie. It’s between one flash of light and the next that Louis watches him bite his bottom lip.

“You’d like that? Being my wife? Stay home and raise the babies. Wait for me to come home from work to treat you right.” Louis turns Harry by his jaw, leaning in to kiss him slow and open. “Wait to eat my dinner until I’ve had you for desert first.”

“I would. I’d be such a good wife for you.” Harry gasps when he leans back, breathes the words directly onto Louis’ lips, frantic and warm. “Make you so proud, Daddy. I promise.”

“You already do.”

He doesn't see the point in pretending he's going to watch this movie, ignoring the sound of gun fire exploding from the television and instead, resituating them a bit. It tucks Harry into the back of the couch a bit more, leaning into it while Louis leans into him, blocking a bit of the view. It allows for Harry to turn his head up without twisting as much, giggling into the next kiss.

It's one of the more surprising aspects of their relationship for Louis. He loves Harry and he loves having sex with Harry. It's literally in his top three favorite things in the entire world. Is actually probably his very top. But Louis loves this. Loves easy making out, snogging with his hand cupping the side of Harry's face, feeling his little sighs on Louis' tongue. Harry has a mouth that was built for kissing, soft lips that curve in a heavenly cupid's bow, bruise the prettiest shade of pink. Louis has seen them in all shades, from strawberry bliss to cranberry ice, raw like plucked fruit.

"Christ's sake."

Someone mutters and there is a click while the television volume increases. It's enough for Louis to pull back, looking around the room while Harry leans in, nuzzles soft kisses along his throat. Frankie and Jason are both still on the beanbag, intently watching the screen. Niall - sprawled out over the couch - is boredly plucking kernels from a bowl of popcorn - feet resting in Oli's lap, Calvin, and Luke on the floor in front of the couch. Zayn and Liam are in the arm chair though and Louis meets Liam's gaze over the dark room, brow raising.

Louis can see that Liam has his arm around Zayn, curled up like one large, tangled knot of limbs and a throw blanket. It's too dark to see anything until a flash of light on the screen illuminates Liam's pink face, his panting as his cheeks grow rosy. Zayn is tucked into him, face hidden away in his neck, only the slight flexing of his jaw giving away that he must be working on a mark right above Liam's collarbone. Whatever he's doing seems to work because Liam stares at Louis until he can't anymore, eyelashes fluttering shut as he slips a hand into Zayn's messy hair.

Louis can't help smirking at him, raising his hand in a little salute before trailing his hand down Harry's back. He's been alternating between little nips and slow sucking, the skin on Louis' neck feeling hot and bruised. It's not like they're breaking the rules of the house or anything - the ones that explicitly say living room is off limits for 'extra' activities. Half the couples in this house use movie nights as their own snog fests. Louis is just being a good president and participating. It's not his fault that Harry lets out a whine when Louis grips a hand on throat and tilts his face back up.

Under the blanket, Louis brushes his hand up Harry's side again, hooking his fingers in his shirt and pulling it up. It lets him reach his chest, tracing the edge of his nipple, feeling it slowly harden under the stimulation. A small groan slips out of Harry's mouth, soft and breathy as he pulls back, panting hard.

"Missed you today, baby." Louis grins, drags his fingernail over the top of Harry's nipple. "Thought about you all day. How good you looked getting out of bed this morning wearing me t-shirt. Should have kept you in it."

"Had class." Harry mumbles, his own hand straying from where he's been bunching the leg of his sweats, reaching up to hook it against the back of Louis' neck. "But missed you too."

"Did you?" Louis pinches his fingers down, rolling Harry's nipple between them. It must sting a little because Harry gasps, biting his bottom lip right after. Louis can't see it through the blanket, but he's sure Harry's cock just jumped if the way he kicked his leg is any sign.

"Always miss you." Harry turns his head, traces the tip of his nose along Louis' jaw. “Think about you all day. Can’t stop.”

“So sweet. Are you going to make it up to me though? Leaving me like that?” Louis teases, says it kind enough that Harry won’t take offense. He knows Louis would love to keep him in bed all the time, but they’re in school. They have things to do. Louis hates it but he knows that. “Was hard all morning.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Harry’s response is automatic, already slipping into that headspace where he aims to please. It’s what Harry craves – the easy submission. The way Louis will always fill in the blanks – tell him what he wants, what he can do, what is required before Louis turns his spine into liquid and takes him into space with pleasure.

“Good boy.”

Slipping his other arm down behind Harry, he wedges it between he back of the couch and the two of them, getting the angle that he can still stroke over Harry’s nipples while the other one heads south. Harry seems to realize where it’s going right before Louis does it because his gasp coincides with Louis’s fingers slipping under the rolled waistband of his sweats. He’s warm down here, panties a little damp in the front, with his half hard cock nudging against the lace. Louis has half a mind to poke his head under the blanket and look, but with the way Jason keeps sneaking peeks at them, Louis wants to wait to make it obvious.

“Fuck.” Harry hisses, pulls back, and draws his bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes look huge in the dim light, sparkling with the flashes from the gun fight on screen.

“You wear these just for me?” Louis asks, stroking over the lace hem along the soft curve of Harry’s hip. “Or were you trying to let the boys have a look? Want all me lads to see you pretty in the panties I bought you?”

“No.” Harry answers but it feels like a bit of a stretch considering how pink his face has gotten.

“I think you’re lying.” Louis curves his fingers down, wraps them around to play with the wet tip of Harry’s cock, drawing it up a little against the silk. “I think you want them to know. Want them to hear you. Already up for it, baby.”

“Daddy.” Leaning in, Harry buries his moan into Louis’ ear, cock twitching in Louis’ hold. He’s sandwiched between the back of the couch and Louis, still sprawled on Louis’ chest, so there is nowhere to curl away from the pleasure. It’s how Louis likes him – prone and eager – willing to be pushed higher and higher.

Louis gets a little thrill when the television volume goes up again, a distant conversation turned almost blaring at this point. He knows that the other lads have to know at this point that something is going on, at the very least that they’re snogging, and honestly – good. Louis doesn’t need that gossip and rumor mill running rampant with some half baked idea that Harry isn’t his. He is. Who else knows Harry’s body like this? Who else can press their nose into Harry’s hair and know exactly what shampoo he uses? How he likes to be touched? How he falls apart at the slightest hint of exhibitionism?

“Quiet, little dove.” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear, fingertips playing with the sticky precome on his tip. “Don’t disturb the lads and their movie.”

“But-“ Harry protests weakly, leaning his head forward to glance around the room. Everyone else is still watching the film, trained forward, or at the very least, ignoring what is happening around them.

“But what? I’m giving you a treat, princess. Letting you make it up to me.” Louis starts to slip his hand out. “If you’re going to be ungrateful, then-“

“No!” With a sharp noise, Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ forearm, pausing his retreat just above the waistband of Harry’s sweats. “I’m sorry Daddy. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Louis accepts the smeared kiss to his jaw, a half dozen more sprinkled along his jaw as Harry twists in his arms. He's so sweet with it, knows just how to touch Louis' chest, nuzzling into him so Louis has to grit his teeth to keep from grinning. He holds on a bit longer, lets Harry really beg for it with these little whimpers and nips to Louis' throat.

"Alright, baby." Louis smirks finally, puts a hand on Harry's throat, pushing him back a little. It's not enough to hurt, but enough of pressure that Harry's eyes go a little wide, biting his bottom lip. "Lay down."

Harry squirms between Louis’ legs, his hands coming up to bunch the extra fabric at Louis’ thighs. He does what he’s told though, nearly holds his breath as Louis’ fingers go back to playing, his other pinching at his nipple. Harry’s body is like a constellation of sensitive spots – connecting together to make him shine – and Louis has traced all of them a million times.

Reaching inside of the loose waistband of the joggers, Louis tugs on the silk and lace until it rolls, bunching up on itself until he can tuck it just under Harry’s balls. It gives him more room to work, the tip of Harry’s cock tapping into the fabric when Louis wraps his fist around it. He wishes he could taste it, look up at Harry while he slips it between his lips, but this is almost better. Harry’s shallow panting, his body tense and pressed tightly into Louis’.

“Oi! Did you see that?” Niall shouts, gesturing wildly at the fight scene on screen. It’s an interesting combination of marital arts and shoving guns at people. The noise drags Louis’ attention away from the mark he was working into the back of Harry’s neck though, turning to see popcorn spill a little as Oli laughs loudly.

“I always wonder how they shoot these sorts of scenes.” Frankie says, shifting around in his beanbag chair. “Louis, you took drama, yeah? Is it a lot of like training or is it body doubles?”

At the mention of his name, Harry jolts a little, shocked as Louis’ fist doesn’t slow down, jerking him off in steady, long pulls. His cock is dripping now, a steady stream that makes the glide easier, the noise of it getting lost in the fight scene on television. It takes everything in Harry not to flinch when Louis sighs, sending his hot breath down the length of Harry’s neck, over the cooling spittle there and the dark bruise.

“Yeah. It’s a bit of both, really.” Louis shrugs, slips the hand out of the blanket that had been pulling on Harry’s nipple to gesture. “In these movies, they usually train the actor though. They’ll do like a bootcamp or whatnot.”

“Ace.” Frankie nods, turning his body in the beanbag to better look at the guys. Louis can feel Harry shaking, his bottom lip caught between his teeth while he stares, unseeing, at the screen. He knows it’s taking everything in Harry not to squirm, not to give the game away as Louis’ hand tightens a little, twists just how Harry likes.

“You going to do that, mate? Go learn kung fu or some shite?” Oli laughs, a nasally sort of mocking noise. He nudges his foot into Frankie’s back. “Jedi master?”

“Jedi? That’s not even-“ Jason turns around, sputtering loudly. “I’ll have you know!”

Under the blanket, Louis drags his thumb nail across Harry’s slit, a bright burst of pain. Harry kicks his leg out, slamming it into the arm of the couch as he tries not to arch, held down by one of Louis’ legs coming to slip over his own. It’s enough of a jolt to draw the attention of the others though, Jason stopping mid-rant.

“You’ve got an opinion or something, Harry?” He asks, a bit of an edge to his voice like he’s waiting for Harry to disagree with him.

“Huh?” Harry’s movement is syrupy slow, rolling his head against Louis’ shoulder, staring at the other boys with glassy, half lidded eyes. “What?”

“Shut up. I’m trying to watch!” Niall shifts on the couch, nearly kneeing Oli in the nose as he resettles. Calvin, who is sitting on the floor before him, hands him back up the bowl of popcorn, though it’s mostly kernels.

“Someone rewind it!” Calvin commands, reaching out his foot too and kicking Frankie’s beanbag chair. It jostles him hard enough he drops his bag of crisps, a shout rearing up from the lad as they spill over the floor.

“Oi! Stop!” Jason gets involved, whipping his head around, big, blue eyes meeting Louis. “Louis! Make them stop!”

“I’m not their dad!” Louis laughs, distracted enough by the fight that he’s almost startled when Harry turns his head, leans his nose against Louis’ cheek, his face so warm.

“Daddy. Daddy please,” Harry whimpers, trembling as Louis’ hand twists around his cock again. He must be close with the way he’s shifting his hips up a little, trying to rock into it. Louis wants to see, wants to watch Harry’s skin flush pretty pink with arousal, but it's hard when the rest of the boys are rough housing half a meter from where they are.

"All of you lot shut the fuck up!"

Liam's voice booms from the corner, authoritative and sharp. He's leaned out from behind Zayn now, a little rosy around the cheeks and temple, but for the most part put together. Zayn doesn't even bother raising his head, leaning his face up to stare at the ceiling.

