Archive of Our Own

Harry and Louis stumble into their hotel room with sweat cooling on their skin and lungs still burning from the exertion of a good workout.

“I’m pretty sure I left my arms in the gym,” Harry jokes, guzzling down the rest of his water. Bottle empty, he crushes it in his hand and screws back on the cap and tosses it in the bin. It rebounds on the rim a few times before falling into join the other rubbish. “Either that or they’ve turned into noodles, I’m not quite sure.”

“Your arms, my legs,” Louis commiserates, eyeing the clean bed. He’d really like to lay down, but he’s still drenched in sweat and more than a bit ripe. It was fine while he was in the middle of his workout, but now it is just rank. “I’m not sure I would have made it up any stairs. I would’ve just laid down and waited for death.”

Harry snorts while taking off his headband, shaking his hair free. “Waited for Paul to carry you is more like it.”

Louis smirks, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re insinuating, Harold.”

"Of course not," Harry laughs, stripping off his shirt and adding it into the pile of washing in the corner before toeing off his shoes and socks. "I'm getting in the shower. Join me?" He says the last with a raised eyebrow, dropping his shorts so that he's standing in front of Louis naked.

"Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were propositioning me." Louis tries to play along, but he can’t keep a smile off his face long enough to be convincing. Or keep his eyes off of Harry's dick, for that matter.

He can't help it. Harry has a pretty cock.

Harry steps closer and grabs the hem of Louis' shirt, raising it up until Louis has to lift his arms or risk looking ridiculous. "You'd be right," he says. Louis' shirt in hand, he throws it without looking where it lands. He places his hands on Louis' hips, thumbs dipping under the waistband of his shorts and leans down, stopping with his face millimeters from Louis'. His tongue darts out to lick at his lips and the tip just so happens to brush Louis' as well. "So, how about that shower?"

Louis sways closer, unconsciously raising up on his toes. He wets his own lips, his whole mouth suddenly becoming a desert. "Shower. That—that sounds good."

Pressing a kiss against Louis' lips, Harry breathes, "Good. Hurry up then, 'kay?"

Louis nods, wanting another kiss, but Harry is already walking backwards towards the bathroom. Louis scrambles to follow but he trips over his feet when he tries to take off his socks – fucking stupid socks – before he even has his shoes all the way off. He gets himself sorted in quick fashion and it's only a moment's delay before he's walking towards the bathroom. He undoes the drawstrings on his shorts while walking, ready to drop them and his briefs the moment he reaches the coolness of the tiled floor.

Harry’s already in the shower by the time Louis is naked. The steam is already starting to billow out over the glass door and fog up the top of the mirror. Harry always fails to forget to turn on the bathroom fan and loves the water near scalding. It leaves the bathroom feel like it’s in the middle of a rain cloud and makes it feel odd to breathe.

Louis opens the stall door and is greeted by the sight of Harry’s skin beginning to turn flush from the water’s heat. His eyes follow the path of the water down Harry’s shoulders, over the long lines of his back, and down to the curve of his pert, little bum. He lingers there before taking in the way that the water falls down Harry’s long legs, unable to look away, utterly entranced by how damn beautiful Harry is. Especially when wet.

It takes a long moment for his eyes start to travel back upwards and a smile quirks at the corner of his lips when he looks at Harry's arse once again. Pretty, little thing. Even prettier when pink. He's entertaining thoughts about how else he can make Harry's skin turn that color when he realizes he's been caught in his perusal.

"See anything you like?" Harry asks, head turned so he can see over his shoulder. The water has already soaked his hair and he has it pushed back from his face. It looks almost straight like this, except for the ends where they curl against Harry's neck and shoulders, lengthened by the weight of the water.

"Hmm, maybe a thing or two," he teases. Stepping forward, he joins Harry under the spray, hissing when the water first touches his skin. "Jesus, that’s hot. Are you trying to impersonate a tea bag or something? I'm pretty sure that you don't need to have the water boiling."

Harry turns in Louis' arms, his shoulders shaking with laughter as they take most of the heat of the direct spray. Louis would be worried about being chilled but it's not much of an issue with Harry trying to turn the shower into its own mini steam room. Harry titters, arms coming around Louis to hold him close. "My god, Lou."

"What's so funny?" He's bitched about the heat of the water before, this is no different, it's all in good jest, Harry knows that.

Harry smiles like the cat who caught the canary. “Tea bag.”

Louis groans, not quite believing what he walked into. "Really? Are you twelve?" he asks, trying to deflect from the horrible pun.

Harry answers cheekily, "I'm just saying, if you want me to tea bag you—"

Louis cuts him off with a single finger against his lips. "Stop right there and wash your hair, Tarzan. Some of us have legs that would like to get horizontal very soon."

"Horizontal, eh?"

Louis covers his face with his hands and tucks himself against Harry’s chest. “I’m tired,” he excuses. “Blame the squats. And the leg presses. In fact, forget about my legs, I think I left my brain downstairs.”

Harry’s hands wander down Louis’ back and cup his bum, giving it a good squeeze. “Well, I found something you didn’t leave down there,” he says, leaning down so that he can whisper in Louis’ ear with that low, honey-slow voice of his.

Louis raises his head and groans as Harry’s hands knead at the tight muscles of his arse. His entire lower body is still feeling shaky from the way he pushed himself in the gym and the flex of Harry’s fingers sends little bursts of pleasure down his spine. Harry’s not playing fair. He knows that Louis has a thing for his bum being played with.

“Leave no arse behind,” Louis shoots back weakly. When Harry uses his grip to pull him closer, he sucks in a deep breath and gives his best impish smile. He tries not to let his eyes roll back while Harry fondles his ass, fingers starting to tease at his crack. “Which is good, it’d be hard for you to fuck me if I left my bum downstairs."

“Is that so?” Harry teases.

Now that he is flush against Harry and pulled into the curve of his body, Louis can feel Harry hardening against his belly. Harry’s hands explore the curves of Louis’ bum, dipping between his cheeks to flirt with the sensitive skin of his hole only to retreat back to the lower curve where his ass meets the back of his thighs.

“Yeah,” he says, pressing his own growing erection against Harry’s thigh. The action is made smoother by the water, making things warm and slick and between them in a way that leaves Louis’ breath hitching in his chest. “Although, I’m going to make you do all the work.”

“I’m alright with that,” Harry agrees readily. “Guess we better get out of the shower then.”

“Nope.” Wrapping his arms around Harry’s narrow waist, Louis tucks his face against Harry’s neck, and closes his eyes against the spray that’s hitting his unprotected head.

