Harry’s left work, and now he means business. He’s taken a nap, written, cried, a bit, then of course taken out a journal, and titled it steps. The process was too elaborate to wing, and though he had a head chalked full of these types of things, he wasn’t finding any way to write right now, his head back to Kai, and all of what happened. He was a self absorbed manic dickhead. That’s perfect. The label fit like a glove. He couldn’t be with him anyways. It would end terribly. He was 19. Harry was 27. It was self explanatory, and as much as Harry convinced himself that age didn’t matter, it wouldn’t work.
Plus Kai was pure. Harry was fragmented, and broken.
And he had been for a long time.
He didn’t ever feel. No, that was a stretch. Harry didn’t feel things the right way, that was obvious, but he never had gone crazy as to laugh when someone confessed feelings. That was so incredibly messed up of him. It was obvious, pieces of him were missing, somewhere.
But Kai was beautiful, whole, even with all the trauma he’d been through. He was soft, and the type of person who never intentionally hurt anyone. He was never selfish, instead selfless, and happy. He didn’t know why Kai would choose him, knowing how he came up being, witnessing his blood shed tears and vulnerability. He never knew why anyone could care about an arrogant son of a bitch like him, let alone fall in love with him.
He didn’t even love himself.
Yet another thing he wanted to leave behind, along with everyone else.
He took out his page, then smiled.
Bonus: Learn to love the new person you are :)
Writing that line gave him a boost of serotonin, making him feel a bit of what he just painted with a pen.
He got on task, then strayed away, ending up writing about his day, and things he liked about himself, and there was no harm in that. He was beginning to think self care was important, and he wasn’t just a narcissist. Louis had told him about that, when they were out on the porch that one night.
He didn’t know if it was just the drugs, or if he saw Louis in a different light that night. He couldn’t define it may have been platonic, but he had a feeling that it might not have been...and that scared him a bit. Relationships were scary, especially for someone who had a hard time being the bigger person, or admitting feelings without them pouring out weirdly.
He did need to think about it, though.
The night consisted of South Park reruns, and a concoction he made mixing about 3 random types of Baileys, Vodka, and some random sleep tablet that didn’t do shit. So it wasn’t healthy. It was his night. Nobody could tell him what the fuck he shoud do. Unless it was Scott, who probably was the only man with enough hold to really get him to do anything, but Scott wasn’t here, so he decided to go look at Louis’s socials-while drunk. Not the best idea.
He found it almost instantaneously, as it was called Tommo28. He’d remembered him telling him something about the symbolism of the nickname, something to do with his mom, and how it would make them both laugh, even through dark times. It was fucking cute too. He took a deep dive into looking at it. There were a fair amount of shitposts, selfies, and a lot of photos of his dog..weirdly enough.
He added a tweet, probably the most morally wrong thing he’d do tonight, and captioned it Fuck Buddies?? @Tommo28 Then hit the post button.
Only he didn’t remember the fact he had a decent following there.
He kept getting tagged, his phone feeling like an earthquake just went off in his pocket all of a sudden.
We get this, but no writing updates? Thanks @HarryStyles He flinched back at the name, then giggled at it for a solid second. It didn’t occur to him that people actually liked his stuff...or his absolutely horrendous smut. It was seriously his least favorite part of the whole writing process, probably because he hadn’t had anything to compare it to in so long.
He could’ve, easily, but the thought scared him. It may have been because he had a small part of him that hated his body, even though he had sexual thoughts and sexualized himself all the time. The thought of it was terrifying if he broke it down, he almost never felt like finishing if he was alone or with someone, because the thought of an actual person connecting with him in an intimate way hurt. The last time he’d even done anything, a year ago, being beneath the other boy he was with made him cry, and it wasn’t in any concerning way. He’d offered to stop multiple times, but Harry wanted to feel something...so the tears eventually turned into sweat. Not an enjoyable experience, and the guy never called him back. Typical.
“Fuck.” Harry said, stuttering, aside from his normal tone of voice. “I suck.” He was on the brink of toppling over, and tears started blurring his vision. He grabbed his phone, then found his contact. By this he meant Louis...because Louis was the only guy he really thought about this fucking much.
He pressed call, then sighed as Louis answered.
“Can you come over?”
“Harry...It’s late.” His voice was thick and Harry couldn’t make out what he was saying, only because he was tired and nothing made sense.
“Please. I need you.” He listened to the rise and fall of Louis’s breath, living for the comfort of the pattern. “I’ll be over in a minute.” He said, a slight pause in his voice. “Have you been drinking?” He said, saddened a bit.