"Jason, rewind the movie. Calvin, keep your limbs to yourself. Frankie, stop antagonizing."

As Liam rattles off his commands, Louis takes the distraction to his advantage. He turns into Harry, kisses a quick line up the back of his neck again, fist moving faster over him. It's getting quieter in the room again as the movie is being rewound so it feels impossibly loud when Harry whines, yanking the blanket up to his mouth and biting on the hem.

"You hear that? All those lads getting yelled at. Told to behave." Louis whispers in Harry's ear, his bottom lip dragging along the lobe. "But not my baby. You're a good boy, aren't you? Daddy's perfect angel."

"Fuck." Harry gasps, mouth falling away from the blanket for just a moment, leaving a wet ring on the fabric from where he was drooling. "Please. Daddy. I can't-"

"Oh, but you can. And you will." Louis teases, slips his free hand down, wedges it between their bodies. He can feel his own cock hard and throbbing against the back of his palm, but Louis ignores it as he heads further down. It's too dry to do anything really, but Louis still wiggles his fingers between Harry's cheeks, presses against his dry hole.

Harry kicks the arm of the couch again, the sound muffled from the television starting up again. It's in the middle of the fight scene again, the rattling of gunfire and metal enough of a buffer to drown out Harry's whimpers, his half bitten groans.

"You want to come baby?" Louis asks, his fist yanking long and hard on Harry's cock, tugging him off just the way Harry likes. It's pleasure with the sharp bite of pain but it makes Harry's eyes roll back when Louis twists his wrist at the tip. "You think you deserve it?"

"Yes." Harry whines, turns his face to stare up at Louis, eyes all wide and a little wet from holding back. "Whatever you want, Daddy. S'all for you."

"I know baby. I know. But you've been so good." Louis presses a kiss to Harry's forehead. "Come for me."

It's two more strokes and then Harry does, body going taut and bowing up a little, his heels digging into the cushion below them. Louis takes pity on him at the last minute when he hears the television click louder, and presses their mouths together in a sharp, violent kiss that feels more like a bite then a press. It doesn't seem to bother Harry though who smothers his moans into Louis' mouth, sucking on his tongue.

Louis feels the come coat his hand, spill over his fist and onto the sweats, staining the fabric. Harry always comes a ton when he's been worked on for a while, loves the slow crescendo of a good hand job. Louis doesn't usually like to waste it, but he's not sure he could get away with feeding it to Harry, so he wipes his hand off inside the joggers, guiding Harry's panties up and over his cock when he's done.

Harry collapses back against him, breathing hard and trying to hide it, pulling the blanket up to his chin again. His whole body is thrumming, shaking between Louis' legs, feverishly warm. Louis is kind with him, kisses his neck again, soothes a hand over his hips, his stomach, caressing his chest under his crop top. Harry nearly preens under the soft attention, craves the feeling of contentment and adoration Louis always bestows on him.

"Love you so much, my baby." Louis whispers, drops a few kisses on Harry's cheek, cuddling him up in his arms. "Make me so proud."

"Love you." Harry grins, those charming dimples denting his cheeks. He's always too sweet after he's come, all doe eyes and soft, clingy in a way that makes Louis' heart flutter.

They’re so caught up with one another that they don’t even notice when the movie ends. The credits start with a roaring of guitars and Jason is quick to click out of it, plunging the room into yawns and groans. Someone flips the side table light on, the room illuminating into a dull golden bronze as each of the guys get up, stretching and grumbling to one another. It’s late, nearly past midnight now, and many of them have class in the morning.

“Shit. I’m getting too old for this.” Luke grumbles, using the arm of Louis’ couch to pull himself to his feet, his knees popping loudly.

“You and me, both.” Niall agrees, folding up his throw blanket. He rolls his head to the side, eyeing the couple with a raised brow. “You know you can’t sleep there, yeah?”

“We know.” Louis feels Harry stiffen on top of him, half awake but quickly gaining consciousness with the way the other lads are kind of glancing at them, some of them filing out. “We’ll get up in a bit.”

“No. I know you. You pass out down here all the time.” Oli argues, coming up to lean against Niall, rubbing at his eye. “We just made it a house rule no one is allowed to sleep down here.”

“That was for guests.” Liam mutters, hauling himself out of his chair, Zayn nearly dead on his feet beside him.

“Fine.”

Carefully, Louis slips his legs out from behind Harry, making him hunch forward a bit before he manages to stand. His back does ache a bit from being hunched over like that, raising his arms in a slow stretch. It changes the angle so he can see Harry’s widening eyes, his slight squirming beneath the blanket. There is no way there isn’t a wet spot in the front of those thin sweats, evidence so apparent it’ll be undeniable even to dimwit Jason.

“Come on, Hazza. Up. I know you can sleep anywhere but you can’t sleep there.” Frankie reaches out, tugs on the hem of the blanket. He seems to have gotten over whatever nonsense him and Jason were on about him earlier, grinning down at Harry like they’re old friends.

“I’m alright. I’ll get up in a bit.” Harry shrugs a bit, fiddles with his hair, brushing the curls back from his flushed face. He’s highly aware of the rest of the boys staring at him.

“I know that trick. You’re just waiting for us all to leave so you can pass out.” Jason laughs, rolling his eyes. He nudges his arm into Frankie’s, sharing a conspirator gleam between them.

“Yeah, baby. Come on.” Louis grins wide, rubs a knowing hand along his jaw, eyes roving over Harry’s prone form. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Um-“ Harry rubs his lips together, glancing around like one of them is suddenly going to side with him, give him an excuse.

He doesn’t get the chance though as suddenly Jason is lurching forward, grabbing them blanket over Harry’s knees and yanking hard. It comes away instantly, wool and cotton being flung into Liam’s chest, and then there are eight pairs of eyes all staring down at where Harry is laid flat. It would be different if the sweats weren’t so old, so thin, Louis’ favorite pair. As it is though, the wet patch is mostly smeared onto Harry’s left side, waistband twisted with just a hint of blue lace behind the gray fabric.

“Oh my god!” Calvin cries, throws his hands over his eyes. “Louis!“

Niall is staring with an open mouth, eyes roving from Harry’s cherry red face to the wet spot in his lap. It’s like he can’t believe that Harry – innocent, doll-like Harry – would allow for something like this to happen. And not only allow for it to happen, but actively participate in it.

“Me mum gave us that blanket.” Zayn’s voice drawls low, half asleep as he leans into Liam, unbothered.

“What is wrong with you? It’s lad’s movie night!” Frankie snarks, shoving his hand into Louis’ shoulder with a rough blow. “We were right here!”

“You didn’t know about it.” Louis shrugs a shoulder, unbothered as he holds a hand out. Harry is up and off the couch in an instant, curling up against Louis’ back and blocking the view from the other boys. His face is crimson, huddling himself smaller.

“He’s not actually wrong.” Oli shrugs, rubbing a hand awkwardly along the back of his neck. He’s a little pink at the apples of his cheeks, doesn’t seem to be able to look at the two of them.

“That’s fucking disgusting. Fucking nasty.” Frankie shoves his hand into Louis’ shoulder again, hitting him harder. “You were talking to me too? Were you fucking while you were doing that too? What’s wrong with the two of you?”

“Oi, watch it!”

Louis rounds fast, the mirth that was etched into his features cutting into a snarl. He hooks a hand onto Harry’s hip and pushes him back half a step as he squares his shoulders, any sort of amusement dropping from Louis’ stance. Frankie and him are about the same height, but where Frankie carries bitchy anger, Louis carries a presence and it draws the room into a sharp silence.

“You’d do well to watch your mouth when you’re talking about me and my boy.”

“Okay! Okay!” Liam steps forward, hands raised up, always the mediator. “Let’s watch ourselves, yeah?”

“Lou.” Harry is still tucked into his side, tugging on Louis’ shirt sleeve. “Come on. Not tonight.”

The silence stretches thick like taffy around them, each of the boys staring at one another. Where Frankie and Jason are all youth and bite, willing to start shit with no consequence, the others are not. They’re older and they fall into line – a line that starts with Louis himself. He’s the leader so he sets the tone. And at the moment, he’s grinding his teeth.

“Hey, look on the bright side.” Zayn drawls sarcastically, tilting his head up. “Now we can all agree that Harry isn’t looking anywhere else.”

“True!” Luke claps his hands together, nodding quickly at the distraction. “Valid point, mate. Looks like it settled it then.”

“Honestly, the lot of you can fuck off.” Louis laughs loudly, a mocking ‘ha, ha, ha’, that seems to bounce around the room. He can’t deny the curl of pride in his chest though, a sort of inflation of the ego mixed with vanity. Zayn’s right though. Now no one can really say Harry is losing his interest. Not if Harry let Louis jerk him off in front of a room full of guys – whether they knew or not is not important.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed.” Louis rolls his eyes at his friends, reaching back to take Harry’s hand and tug him towards the stairs. He tries to ignore the catcalls and whistles following them, but Louis can’t smother his grin entirely.

4.

The party is in full swing when Louis arrives, slipping in through the front door with his duffle bag thrown over one shoulder, flanked by Liam and Niall on either side. Calls of greeting and cheers immediately start up when they're spotted, warm hands coming down to slap them on the back, pulling them into hugs. It's an echo of the stadium earlier - the eruption of screams and joy when Louis had scored the winning goal at the last second on the clock. It had been a sea of red above him, the whole school seeming to have packed into the seats to see the footie team play.

Louis gets passed around - grins and laughter - someone taking his bag from him. A beer gets shoved into his hand and the sharp scent of a well-rolled blunt grabs the corner of his eye. But as much as Louis wants to sink into the revelry, he can't seem to settle, craning his head over the crowd to try and catch a glimpse of what he really wants. Parties aren't fun if Harry isn't, at the very least, within eyesight. Tonight though, reigning footie captain, frat president, campus king - Louis needs his queen on his arm.

"Hey Z!" Louis shouts over the crowd, snagging Zayn by his elbow when he shimmies by, cigarette held above his head.

"Hey mate. S'good?" Zayn slurs a little, seeming to notice Louis' gaze so he lowers his hand, offering the smoke over. Louis takes a long drag before looking around himself again like what he's searching for will suddenly appear before him.

"You seen H?" Louis finally gives in, handing back over the cigarette when he can't seem to find his boyfriend.

"Haven't seen him." Zayn shrugs, glancing around a bit too. "He rushed off after the game. Something about something. You know how he mumbles."

"Was he upset?" That seems to grab Louis' attention, centering back on Zayn. "Who did he sit with?"

"Hey, lad, relax. He was fine. He sat by me and Luke. Screamed so loud when you got the goal at the end. So fucking proud." Zayn shrugs a little, hand flexing on Louis' shoulder. "He was fine when he left. Just said he had something to do."

"Shit."

Louis doesn't know what to make of that. If Harry was good, happy, then why isn't he here? Usually he's the first one welcoming Louis at these things, crashing into him with a beer in hand and a kiss ready to land a little rough and off center. But Louis' walked this party three times and hasn't seen or heard Harry anywhere. Digging into his pocket, Louis yanks his phone out, pressing the home screen, cursing sharply when he realizes it's dead.

"Fucking shit!" Louis hisses, pushing the button again like it will magically gain power.

"What's wrong?" Zayn exhales slow, head tilted down to watch Louis push on his phone again. "Phone dead?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go throw it on the charger. See what's up." Louis waves his hand at the stairs. "If he comes in and you see him, will you send him up?"

"Yeah, yeah, mate." Zayn gives Louis another drag of his smoke, brows furrowed a little. "But I swear, Lou, seriously. He was fine. He was really happy for you."