“No?”

“Yup, nope.” His lips pop at the P’s and he feels just a bit pleased at Harry’s puzzled tone. He likes keeping him on his toes.

"Alright then," Harry starts, "what do you suggest? Want me to hold you against the wall and fuck you in here?" He bends down slightly and uses his big hands to span the back of Louis' thighs, picking him up enough to demonstrate his point.

Louis lets out a muffled groan at the stretch to his sore legs. The rubbery, used feeling in his thighs and calves contrasts with the zing of arousal that shoots through him at Harry’s words. It’s always a rush when Louis remembers that Harry is strong enough to deliver on his words, that can pick him up and fuck him against a wall with no hesitation.

"Is that what you want then?" Harry prompts while Louis struggles to find words.

"N—no. That's not what I had in mind."

Harry sets him back down on his feet, but he's not finished yet. His hands work over the skin of Louis’ arse, fingertips teasing his hole. Mouthing at the line of Louis' neck leaves him in perfect position to whisper into Louis' ear. "Then what?" he asks, dropping a sweet kiss on the outer shell of Louis' ear, its innocence belying the extent of his teasing.

Louis takes in a steadying breath and replies, "Clean. I want you to get us clean then take me to bed."

Harry chuckles, "I can do that."

"Mhmm, good. Get on with it then."

"Is this going to be a ‘I wash your back, you wash mine’ thing?” Harry asks. “Or am I your personal servant now?”

Louis hums in consideration. “Personal servant. I like that. Have to be pampered, you know."

That makes Harry smile. Bright and earnest, he says, "Always," and drops a kiss on Louis' lips.

A blush dots Louis’ cheeks without permission. He was just playing along, enjoying the cheeky banter. But it figures Harry go and do something like that, something so sweet and sincere that it leaves Louis at a loss for words.

Louis is struggling to wrap his mind around that fact that he gets to love someone so endearing and kind that he scrambles for something to say. “I... um... Haz,” he sputters for a second. There’s a sheepish look on his face and he can feel his cheeks warm with a faint blush.

After a few seconds, Harry saves Louis from his verbal fumbling. Leaning down, he grabs the shampoo from the shelf and squirt some into his palm. Shampoo cupped in one hand, Harry gently hooks his finger under Louis' chin. He waits for Louis to close his eyes then guides his head further under the stream of water to make sure that all of his hair gets wet. Once satisfied, he guides Louis back out of the spray and starts to work the shampoo into a lather in his hair. When Louis tries to sneak a quick look, drops of water hang from his eyelashes and partially obscure his view. He blinks them away and sees Harry’s brow is furrowed in concentration, the corner of his lip caught between his teeth. It bemuses Louis that he’s taking it so seriously.

Smile on his face, Louis closes his eyes again as Harry's strong hands massage over his scalp. An appreciative sound works its way out of his chest and he wants to curl his toes in pleasure at the combination of Harry’s fingers working their way through his hair, the press of his body, and the heat surrounding them both.

He loses himself in the feeling, trusting in Harry to guide him where he needs to be. His arms are still wrapped around Harry's waist and he takes advantage of Harry's distraction by letting his hands trace over Harry's skin. Gliding up the smooth, long expanse of Harry's back and across his shoulders, he feels them flex under his hands as Harry guides him under the spray to rinse out the shampoo before repeating the process with the conditioner.

While Harry concentrates on his task, Louis keeps his eyes tightly closed. He amuses himself with trying to guess where Harry's tattoos are. Some of them, like the script of his 17BLACK, are deep enough that he can feel the slight raised edges of the ink while others, like the birds on his chest and the assortment of designs on his arms, Louis only has a chance to guess at from memory. He runs through the tattoos on Harry's arms and chest, fingertips lightly dancing over skin, with brief detours to circle at Harry's nipples before moving on. Harry manages to stay quiet, keeping focused on his own hands on Louis, but when he traces his fingers down Harry's stomach towards the line of his hip bone, Harry sucks in a breath.

“Louis—” his breath hisses between his teeth on the exhale. There's a hint of warning in his tone, like if Louis doesn't stop, he's going to find himself spun around, pressed against the glass while Harry returns the teasing... with his tongue.

Undeterred, Louis doesn’t stop, tracing his thumb over where he knows Harry's might as well… tattoo lays, making sure to use just a hint of nail. "Yes?" he asks, voice and face innocent as he tips his head back to the angle where he knows Harry's face would be. Many a snogging session has allowed him to perfect the exact tilt that it would take, even with his eyes closed.

"You're being a tease." Harry's voice is slightly rough, like he's been singing for a while without warming up or that Louis has forgone restraint and fucked his throat.

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean," he replies, biting back a smile.

"I'll believe that when I can't see the way that your lips are quirking at the corners. They only do that little quirk when you're up to mischief."

Louis pouts. It's always sad when someone figures out his tells. Harry must think that he needs prodding because suddenly a hand disappears from his hair and a fingertip is poking at his cheek.

"None of that."

Playfully, Louis snaps his teeth it the direction that the finger came from. Harry must be feeling slow from the workout still because he's not quite quick enough and Louis ends up with a conditioner coated finger on his tongue. "Eh, nasty that," he says, grimacing. He leans a bit to the side and rocks up on his toes, resting his body fully against Harry's so that he can get a mouth full of water from the spray. "You're lucky I wasn't going to bite any harder. Might have ended up without a finger."

Rescuing his digit, Harry puts his hands on Louis hips, flexing and pulling him into the curve of his body. He leans into Louis, his dick half hard where it’s pressed against Louis’ belly. "Nah, you like them too much."

"Jesus, what is with you today? It's like you’re a randy teenager, oh wait," Louis teases.

Harry nuzzles against the side of Louis' face. "Like you're much better," he says. He pulls away, leaving a kiss on the crest of Louis' cheekbone. His hands disappear from Louis’ hips and Louis tries not to reach for him.

"I refuse to dignify that with a response," he says, eyes still closed. The reason Harry moved is obvious when, a moment later, there's the sound of another bottle being squeezed and Louis can smell the scent of his body wash.

Harry chuckles and Louis can hear him rubbing his hands together, working the wash into a lather in his hands. Once a satisfactory lather is achieved, he works it over Louis in quick efficient motions. If Louis was guessing, he'd figure that Harry is as ready for them to be out of the shower and on a flat surface – preferably a bed – as he is.

