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Louis sort of definitely hates all of the moments in his life that lead up to this one. When he had slid the panties on in the morning, he was just looking for the comfort of the lacy black material. Sure, his dick was a bit more trapped in them, but it just felt better to have the softness rub up against his arse and hips when he walked. Louis loves his panties, loves wearing them. Louis hates physical education. So much so that he had managed to omit the fact that he had to change in front of loads of blokes daily from his head when he woke up that morning.
And now here he is, a pale-faced freshman standing stock still in front of his gym locker, scared shitless by the fact that if he were to change, everyone would see his damn panties. So naturally, he comes to the conclusion that he can’t change. He’ll just show up to class with some half-assed excuse in order to avoid the years of embarrassment this will bring upon him.
A couple of friends that pass him warn him that he better change out, or else they’ll kick his ass, but Louis doesn't take them too seriously. He knows that their teacher is a damn arsehole that’ll make them run laps if even one person isn't changed out, but still. Panties. Louis is wearing panties.
Louis glances around. He really can’t afford to get a low mark in class for the day, and the other boys are slowly filtering out. He’s almost the only one left now. He decides that if he can do this quickly, everything will be alright. He’ll just have to be late to his next class. He gets his P.E. clothes out of his locker and glances around again. He can hear a couple of voices approaching him so he just takes off his shirt and changes into his gym one, the schools logo printed on the front. Acting normal. Louis can act normal.
When the voices pass him and then retreat out of the locker room, Louis waits a few moments to listen. When he’s positive no one else is in there with him, he quickly slips off his jeans, fixing his panties so they won't get wrinkled or wedged in uncomfortable places throughout the whole class hour. Of course, with his luck, just as he steps out of his pants the door to the joint bathroom swings open.
Louis freezes. His locker is directly in front of the door to the bathroom. He doesn’t hear anything, but he knows. He knows that whoever is standing there has a front row seat to see Louis’ panty-clad arse center stage. Slowly, Louis turns around, eyes wide. Of course. Of course. Of fucking course the boy standing there just happens to be Harry Styles, the most attractive junior in the school, and captain of the footie team. Immediately, Louis’ cheeks flush a dark red.
He looks down, because looking at Harry’s face is not an option at this point, and quickly tries to grab for his gym shorts. A hand shoots out to stop him, Harry's hand, and Louis looks up at the curly-haired lad above him. Louis slowly straightens up, lips parted to say something, but Harry beats him to it. “Turn around,” he says, his voice sounding rough, and Louis obeys when harry finally lets go of his wrist.
Louis’ breathing is ragged, his face is flushed, and he cannot even believe this is happening right now. Louis expects pain. He expects to be shoved into the lockers and maybe even kicked and punched. What he doesn’t expect is to be spanked. Hard. He doesn’t expect to feel the sharp stinging of Harry’s cupped hand colliding with his left arse cheek. He doesn’t expect it, but that’s what he gets, and the motion is so sudden and surprising and hot that Louis cries out and quickly grips onto the lockers in front of him.
Holy shit. Harry has stepped over the bench separating them and is now so close that Louis can feel his breath on his neck. He doesn’t say anything though, and his hands are on Louis’ hips, so Louis concludes he won’t be getting spanked again. “Are you-” Louis finds his voice, but it’s shaky and an even higher pitch than usual. “Are you going to tell anybody a-about the panties?”
Finally, Harry speaks again, but not after sliding his hands down over Louis’ bum and giving a nice squeeze that has Louis’ breath hitching. “No, of course not,” he says, his voice low, and Louis can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. “If-” shit. “-you let me finger you.”
Louis doesn’t think it’s possible for him to get any redder, but it happens. And his cock might give a little twitch in the panties. “Right here?” he squeaks out, turning his head to look at Harry and shit, his face his very close. Closer than Louis had expected.