"Yeah. Maybe he's just tired or has a paper or some shite." Louis mutters, shrugging a little like it will make sense. "I'll see you later, mate." He gives Zayn a hug before starting the process of shoving his way through the crowd.

It's bullshit. There is no way Harry would just go to bed after a big game and a big win like this. At the very least, he would have called Louis to tell him he wasn't feeling well and wanted to sleep. But how the fuck is Louis supposed to know that if his phone is dead? What if someone said something? Or god forbid Grimshaw tried to take him out again to get 'food'. It's that thought that has Louis shoving through the last bit of the crowd and making it to the stairs.

His room is on the third floor in the middle, lucky enough to get a single with being president. It's identified by the posters on it - Oasis, Artic Monkeys, David Bowie. Louis barely glances at Ziggy Stardust's mismatched gaze when he opens the door, shoves into it, stopping in his tracks. His side lamp is on, the golden haze illuminating the room dimly, a dreamy sort of glow that lingers around where Harry is perched on the bed.

It's a sight that's hard for Louis to wrap his mind around, thoughts seeming to leave him the minute he takes him. Harry is sitting in the center of the bed on his knees, his hands resting on his bare thighs. He's let his hair down, the curls long enough to just barely brush over his shoulders, a teasing line against this collarbones. The heads of the swallow tattoos can be seen through the v-neck collar of the jersey he's wearing - the name of the school emblazoned on the front.

"Hi." Harry grins, that slow, sexy grin of his that is always accompanied by a slight head tilt.

"Hi." Louis says back cautiously, confused as Harry slowly uncurls his legs, standing up. The jersey is their away game one - a brilliant shade of red and gold - that is long enough to fall just to the tops of Harry's smooth thighs.

"I was wondering when you were going to find me." Harry murmurs, voice going deep, syrupy slow. He takes a step forward, feet sinking into the plus rug, toes painted red to match. "Are you the one who got the winning goal?"

It's the way he says it that gives Louis pause, that coy smirk on his lips. Harry is playing. A game of his own making that Louis has no choice but to follow through on. Like Louis would deny Harry anything anyways, not with the slow way he’s strutting towards him, model long legs Louis wants to put his mouth all over.

"I did." Louis raises an eyebrow, watches close as Harry approaches near enough to touch if Louis raised his hand. "And you are?"

"Your prize, of course." Harry giggles, sweeping a hand down the front of himself, careful to brush against the logo on the front. "You did such an amazing job tonight. Team couldn't have done it without you, winning at the very end. I'm the trophy promised to the best player and I guess you won. Fair and square."

"Promised to the best player, hm?" Louis reaches up, fingers the hem of the jersey, tugging on it a little. "Any player that made the winning shot, then? Any of us?"

"Mhm." Harry answers with a smirk, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth to bite. "It's all yours if you want it, of course, but I guess you can offer me up to someone else if you're dissatisfied."

"Oh, can I?" Louis asks, flames licking at his stomach, jealous curling tight and acute in his chest. "And what exactly is my prize, love?"

"Well."

Going up on his toes, Harry spins around, swaying his hips to the beat of the music still blaring through the open door. When his back is to Louis, he reaches up a hand to pull his long hair to the side, revealing the white letters running along the top of his shoulders. Louis is staring so hard at his own last name printed across Harry's shoulders that he almost misses his other hand reaching down and flipping the hem of the jersey up. And fuck. Louis loves Harry's ass. It's perfect, creamy smooth skin and perky, fits both in the cradle of Louis' hands and his hips. Watching all that bare skin get revealed is like a godly experience, especially when Harry reaches a hand down, smooths his palm over his cheek, gripping it hard to make it bounce. It's only then that Louis notices the little bow nestled at the top of his crack, the thing made of black lace.

"Fucking hell." Louis is pretty sure he's drooling, cock so hard it makes him dizzy as Harry shifts his weight, peaking over his shoulder.

"I guess though," Harry drawls, the corner of his mouth raising, eyes gleaming a little in the dim light, "if you don't want it, I could just wait for someone else. Oli or maybe Luke? I know he doesn't play footie, but maybe he'll play with me."

"Stop."

Blindly feeling behind him, Louis grabs the door and swings it shut, flipping the lock over with a sharp click. It cuts out the roar and cheers of the party around them to a muffled thrum, completely forgotten as a background haze as Louis grits his teeth. Harry is still staring at him, mouth falling open a little as Louis takes two steps and swings his hand.

The slap is so loud in the room, the crack of his palm touching Harry's ass, followed quickly by Harry's sharp inhale. He doesn't move though, is so fucking good, locking his knees as his legs start to tremble. Louis can't keep his hand still, rubs his fingertips over the red mark as he leans in, brushing his nose against Harry's ear, whispering into it.

"Well, aren't you a mouthy thing. Talking some shit while wearing me name on your back." Louis runs his hand up Harry's ass, fingertips hooking just under the string at the top, yanking on it so it snaps back against his skin. "All dressed up for me and still trying to tell me you'd let anyone else touch you like this. Like this cunt belongs to anyone else."

"I just meant-" Harry starts, biting off his words the second Louis leans back from him, raising a slow eyebrow, tsking under his breath.

"Bad manners, really, baby. Spoiled princess. Can't have that." Louis takes a step back, hand leaving his ass to grip onto Harry's shoulder. He meets no resistance when he pushes, bending Harry over until his cheek hits the mattress, ass in the air. "Here's what we're going to do. Hands up."

Harry doesn't move except to curl his hands into the blankets above his head, spread out at this angle, having to spread his legs a little to keep balance. It gives Louis the perfect view of the black string splitting him open, the pretty lace holding the rest of him in place. The silky material of the jersey slides up Harry's stomach, pools up around his chest, showing off his flexing stomach.

"I'm going to spank that bad attitude out of you, since you're forcing me to do all the work when this was supposed to be my prize." Louis explains, reaches up to tug his hoodie off, tossing it to the side. He'll have more freedom of movement without a top on. "And then, if you're good and count for me, I'll let you ride me, yeah?"

Harry turns his face into the mattress, the backs of his legs trembling as he tries to hold the sharp angle he's been bent into. It's not a good enough reply though, not what Louis wants, so he reaches forward, twisting Harry's nipple between his fingertips sharp enough to sting.

"Use your words when I'm speaking to you." Louis drums his fingers threatening on Harry's hip, letting him know he's close. "What do you say?"

"Yes Daddy!" Harry gasps, curls sticking to his face when he turns it, is good and keeps his hands up.

"And?" Louis sighs, releasing Harry's nipple to shake his wrist out. He's not going to go easy on him, Harry already eagerly anticipating it.

"Th-Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much."

Harry is watching when Louis pulls his hand back, his sharp inhale loud in the room as he holds his breath, Louis' palm connecting to his cheek in another sharp crack. Red blooms under the strike, the perfect outline of Louis' hands, down to the tips of his fingers. It's so pretty Louis almost wants to stop and take a picture, but he doesn't want to loose his momentum, especially when Harry whines out brokenly.

"One."

Louis sends the next two hits to the backs of Harry's thighs, the skin there jiggling when he strikes it. He's got a sensitive spot just on the top of his right one, a place that Louis has worked so many love bites it might as well be permanent. He's already planning on rubbing his stubble over his legs later, but for now, Louis waits for the yelped 'two, three' before he continues.

There is a paddle hidden under his bed, pale blue with a heart cut out that Louis got Harry for Valentine's Day. It always leaves the prettiest bruises on him, a kaleidoscope of heart shaped marks all over his pail skin. But to Louis - nothing is better than spanking him with his hand. Harry responds so perfectly when Louis spreads his fingers, throws his back into it, and really uses his full strength. It's not long before the skin on Harry's ass is molten, thighs a cherry red, the space just between a warm, rosy shade of pink.

"Tw-Twenty-" Harry whines, knees digging into the side of the mattress as he fights to keep himself up. Louis doesn't guide him up as much as reach for his hip and yank him up, pressing in close so the soft fabric of his trackies brushes against Harry's warm skin.

"What was that, love? What number?" Louis asks, grinding against him. He's so hard he's pretty sure he's purple by this point, can feel himself dripping. "Say it."

"Twenty-eight." Harry finally gets out, tugging so hard on the blankets that they nearly come untucked from the end.

"Good boy." Louis praises, reaches forward to trace the number on the back of the jersey, fingertips feeling over Harry’s heaving back. “Have you learned your lesson? Hm? Not going to offer up what’s mine to anyone else, are you?”

“No, Daddy. Only yours. Want to be yours.” Harry whimpers, forearms dragging on the duvet as Harry tries to keep himself up, forcing himself to be as still as possible. “Promise.”

“There ya go.” Louis hooks an arm around Harry's middle and pulls him up, drags him against Louis' front so he can kiss his neck. "Took your punishment so well, baby. Make Daddy so proud."

"Good prize?" Harry mumbles, a little teary eyed but still coherent enough when he turns around, hooks his arms over Louis' shoulder. He’s bold for doing it, especially after being spanked, but with his pink cheeks and raw mouth, Louis allows it.

It's the first time they've kissed all evening, slow and open from the start. Louis can taste the mint from the gum Harry must have been chewing earlier, mouth soft and tart from it. He keeps Harry close to him, hand on his waist and then his hair, wants to touch him all over. The sounds from the party are loud around them, pounding outside the door, but Louis couldn't give two shits. All that matters is right here in his arms.

"You want to be my prize? My trophy boyfriend?" Louis teases but it's gentle, ghosting his fingers along the edge of Harry’s waist, down to his hips, and then hooks his hands over Harry’s ass. The skin is hot to the touch, still a brilliant shade of red, and Louis kneads it, watching Harry flinch. “Put you up on a shelf and admire you?”

“No,” Harry mumbles, dropping his gaze so his eyelashes stick to his cheeks, demure and shy again.

“No?” Louis lets his fingers tease along the top of Harry’s thong, petting at the lace. “You don’t want that? What do you want then?”

Harry doesn’t answer right away, shifting his weight around, hands comfortably on Louis’ shoulders like they’re about to start slow dancing. And maybe they should, Louis slipping his palms up onto Harry’s hips, rocking them back and forth a little off beat to the techno blaring up from the floorboards. It seems to sooth Harry – easily slipping into the rhythm like they’re following the tide – before very softly Harry says into the air between them.

“Was supposed to be your trophy. Reward for all your hard work.”

“Hm?” Louis already knows where this is going, knows every single one of Harry’s kinks by now, and this one falls nicely into it. He needs Harry to say it as much as Harry needs to.

“I want to make you feel good.” Harry finally raises his eyes, green shimmering in the dim light. “Want to be the only one to make you feel good. Show you how proud I am to be yours.”

“And how do you want to do that?” Louis raises an eyebrow, lets his hands drift back down to Harry’s ass. He can’t keep them away from it.

“Want to ride you.” Harry squirms a little, pushes back into Louis’ grasp. “Wearing your name. So you can see it.”

It goes straight to Louis’ cock, twitching in his trackies again, a pressed up line against the thin material. He doesn’t even bother considering it, just goes forward, changing his grip and picking Harry up. His long legs automatically go around Louis’ waist, gasping on a sharp giggle as Louis cranes his head up, kisses him hard and open as they walk the few steps back onto the bed. Louis drops Harry down onto the mattress but follows him down, presses him hard into the soft cotton, grinding against him.

Harry seems emboldened to act the minute Louis leans back from him though because he immediately goes for Louis’ pants, fumbling his fingers over the knotted waistband, finally undoing the knot. When he reaches inside, he doesn’t go for Louis’ cock though, instead he starts tugging at them, pushing the fabric down. He’s so insistent he tries to flip them, pushing up on his elbows, only for Louis to lock his arms, a hand reaching out to hold Harry’s face still.