Harry's eagerness doesn't mean that he doesn't linger over Louis' cock and arse. If Louis didn't know that he loved them both equally, he might develop a complex about how Harry can't help but linger over Louis' hole, lathered finger teasing his rim. As it is, all Louis can do is keep his eyes closed in fear of the conditioner running into his eyes and hold on to Harry. He tries hard not to think about how good it feels, otherwise they might never leave the shower. The pressure of Harry's fingers tracing his hole and the slick, and the slippery feeling of Harry's soaped hand on Louis' cock tempt him to see just how long Harry could hold him up against the wall and fuck him while post-workout.

Louis thrusts into Harry's hand, unable stop himself. Harry just chuckles low and repeats his motion, squeezing tighter this time and adding twists to the head. Louis' breath hitches and he tries to remind Harry, "I said the bed, remember?"

He feels Harry nod against his cheek, hand sliding from his dick to Louis hips, flexing his fingers and pulling him close. Louis raises on his tiptoes to meet Harry’s lips and they stand like that, pressed together, their erections rubbing, and Louis with his eyes closed, enjoying the long messy kiss. Harry’s tongue sneaking in to lick at Louis’ mouth. Trying to chase the sensation, Louis rocks towards Harry while still balanced on his toes only to have the press of his mouth and body disappear with one final nip along Louis’ bottom lip.

Figuring Harry’s impatience is getting the best of him and he’s ready to rinse off and switch, Louis settles back down on his heels. He’s surprised when he hears a soft thud and feels Harry’s hand drift down his thighs, reaching far lower than what even Harry’s long arms should be able to while standing. It dawns on Louis when feels Harry's hands moving from his thighs down to the back of his knees that the noise must have been Harry dropping to his knees.

Now, that’s a sight that he can't miss.

Blinking rapidly, Louis flicks his hair out of his face and rubs the water from his eyes, opening them just in time to catch Harry looking up at him from under his lashes, mouth inches from Louis' dick. The sight is a punch of arousal low in the gut and suddenly Louis couldn't care less about his aching legs and the bed just outside the bathroom.

"Damn it, Haz. You look so pretty on your knees," Louis gets out. He can't help but reach down and rub his thumb over Harry's bottom lip, wet from the water and bright red from the heat of the shower. Harry catches Louis' thumb between his lips and nips at the pad with his teeth, before pulling it into his mouth. His eyes are bright, giving away that not all of the flush on his skin is from the water, but also the arousal that Louis can see hanging heavy between his thighs.

Enthralled, Louis watches as Harry pulls off of his thumb, it coming out of his mouth with a pop. At the same time, he reaches a hand down and jacks himself slowly, thumb circling the head before he leans forwards and gives the head of Louis' dick a chaste kiss, completely opposite of his suggestive behavior with Louis' thumb.

"You are a fucking tease, Harry Styles," Louis accuses, fighting the urge to fist his hand in Harry's wet hair. Bed, he thinks to himself. Bed and then you can have his cock.

"Me? What am I doing?" Harry questions. "I'm just helping you get clean like the kind, loving boyfriend I am." He drops his hands and washes Louis' legs and feet, resting his head against Louis' hip when he's done. He's trying to look innocent but Louis doesn't believe it for an instant.

"You're taking far too much pleasure in this. Who are you and what have you done with my Hazza?" Louis demands. “You use to be such a sweet, dear lad.” He loves this, how they can laugh and joke over the stupidest things after a long day.

Harry must decide that he's still going to play the brat because he nips at the skin of Louis' hip where it's thin over his hipbone and looks up at him with those guileless eyes, "I'm not the one who said that he wanted a bed. I'm just helping you get clean so that we can get your legs – what was it? Oh yeah – horizontal." Harry's not able to stop himself this time and he starts laughing before he can finish his sentence.

"Alright, that does it." Mumbling under his breath, Louis puts his hand at the back of Harry's neck and pulls, guiding him up to his feet. He doesn't give him a chance to fully straighten before he's bringing Harry's face to his, mouths meeting in a melding of lips and tongue. Harry nearly stumbles back into the cold tile wall before he catches himself, but Louis doesn't let up, keeping one hand fisted in his hair and another at Harry’s waist, pulling him close.

After a moment, they have to separate for air. Foreheads pressed together, they both take deep breaths. The steam from the shower being confined by the glass walls of the stall wasn't a bother before but now the air feels thick, like a blanket. It does lend to the feeling of being utterly alone, just the two of them in a white cocoon of warmth, so Louis isn't going to complain.

Well, at least about that.

"Now, you're going to wash. Quickly,” Louis says. His voice is strong and quiet, pitched so that it doesn’t go farther than Harry’s ears. “Then we're going to go into the other room and you're going to fuck me until either I can't walk or the front desk calls from a noise complaint. Got it?"

Harry nods as much as he's able to with Louis' fist still in his hair, "Yeah, Lou," he says, his voice raspy and the pupils in his eyes wide with arousal. "I got it."

"Good." Louis pulls Harry down for one last kiss, this one more teeth than lips. He's more than satisfied when he pulls away and Harry's lips are even more pink and swollen than before. He lets Harry go and steps back, resting his shoulders against the cold tile of the far wall.

Watching, Louis reaches a hand down and strokes himself slowly. "Get to it then, I'm waiting," he instructs, his eyes taking in the way that Harry's chest is still rising fast like they're back downstairs in the gym and he's trying to catch his breath after doing a set of bench presses.

Harry stands there under Louis' gaze for a moment before snapping out of it at Louis’ pointedly arched eyebrow. That spurs him into action and he makes short work of washing, using his own shampoo and conditioner – a two-in-one product that Louis can never decide if it smells like bananas or coconut, or both – as well as Louis' body wash, which Harry uses as though he can't be bothered to reach the extra six inches for his own when he has the prospect of Louis spread out on a bed in the immediate future.

A few more rushed movements leave Harry clean and rinsed off. He steps backwards towards the wall and half out of the spray before looking at Louis expectantly.

"Well, come on then,” Louis urges, gesturing towards the tap behind Harry. “Turn off the water already. I want your cock." Louis has absolutely no problem saying what he wants when it comes to sex. And he’s all full of want right now.

"Lou,” Harry snickers, looking down at his feet before meeting Louis’ eyes with pure, sappy affection. “You still have conditioner in your hair."

“No, I—” Louis starts reaching a hand up to his hair. Sure enough, it still has conditioner in it. “Damn it,” he mumbles under his breath, just a tad embarrassed.

Harry reaches out a hand to snag Louis by the wrist and pull him under the spray to help him rinse his hair. Louis shakes his head at himself, still slightly abashed when Harry places a kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

“I love you.”

