It all starts one night after they've just had sex. Louis is lying on his stomach, sated and sweaty and pleased, his hair a fluffy mess on the pillow beneath him. Harry is lying behind him, catching his breath and absently running his hands over the smooth expanse of Louis' back and ass. His skin is still slightly overheated, soft and lovely under Harry's touch.
Harry has this little fascination with fingering Louis after he's fucked him. He loves the feeling of it, how Louis is all loose and wet with his come. He's still a little sensitive so he always makes these pretty noises when Harry does it. Half the time Harry can make him come again just from that.
Harry shifts his own body up and back slightly, so he's kneeling on the mattress behind Louis. He runs his hands over the swell of Louis’ ass, kisses the small of his back and nudges his fingertip against Louis' hole, questioning. Louis smiles at him over his shoulder, sleepy and relaxed. Harry smiles back and pushes in a little further, until he can feel the slippery wet of his come inside Louis. He presses in and out a couple of times, exploring, until Louis' hips shift slightly against the mattress and he makes a soft noise into his pillow. Harry whispers, "Yeah?" and Louis nods, folds his arms beneath himself and rests his head on them.
Harry continues, slips in a second finger and goes a bit deeper but still so slow, spreading the wet around Louis' rim. It's a gorgeous sight, his come dripping out of Louis' body. It makes his breath catch, makes his blood run hot with something deep and primal and possessive.
"I love seeing my come in you," Harry murmurs, his voice husky and low. Louis pushes back on his fingers with a whine.
"I love feeling your come in me," he replies, voice slightly muffled.
Harry kneels there on their bed, watching his fingers slide into Louis' body. He adds a third, keeps that same slow, teasing pace because he loves making Louis work for it a little.
Then Louis surprises him. He mumbles something gruff and quiet and Harry doesn't hear him at first, asks him to repeat himself.
"Give me four, Haz."
Harry blinks. They've never tried that before.
He's surprised at Louis' request but he obliges, reaching for the lube and drizzling some over his fingers. He tucks the fourth digit in next to the others on the next press in. Louis' body feels tighter around him, a closer fit and he hears Louis huff out a surprised breath. The pressure eases and Harry is gentle, thrusting in slow and steady as Louis adjusts to the new size.
It's then that Harry notices just how hard Louis is breathing. He still has his face buried in his forearms but Harry can hear the quick pants escaping him, Louis’ getting way more worked up over this than Harry could have expected. He pushes his fingers into Louis' body deeper and then out again, shocked by Louis' whimper when they leave him. Harry squeezes Louis' thigh with his free hand. "Okay, babe?"
Louis nods against his folded arms. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't stop."
He's panting, sweat gathering on his skin and Harry's just...awed, by how Louis is responding to this. So he keeps it up, thrusts into Louis again and Louis shifts his hips up and lets out this shocked gasp and comes, just like that, tightens up on Harry's fingers and spills onto the mattress. He's making these surprised whimpering noises like he wasn't expecting it at all. Harry is so shocked, feels how Louis is trembling under his touch with the force of it.
Louis goes boneless after, heavy and even sleepier than before. Harry withdraws his fingers carefully and moves up the bed to check on him. "Uh, wow?" Harry says, still in awe of how hard Louis got off on that. Louis just nods. Fuck, he's gone all glassy-eyed and blissed out, his mouth pulled in a dopey smile. Harry thinks he knows that look, but it's always been on his own face. He's never seen Louis like this before.
Glad to count on past experience, Harry pets Louis' hair and kisses his shoulder, his neck. "You okay Lou? Need anything?"
"M'sleepy," Louis says, and he burrows into Harry's chest with a contented sigh. "That was good."
Understatement, Harry thinks dazedly, and stays awake thinking about it long after Louis has passed out in his arms.
Harry asks about it, of course. They're not very good at keeping things from each other, ever, and it's usually best for the both of them to just talk this stuff out.
Louis can't seem to explain it. He blushes and mumbles something about feeling full and how he's always really liked Harry's hands, then changes the subject as quickly as possible.
It's clear to Harry that that's not the end of it.
He broaches the subject again, this time when they're in bed and alone, and this time he phrases it as an offer.
"Do you want my fingers again?" Harry asks, sliding said fingers down Louis' chest and stomach to dip under the waistband of his briefs.
Louis nods, arching into the touch and pulling Harry down into a wet kiss. "Harry, do you think we could try...more?"
Harry looks down at him and raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you know. More of your fingers, four at first and then - maybe all of it?"
And Harry's brain melts into one long drawn out fuuuuuuuck, because he was expecting Louis to ask for four, but not this.