“Easy, love. I know what you want, and you’re going to get it.” Louis leans in, laps slowly over Harry’s lips but doesn’t slip his tongue inside. “But you’ll get it on my terms, yeah?”

He reaches a hand down, slips it between Harry’s legs where his panties are damp lace. The fabric is taut against his cock, keeping it up against his stomach, the head tucked into the waistband. Louis doesn’t reach for it, instead, flattens his hand down and rubs. It’s a slow drag, fingers tugging back against his balls, reaching for his perinium, but not his cock.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.” Louis murmurs, kisses Harry slow and sweet, fucking his tongue in to the same speed as his hand is rubbing. “Bet your throbbing, huh? Pussy dripping for it. Want me in there bad, huh? How long have you been waiting for it?”

Harry jolts under the words, spreads his legs open a little wider. Louis takes it for the invitation that it is, rubbing a hand along the full length of him, feeling him out and pressing down. Harry seems to understand instantly what Louis is doing, grinding down on him, moaning low in his throat when Louis digs the heel of his hand in just at the base of his cock, like he was feeling for a clit. Louis plays this game sometimes, feeds into the fantasy of Harry being his pretty, little girlfriend. All dressed up in panties and wet between his thighs.

“So long, Daddy.” Harry moans deep in his chest, leaning in to whisper his confession into Louis’ ear, doesn’t want to admit too loud. “Got so wet when I watched you play. You’re so good, Daddy. Best one. Wanted to sit on my fingers right there when you scored.”

“Oh yeah?” Heat pulses through Louis, cock jumping in his trackies as he continues to rub at Harry’s mound, slipping his fingers in to pet over his rim. “You going to get yourself off to me playing? Open yourself up so I can just come up off the field and fuck you in the stands?”

“Wanted to be ready for you.” Harry confesses on a gasp, rotating his hips slowly. “Whenever you wanted it, you can have it.”

“Oh baby, I know that.” Louis chuckles, dark and growling as he snaps the strap of Harry’s thong again, watching the skin turn a bright red around the welt. “The minute I walk in the room, you have your legs open. Practically dripping anytime I so much as look at you. But you were so good tonight.” Louis leans in, kisses Harry’s lips before slipping his fingers back down, rubbing against him in one harsh drag of friction. “Think it’s time you put in some of that promised work, princess. Need my prize.”

A whimper – high and thin – slips out from Harry’s throat but he doesn’t move until Louis has moved off of him, collapsing back on the mattress. Sprawled out with his head on the pillow, Louis gives it a few more seconds of prolonged tension, his cock standing hard and proud before him, glistening a little at the tip, before he sighs.

“Alright, baby. Come on. Get me cock out.”

Harry presses a fleeting, thankful kiss to the 78 tattoo on Louis' chest before he moves back down the mattress. His fingers are cool when they work inside the waistband of Louis' joggers again, slipping past the elastic of his pants, before working both of them down. They slip past Louis' toned thighs, his bruised knees, and then off, Harry tossing them entirely from the bed. When he looks back though, his expression morphs into starved, staring down at Louis' cock, licking over his lips.

Louis lets him do that too - apparently into spoiling his baby tonight as Harry leans in and nuzzles his hip. He'll let him do what he wants for a minute, Louis leans into the pillows, arms tucked behind his head so he can watch the way Harry peppers soft, delicate kisses all over Louis' groin.

It’s honestly a miracle the way Harry sucks cock. He’s built for it – big eyes and a big mouth, sucking until his cheeks hollow out, painted nails scratching at Louis’ thigh. Louis doesn’t have to do anything but watch, watch the drag of it along Harry’s cheeks, his mouth a furnace around him, bobbing his head in these tight little nods. It has Louis already on the brink, his abs flexing tightly with holding it back.

“Baby,” Louis rasps, reaches a hand down to sooth through Harry’s curls, pushing them back from his face. “Come here, little dove. Want to kiss that perfect mouth.”

Harry instantly melts under the praise, giving one long, last suck to Louis’ cock before slipping back up the bed and nestling into his side. He’s so warm, the raspy fabric of the jersey brushing over Louis’ skin, and Louis reaches a hand under it to grab at Harry’s ass again as he laps the taste of himself out of Harry’s mouth.

Blindly Louis starts reaching for the side table, fingers scrambling over the top until he can hook his fingertips in the knob for the drawer. It only takes him a moment then to wrap his fingers around the familiar bottle, plucking the lube from the mess of other things. When he goes back in the second time though, Harry pulls back from the kiss, squirming a little.

"No." He says it so soft Louis almost misses it, would have if it wasn't breathed against his lips.

"No?" Louis stills even if it's not a safe word, rolls back over fully to see Harry worrying his bottom lip between his fingers. "No, what? What is it, princess?"

"Want it." Harry's free hand slides between them, wraps his palm around Louis' cock, stroking him a few times. "In me."

It dawns on Louis instantly, liquid heat pooling in his stomach, isn't sure he's ever been this turned on. It's like Harry has a checklist of all of Louis' kinks and he's hitting every mark. They haven't done this often, even with being monogamous. It's messy and a little dirty and most of the time they don't exactly have time to lay around and bask in the feeling and sight of Louis' come slowly leaking out of Harry. But maybe, just for tonight, it can be a little special.

"Christ." Louis groans, reaching down to rub his hands over Harry's ass again, hitching him up a little higher so he's straddling Louis' waist, not his lap. "How are you real?"

That earns him a thousand watt smile from Harry, who looks so precious even as he's reaching for the lube, popping the top of the bottle open. He's still dimpling when he drips it over his fingers, free hand reaching up to start rolling his panties down, the black lacey front dragging over his cock. Louis stops him though, caressing a hand over his flank.

"Leave them on."

He follows it by reaching back, digging his fingertips in until he can find the string, tugging it to the side and giving Harry access. His eyes go practically molten, storm green and pupil blown, as Harry bites his bottom lip and slides his first finger in. He's never kind to himself when he does this, always wants the sting, but Louis won't put up with that sort of behavior. No one mistreats his baby, not even his baby himself. So, Louis reaches back, grips Harry's wrist.

"Open yourself up the way I would." Louis instructs, voice turned gravel. "And be as loud as you want."

- - -

Frankie knows he should just mind his own business. He's not even really friends with Louis - too new to the frat, not yet in the crew. But if Frankie was being honest with himself, which he isn't, he cares. He cares too much and it really sucks because Frankie isn't exactly sure why.

It's just something about the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson. When Frankie thinks about him, he gets all caught up in these weirdly warm, toffee like feelings - the ones that nag and stick in your teeth. It's like the image of Louis running across that footie field, wind in his hair, huge grin on his face constantly plays on repeat behind Frankie's eyes. And when it's late and he can't sleep, he wonders what'd it be like to be adored by Louis. To be like the lads, to be Liam or Zayn or even Niall, always one thrown arm away from being close to him.

Or even, darkly and secretively, Frankie wonders what it would be like to be Harry. To be able to touch and hold Louis, be given easy kisses anytime he so much as enters the room. All wrapped up and pretty in Louis' hoodies, lounging about like some sort of queen, adored by everyone but no one as much as Louis himself. How is it fair that Harry comes into the room and Louis lights up every time like the very sun?

He's trying to be a good friend, that's what he tells himself when he heads towards the stairs. Louis looked so pissed earlier, leaving Zayn in the middle of the party, didn't even finish his cigarette. What if something had happened? What if he's upset?

So, Frankie follows behind, keeps a fair distance until the swell of the party goes to a dull thrum and he's sure Louis has been tucked away in his room long enough. It allows Frankie to hear the minute that he gets to the third floor that something is going on in Louis' room. There is a bang followed by what sounds like distant thudding, and then Louis' voice - sharp and biting echoes out into the hallway clear as a bell.

"Fuck yeah. Let me see it, princess. Look so good stretched around me cock. Made for it, weren't you? Wet as hell."

Frankie's skin is burning, face on fire as he leans his head against the door. It's obvious what he's overhearing, the steady bangs against the wall and the loud, loud slap of skin on skin, though Frankie doesn't remember anyone coming up with Louis. Maybe he missed it in the crowd, someone tucked into his side.

"Daddy!" The whine is high, a sharp little note as the thudding starts again, a little louder staccato with the whimpers and keens of a high pitched 'yes' and 'more'.

Frankie yanks his head back, brow furrowed as he looks around the hallway. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't fucking make sense. Frankie has had to hear Harry's annoying, slow drawl everyday since the beginning of semester and there is no way that is his voice. In fact, it almost sounds like a girl, all reedy and desperate. Frankie leans back in to get a second listen just Louis starts talking again.

“Can’t stop looking at you.” Louis growls, the sound of a sharp slap following up his words. “Love the way your cunt pulls me in. Soaking your panties. Desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Need it.” The voice whimpers, breathy and sharp as the banging slows down, a steady tap tap tap, which Frankie can assume means whoever it is now grinding. “So big in me, Daddy. Feel it all the way up here. Fucking me through.”

It’s the way it’s said that sounds familiar, a strange little lilt to the end almost like the person is losing their momentum. But then with another smack, the person cries out, and then they’re back to making that loud noise. Frankie can’t wrap his head around it. He knows Harry’s voice and whoever is in there isn’t Harry. Not sunshine and daisy Harry Styles with his long winded jokes and his deep drawl.

“Said you were a trophy, aren’t you?” Louis’ voice is breathy, gasping around the words. “But it’s not you, is it? It’s this right here. Best pussy on the planet and all mine, hm? Aren’t spreading these legs for anyone else. I earned it and I keep it well fed, don’t I princess?”

“No! All yours.” The voice cries out, the wet smack of skin on skin seeming to only grow. “Want you in me always.”

“Fuck baby.” Louis swears loudly, growling out the words around what sounds like clenched teeth. “Come on, want to see you ride it. Look so good on top. Perfect throne for you.”

Frankie pulls his head back again, nearly falls against the opposite wall in shock. He has to tell someone. Holy shit, he has to tell someone. Louis is in there with someone and not just anyone - it's very clear from the wet slurping noises and the whining that it's a girl. And what sort of friend would Frankie be if he didn't at least warn someone? He hasn't seen Harry all night. What if he randomly shows up?

Back peddling to the stairs, it's almost kismet that Frankie crashes onto the first floor landing and nearly barrels into both Zayn and Niall. They're propped up together, overseeing the crowd like a spectator at some sporting event. It's either that or they're watching the way Liam is crushing everyone in a makeshift arm wrestling arena, the roar around of the crowd around him growing every time he slams someone's hand down.

"Oh, thank god. I'm so glad I found you guys." Frankie pushes his hair back from his face, grimaces at he sweat at his temple.

"What? What's wrong?" Niall might be wasted but he's still a good mate, rolling his head against the wall to stare at Frankie. Zayn barely can pull his eyes away from his boyfriend, but he tilts his head like he's listening.

"I was just upstairs using the loo, right? And I heard something." Frankie is almost relieved to see both Calvin and Jason coming up the steps, sliding into their little group.

"Okay? And?" Zayn drawls, takes a slow sip of his cup. Whatever is in it is neon colored yellow. "This is fascinating, mate. Really."

"No! I was coming out and I heard some banging so I thought someone was like, breaking shit. You know how parties are but it was in Louis' room." Frankie continues, voice going a little frantic. "And I heard Louis in there. Uh. Doing something."

"Christ's sake, mate." Calvin grimaces, wrinkling his nose. "I don't want to know. Why are you eaves dropping on Louis?"

"I didn't like mean to. I was worried." Frankie defends, feeling a little better as Jason nods like he gets it. "But I swear to fuck, I heard him in there with a bird."