Louis can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. He still sometimes gets taken by surprise at the fact that Harry is his. He can’t believe that someone so amazing would want to be with him or look at him the way that Harry does – like he hung the moon and stars in the sky.

Reaching up, he cups Harry’s cheek and pulls him down for a kiss. Unlike the ones earlier, this kiss is sweet and slow, Louis taking his time tracing the edge of Harry’s lips with his tongue before licking his way inside. Harry opens up willingly, melting beneath Louis’ attention, his hands going lax where they’re threaded through Louis’ hair.

When Louis is satisfied that he has thoroughly explored every inch of Harry’s mouth, he pulls back enough so that he can see all of Harry’s gorgeous face. “I love you, too,” he says with quiet assuredness. He speaks so quietly that the noise of the shower makes his words audible to only Harry and himself. And Louis is okay with that. Because like a lot of things, his words are for Harry only.

Harry’s face shines as if he’s lit from the inside and Louis just has to kiss him again. His kisses Harry’s lips. “Am I good to go now?” he asks, laying a final peck on Harry.

“Yeah, you’re good,” Harry says, reaching back to turn off the tap. They take a moment to sluice the water off of their bodies before Louis opens the door, getting out of the stall first. He steps out onto the bathmat and grabs two towels off the rack, handing one to Harry. Louis towels himself off quickly, the terrycloth a welcome warmth after the first wave cool air on their skin after their steam room-impersonating shower.

Plus, he’s eager to have Harry warm him up on their bed.

He was only a few seconds ahead of Harry getting out of the shower, but Harry’s quicker drying off and by the time Louis is giving his hair a courtesy scrub with the towel, Harry’s already standing in front of him, skin flushed pink. He looks like a curly haired Adonis. It’s really just not fair.

"What's not fair?" Harry questions, head tilted in curiosity.

Louis mentally shakes his head at himself. He didn't mean to say that aloud. "You. You and your stupid long limbs and shoulders and stomach. You look so unreal and good, and it's not fair," he explains, dropping his towel and stepping closer, his hands going to rest on Harry's waist. Tilting his head back he looks at Harry, whose hair is still soaked. The wet curls drip water down his neck and chest, making Louis want to chase after the drops with his tongue. So he does.

Starting at the junction of Harry's neck and shoulder, Louis finds a trail left by a particularly large bead of water and follows it down to where it pooled at Harry's collar bone before continuing to fall. He spends a long moment licking it up with his tongue, swirling it over Harry’s skin and leaving a small nip with his teeth. The red mark already starting to fade when he continues to follow the droplet's path down to Harry's chest.

He's just about to reach Harry's nipple, eager to tease him more when he's stopped by Harry giving a little moan and saying his name. "Lou."

"Yes?" he pauses, not lifting his head, instead just resting his lips against Harry's chest so that his words are pressed into his skin. That's not the only thing that is resting against Harry. They're pressed together from knee to belly and Louis can feel the obvious evidence poking him in the stomach that Harry wasn't affected at all by water cooling on his skin.

"I thought you said that your legs wanted to be horizontal?"

Louis hums and pretends to be remembering, still gently mouthing at Harry's skin before he agrees. "Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?" He gives Harry a wicked look, before continuing, "Well then, what are you waiting for? Take me to bed, then. I demand more pampering."

Harry laughs and grabs Louis about the hips, picking him up and locking his hands under Louis' arse, and Louis locks his legs around Harry's waist in response. He holds on tight, squeezing with his thighs and looping his arms around Harry's neck to make it easier for him. "Don't you dare drop me, you brute," he threatens.

Wide grin splitting his face, Harry leans in for a kiss and assures with absolute conviction, "I'd never."

Louis can feel his eye crinkling at the corners when he smiles. Sometimes Harry is too fucking adorable. "Good. Now, to the bed."

Harry laughs and turns around, heading out of the bathroom. With Louis still held in his arms, Harry makes his way to the bed. He pauses by the edge of the bed and looks at Louis with a mischievous gleam. Louis doesn't have a chance to react before Harry is grabbing him by the thighs and tossing him onto the bed.

Louis lands on his back with a squeal and a bounce. Not believing that Harry did that, he pushes himself onto his elbows and looks up at the laughing boy, still standing by his feet, far too pleased with himself. "You he-man! What did you do that for?" he feigns indignation.

Harry continues to laugh himself silly, covering his mouth and curling up on himself. "What? I thought you liked a nice romp on the bed."

Louis looks at him in shock, quickly deciding his next move. "Is that so?" he asks, shooting up so that he can grab Harry's wrist and pull him down on the bed with him. He goes to tickle him, but Harry’s faster and grabs Louis’ wrists, pressing them to the mattress.

"Yeah,” Harry says, settling between Louis’ thighs. He rolls his hips against Louis’, pointing out just how much he likes it. “That’s so.” Harry’s smile is just a bit cocky when Louis can’t bite back a moan as their dicks slide along each other. It makes Louis really want to kiss it off his face.

So, that's what he does.

Leaning up, he closes the distance between their faces. Tracing the seam of Harry's smile, he nips and licks until Harry lets him in. Flicking his tongue, he uses the tip to test the edge of Harry's teeth. He can't help but whimper when he tries to press harder, but Harry pulls away, pressing Louis' wrists further into the mattress.

He has that same stupid smile still in place when he looks at Louis, not letting him close the centimeters in between them.

Louis groans, frustrated. "What are you smirking about now?"

"Nothing really. I'm just taking in the way that you look when you're dying for me to fuck you."

"Oh god," Louis groans, giving up on getting another kiss and letting his head fall back onto the mattress. "You sound like you're an actor in a bad porno."

"Hey," Harry protests, "that's not fair." He bends down and kisses at Louis’ chest, starting at one shoulder and trailing his lips along Louis’ damp skin. He pauses at the hollow of Louis’ throat, letting himself be distracted by a few stray drops of water before pooling there before nosing at the line of Louis’ neck and nipping at the soft skin.

"What's not fair is that you have a very nice, pretty cock that you are refusing to put in my arse." Louis plants his feet against the bed and rolls his hips up against Harry's, hiding a pleased smirk of his own when Harry's the one groaning at the friction. "What does a lad have to do to get fucked around here?"

“Not be a brat?” Harry laughs and leans down, blanketing Louis’ body with his own. His nuzzles against Louis’ scruff, kissing up his jawline to his ear, his stubble making rasping noises as it rubs against Harry’s cheek.

“You’re going to give yourself beard burn,” Louis cautions. He expects a laugh and a joke from Harry, but instead he gets a nip to the shell of his ear. “Hey!” he protests. He would have jumped from the surprise, but Harry’s blanketed him so completely with his body, there’s not much room for him to jump. “I was just trying to help.”