He's probably breathing too fast when he replies. "Are you talking about - erm, fisting?"
Louis meets his eyes, nervous but steady. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it. Been thinking about it a lot."
Harry looks down at his own hands, curled around Louis’ hips. They look massive, especially on Louis’ petite body. “Lou, my hands are pretty big...”
Louis huffs out a laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Trust me, I know.” He reaches down for Harry’s hand, pressing their palms together. They both marvel for a moment at the difference, at how much bigger Harry’s hand is than Louis’ smaller, more delicate one. “I love them.” Louis kisses his knuckles.
“I love you,” Harry says, unable to help himself. He brushes the back of his fingers against Louis’ cheek. “And I don’t want to hurt you. Could you even take - I mean, it’s a lot bigger than anything we’ve done before.”
"I know," Louis replies, tracing the length of Harry's fingers with his own. "I just really want to try it? We could work up to it, maybe. Practice, like. If you're okay with it."
It's not something that Harry has to overthink, really. He's basically being given a free pass to finger Louis even more than he already does, and he'll never ever say no to that.
"I am very okay with it," Harry says, and starts unbuttoning Louis' jeans.
It's weird to say that it's something that they practice, but they do. It's kind of an amazing time for both of them, because they've discovered this thing that Louis is really, really into. It gets him off like crazy, like nothing Harry's ever seen, and it gets more intense every time they get a little further. Harry is completely amazed by the whole thing.
It's simple enough to get Louis used to taking four fingers easily, to get him splayed out beneath Harry with his hips canted up, begging softly for more. Harry is insistent they take their time, save more for next time. Louis is unexpectedly acquiescent about it, and Harry is beginning to realise that this, at least, is one instance where Louis is giving over control. It makes Harry feel pretty special, makes him feel loved and trusted.
Louis stares at Harry's hands a lot over the next couple of days. Harry catches him looking all the time, when Harry's clutching a coffee cup or a water bottle, when his fingers splay playfully over the piano in the studio. Louis seems especially fascinated by how Harry's hands look on his own body. "Look," he'll say, placing Harry's hands on his waist and making him splay his fingers to their full length. "They can practically meet in the middle, that's insane."
"S'only 'cause you're a pixie," Harry teases, and kisses Louis' scrunched up nose.
Once, when they're cuddled up on the sofa watching TV, Louis plays with Harry's hands for hours. He runs his fingers over the length of Harry's, traces patterns on his palm, carefully folds the joints one by one. Harry allows it, because he likes when Louis is in this kind of mood, sweet and affectionate.
Louis folds Harry's hand into a fist, his eyes tracing over the size and shape of it. Harry can feel how his breath catches, how he's gone tense, his skin flushing with heat.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
Louis swallows and nods. He nudges his nose against Harry's throat, nips gently at the skin. "Soon, yeah?"
Harry nods. "Soon."
Things go wrong when they decide Louis should try wearing a plug first.
"That'd be good, right?" Louis had reasoned. "I mean, if it keeps me stretched for a few hours first you should just be able to...you know, slip right in."
It's hot when Harry helps Louis press the toy up inside him, hot watching Louis' body closing tight and warm around it. But it's also oddly clinical and awkward waiting out the time between that and what they want to do. Something about the whole experience feels off, and Louis seems to agree.
"I don't think I like it," he says, making an uncomfortable face. Harry frowns at him.
"Do you want to take it out?"
Louis shakes his head stubbornly. "No, no, I want to do this."
It's a disaster. Even though Louis is stretched from the toy, he's tense under Harry's hands and he can't get his breathing under control, can't relax his muscles enough to even try more than four fingers. Harry can see it's not working, knows the expression on Louis' face is the one he gets when he's determined to do something despite himself. It's not the soft, dopey look he's had lately when he'll let Harry do anything, take it gladly.
Harry stops before they get much further, withdrawing his hand with a frustrated sigh. He's expecting Louis to protest, but mostly Louis looks tired and disappointed. Harry kisses his hip, over his soft belly and up his chest. "We'll get it next time," he promises. Louis nods, but then he leaves the bed and shuts himself in the bathroom.
Harry sighs to himself, gives Louis fives minutes alone, and follows.
Louis is sitting on the tiled floor in his underwear, back to the wall and knees drawn up to his chest. He looks small and vulnerable, a sight Harry's not accustomed to.
Harry clears his throat. "Hey."
He squeezes in next to Louis, pressing their sides together and lending his warmth. Louis' head drops to rest on his shoulder but he doesn't speak.
"You okay?" Harry asks.
Louis shrugs. "I guess. I just...really wanted it," he laughs in an embarrassed sort of way. "I don't even know why it's such a big deal for me."