"I'm sorry, what?" Niall looks so shocked he nearly drops his pint glass, eyes going comically wide. "Say that again."

"Louis is up there fucking some girl! And they're being loud as shit."

Frankie nearly shouts it to get heard over the music, the group falling into a sort of stilted silence until all of the sudden, Zayn and Niall share a look and then both of them burst out laughing. It's a high, boisterous sort of mocking noise, Niall throwing his head back so hard it hits the wall with a dull thud and Zayn leaning into him to keep upright. They keep at it until Calvin starts chuckling a little too, leaning over his shoulder to shout down into the crowd.

"Oi! Luke! Oli! Get up here."

"I know what I heard!" Frankie snaps, hooking his arms over his chest and hugging them tightly to himself. "I heard it with my own two ears!"

"You heard," Niall is still chuckling, wiping at his eyes, "Louis Tomlinson, our fearlessly flamboyant Louis Tomlinson, fucking a girl? Right now?"

"As in Tommo the Tease?" Calvin raises both of his brows, shaking his head.

"More like Tommo the Tied Down." Zayn mutters, rubbing a hand a long his jaw. He levels Frankie with a deadpan stare, barely containing his snickering. "You know all those wedding magazines that keep turning up on the table are Harry's right? As in, we might as well get a mat out front with "The Tomlinsons" on it."

"Bet they've picked out the China too." Luke adds, joining in on the conversation. "What was Harry saying last month? Has to be that French blue table settings with sparrows in the center pieces."

"Louis blue." Oli corrects, rolling his eyes. "You know how many ring shops I've been dragged to? I know all the owners by first name, mate."

"I heard it!" Frankie stomps his foot, pointing up the stairs. "He's definitely up there and it's definitely a girl. So, if he's cheating on Harry, we might want to keep it fucking quiet, yeah?"

"Hey hey!" Niall throws his hands up, shaking his head. "Let's not talk that much shit, alright?"

"Piss off. No way. No fucking way." Zayn dismisses, turning away from the group. "Not in a million fucking years."

"I don't know mate. I haven't seen Hazza tonight, have you?" Luke is clearly just instigating, roving his glassy eyes around the room. He smells like vodka, cheap and pungent on his breath. "Would be the perfect time for Louis to sneak around."

"See!" Frankie points, emphasizing his words. "I'm not lying, mates. I fucking heard it. Up there calling him Daddy and shit."

"Daddy!" Luke shouts, leaning into Calvin so hard they almost go back down the stairs, steadied by Oli's quick hand. "She's calling him Daddy?"

"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you. It's got to be a girl."

There is some more conversation, protesting and laughing, before Jason's voice cuts through the rumbling, soft and a little sweet. He really is too fucking dumb for his own good, hands clutched before him in an innocent grasp.

"If you don't believe Frankie, let's go have a listen."

"Now?" Calvin lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head. "You want us all to go up now?"

"Well, how else? We can listen and they won't even know we're there!" Jason gives a helpful nudge to Frankie, grinning at him. "That way you'll believe what Franke is saying is true."

"Count me out." Niall wrinkles his nose, taking the Zayn approaching and giving himself a little distance between the group. "I'm not going to be there when you get caught and Louis murders you."

"Wait, is this a prank?" Calvin asks, arm wrapped tight around Oli's shoulders, leaning them both forward. "Is this a fucking joke? Frankie! My lad!"

"No I-" Frankie shakes his head desperately. This is all very quickly getting out of hand.

"Oh you sly dog!" Oli reaches out, pinching Frankie's cheek. "This is it, isn't it? He put you up to it? Or are you having one over on him?"

"Well, let's have it then. Go have a listen and he won't even know!" Luke is drunk. Luke is very drunk and very loud and he starts up towards the stairs, crowing as he does it. "Louis! Oh Louis!"

"Shut up! Don't get his attention!"

Frankie tries desperately to hush the upperclassmen but it seems that Luke, Calvin, and Oli are all set to the prank idea. They crash up onto the third floor, tripping over the carpet and to Louis' door. It's obvious it's his by the posters, Luke's big hand coming out and trying the knob. It doesn't give when he tries it, jolting hard as the lock keeps it still.

"Oi, Calvin, you can pick a lock, yeah?" Luke asks, crouching down and wiggling the door knob again. "Anyone got a pin?"

"Not since the scouts, mate. Jesus." Calvin feels around his body, as if he's looking for something. "Can't hear anything either, Franklyn."

"That's not my-" Frankie tries to protest, stopped when Jason grabs his shoulder, shaking his head.

"I've got a credit card." Oli digs into this back pocket, yanking out his wallet. "This will work too."

"Ah yes, James Bond. Get on it then." Luke makes a gesture towards the door as Calvin nearly crashes into the back of him, leaning over and jostling the door again.

"Lads, I really think we shouldn't. Let's just go." Frankie tries. Over the cacophony of their group, he can still hear the faint banging from inside of Louis' room. He didn't expect all of this to happen.

"No no, you started it lad. Let's finish it." Luke laughs, loud and obnoxious, drowning out the sound of the click as the bedroom door's lock gives away. It's a shitty dorm door, nothing of real substance behind it. That's why it flies open so easily, ricocheting into the wall on the other side.

Frankie was prepared for a lot of things. He wasn't thinking it was going to come to this, per say, but he kind of accepted the idea of walking in on Louis fucking some girl. Maybe one of those nice ones that seems to linger around the house, always there not really invited. What he gets instead is much worse. Frankie doesn't think he's ever going to get the image out of his head.

Louis is definitely in there, laid flat against the pillows, both of his hands holding tightly to the hips rotating on top of him. He's got the perfect view of the back of his jersey, last name a blur, as Louis digs his heels in and thrusts up, meeting the other person as they rock down. It's also completely obvious it is actually Harry - sweaty curls hanging against his shoulders, sticking to his cheeks as he throws his head back, crying out. He's gripping the footboard so hard his knuckles are white, Harry's legs spread open wide, giving Louis the full view of everything.

No one in the doorway moves, all five of them too shocked to so much as blink, staring at the scene before them. Frankie isn't sure he'll ever be able to close his mouth again.

Harry is too out of it to notice the audience or the suddenly loud music but Louis isn't - Louis' who stares with wide, furious eyes as he sits up, pulling Harry against him with an arm around his chest. The new angle gives a flash of black lace between Harry's spread legs, keeping his cock back so he almost looks smooth down there, mounded up like how a girl would be. Louis doesn't let them look for long, reaching up to tug the jersey down to cover him, furrowed so hard his cheek is twitching.

"Pretty sure that door was locked, mates."

Louis grits his teeth, hand flexing on Harry's hip, keeping him still when he seems to snap to attention. Harry takes one, teary eyed stare at the door, before he leans back, arches so he can bury his face in Louis' neck, hiding with a soft whimper.

"I suggest you fucking leave, cause if I have to take my cock out, you're never going to walk again."

His voice is deadly calm, not even sounding out of breath, while Harry is gasping above him. Louis barely spares them another glance, a steel cold glare, before he's reaching up a hand to Harry's shoulder and pushing. It's not even a command but Harry does as he's told, collapses forward so he's on his forearms, arching his back as Louis thrusts up into him.

That's all they get, the sound of Harry nearly screaming and Louis thighs flexing as he digs his heels up and slams into him, and then Luke is promptly yanking the door shut. The latch catching is audible in the hallway, even over the music, and all the boys kind of stand there. It's loud below them and it's loud next to them, Harry's voice raising into that high pitched whine of his.

"A pint?" Calvin asks shakily looking around.

"Yep. Or five." Oli agrees, reaching back to take Luke's hand, tugging him towards the stairs. It only leaves Frankie and Jason awkwardly standing there, Jason being kind enough to tug on Frankie's sleeve.

"It's alright, Frankie. He really does kind of sound like a girl."

5.

It's actually Liam's idea that they take advantage of the miraculously good weather and head out for a short holiday in the middle of term. Nothing major, just a few lads in the woods with a few tents, maybe some swimming and hiking. Pints and hot dogs and some scary stories around the campfire. It should be good for them. A brotherly bonding escape, or at least, that's how Liam sells it.

Louis isn't convinced. He'd much rather spend the good weather out on the footie pitch or lounging around campus on a blanket, being lazy and ignoring the pile of homework on his desk. This seems like a cheap, and easy way, to smooth things over from the party - which Louis is still mad about regardless of how many times Frankie and Luke beg for forgiveness.
So no, he doesn't want to go. This is bullshit.

Or at least, he doesn't until he piled into the back of Liam's SUV, getting settled against the window just as Harry comes in after in the shortest pair of yellow shorts Louis has ever seen. They're a thin, windbreaker material, sculpted up on the sides with white piping on the edges, cut in a way that his tiger tattoo is playing peek a boo with the hem. He's wearing a hoodie too, front strings tied up in a bow.

Harry takes the middle seat, pushing his knees together and carefully buckling himself in, before he looks over at Louis, giving him that slow, easy smile. It's unfair how pretty he looks even in the dim morning light, lips a little red from the hot tea he's been sipping on.

"Hi darling." Harry tastes like tea, leaning in to give Louis a slow, gentle kiss, lingering long enough to rub their noses together.

Louis doesn't talk, just pulls Harry back into another kiss, this one a little slower. It's a sleepy kiss, meant more for greeting and comfort than anything else. Warmed up from it, Louis pets a hand down Harry's chest, grinning when the feels the skull design under his fingertips. It doesn't match Harry's usual aesthetic which must mean it's Louis'.

"If you're tired, you can lay on me." Harry murmurs, keeps his voice low so the other boys piling in can't hear, before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to Louis' cheek. "I know it's early."

Early is an understatement. No one has ever accused Louis of being a morning person but the green clock on the dash reading four thirty just seems excessive. The only people who seem to be functioning at this hour like a normal person are Liam and Harry.

"I'm cold."

Reaching up, Louis wraps an arm around Harry, tugging him over so he's mostly turned on his hip, holding him tight. It's not exactly spooning, but it lets Louis snuggle into Harry's curls, locking his arms so Harry is practically turned into his human lap blanket. When he's fully settled, Louis lets his free hand fall down, lacing their fingers together, holding them tightly on Harry's hip.

"G'night baby." Louis barely slurs out, eyes already falling closed to the feeling of Harry's soft laughter.

It would have been the end of it. Louis could have just accepted the camping trip, accepted being around a whole bunch of rowdy lads who can't seem to ever stay still. He could have coasted, been chill, except for those shorts. Those obnoxiously bright shorts that seem to have been made with Harry's exact measurements in mind.

They cling to his ass when Harry slides out of the car to go into the petrol shop for snacks, hiked up a little in the back so Louis gets a front row seat to the hint of lace against his skin before Harry is up and skipping over the asphalt with Niall. Louis vaguely considers adding the restroom to their sexual bucket list but he's not sure he can handle the shame of pushing Harry up against such a dirty wall.

The shorts are there when they finally get to the campsite. Harry being Harry, has to help with everything. He's half bent over snapping the tent poles together, laughing with Luke and Calvin. They're just as short as they were in the car and Louis nearly tips out of his camping chair when he cranes his neck to get a full look. He can't tell exactly what the panties look like, only that they have to be some sort of silk because they're not leaving a line, and that they're trimmed with white lace.

Harry ends up taking his hoodie off halfway through the day, ties it around his waist as Niall and him decide to go for a short walk to the lake nearby. Louis almost wishes it was a little colder because he's not sure how he's handling seeing Harry in a vintage, Strawberry Shortcake crop top and those shorts. It's like something plucked directly out of his fantasies, especially when Harry skids his white Vans in the dirt when he comes over, leaning down to give Louis a slow kiss.