“Shh, I’m pampering you, remember?” Harry soothes away the hurt with his tongue before he decides to drift down Louis’ neck, teeth grazing on his pulse point and over his Adam’s apple before he kisses at Louis’ collarbone.

He pauses there for a moment. Unlike the other places he used his teeth, here he leaves a tiny mark. He sucks at the skin under that shadow of Louis’ clavicle where it should be hidden by his shirt. He sucks at the skin for a moment, making it turn bright pink then stopping to sooth it with his tongue before repeating the motion, darkening the love bite with each cycle of lick and suck.

He takes his time and when he lifts his head for the final time, there’s a love bite that is guaranteed to last for days.

Harry opens his mouth, but this time it’s to speak. “I love it when I get to leave marks on you,” he says. Deeper than normal, his voice moves like molasses, slow from arousal. Louis can feel just how turned on his is. His cock is hard between them where leaked precome spreads on their bellies with every slow roll of their hips. It’s enough to keep Louis hard, but not enough for him to chase the feeling and he wants more.

“How about marking me with your come instead?” he asks, thrusting against Harry between his thighs. When Harry just moves with him instead of pressing against him, Louis lets out a frustrated moan at the lack of friction.

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifts in self-assuredness. “I’ll get to that… eventually.”

“You know,” Louis snarks, “I’m feeling decidedly less than pampered.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll take care of you,” Harry promises, but Louis’ not feeling that comforted.

Scooting down on the bed, Harry moves their hands until they are by Louis’ shoulders rather than stretched out above him. In this new position, he can work his way further down Louis’ chest, placing a kiss at the top of Louis’ chest hair before trailing more kisses down his sternum before he detours over to one of Louis’ nipples, licking at it with a warm tongue.

That more than anything has Louis’ breath hitching in his chest before hissing out between his teeth. Louis’ nipples have always been very sensitive, a fact that Harry knows and often enjoys. There has been more than one occasion where Harry’s seen just how close to the edge he could get Louis by playing only with them.

Now though, he gives the nearest one little kitten licks, laving at Louis’ skin with a warm tongue, wetting it before pursing his lips and before blowing a steady stream of air. He watches, entranced, when it tightens into a hard nub that can’t resist grazing lightly with his teeth before turning his attention to its mate and repeating the action.

“Fuck. Harry.” Louis pulls at his wrists, trying—well, he’s not exactly sure what, but it’s no use, he can’t gain any leverage with his hands by his shoulders and quickly gives up with a frustrated groan.

“Eventually,” he replies and Louis’ doesn’t have to see Harry’s face to know that he’s wearing a look that says that he’s far too pleased with himself.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He tries to at least get some more friction on his cock, but once again, Harry moves with him instead of against.

Harry quirks his lips. “Just a little bit.”

His self-satisfied tone is Louis’ only warning before he sets his teeth in the skin around his nipple. The pleasure-pain shoots through Louis and his back arches with the sensation, lifting his hips off the bed for a moment despite Harry’s weight on top of him.

“Like that?” Harry says after he lets go, tracing the slight indentations left by his teeth with the tip of his tongue.

Louis’ brain is misfiring and he’s trying too hard not to choke on his tongue to come up with a snarky reply. “Y—yeah.”

“Good.”

Moving over to Louis’ other nipple, he gives it the same treatment of kitten licks and nips. But this time, when he opens his mouth wider to give the deep bite, Louis tenses in anticipations. Changing his mind, Harry closes his mouth and kisses the nipple instead. “It’s not as fun when you’re expecting it,” he explains.

Stretching back up over Louis’ body, he raises their hands until they are over Louis’s head again and shifts his wrists until he's holding both of them in one big hand. Sometimes he just makes Louis feel so damn tiny, and it's just not fair.

Hand now free, he drifts his fingers down Louis’ arm, tickling the sensitive skin at his armpit. He makes a detour to play with Louis’ nipples for a moment, making his breath catch when Harry’s nail pulls lightly at them, the combination of the edge of his nails and the cool air on his damp skin making them harden again, even more sensitive from Harry’s earlier attention.

He doesn't linger though before his fingers dance down Louis’ ribs, tickling him and leaving his skin to jump and twitch at the sensation. There’s a devious look on Harry’s face, like he’s contemplating just how much teasing he can get away with while Louis is stretched out and pinned beneath him. The expression looks nearly out of place on Harry, but Louis can see his dimple in his cheek and the mirth shining in his eyes.

Louis squints at Harry, daring him to see just what more tickling will earn him later. Harry must decipher his look accurately because he chuckles and trails his hand over to Louis’ belly. While still teasing, his touch is heavier, no longer making Louis want to pull away to try to avoid the tickling sensations.

When Harry reaches where the patch of skin just starts to get tacky from their precome, he uses a fingertip to traces tiny, abstract designs there, stopping only millimeters from touching Louis’ very hard, very much aching dick.

Louis raises a haughty eyebrow and challenges, “Are you going to touch me?” He’s not going to plead. He might be the one held down at the moment, but he’s not ready to give up control.

The look Harry gives him says that Louis’ not fooling him at all. Instead of grabbing his cock like Louis hoped, Harry traces the head with one finger, smearing the drops of precome beading there before letting his fingers brush down the shaft.

“More,” Louis bites out. He tells himself that he’s not begging, really. It’s more like an authoritative demand.

He’s not sure if Harry decides to take it easy on him or if it was his plan all along, but either way, when Harry wraps his long fingers around Louis’ cock and starts to slowly jack it, Louis’ breath hisses out between his teeth. He’s caught, torn between relief at something tangible and frustration that it’s still not enough.

“I said I wanted you to fuck me, Styles, not torture me for so long, the front desk is going to say we overstayed our reservation,” Louis points out.

Harry doesn’t even have the decency to act like he’s a little bit sorry for being a tease. Unphased, he continues to work Louis’ cock in a too slow, too loose slide. His only reaction is the way he pulls the corner of his lip into his mouth, biting at the corner of his lip in concentration. Keeping his steady pace, he adds twist of his wrist when he reaches the top of Louis’ cock, spreading the precome collecting there with the palm of his hand.