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to lie. He knew he was drunk as shit-and didn’t know how to control anything. “Alright. Don’t drink anything else, K?” He asked, then Harry recognized the familiar jangle of his keys. “I’ll be there.”
Harry hung up, then waited, texting Louis his address to make sure he wouldn’t get lost in the way. He knew he wouldn’t, he just wanted him to see something he sent.
The five minutes felt like an eternity, bringing a rising tension upon his chest, releasing it as Louis walked through the door, his hair mussed to the top of his forehead, in an old and faded Leeds festival shirt and dark blue sweatpants.
“You’ve got a nice place.” Louis sat down next to Harry, atop his couch. “I like it.”
“Thanks.” It’s dry, but he looks into Louis’s eyes, bringing more intimacy to the moment. It’s subtle, but Louis sighs, evident of the mood in the area. “Is something up?” It hits Harry like a pile of bricks, he doesn't know it, which only makes it worse. He’s a big pile of emotions right now, and nothing’s making sense.
They talk, still through it, and Louis downs enough of Harry’s random pill sprinkled drink to get him a bit loopy himself.
He can’t stop staring into Harry’s eyes. The tension is locked, and Louis can’t breathe in a functional pattern. He wants to choke, and he doesn't know why. It’s not bad, it’s good, in some sickening way and he wants it to stop as soon as possible, yet it’s enthralling. Louis can’t deal, and it’s scary. Harry’s being pulled down, a gripping sensation locked in the air around him.
And Louis could kiss him right there, all pink lips and tousled brown hair, atop raw, beautiful pale flesh. His hair curled boyishly over his ears His eyes green, “Like sea glass” As he kept repeating under his breath.
Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He felt his boner pressing tight against his pants.
“I want to leave tomorrow.” Louis said, even though he knew it almost had no possibility of actually working out considering the tracing factors, and the fact there was no planning whatsoever. Harry was so zoned out, focused on Louis’s lips of all things, so he just let out an “I’d like that.” God they were pretty, pink, and fucking wow, he was feeling something he never wanted to feel...or maybe he did. He was realizing he needed Louis all those years, even if he hadn’t exactly known. He always knew he needed a boy to touch his skin….in the way he wanted, because if anyone needed it it was him. Those years of questioning, they’d be gone. He’d wanted to somehow know someone had been in the same pain he had...not in a sick way, but one that would make him feel good, pleasured enough for him to feel heated, and his thighs to applaud in pain, yet out of a newfound gain.
He can’t think.
He can’t breathe.
“Harry?” Louis croaks. He’s trembling, and shakily crossing one leg over the top of the other. He’s biting, and pulling back as far as he can…even though he doesn't want to. “A-Are you okay?” He bites down on his lip.
“You’re stunning Louis.” He says, his eyes glassed over, a drunken smile on his lips. “God, you are too.” He whispered, so soft, a ghost may not have been able to decipher it. Louis’s head tilts, and his knees bend. Fuck, he knows what he wants, No, he knows exactly what needs.
“You know what Harry?” He’s gone ballistic, honestly both of them have, Louis only more so, not thinking about anything he’s saying. Not if it flows, not if it’s sensible, not if it even makes any sense. He’s gotten up close, far enough to see just how sea glass colored Harry’s eyes are. Both of them are thinking the same thing, and realizing their fantasy was coming true. “I want a lot of what you have, as selfish as that sounds. You’ve got a great mind. You’re strong.” He pauses, slightly, then gazes in Harry’s eyes. “I wanna be worth your time.” His accent’s deep, despite the tones of his voice normally being higher, and sometimes hard to understand. “Really?” Harry croaks out, and Louis nods slightly. His breaths rapidly increase, and Harry’s on the floor. “I want this up..” Louis says. Harry nods, a thin layer of sweat breaking out atop his skin. “I want these down.” Harry nods, giving Louis a form of consent, yet he still whispers an “is this okay?” beneath his breath. Harry nods in reply, a small smile creeping on his lips. He touches the tips of his fingers to Harry’s almost bare stomach, thumbs pressed atop the butterfly in the center, fingers wrapped around his hips, nails jarring into Harry’s raw, beautiful skin.
His voice is faster this time, rapider, turning Harry on letter by letter. “I want to feel your skin on fire. I want your heart to race atop mine and for you to know it’s me who does this to you. And that you’re the one who wants me.” It’s sappy...sappy as fuck if he’s being honest, but it’s making him hungry for more.
“And you never, never ever want me to stop.”