“No, not right here,” Harry chuckles, shaking his head, his hands moving back up and around to Louis’ stomach. He pulls the smaller boy back a bit, so he’s standing on his tiptoes, arse pressed up against Harry’s crotch. Louis’ back is arched kind of uncomfortably, but then Harry’s hips are grinding against him in little circles, and all of Louis’ breath leaves his body. Holy fuck.
At this point Louis isn’t sure if Harry’s joking or not, because the older boy isn’t showing any sign of stopping and Louis kind of really doesn’t want him to. Louis sort of definitely loves every moment in his life that led up to this one.
“Then- when?” Louis breathes out, definitely hard by now, and Harry finally stops. Louis takes a big breath to calm himself down.
“Later. Don’t you have a class to get to?” he asks, hand groping Louis’ arse one last time before he pulls away. Then he’s straightening his shirt and adjusting his dick in his pants as if nothing just happened, green eyes glinting as he looks over Louis.
“Yeah. Yeah, shit,” Louis mumbles, cheeks flushed as he quickly pulls on his gym shorts and running shoes. He hastily shoves his normal clothes into his locker along with his book bag, glancing up at Harry. “Er. See you,” he shrugs, waving awkwardly before rushing out of the locker room.
✘✘✘
Louis has one class between P.E. and art. He thanks the lord for whatever reason this is, because it gives him time to calm down and stop sweating before he sees Harry again. His hair is back to normal and Louis somehow manages to look good when he walks through the door to the art room. (Mostly because he took a very long shower after gym. He was very late to English.) Most everyone is already sitting down, though, and when Louis glances around for a seat, he can’t spot one. He walks around a bit, but every seat quickly gets occupied as soon as he starts to head toward it.
This is totally uncool. He can feel Harry’s eyes tracking him and he starts to get embarrassed. What kind of person can’t find a seat in art class? Louis is about to say something to the instructor when Harry speaks up. “You can sit in my lap, Tomlinson,” he says, loud enough for nearly everyone to hear, but not for the instructor up in the front of the class to catch.
Some people chuckle at that, and Louis’ face goes red, but Harry is absolutely serious. He raises his eyebrows at Louis and the younger boy quickly scurries over to the table Harry is sitting at with the rest of his older friends. He puts his bag on the table and then slides into Harry’s lap, avoiding eye contact with everyone else.
Almost immediately, Harry puts his hands on Louis’ thighs, moving him a bit so that his arse settles in a way that rubs directly over his crotch. Louis can feel that Harry’s hard in his pants, and his cheeks flush an even darker red. He glances around at Harry’s friends sitting there with them, and while they don’t say anything, they all seem to give him knowing glances every once in a while.
Louis is a bit confused, but when the lesson starts and he feels Harry’s fingers on the inside of his thigh, he gets it. This is later. Harry’s going to do this now. This sends a shock of panic down Louis’ spine (but it also gets him a bit hot, looking around and knowing that at any moment someone could realize what was going on), and the feeling makes him squirm in Harry's lap. He can feel the way Harry’s breath catches, and if that isn’t the hottest thing ever, he doesn’t know what is.
The tables are high enough to block a handy under them, definitely, but Louis isn’t so sure about this. The tops of his knees just barely brush the edge of the tabletop and he’s a bit nervous that everyone will notice. Harry’s calm though, the face of serenity, as if art class were a place of worship for him. He has Louis turn in his lap, so he’s facing the wall instead of the front of the class, and discreetly, the friend to the left of him shifts almost imperceptibly, so Harry’s whole arm is blocked from view.
They’re sat in the back of the class, so they don’t have to worry about anyone behind them, and Louis can’t help but think that damn, Harry is bloody brilliant. Harry’s hand on his thigh grips tighter and he tugs slightly so Louis’ legs fall open, his thighs spread a bit wider. Louis’ breath hitches and he steals nervous glances to the front of the class. He can’t believe this is happening.
“You gonna be quiet for me?” Suddenly Harry’s voice is in his ear, his hand sliding down the back of Louis’ trousers. Inside, Louis screams. How is no one noticing this?! Outside, Louis nods obediently. He keeps his legs spread for Harry and tries not to make any movements when Harry’s fingers brush over the lace of the panties.