Louis starts to ache. He feels like he’s been hard for so long that he just might explode. Trying to pull Harry closer, Louis wraps his legs around his hips, crossing his ankles and flexing with his thighs to pull Harry in. He manages to bring Harry closer, but he forgets about the soreness in his legs and the new position makes them burn. He groans as his fatigued muscles protest, but he doesn’t let go.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” Louis prompts, rolling his hips against Harry’s. With his legs around Harry, it means that he can’t move away like he did before. This time it’s Harry whose breath stutters when his cock grinds against Louis’. He allows himself a moment of satisfaction that he’s finally the one who’s pushing buttons. “I got a bum to die for, you know?”

Harry lets go of his cock and instead reaches around to grab a handful of Louis’ arse, squeezing the muscle. “I know you do.”

Louis’ body is thrumming with arousal. “Harry. Please.” He can’t even pretend he’s no longer begging, but he’s past caring. He wants more. He wants Harry inside of him. And he wants it now.

Harry leans down and cups Louis’ cheek, giving him a slow kiss. It’s opened mouthed and dirty. Louis can hear the wet noises as their lips part and come together. He’s just about to start using his teeth on Harry’s bottom lip when he pulls away. They’re once again pressed flushed together from dick to chest Louis feels like he’s wrapped in a big, Harry-shaped blanket. He can feel the rapid beating of Harry’s heart and wonders if Harry can feel the same.

He’s a beautiful sight above Louis, all smooth skin and long lines. Louis wants to fist his hands in Harry’s curls and kiss him senseless, but what he wants even more is Harry’s cock.

Harry finally caves to Louis’ desperation. "Stay," he commands, like he really thinks that Louis might run away when he’s so close to getting what he wants.

Louis flexes his legs around Harry. "I’m not going anywhere."

Harry give him a searching look. He must be satisfied that Louis is not going to try and scamper off because he reaches out with one of his long arms and snags the bottle of lube from the nightstand.

He pops open the bottle and switches it to the hand holding Louis' wrists. His fingers are so stupidly long that he’s able to keep Louis securely pinned with just his thumb and two of his fingers and use his index and middle fingers to squeeze some out onto his fingers.

Reaching down, Harry circles Louis' hole with his now slick fingers. The lube is cold at the first touch against his hot skin, but it warms quickly.

"C'mon," Louis prompts.

Harry concedes to his pleas and slips in one slick finger. Louis' breath punches out of his lungs when Harry wastes no time at angling towards his prostate. He works his finger in and out, the rest of his fingers brushing Louis' balls each time he pushes in.

"More. I want more."

"You're so demanding," Harry says with a little smirk. Pulling out his finger enough that he can ease in another one along side it.

Louis closes his eyes for a second as the stretch of finally having something inside him hits, making his body tingle and his cock twitch. "You like it when I get bossy."

Harry works his fingers, scissoring them and adding to the stretch. He'll need to add another before Louis is ready for his dick. "Yeah." He twists his fingers. "And you just like to act like a brat." He finishes his sentence with another rub to Louis' prostate that sets his hips stuttering again, trying to fuck himself on Harry's fingers.

"Fuck. I can take three. Give me a third," Louis urges, having enough of all of this damn foreplay. "I'm going to die if you don't fuck me already."

Chuckling, Harry shakes his head. "I highly doubt that." Nonetheless, he folds to Louis' demands and adds a third finger. This time he's slower, more careful. Louis' hole is tight around his knuckles and the stretch is more intense this time.

Louis sucks in a breath through his teeth at the sensation, making a weird hissing noise and Harry studies his face with a touch of concern. "You alright, love?"

Louis gives a tight nod. It's a lot, but it feels good. "Yeah. I'm fine. Great. God, can I have your dick yet?"

Cheeky smile back in place, Harry shakes his head. "Soz, my name's Harry, not God. And no, you have to wait."

Groaning, Louis turns his face and hides it against his arm. "That's literally the worst, most overused joke of all time, Styles.”

“Still funny, though,” Harry says, shrugging a shoulder. Satisfied that it's not all too much for Louis, Harry goes back to working his fingers in and out of Louis' hole. His thrusts are slower than what they were with two. His movements deliberate and sure so that when he fucks Louis' arse, he’s not going to hurt him.

Meanwhile, Louis continues to hide his face in his arm, warm breaths panting against his biceps while he tries his best to keep his hips still and not fuck back onto Harry's fingers. It's an impossible task. He's unable to keep his hips from twitching in little circles, bum flexing as he cants his hips to follow Harry's fingers, wanting more.

He focuses on the feeling of Harry's fingers and the way that they feel moving in and out of him as his ears fill with the slick noises their bodies make. When Harry’s fingertips brush the spot inside of him, Louis bites back a whimper, his toes curling and his spine tingling in pleasure. He’s concentrating so hard, he doesn't notice when Harry shifts, only realizing what's going on when Harry's fingers are gone, leaving Louis empty. He's reaching up over Louis’ head, snapping open the bottle of lube to squirt more on his hand and there are butterflies of excitement fluttering in Louis’ stomach. Finally.

Louis is on a knife’s edge in anticipation and when Harry snaps the bottle shut, he jumps. He mentally rolls his eyes at himself while Harry tosses the closed bottle on the mattress, letting it disappear into the sheets.

Watching under heavy lashes, he sees Harry slick himself, coating his cock with the lube and giving himself a squeeze as if it all has become too much.

He takes his cock and with one hand still pinning Louis’ wrists down, he teases at his hole, pressing against the ring of muscles, but pulling back before it’s more than a taunting pressure. “Ready?” he asks.

Louis throws his head back with a frustrated groan. Harry Styles is the very worst. “Bloody hell. Yes.”

Harry rubs the head of his dick against Louis' opening one last time before guiding himself in. It's a slow press and Louis thinks that he just might die before Harry inches all the way inside him, but finally Harry is all the way in and there is no space between them from thighs to chest.

Shifting his grip, Harry moves his hands so that he has one of Louis' wrists in each palm. Tracing Louis’ racing pulse with his thumb, he keeps still while Louis adjusts to him.

Louis meanwhile is catching his breath after the slow drag of skin against skin and how full he feels with Harry finally inside of him. He takes a few slow, deep breaths. It always takes time to adjust to Harry, and being on the precipice of too much like he is right now just makes it more so. He's on such an edge that every little movement, every breath, every slight twitch of Harry's cock inside of him sends new flashes of light between his eyes and fireworks through his nerves.

When he finally feels like he's not going to explode at the slightest movement, Louis gives Harry a nod, urging him to continue.

Leaving a kiss on Louis' lips, Harry begins to move. He goes slowly, once again teasing Louis, dragging out the sensation and building the intensity without ever increasing his speed.

Louis knows what Harry’s playing at. He loves to tease and the fact that Louis wants it hard and fast means that Harry’s going to see just how needy he can get Louis before he starts to beg.