Before he can say anything else, Harry’s yanking Louis’s shirt off, and Louis is aiding him in getting his pants off, in a fast, raw manner that’s making Harry beg. He tosses them to the floor urgently, then Louis turns to the left, and slams Harry down to the floor, a cold wooden sort. It’s weird, because an unhealthy amount of heat is radiated from both of their bodies, cancelling out the typically cold apartments temperature.
“Where do you want me, Harry?” Louis whispered. “You want me inside you, or me to suck you off? Fuck that’s pretty pussy of yours? I’ve been wanting you since the day I saw you, Harry. You’re so beautiful. You know that. Don’t ever think you aren’t.” There’s a rare dark curl inside of Harry, twisting second by second, making him feel. The fact Louis remembered that he’d said he had both a praise and degradation kink was making him only 10 times hotter. He’s smiling, not crying or angry, but instead he points to his red, erect dick, and says. “Ride me.” He’s already losing breath, and Louis obeys, starting in a straddle through lusciously thick and toned thighs. He’s fit, with big yet softly defined biceps, and a bit of a washboard type of abs working.
Harry turns around, revealing a bare ass...it’s weirdly cute, yet hot at the same time. His neck cranes backward as Louis cock slightly brushes against his pussy. It’s attractive, crazy attractive even. He takes a hand to Harry’s asshole, hitting the rim with his first finger, then gradually adds in his second, Harry letting out a slight moan.
“Still okay Harry?” He lets out a breath, then puts a thumb up as Louis takes some spit and slathers it against his fingers. Harry could’ve died on the spot right now, and it’s a miracle he hadn’t. This felt so surreal, and he wasn’t sure he knew it even was happening. His breath hitches, partially because Louis somehow hit the spot in a better way than usual, and partially because he’s afraid to request something.
“Could you just tell me what to do?” He says. “Before you actually do anything?” He pauses. “And would you mind if I recorded?” It’s shy, and weirdly convincing. So Louis smiles, and lets out a “Yes.”
Oh fuck yes.
“Course.” He smirks. Then watched as Harry moved away and sat with his legs spread against the couch he was by, propped against a pillow. “Aren’t you pretty.” He grits his teeth, then smirks. “Can’t wait to make a mess of you.” Harry smiles, completely shamelessly as Louis wipes the sweat he quite acutely knows is building up on his forehead. “Will you let me touch you later? Please.” Harry pleads. Louis knows exactly what he’s going to do. “Of course you can. Just wanna make you feel good.” Harry nods.
“Now turn over love. Wanna finish stretching out your pretty arse. How many fingers do you think you can handle?” Louis says. Harry ponders for a minute, then croaks out a “Four.” Harry smiles. “You like to push yourself a bit. Love that about you.” Louis says. Harry nods, dark sweat laced curls bouncing against his neck. “Show me you deserve it by showing me how you stroke your pretty fat cock.” Harry starts taking himself into his hands, stroking faster and faster as his dick got wetter and wetter. It’s satisfying...both for Louis and Harry visibly.
“That’s it. See how fucking wet you are...leaking all over yourself now.” He says, then Harry’s smiling through gritted teeth.
When their voices were absent for the moment being, Louis was left with the obscene, wet sound of Harry jacking off. It’s good, better than anything he’d experienced in a while, watching Harry’s sheen of sweat covering his torso enlarge was better than he would’ve liked to admit.
“Could you stop touching yourself for a minute?” Harry’s hand is off of his cock now, and Harry angles himself so Louis can get back into Harry’s asshole.
He doesn't know what he’s doing. This is going incredibly fast, and it’s almost making the entire situation golden. Fuck, he barely knows this guy… and he dosen’t know what the two of them even are, but he’s enjoying it too much to stop. Harry’s filing gingerly through the drawer beside the couch, grabbing a bottle of lube then squirting it on to his fingers, then manically pumping his dick back and forth when he stops.
Oh god, this is fun.
“Is it okay if I start opening you up, Harry?” He asked softly. Harry nods, then looks into his eyes.
“I love the way you say my name. And yes, please do.”
Louis was about to die on the spot now. His entire sappy speech was actually fucking coming to life.
“You can go ahead, Louis,” Harry encouraged. “I’m ready. Gonna let you see my pretty hole.” Louis felt his cock twitch at the thought. “Go on, spread your legs so I can see, love. You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He says, it’s soft this time. “Gonna show you I can be good. That I can be good for you.”
Harry’s back where he started, looking into the camera Louis even forgot he positioned, and zoomed in, while Louis used the spare moment to take in what’s happening, or who’s happening, more like it. He’s taking in Harry, his toned stomach, round pecs, and of course those goddamn sea glass eyes. He’s relieved, and happy he’s hit it this good.