There’s a moment, when Louis glances over at Harry, where he thinks about how fucking ridiculous this all is, but then Harry’s fingers are pressing against his ass and it’s all he can do not to jerk violently.
Louis swallows thickly as he feels Harry’s finger actually enter him, just one, pressing in all the way up to the knuckle. Louis covers his mouth, because he knows he’s bound to make a noise soon. But then that looks too suspicious, so he chews on the ends of his fingers, to make it look like he’s biting his nails. He’s overthinking it, the whole thing, because he feels Harry’s lips against his ear again. “Relax.”
Louis tries to, but Harry’s fingers are so long. He swallows thickly and nods, letting Harry slide another finger in and then god, he starts moving them. Pressing them in and out of Louis, slowly slowly, just to let Louis get used to them. Louis is literally in shock at how good this feels.
Harry’s fingers start working into him at a steady pace and Louis glances around, cheeks flushed, wondering how no one knows. His breath hitches every now and then, Harry circling his fingers around inside of him, but it’s quiet and Louis is quiet and he doesn’t understand it. He’s not sure how he’s even capable of being this quiet.
Harry gets confident, he moves his fingers inside of Louis faster, curling them up a bit and just- there. Louis’ eyes go wide and he lets out a quite long, quite loud moan, Harry’s fingers stilling inside of him. All eyes on them. Harry’s arm is still hidden by his friend’s body, but Louis is fucking obvious, legs spread and cheeks flushed. Oh god. Everybody knows.
“Er. Everything alright, Mr. Tomlinson?” his instructor asks. Louis discreetly moves his bag onto his lap, covering up the most obvious boner he’s ever had. Most of the people that are still looking at him look disinterested, not disgusted or anything like that. They still haven’t realized. Harry must pick up on that too, because his fingers start to move again. Louis could cry.
“Uh-” Louis starts, and Harry presses his fingers into that same spot as before, the one that made Louis moan like it was his job. Louis can feel his body tense up around Harry, and his own fingers are now holding on to Harry’s other hand, nails digging into the skin. “N-uh, no. I’m... okay. I just feel a bit ill... Stomach hurts. I’m okay, though. Sorry... about that...” Louis laughs nervously, but Harry’s fingers twist in just the right way, so it comes out high and breathy. Louis decides right then that he hates Harry Styles and everything about him.
“Do you need to go to the front office then? I can write you a note…?” his instructor keeps talking to him. Louis really wants to cry. This is embarrassing, but it’s also really hot and he’s so hard he feels like he’s about to explode.
He shakes his head. “No, I- I think I’ll just put my head down for a bit, if that’s alright?” he asks, and he somehow manages to keep his voice steady, even when Harry’s thrusting his fingers into him so hard it makes his toes curl.
“Alright, then,” and then he goes back to the lesson and everyone stops looking at him and Louis turns front again and leans over to put his head on the table. It’s awkward for a bit until Harry shifts his body and then fuck.
Harry’s fingers are angled just right, thrusting into him so good that it makes Louis’ thighs tremble. Louis makes the good decision of burying his face into his arms and bookbag, and Harry has a hand on his hip, holding him still.
Louis is really grateful for that because it only takes a few more moments before he biting down on his arm hard, his whole body going tense as he comes in his pants, panting and desperately trying not to shake noticeably. He didn't even touch his dick. Fuck. Harry’s fingers slow, lazily petting as Louis comes down from his high.
He hears a muttered “fuck” behind him, and then Harry’s fingers are gone and Louis' body sags. He can feel Harry’s hard against his thigh, and he supposes he might have to do something about that later, but he’s not dreading it. Definitely not.
Louis is flushed and sweaty and spent and there’s come in his good panties and he’s in the middle of the school day, but he’s sort of definitely thanking every moment in his life that lead up to this.