Normally Louis would resist, continue to play the game a bit longer. But his skin is buzzing and he’s still feeling the post-workout high that comes from a training session and he just wants to get fucked. So that’s what he says.

“C’mon, Harry. Fuck me already,” he squeezes his thighs around Harry’s waist, trying to pull him closer.

Harry rolls his hips at the end of a slow thrust in response. “I thought that’s what I was doing?”

“No, you’re being a tosser and tormenting me with your dick.”

“Tormenting you with my dick? I guess I could always stop if you’d prefer.” Harry pulls out so the head of his dick is just barely inside of Louis and pauses for a long moment.

“No, you bloody pillock!” Louis arches his back, trying to coax Harry deep to no avail. “I want you to fuck me.”

“What are you going to do about it? I have you pinned, love.” His dimple is out full force, and he smiles as he says the last, the slight flex of his fingers on Louis’ wrists accompanied by his cheekiest expression.

It makes Louis both unbearably fond and just as unbearably horny.

“Look pretty and hope you stop being a knob?” he shoots back

When Harry starts moving again, it’s with the same long, slow strokes. “Is this what you want?” his wide grin giving away the fact that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Realizing that Harry isn’t going to give him what he wants anytime soon, Louis takes matters into his own hands. Harry’s grip has gone lax on his wrists with a premature sense of victory and Louis takes advantage, using a move he learned from George during one of their cross-training sessions when he was getting ready for his football match.

In one quick motion, Louis flexes his wrists and tucks his fingers down towards Harry’s own wrists while twisting his hands in an under-over maneuver that breaks Harry’s hold and leaves Louis’ fingers encircling Harry’s forearms below his Things I Can... and Things I Can’t... tattoos.

Simultaneously, he flexes his thighs around Harry’s hips, pulling him as close as possible with both legs and pressing one of his heels against the mattress. Using his foot as leverage, he arches his back and rolls his hips with a precision that would make George proud. He’s quick enough that he manages to surprises Harry who’s unable to do more than grunt in response as Louis flips them.

The sequence ends in Louis sitting on top of Harry, dick still in his arse, his knees by Harry’s ribs and pinning him down by his forearms. Louis’ hold is too far down for Harry to try to replicate the same move.

He takes a second to adjust to the new position, the flip making Harry’s cock rub against all the right places before leaving him seated deep inside of Louis. It doesn’t take long for Louis to adjust, thanks to the fact that he now has a bemused Harry stretched out below him.

“Now, about those things that I want…” he trails off, not bothering to wipe the wide smile off his face at his victory. He’s too busy enjoying his moment and the way that he can ride Harry. Fucking himself on Harry’s dick, he keeps to the same slow place as earlier, taking enjoyment at the way that Harry’s breath whooshes out of his chest before Harry catches himself and feigns as much nonchalance as he can gather while being fucked.

Composure stitched together, Harry tries raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were going to make me do all the work?” He doesn’t manage to pull off the unaffected look. Rather, he appears slightly stunned at the turn of events, like he’s not quite sure how he ended up below Louis. He flexes his arms, testing Louis’ grip, but when Louis tightens his finger in response, he sinks back into the bed.

“Yeah, I changed my mind. Are you complaining?” Louis ends with a slow grind of his hips, pressing Harry’s dick further inside of him, not bothering to hold back his moan.

Harry raises his hips, trying to thrust up into Louis, but when Louis goes with the movement instead of against it, Harry lets out a short noise of frustration and his head falls back onto the bed. “Nope, not at all,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Good,” Louis smirks and shifts Harry’s arms down closer to his legs so that it’s not quite a stretch to hold him down and starts riding him in earnest.

He starts slowly, gradually building up a rhythm, savoring the way that the friction builds and hums under his skin. Little noises sneak their way out every time he bottoms out and Harry’s dick rub against his prostate, sending shoots of pleasure throughout his body and making his toes tingle and his scalp prickle.

Harry tries to relax into the bed and hold still for Louis. He does well for a little bit, a warm glow in his belly growing with his success until Louis starts rolling his hips in a way that’s just right and has Harry biting at his lip. He tries to keep himself from moving, to be good for Louis, but he can’t stop the little twitches as his body tries to get deeper into the heat of Louis’ arse.

Louis sees Harry struggling but doesn’t relent. Rather, watching Harry lose control beneath him spurs Louis on and makes him want to see just how much control he can make Harry lose. It’s not long before he’s uninhibitedly bouncing on Harry’s dick, Louis pinning Harry’s hands to his belly in order to brace himself.

“Fuck, you feel good, Lou,” Harry hisses out between his teeth, trying one more time to reach out and touch.

“Be good,” Louis admonishes, using an index finger to rub a little circle on Harry’s belly in an attempt at a soothing gesture without letting go of his forearm.

“I want to touch you,” Harry whines. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Fuck, Haz,” he bites out. He can feel himself get closer. He knows that if he’d just let go of Harry’s hands he would make him feel so good, but he’s getting off on the way that Harry’s laying mostly pliant below him, only able to enjoy what pleasure that Louis’ gives him. It’s a rush, knowing that while Harry could easily break free if he wanted, he doesn’t. He’s more than willing to lay there and let Louis have his way with him. It’s a heady sensation that Louis isn’t ready to give that up yet, even if that means he doesn’t get Harry’s hands on his hips or his fingers on his dick.

But maybe, there is somewhere in the middle that they can meet.

“You want to make me feel good?” his voice is soft. If Harry says no, he’ll let him go, end the game, and go back to whatever Harry might have in mind.

He doesn’t have long to worry about that, though as Harry nods, his eyes squeezing shut as he chokes out a moan before saying, “Yes, please. Let me make you feel good.”

“Then talk to me, babe,” he says, rolling his hips in time with his words. There’s a slight edge to them, a hint of command that wasn’t there before. “Get me off using that voice of yours while I ride you.”

This time it’s Harry that hisses out an expletive. “Fuck!”

Louis chuckles, a touch of smug. “Like that, huh? Think you’re up to the challenge then? Just your voice and your dick?”

Harry nods and swallows audibly once, then twice. “Love the way you feel on my dick,” he starts, “so tight, so hot. I’ll never get enough of you, Lou.”

Louis groans, this is exactly what he wanted. Harry’s is voice all rough and deep, its dirty rasp nearly as good as his hand on Louis’ dick.

“What do you need, love?” Harry asks, biting the corner of his mouth.

It makes Louis want to take his lip between his own teeth and soothe away the sting with his tongue.

So he does.