"You want to come?" He asks, all hopeful and bright eyed, nudging his bare knee into Louis'.

"Yeah but not in the way you mean." Louis smirks, nodding his head towards his lap where his semi is tenting up the front of his shorts a little.

Harry flushes when he notices, biting his bottom lip and glancing around like someone will notice. Luke, Oli, and Calvin are too busy fighting over by the cooler and Jason and Frankie are caught up in some wild story Niall is telling. Zayn and Liam are suspiciously missing, though Louis is pretty sure he saw them walking off hand in hand earlier.

"Oh." Boldly, Harry leans down a bit, ghosts his fingertips over Louis' chest. "Later?"

"Later?" Louis raises a slow eyebrow. "What if I want it now?"

It's the shift in the tone of his voice. Louis can see it written all over Harry's face, down to where his knees tremble a bit, like he's stopping himself from dropping to them. Louis knows that if he pushed, really pushed, that Harry would do what he wanted - always one to please - but Louis isn't sure he wants that just yet. Just wants to see Harry squirm, see how he'll answer.

"The lake." Throwing a thumb behind him, Harry points a little crookedly. "I think we're swimming. If you want."

"You want me to fuck you in the lake?" That gets a surprised eyebrow raise from Louis, who can't help his little cackle. "Bold, little dove. And in front of all the lads too? Haven't you had enough? They already saw you on my cock."

That gets the squirm out of Harry, who knocks his knees together, hand coming up to tug on his bottom lip. He doesn't dare look around, gives all his attention to Louis as he struggles to find what he wants to say. Whatever he's thinking has his face growing redder, a little crimson on the apple of his cheeks.

"I just-" Harry starts, voice drawling out slow and careful, "want to make Daddy happy."

"You do." Louis reassures with a little growl, reaches forward to run his hand up the back of Harry's thigh. It’s smooth there, skin like silk, and Louis wants to bury his face between them, but he resists. “But I think you want to go play with your friends.”

“I don’t-“ Harry starts to shake his head but Louis gives him a smile, shaking his head.

“It’s alright, baby. Go have fun. I’m gonna sit here with these dipshits.” Louis motions behind them where Calvin has now managed to open the cooler, digging through it for a beer. When Harry hesitates, Louis reaches up, tugging him down by the frilly hem of his crop top, fingers ghosting over his butterfly tattoo.

“Go on your walk and play in the water. I’ll come down in a bit, alright?” Louis kisses Harry’s nose in a reassuring little press, waiting to see Harry giggle, eyes going wide. “Love you.”

“Love you. So much.” Harry presses his grin to Louis’, kisses him bright and happy, letting out a peel of laughter when Louis intentionally reaches up, tickling him behind his knees.

Louis watches him walk away, actually watches him, the sway of his hips in those shorts and the way the crop top plays peek a boo with the dimples on his back. If love makes you crazy, Louis is certifiably insane. That’s the only explanation he has for the way his heart flutters when Harry turns back just at the beginning of the path, sunlight caught in his hair, dimpling as he grins back at Louis with a cute little wave before Niall grabs his arm and tugs him along.

Somehow Louis gets roped into a conversation with the other lads about footie and school and something or other and he never makes it down to the lake. At least, not before the four boys are coming back, each shivering with a towel clutched tightly around them. Niall is swearing to all who will listen about how bloody cold it is, even with it being October, and how he’ll never feel his balls again – followed closely by a wide eyed Frankie and Jason.

Harry is in the very back, his own beach towel wrapped around him a powdery colored sage. He takes one look at Louis, teeth chattering and face red, before he’s coming over, stomping a little in his sneakers. In the hand that's holding the towel shut, Harry is clutching what appears to be the hoodie and yellow shorts, his crop top barely hanging from his fingertips.

"Got a little cold, baby?" Louis ignores the raised eyebrows of the guys around him as Harry comes to stand just to the side of Louis' chair, dripping water on the ground.

"W-We r-ran in." Harry stammers, barely raising his mouth above his towel to speak. "So cold. Holy shit."

"Tents there, love. Go get warm." Louis reaches out, touching Harry's waist gently, nudging him towards the right tent. "I'll put the kettle on."

Harry nods once, leaning down to brush his cool lips against Louis' cheek before he's staggering off. It isn't until the tent has zipped closed that Louis notices Luke and Calvin snickering to each other, Oli's face very pointedly staring into his lap.

"Oi, come off it." Louis grumbles, throwing his hand as he leans down to grab the kettle off the supplies. "Keep your fucking laughing to yourselves, mates."

"Sure you don't want to go in and help him?" Calvin asks, raising his eyebrows in a comical wiggle. "Show him how to get dried off the Tommo Way?"

"What does that even mean?" Luke turns between the boys, his chuckles giving away to full on laughing. "Are we calling Louis' insatiable need for his boyfriend the Tommo Way?"

"I don't have ear plugs, so please warn me beforehand." Oli grumbles, though there seems to be no real heat behind it as he pokes at the fire, stirring it up again as Louis hooks the kettle over. He only made enough water for Harry and him to have a cup, so he hopes the other boys don't notice or mind.

"We're not that obvious."

"Sorry mate. You kind of are." Luke shrugs unhelpfully. "I've seen it. You put the dick in addicted."

"More like he puts the dick in Harry." Oli laughs at his own terribly lame joke, nudging his elbow into Luke as he cackles. "Get it?"

"Absolutely deplorable. Really, mate. So bad."

Louis rolls his eyes, takes a moment of stretching to peek at his tent. Harry has kept the door zipped but Louis, distantly wonders, if he's naked by now in there. Is his skin all pebbled up and trembling, stripped down pale but blushing, waiting to have Louis press up against him. What would Harry look like pressed down into all the blankets, legs and arms open for him?

"You can't even pay attention for five whole seconds though." A small twig hits the side of Louis' head, drawing his attention back as Luke laughs loudly and Calvin crosses his arms, unimpressed. "What did I just say to you?"

"A bunch of shite." Louis flips him the double bird and leaves the conversation at that.

No matter how Louis tries though, he can't get the thought out of his head. Is he obvious? Is he blatant with how he feels about Harry? How already gone he is, has been, for months now? Is that such a bad thing? Louis spends all of dinner watching Harry move around the campsite, helping make food with Zayn and Jason. It doesn't go unnoticed that he serves Louis first, making up his plate just the way he likes before bringing it over with a small, nearly bashful grin. Louis doesn't let him leave until he's kissed him thoroughly, ignoring the way Niall stares at them or the way Frankie and Jason make faces.

For that, Louis kicks Frankie out of his camping chair and promptly pulls it next to him, forcing Harry to stop trying to play hostess and instead eat. He gets like this sometimes, too into serving and giving everyone everything that he forgets to take care of himself. Louis hates it how the guys never notice how special of a trait that is, how amazing and perfect Harry always is, down to even the simple act of knowing how much ketchup to put on Louis' hotdogs. Harry knows because he cares and isn’t that a wonderful trait? Caring with no expectation of reciprocation or reward.

They eat in mostly agreeable conversation, jokes and banter all around. It's easy for Louis to slip into his role - a king holding court. These are his friends, his brothers really, and he conducts the conversation - pulling people in and ribbing on them, making sure everyone is included. No one gets away - not Liam or Niall or even Zayn - no one but Harry. Harry who gets teased by Louis but the moment any of the other boys try and start, Louis shuts it down with a quick snap.

It's times like this that Louis wishes he was a millionaire. Wishes he had the money and the means to spoil his boyfriend - because honestly Harry deserves it. Deserves it when he's sitting there so beautiful, laughing at all the jokes, hand warm in Louis' hand, at ease with the rest of the lads. It wouldn't feel like this - good and pure and wholesome and cosmic and divine - without him. Louis would be half himself without Harry Styles. And for that, if Louis could, he'd give Harry the whole world.

The moon is heavy in the sky and the fire is finally out when they head to bed. There are only four tents between the group of them and with one squinty eyed glare earlier, Louis managed to snag one of them just for Harry and himself. Though, looking back, there didn't seem to be much of a fight. The boys aren’t exactly avoiding them, just seem a bit more cautious – more aware – of the separation between Louis and Harry – lads and friends and LouisandHarry - private.

It's pitch black in the tent, nearly impenetrable when they make their way inside, Harry tripping a little on the lip of the tent as he slides past the nylon. He had set up the tent earlier before going to the lake and there are large blankets on the ground, cushiony and homey even in the small space.

"Oh fuck's sake." Louis mutters, has to feel with his hands to try and locate his bag. He needs his sleeping trackies, not his day wear ones. It's a whole system, he has.

"I have a flashlight somewhere." Harry' voice sounds far away even with his hand resting on Louis' back, rubbing at his shoulders. He seems to locate it, clicking it on so a blinding beam of light shines up at the ceiling of the tent. They’ve let the air vent open, the cool breeze spilling in through the canopy of trees.

“Brilliant, darling.” Louis starts to say, looking over his shoulder, mouth suddenly going dry.

In the white beam of light, Harry looks like shadows and light in quick contrast as he sheds his sweatpants, kicking them to the side to reveal those little yellow shorts again. This time, they’re wrinkled up a bit, bunched around the top of his thighs as he works his hoodie over his head too. It’s no secret to Louis that Harry sleeps warm, always has. It hadn’t earned any complaint from Louis though, who quiet enjoys the feeling of Harry’s bare skin against him, his legs on Louis’ cold toes warming him up. It’s just the way Harry is so casual about his nakedness right now though, barely a thin sheet of vinyl and nylon to keep him safe from the prying eyes of the lads around them.

“Do you need help? I know you packed them. I checked myself.” Harry pads across the blankets, bare feet leaving indents as he comes up to Louis’ side again, peering in the bag. “Should be on the left.”

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.”

Louis has to force his eyes back down, will his hands to dig through his clothes and not immediately go to Harry’s waist. He just wants to feel him up a bit, press his thumbs into the laurels on Harry's hips, kiss his way up and under that crop top, trace the butterfly with his tongue. He's thinking about it when he changes, an idea on repeat when Harry slips under the blankets, when Louis gets in next to him, surprisingly comfortable for being on the hard ground.

"Goodnight." Harry is sweet as a peach when he leans over, kisses Louis' cheek, snuggling down into the blanket. "Love you, Daddy."

It stirs something in Louis' groin to hear that, fire growing in his spine as Harry blinks up at him, innocent face with a devilish glint in his eye. He knows what he's doing, always skirting along the edges of being a full on brat, fingers hooked just over the edge of the blanket against his cheek. Louis doesn't let him play for long though, rolling over and sliding an arm around Harry's waist.

"Goodnight, baby. Love you too." Louis makes it seem dismissive, uninterested, nudging at Harry until he rolls over.

They both know this is their preferred way to sleep, Harry tucked into Louis' front, their knees to shoulders nestled together like two perfectly curved spoons. It allows for Louis to drape himself over Harry a bit, to hold him down and close, keep him secure when Harry starts mumbling in his sleep. It also lets Harry tug Louis' arm around him, to be lulled to sleep by Louis' heavy breathing.

It's not what Louis is going for though - not yet. He immediately slips in and up against Harry, grinding his half hard cock into the crevice of Harry's ass, rutting a little against the nylon of those shorts. God, he's never been so offended by and so thankful for a piece of clothing before. It's not a slow movement either and Harry is caught off guard - letting out a sharp, startled moan as he arches his back into it.

"Oh, sorry, baby." Louis murmurs, leans in to nuzzle against the back of Harry's neck, pushing his curls aside. "Was my flashlight."