With Harry’s clean hand he dragged a pillow and placed it under his bum, raising himself up so Louis could see better. Bending his knees, he reached one hand underneath himself and Louis began slowly circling around his rim.
His breath hitches, and his back arches upward, and Louis wonders if he’s doing okay. He stops for a second, then Harry instructs him to keep going, letting out a moan that didn’t sound a bit fake. Louis’ breath was the one that stopped for a second as Harry zoomed the camera in slowly to get a better view of Louis’s long fingers, shiny with lube, sliding knuckle-deep into his ass. Harry groaned loudly at the squeaking sounds his fingers made as they slid in and out, his hips jerking up, trying to get them in deeper. God, Harry needed more. He could’ve come right now, but he was holding back at the thought of Louis. He knew what he wanted.
“I wish I could feel how tight you are, how hot and wet your pretty little hole is with my dick inside.” Harry let out a long and lengthy moan, clearly getting off on the thought. But Louis knew he needed to be careful and not push too far too soon –– there was so much more he wanted to do.
As if Harry could read Louis’ thoughts, he whimpered and said, “I– I need to come, Louis. I can’t…”
“Now, now, love. Don't you wanna be good for me?" Louis said calmly. "Let me play with you a little bit more? You know I’ve got so much more planned.” He’s whispering, waiting for a response. Harry nods, and Louis realizes he’s pushing too hard, and too fast. Out of all the knowledge of the great world of edging he had, he knew what was next.
“Do you have a plug?” Harry didn’t say anything in return, just pointing to the drawer he’d gotten the lube from, and handed it to him like a gift, as if stocking his supposed sex drawer every now and then wasn’t routine, just for him. He wanted to make him feel special anyways, so he didn’t say anything, and was unaware of the fact Louis was questioning his drawer of sorts.
“I want you to put it on while I stay straddled and watch.” Harry smiles. Reaching to his side, Harry grabbed the plug, adding more lube and angling himself to push it in slowly. Louis eagerly took in the sight of the shiny toy breaching Harry's body, stretching him wide, until it was fully inside him. Breathing heavily, Harry was now starfished on the couch, cock still hard against his hip, shiny blue plug nestled between his asscheeks.
Harry moaned and arched his back, pale neck on display as his head pressed into the bed. “Oh god... yes .” His hands reached out on either side of his body, grasping at the sheets. “I like it... want it. Want you to use me,” his voice cracked. “Please…let me show you I can be a good boy, make you feel good...”
“Fuck.” Louis whispers, feeling his cock jerk just a bit too hard.
“Such a good boy for me. You’re doing so well, baby.”
If Louis thought Harry had been affected before, nothing prepared him for the wail that Harry let out at that. The sound, guttural and raw as if it had been ripped straight from his throat, was followed by a full body shiver and tears leaking from the corners of his tightly shut eyes.
“Holy shit,” Louis muttered to himself. “You like that, baby? Like being a good boy?”
“Oh god...like- like being your good boy,” he panted, turning his face towards the mirror. Then, biting his lip and closing his eyes, he said, quieter, “I like being...your baby.”
His mouth suddenly parched, Louis took a sip of his forgotten drink but his voice still sounded thick when he tried to speak. “I like it, too.”
Too fucking much I like it, Louis thought to himself as he turned the vibrations on again.
“God Louis. Need you inside me.” He’s drunk, both of them are obviously, and their dialogue isn’t the least bit natural. It’s crazy pornographic, and it’s making the inside of Louis’s thighs fill with precome, smearing them wet.
He was losing his mind.
Harry had his head thrown back, his back arched, the joints in his arm strained as he tried to angle the plug just right. Louis could tell he was getting frustrated shitless and truly, he wasn’t the only one. Louis should be canonized because frankly he was a fucking saint for holding out this long.
“P-please...I’ll be so good for you. I’d take your cock so well...” he continued to beg as Louis focused on how Harry’s abused, red rim stretched around the thick plug he was impaled on. “I’m tight,” he offered, like he even needed to bargain. “Make my pussy so fucking tight for you, milk all that come from your cock until you’re spilling into me––”
“Oh fuck this!”
Louis is suddenly coming down on Harry, so soft, even though the tension is magnetic. He’s breathing, he’s not breathing, and his heart is beating between the two of them. He’s so close the tension of Harry’s body feels like it’s evaporating as Louis grinds against his hips, causing Harry to let out a wail in the most obscene of ways.
“Is this okay? I should’ve asked first.”
"It’s so okay.”