Leaning forward, he licks his way into Harry’s mouth, trying not to be distracted by the way it makes Harry’s dick rub inside of him while his own drags between their bellies and hits their wrists. Harry gasps into Louis’ mouth, lips parting under Louis’ ministrations before he pulls away. “Keep talking,” Louis encourages, bracing himself on Harry’s belly so that he can sit up again. “Just keep talking. I’m so close, love. You’re getting me so close.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry nods and continues. “You’re so hot above me. I wish I could take a picture, so that I could look at it whenever I want.”

This time it’s Louis whose breath stutters. He looses his rhythm for a second at the thought of Harry with a camera, the snick of the shutter capturing these moments for later, at what Harry could do with them. Maybe even tape them up on the ceiling of his bunk for a wank on the middle of a long drive between cities.

“Do you like that? Me being able to look at you like this anytime I wanted? The way that you ride me, like there’s nothing that you want more.” Harry’s arm twitches like he wants to reach out for Louis, but is stopped by the circle of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, so needy, Louis. I could watch you forever.”

Louis is breathing hard and he can’t keep his voice from catching when he responds. “You—you say that,” he says. “But—but you weren’t very quick to fuck me—goddamn, you feel good—to fuck me earlier.” He hangs his head, feeling the way that his body is getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Maybe I just wanted to see how needy you’d get. You’re so pretty when you’re craving a fucking. And look what I got, I got you being all pretty and fucking yourself on my cock.” Harry’s voice thins towards the end of his sentence, not able to finish without closing his eyes. “And all I have to do is lay back and watch.”

“Watch me what?” Louis prompts. He’s close. He keeps his pace fast and hard. The burning in his legs is like a fire, but he dares not stop, not when he’s so close that he can feel his orgasm lurking in the base of his spine, just waiting for that one thing to push him over the edge.

Harry’s voice drops until it’s almost a velvety purr. “Watch you use me like I’m your toy. Do you like that, Lou? Knowing that you can do whatever you want to me?”

That does it.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis shouts. That lurking sensation hitting him in the gut when he comes. Lights dance behind his eyes while white hot pleasure shoots through his body, making his toes curl and the rest of his muscles clench and release as he throws back his head in pleasure. His dick jerks as he comes, sending messy shots of come onto Harry’s belly and chest, erratic with no hand to guide it.

It’s when Louis’ hands spasm open as he orgasms that Harry seizes his chance.

He slides free of Louis’ grip and wraps his hands around Louis’ hips, the wide span of his fingers contrasting to the smallness of Louis’ waist where the gently press into his soft skin. He rolls them, the move no where near as smooth as Louis, but it does the trick and gets Louis on his back under him.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders, holding him close while he fucks into him. The teasing from earlier gone as Harry chases his own orgasm. Louis is still tingling from his, body nearly too oversensitive, but he’s still on the just right side of too much when Harry tucks his head into his neck and shudders through his release.

They lay there for a long minute. Harry’s breath is warm against Louis’ skin where he keeps himself pressed close, the sweat and come cooling between their bodies in a sticky, clammy mess. Louis notices his arms have goose pimples when he raises one to push his sweat damp fringe out of his eyes. They’re going to need another shower.

It’s only when Louis’ leg starts to cramp that he makes an effort to move. He pokes Harry in the side until he moves, ignoring his “Hey, what’s you do that for?” of protest when he gets in between Louis and his ability to rub at the knot in his thigh.

“Ow, ow, ow, fucking son of a bitch, that hurts.” Louis doesn’t hold back as he rubs the heels of his hands against his quad, feeling the tightness in the muscle where it’s bunched in protest of its abuse over the last hour.

Harry smirks from beside him on the bed where he rolled off of Louis, laying on his side and bracing himself up on an elbow. “Should I give you a dead-leg to balance you out?” he offers.

Louis flicks his head, trying to get a lock of sweat dampened hair out of his eye so he can give Harry a proper stink-eye without using his otherwise occupied hands. “Don’t you dare, you ponce.”

“Hey,” Harry pokes him in the side because he really does have the maturity of a nine year old sometimes. “That’s not nice.”

Snorting, Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, how remiss of me.” He tilts his head and flutters his lashes, folding his hands against his front and giving Harry his most pleading look, “Please, my dearest Harold, love of my life, don’t give me a dead-leg while I’m already withering in pain from a Charley horse that I only got because you were a cock tease.”

“Well, to be fair,” Harry deadpans, not a speck of sympathy in his voice, “I think the squats you did in the gym had something to do with that.”

Giving up on the hair flick, Louis raises a hand and tucks the offending piece of hair out of the way. “You really are a horrible excuse for a human.” He cocks his head. “Remind me again why I keep you around?”

Harry shrugs his shoulder, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a cheeky smile. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you love me?”

Louis laughs, it’s such a horribly cliched response and so completely Harry that he can’t stop himself. “Oh yeah, that,” he says, still chuckling, his smile soft and joking. “I guess that’s as good a reason as any.”

“Now that’s settled, would you like me to massage your leg?” he touches Louis’ thigh with his finger. He traces the pinkened skin, following path that Louis left when he had been absentmindedly rubbing it, trying to work out the cramp.

His touch makes Louis focus back on his leg. It takes him a second to realize that there isn’t any more deep, aching pain. Rather, there’s only a lingering feeling from him pressing against his leg so hard and the noodley feeling from doing too much. “What do you know? Your stunning example at banter has made it no longer hurt. You’re magic, Styles. I won’t say no to a flannel, though,” he says pointedly, before laying back and straightening his legs in an exaggerated stretch of his entire body.

Chuckling, Harry asks, “Finally going to get your legs horizontal, eh?” kicking his own towards the edge of the bed in preparation of getting up.

“Exactly.” Louis gives a solemn nod. “Now, about that flannel…”

Pausing in the middle of levering himself out of the bed, Harry leans back in and drops a kiss on Louis’ lips. “Maybe later I can repay you for doing all the work,” he teases, climbing off the bed and heading towards the bathroom.

“Hmm, you pamper me, Haz,” the smile he gives Harry this time is soft and fond, only the faintest hints of sarcasm and cheek sprinkled around the edges.

Harry returns the smile and finishes crossing the room. Hesitating over the threshold of the bathroom, he turns and looks back at Louis, eyebrow raised. “And next time, you’re not going to flip me that easily,” he says in challenge before ducking into the bathroom, the sound of the running the tap floating out of the open door.

“Promises, promises,” Louis calls after him before sinking back into the pillows and smiling up at the ceiling.

“I can’t wait to test that theory.”

* * *