There is barely a pause and then Harry lets out a sharp, squawking laugh, the one when he's totally delighted. He shakes against Louis, slips his hand out from his in order to cover his mouth. It's loud though, enough to fill the tent and beyond, earning them something being thrown at the tent, the side caving in before snapping back into place.

"Oi, shut up!" A voice - maybe Calvin? - sounds in a sleepy grumble. "Both you lot."

"Sorry, sorry. Was looking for me torch." Louis calls back, running his hands down Harry's front, over his stomach, under his shirt to his ribs, and then down between his legs, cupping over his cock. "Oh! Found it!"

This time, Harry jolts, turning his head quickly to the side so he can muffle his moan into the blanket. There is barely any fabric between Louis' palm and Harry's cock, not enough to hide how warm Harry is down here, how hard he's already getting with a few teasing strokes and bites along his neck. It's one of Louis' favorite things - how sensitive Harry is.

"Louis," Harry mumbles, reaches a hand down to grab at Louis' wrist, but he doesn't pull him away. In fact, Harry seems unable to make up his mind, writhing a little in the blankets.

"Still cold from the lake, baby? Need me to warm you up." Louis grins, takes Harry's earlobe between his teeth, nipping on it lightly.

"B-But the lads," Harry looks over his shoulder, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He's incredibly warm, seeming to only grow the inferno below the blankets. "They'll hear."

"Let them." Louis dismisses, doesn't even care about what he said, too distracted by rubbing at Harry's cock. "God, Hazza, these shorts. You have no idea what you've been doing to me."

"You don't like them?" Harry asks, peeks over his shoulder as he rolls his hips back. Little shit.

"Like them so much can't wait to take them off you." Louis groans, reaches for the waistband to tug on them, easing them down a few inches. He was right. The panties are silk, or from what he can tell by feeling on them.

Harry does his part, lifts his legs, wiggles when Louis fights to them past his knees. And then suddenly, Harry is stripped down to his little crop top and panties and those yellow shorts are up and off in the corner of the tent. Louis makes to roll on top of him, to start grinding down on him, wants to feel Harry moaning, when something hits the side of the tent again.

"I meant it! You fuckers are so fucking loud!" Definitely Calvin's voice, followed by the sharp cackle that sounds suspiciously like Luke. "Shut up! Do I need to separate you?"

“Separate us?” Louis laughs, his loud guffaw turning into a sharp noise when Harry runs his hand down his chest, reaching for the front of his trackies. “You sure you want to do that? Don’t think either of you can suck cock as good as this one.”

In the very dim light, Louis can just barely make out Harry’s wide eyes staring up at him. His grip on Louis’ waistband has turned white knuckled, looking so turned on Louis can almost sense the way his pupils dilate. It’s the blatantness of Louis statement, the blasé way he talks about Harry even if he’s not doing what he said he was. The compliment mixed in with the bragging.

“Christ’s sake, Lou! No one needed to know that!” Liam groans from nearby, the sound of shuffling being heard and then the sharp zip of a tent being opened and closed, letting out Zayn’s giggling.

“Unless, one of you lot wants to try, cause then-” Louis starts to say but before he can get the full sentence out, Harry has dropped below the blanket and yanked Louis’ trackies down, taking him in with one long gulp. “Shit! Fuck! Harry!”

Louis can’t help but shout, heels digging into the blankets as it takes all of his self control not to thrust up into the hot, hot, hot cavern working its way over Louis’ cock. If he was only semi before, he’s rock hard now, hitting the roof of Harry’s mouth and skidding over his palate. He doesn’t need to see Harry to know he’s got his eyes closed, obedient and subbed out, already drifting to where he only focuses on pleasing Louis.

“Your jokes are getting pretty lame, Tommo.”

“Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“I don’t think it’s a joke.” Jason – who sounds scandalized – murmurs over by the fire.

Something else hits the side of the tent, a little harder this time, and Louis has to bite into his fist not to shout when Harry’s hand finds his balls. He doesn’t even have a witty response to the other boys, completely forgotten as Louis yanks the blankets down and buries his hands in Harry’s curls. He lets out a little whimper at that, mouth stuffed full and dragging up and down Louis’ cock so hard it must be bruising him. But Harry won’t be stopped, not by himself or Louis, who goes from 0 to 100 so fast it makes his head swim.

It’s unnatural. Something that doesn’t make any scientific sense as Harry bobs his head faster and faster and Louis can actually feel the pleasure being sucked through him. He’s never understood the term ‘sucking soul through his dick’ but at the moment, he’s a fucking believer. He barely has a moment to arch up, his fingers like a vice in the back of Harry’s hair before he’s coming, spurting long and hard down his throat.

Louis can’t even come down, the force of it making him sit up, reaching out desperate hands until he can tug on Harry’s shirt, his arms, hook under his armpits and yank him up. The kiss is salty sweet, some of Louis’ come still in Harry’s mouth when he pushes his tongue in, lapping at it and then over Harry’s teeth. Louis isn’t even sure he feels human, out of his skin and mind, only grounded by Harry’s squirming weight in his lap.

“Did I do good, Daddy?” Harry mumbles, mouth bruised and raw even as he kisses over Louis’ stubbly jaw. “Make you feel good? Don’t need any other boy.”

It takes Louis a minute to realize what Harry is referring to, caught up in his slow lapping at Harry’s mouth. He can’t get over how plush it is after he’s had something in it, pillow soft and smooth, perfect to bite and tug on. Louis does just that, drags his teeth along Harry’s bottom lip before pulling back.

“Of course you did good, baby. My special, little dove.” Louis praises, pushes Harry’s sweat damp curls from his face, kissing his jaw. “No one makes me feel as good as you. No one can even come close. Made to make me feel good. Every inch of you.”

Louis emphasizes this by running a hand down Harry’s spine, petting over his ribs and hips, slipping his whole palm into his panties to grab his ass. It always fits perfectly in his hands, excellent for playing with, squeezing and pinching it, watching Harry writhe but knows better than to ask. He’ll get what Daddy gives him, when Daddy gives it to him, no sooner and no more.

“You going to let me now?” Louis asks, rolls them over so he can press Harry back into the blankets. “Open up those gorgeous legs for me, darling. Perfect. So perfect for me, angel. Like a fucking dream.”

Harry is so obedient, well versed in what Louis wants even without him telling him. He puts his hands up, back of his hands to the blanket, watching through half lidded eyes as Louis slowly crawls up the length of his body, stalking over him. He’s all flushed pink from his own orgasm, so intune to every half gasp Harry lets out, stomach trembling as Louis starts there, kissing him slow and open, sucking a mark just under the butterfly wings.

“Here baby.”

Louis leans up on his knees, digging around the tent floor until he can find the shorts crumpled over by the bags. He folds them carefully long ways, guiding Harry up by a hand on the back of his neck. The shorts stretch around his head easily, Louis tying them in a knot at the base of his skull, slipping a few fingers in to make sure it’s not cutting, before guiding Harry back down.

Louis slept in the car. He’s not tired and he plans on staying up as long as it takes. As long as it takes for those shorts to become soaked.

If he wakes up the next morning met with the dark eyed glares and aborted glances of his friends, well, Louis doesn’t think he should be guilty at all. Harry deserved it.

1

It is a nasty fight. The worst of its kind. Louis had been sprawled out on the couch at the house when Harry had come in, halfway through a FIFA match with Liam. Lazy Sunday with nothing on the agenda. He didn't even see the jacket before it was thrown, landing harshly at the back of Louis' head, making him drop his controller mid-goal. Before Louis could turn say anything, Harry was screaming.

"You fucking wanker!" Harry's voice had reached a new crescendo, so loud it felt like it was a physical weight echoing around the room. It takes a lot for Harry to get mad, but when he does, it's nothing short of terrifying.

"You think I'm stupid? That I wouldn't find out?"

In his hand, Harry is waving his phone around, so fast the background picture is a blur. Louis knows it’s a picture of them last Valentine’s Day, tucked into the corner booth at the small restaurant downtown. Harry looks luminescent in the candlelight, staring at Louis with wide, incredibly fond eyes as Louis’ laughing wide and gleeful for the camera.

"Hey, watch it!" Louis scrambles up, nearly up ending the bowl of crisps on the table. "What's all this? Why are you screaming at me?"

"You lied to me! To my face!" Harry points a finger, hand slipping to his hip. Dramatic flip of his hair included. He doesn’t come further in the room, just lingers in the doorway with the couch between them. "Where were you last night?"

"I was-" Louis pauses, trying to remember, until it crashes down on him, that slow rolling realization that he’s messed up. Yesterday was Saturday. Oh fuck. Oh no. "Shit!"

"Shit? That's all you can say?" Harry shakes his head, scoffing loudly as he looks around in disbelief. "Come on Tommo. I want to hear it. Tell me all about where you were, cause you sure as hell weren't at your boyfriend's midterm show! The one I told you about for weeks."

"Haz, baby." Louis tries to inch around the couch, arms out, but with the pet name, Harry snaps his attention down - eyes blazing.

"Don't fucking call me that."

He shows his phone again, tapping on a picture until it starts playing a video. It's Louis at the club last night, sweaty and drunk, swaying on the dance floor surrounded by boys. It would just be harmless if it weren't for the fact that someone is clearly grinding on him, a familiar mop of blond curls rolling his ass back. In Louis’ defense, his arms aren’t around him or anything, but Louis looks into it, head tilted back with a wide grin. Louis barely remembers it, just a vague idea of Frankie's hand in his, tugging him out to dance to some remix of a pop song Louis is pretty sure he doesn't even know the words to.

"Well?" Harry raises an eyebrow, his voice only cracking a little, gritting his teeth against it. "Was he good? Did everything you wanted? Let you bend him over right there in the bathroom, huh, Louis? Big man on campus like you."

"Watch your mouth." It comes out deep, voice growling and sharp, the tone that makes Harry freeze, knees knocking together, hands clasped before him. Louis understands that Harry is upset, but there is a fucking line. Especially when a half dozen of Louis' crew is listening in, watching with rapt fascination. "You don't talk to me like that."

"I-" Harry flounders, his cheeks gone crimson, only to narrow his eyes a little, fighting against it. He doesn't want to submit right now, he wants to be loud, to be furious. "I'll do what I want. You obviously are. Getting your dick wet with the first boy to open his legs."

"Oi! Come off it." Louis grimaces, shaking his head. He can feel his temper starts to come unraveled, that little hold he has over it snapping with the way Harry is talking to him. Saying such shit with all the lads to hear it too. "When do I have time to get my dick wet when it's always in you? Who do you think I've been fucking, Harry? Really?"

"You're a liar." Harry flinches under Louis' words, the bite of them stinging as he continues, choking the words out. "Bet that was it, wasn't it? Didn't have to put in any effort at all. Basically has been begging for it for months. I'm not blind, Louis. Nor am I dumb. Isn't that your favorite though? Easy pus-"

"Stop!" Louis shouts, matching Harry's volume as he slams his hand down on the back of the couch. "What the fuck are you saying to me? Do you even listen to yourself? Talking such shit when you know that's not even remotely true. You really think that? You really think I'm just going around sticking it in everyone? Honestly, babe, cause you know whose easy pussy I've been in. Or have you forgotten every other night this week?

"Um, Harry, I was there and they both were very drunk-" Liam tries to interject, holding up a hand like he's referring, but his words stop midsentence the minute both Harry and Louis turn to glare at him.

"Baby, come on." Louis sooths gently, tries to keep the panic out of his voice, to calm down. He doesn't want to fucking fight like this, the flame of it already burning so hot it feels like it will consume all of him. "It really isn't what it looks like. I'm sorry I forgot. Yesterday was shit and-"

"And that's all you can say? All you can fucking say?" Harry's voice is so loud that some of the lads upstairs are leaning over the banister to watch, eyes wide. Louis is pretty sure Frankie is among them, though he's not looking. He doesn't care.

"It was an accident!" Louis tries to defend himself, shaking his head. He can't stand it when Harry gets like this - dramatic and screaming, voice breaking around the tears that flood his eyes. Louis just wants to reach out and hold him, pull him close. "You come in here screaming at me, not even bothering to ask if something happened or-"

"An accident? When he fell on your dick?" Harry chokes hard, biting up his lip to keep the sobs at bay, cheeks gone blotchy and red. "What did you tell him? He was so fucking special. Your best fucking boy. Hope you can turn that H on your leg into a F. That's what you fucking want."

"You got tattoos?" A voice - maybe Niall - sounds from up the stairwell.

"Hey, hey. Darling, wait." Louis can see the anxiety twisting up in Harry's chest, robbing him of breath. He's one moment away from a full blown panic attack, Louis knows it, can see the signs. He might be furious, but he's not going to just stand there and watch Harry dissolve. "You're-"

"Fuck you."

Harry stammers, hand reaching up to fumble with the small, gold clasp of his pearl necklace. He finally gets it undone, the strand pooling in his hand before he throws it, the stones slamming into Louis' shoulder and thankfully falling on the couch.

"Fuck you, Louis Tomlinson. Fuck you so much."

A ring comes flying after the necklace, hits the side of Louis' arm, a keychain from their vacation a few months ago slapping into his stomach. Then, Harry is yanking of his shoes - a pair of baby blue checkered Vans that Louis bought him - throwing so hard they hit the wall and leave an outline in the plaster. He definitely has other shit of Louis'. Half of his dorm is probably full of Louis' belongings, but this seems to be what he has now.

"Harry, I didn't cheat on you." Louis shakes his head, imploring Harry just to fucking wait. "Come on, baby. Come on. You know that. How can you fucking say shit like that to me? I would never."

"Delete my number." Harry snaps, flinching so hard he rocks himself back on his heels, turning sharply towards the door. He doesn't even pause at Louis' shouts, his frantic 'Wait!' and 'Listen!' and 'Baby, you can't walk across campus barefoot.'

And just like that, Harry was gone. Not completely gone. But gone enough. It has been a whole two weeks, a whole two weeks of silence, of barely sleeping in a too big bed, of no good morning or goodnight texts. Louis can't escape it either - saw Harry from across campus, saw him walking with Zayn and Niall, looking like a model in skin tight jeans and his hair up. But he wasn't wearing anything that even hinted at Louis - not a necklace or a bandana or even the little bracelets Louis had gotten him on holiday.

One week after their big fight, Louis opens his dorm door to find Zayn there, a large box in hand. He’s not smiling, no glee at all in his expression, as he shoves the large cardboard forward with a short little jab. Louis has been on the receiving end of this type of box before, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting when he looks inside.

Harry was vicious with this one. Right on top is the pale green dress that is Louis’ favorite on Harry, the cotton material thin and hemmed in velvet ribbons. Louis likes to rub his fingers along it while Harry is curled up next to him, talking quietly about hopes and dreams and far off ideas. Just under it is a ticket stub from one of their first dates. They saw a double feature of some B rated horror movies, though saying they saw it is an overstatement. Louis is pretty sure they didn’t come up for air for the three hours they sat there, popcorn abandoned in the seat next to them.

It’s stuck to a strip of snapshots from the photobooth they had on campus last fall fest. Harry is sitting on Louis’ lap in them, both of them making funny faces, before the second one catches Louis’ hand gripping Harry’s chin, tugging his face to the side. The kiss is immortalized in black and white, a caught moment just when Louis’ tongue slid into Harry’s mouth. Reckless and so in love it hurts. It feels like all splinters stabbing into Louis’ chest though, made worse when something clunks in the bottom of the box, Louis’ cheeks going warm when he sees it.

“You really need to stop making me do this.” Zayn drawls above him, pointedly staring away from the contents of the box. “I know way too much now.”

“Sorry, mate.” Louis mutters, reaching down to push a finger against the cool metal. He doesn’t need to see it, but he likes to, his name engraved over the silver side of the butt plug. It’s Harry’s favorite, his absolute favorite, with a baby blue jewel on the end, loves telling Louis how good it feels keeping all of him inside of him.

“He also told me to tell you,” Zayn draws in a slow breath, sighing dramatically, “he’ll return the vibrator when he’s finished with it.”

“Oh.” Louis reaches up, taking the box from Zayn’s grip. “Which one?”

The look Zayn gives him is entirely unimpressed, nose wrinkled a little in disgust.

“Right.” Louis ducks his head, can’t scratch at the back of his neck like he wants with his hands full. It seems that even with how fed up Zayn is, he still caves a little, still sympathizes.

“Come on mate, just call him.” Reaching out, Zayn grips Louis’ shoulder. “You know this is his sign. You fight. He storms off. Throws a temper tantrum. Then sends you a petty box to get your attention.”

“That’s not-“ Louis means to defend. Harry is dramatic, sure, but he’s hurt. He gets in too deep in his feels, too convinced of bullshit that he thinks is true. And Louis knows that. Harry is sensitive, soft and shy underneath that perfectly sculpted mask of his.

“He hasn’t shut up about you. Always asking me what you’re doing, if you’re seeing anyone, how you’re doing.” Zayn rolls his eyes but it’s a rueful way, a fond, exasperated grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re soulmates, remember? Go get your baby back, Lou. Let the rest of us get some peace, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It's how he ends up here - Louis standing outside of Harry's dorm, a pathetic text on his phone asking for permission. Weeks ago, Louis wouldn’t have needed to ask, would have just come over, still has the key, but it’s not like that now. The plastic wrinkling around the bouquet of roses in his hand seems so loud in the hallway. Already, two first years have walked by, staring at Louis before leaning in to whisper behind their hands. It feels like the worst sort of audience - the one Louis would rather never have.

Louis doesn't want this whole thing on display. He doesn't want anyone else to see him rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. He knows Harry is inside, got in from his last class half an hour ago, is probably halfway through his wind down routine, but Louis is selfish - he can't wait. He wants to fix this. Wants to wrap Harry up in his arms and not have to think about the anger on his face, his tears when he threw Louis’ ring at him.

The knock bounces around the hallway, sharp and staccato. Louis hadn't meant to hit it that hard, but his palms are sweaty, the vicious prick of anxiety only made worse when he hears the shuffling inside. He has a weird, suspended moment where he gets the urge to run, to just flee down the hall, but then Harry is pulling open the door and the moment is gone.

Louis was right. Harry stands there in a familiar, cotton nightgown - baby blue with ruffles on the hem. Louis bought him it within their first month of dating - had it waiting for him the first time Harry stayed the night over at the house. It had been a token then - a sign of I care about you and I accept you and I want you. Now, staring at Harry's bare toes digging into the plush, entryway carpet, Louis almost feels the vague burn of tears in his eyes.

"Hey Daddy." Harry murmurs, fingers sliding on the door frame to tug at the high cut hem of his dress. It barely reaches midthigh, fabric thin enough it’s nearly translucent as Louis can clearly make out the butterfly on Harry’s stomach.

It's like a blessing, honestly, hearing it from Harry. Louis knows he's being a dramatic little shit but nothing stings quite like this past weeks have. Nothing hurts as bad as knowing you're the reason for someone else's pain, for seeing Harrys' tear streaked face in the frat house, disbelief and fury twisting his features as he slammed the front door.

"Hi Baby."

Louis holds out the bouquet, watches until Harry has a full hold on it, before he's moving inside. It only takes two steps before Louis is crowding Harry against the door, arms already reaching down and lifting him into the air. Harry knows this, knows to wrap his arms around Louis' waist, gasping loudly when Louis cranes his head up and kisses him hard.

Bottles clatter to the floor, jewelry thrown to the carpet, as Louis pushes Harry up on top of the low dresser. They're moving too fast, desperate kisses and hands in hair, tugging on one another, too needy to slow it down. It's like a frantic electricity has been unleashed between the two of them, falling apart only to grab tighter, need each other against one another. Louis gets his hands on Harry's hips, pushes his thighs apart so he can get closer as Harry's nails scratch over his back, grip the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it up.

Louis loses his shirt in the entryway, followed quickly by his shoes. Harry's nightgown gets thrown before they hit the bed, one hand up the back and Louis was slipping it over him, moaning loud when he discovered there nothing under it. Harry collapses back on the mattress when Louis drops him there, naked and warm, lifting up a hand and reaching for Louis, whining in the back of his throat.

“Missed you so much.” Louis murmurs, hands sliding over Harry’s calves, up his thighs, gripping his hips. “Love you baby. Love you. Don’t want to fight you anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lou.” Harry whimpers the words, writhing a little to get closer, needs Louis against him right now. “I love you. So much. Please.”

Leaving his jeans and pants on the floor, Louis doesn’t want anything between them when he slips up onto the covers, easing between Harry’s thighs. He's missed Harry like he would miss a lung, obsessed with the ache of it, and being here - against him feels like the first breath he's taken in a week. It’s what keeps him going through the slow, drawn out kisses. Harry kisses him like he’s starving, like he’s drowning, like Louis is the antidote to everyone of his problems and Louis can’t pull away.

They kiss through Louis getting his fingers in him, sharing gasped breaths and moans as Louis stretches him out. He’s done this enough times that doing it blind doesn’t seem like a challenge. Instead, it gives him a front row seat to the way Harrys’ eyes widen when Louis brushes against his prostate, moaning high and desperate in the back of his throat. The way he writhes and his eyes roll back when Louis slips his fingers out and replaces it with his cock, rocking into him in slow, deep thrusts.

Harry is a mess below him, moaning loud and crying a little, hands desperate as they claw at Louis’ back. He’s being fucked good though, so fucking good, with the way he’s shaking, locking his heels to pull Louis in. It’s the type of fucking that goes beyond just the carnal need, especially when Louis brushes Harry’s curls back, kisses all over his face. This is love making, through and through, a private session between the two hearts left a little bruised from each other.

“Love you, baby. Love you so much.” Louis pants, can feel the tension snapping at his spine but he won’t stop until Harry’s come first. “Only boy in the world for me.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Harry is chanting in time with Louis’ thrusts, throwing his head back as Louis changes the angle a little, gets the perfect pace to be rubbing relentlessly against Harry’s spot. “Oh! Oh fuck! Don’t stop. Daddy, don’t stop. Please.”

Harry’s cheeks are streaked with tears, blotchy from pleasure and a bit of sadness, but he’s grinning when Louis pushes him over the edge. It’s an elated little grin, makes his dimples pop and his whole face turn heavenly. It only grows more blissed when Louis thrusts forward, locks his forearms down as he comes too, hips pistoning his way through it. Feels so good it’s like the best euphoria either of them has felt, floating so high it doesn’t even feel like they’re real anymore. They’ve become one being, perpetually moving together as a singular cell.

“So good, little dove. Excellent.” Louis kisses over Harry’s forehead, his cheeks, his soft, soft mouth.

“Love you.” Harry murmurs, half out of it, already so close to slipping over into subspace, the pleasure and welling of emotion too much. “Love you, Lou.”

“I love you too, Hazza.” Louis draws him in, holds him close and kisses his temple again.

Later, they’re going to have to talk about this. They’ll have to rehash all the emotions and the fight and the jealousy that had licked green and vicious at Harry’s words. But for now, Louis is content to hold Harry in his arms, his whole world right here, and he wouldn’t share it with anyone.

No one at all.