"Well, you hate admitting defeat, for one thing," Harry reasons, and Louis laughs again. "Do you think maybe it's not even the fisting you're trying to do?"
Louis lifts his head to look at Harry. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry shrugs, meeting Louis' sharp gaze. "Just that when we do this...do it properly I mean, not like tonight - you go kind of floaty, you know? The same way I get when you're rough with me. It's a nice feeling. I thought maybe that's the feeling you're going for, not the fisting itself."
Harry's not a stranger to that 'floaty' feeling. He gets it when Louis is particularly rough with him, or when he goes all forceful and demanding, tells Harry what to do. There's something gorgeous and simple about being able to obey, about being able to please Louis and just let go of his own worries a bit. Harry had never really considered that Louis was capable of giving up his own control the way Harry does, but there's obviously something about this that's new.
Louis stares at him for a moment, looking shocked. "Is that - do you think that's what it is?"
"I dunno," Harry admits. "I only know what it feels like, not what it looks like. But it's like...like everything kind of fades away except for what you're doing to me, and my brain goes all fuzzy and warm, like -"
"- you don't have to think about anything at all." Louis finishes in a faint voice.
"Wow," Louis comments softly. "I never realised that's what it's really like for you."
Harry gives him a small smile. "S'nice, huh?"
"Yeah." Louis takes a deep breath, obviously still trying to process all this new information. "I wonder why it's so different for us. You get like that when I push you around -"
"I like doing what you tell me to," Harry interjects simply. "I like pleasing you."
"And I -" Louis frowns. "I don't know why I get like that. Do you think I just really, really like your hands?"
Harry shakes his head. "I think..." he starts slowly. "I think for you it's more the build-up, maybe? Because tonight we went too fast and you hated it."
"It wasn't just that," Louis says. "It was so impersonal, you know? Just this cold plastic instead of your fingers, and I missed how slow you move, and how you talk to me and make sure I'm okay, and how you know exactly how to do it. I like -" Louis pauses. "I like you taking care of me," he says like it's a revelation.
He's right, Harry realises. The closest they've come to Louis hitting that floaty, dreamy feeling is when Harry is especially slow, when he's soothing and warm and sweet. He doesn't get to do that very often, because it's so normal for them for Louis to be in control.
And there's a reason for that. Yes, Louis is naturally bossy and usually ends up being the ringleader in any situation, and yes, he likes when things go his way. It's worked out well between them that Harry finds peace and pleasure in being told what to do, they've fallen easily into this pattern of Louis giving orders and Harry taking them. They've never tried it the other way around, because it's never been necessary. Besides, there's something fragile and vulnerable about Harry when he lets Louis take over; a feeling he revels in because he trusts Louis to keep him safe throughout.
Louis hates being vulnerable. He guards himself carefully in so many little ways, throws out jokes and distractions, puts up walls when people get too close. He's especially good at lashing out when he's hurt, and Harry and the boys have all got their fair share of snappy remarks when Louis is upset.
It seems, to Harry, that they've found a way for Louis to give up a little bit of his control without feeling that vulnerability that he hates so much. There's something wonderful about that.
After the conversation in the bathroom, Harry feels like he understands what it is that they're doing so much better. Louis can't fall directly into a subspace the way Harry can, but he can get close to it in this kind of special circumstance. If Harry can enforce this kind of slow, intense build-up, if he can make Louis work a little to control at first, they'll hit a point where Louis can let go and allow Harry to take over. Harry feels so - special, really, like he's been handed something very rare and very important and he has to work hard to not mess it up. Louis can only go under when he feels like Harry is close, present and connected to what Louis feels and wants. There's so much trust involved that it makes Harry's chest clench when he thinks about it.
The difference between Harry's sub place and Louis' sub place is that Harry will let himself go entirely; he'll let himself be broken apart and put back together because he's okay with the broken part. He's okay with being vulnerable and hurt and begging because that's a part of the whole thing for him.
For Louis it's less extreme - he'll never want to be vulnerable, but Harry doesn't think that when they do this he ever feels it. The whole point of what they've been doing lately is making Louis feel safe and taken care of and loved. For Louis, it's never going to be about being broken - it's about giving up just enough of his control to feel thoughtless for a little while.
Over the next days, Harry and Louis test out a few new things, and it's wonderful to see what they can do to get Louis relaxed, dopey and happy. It's all a matter of pace, slow and teasing but always with the promise that he'll be able to come in the end. Harry experiments with holding him down and sucking him so slowly that Louis is trembling in desperation, then peppering gentle kisses over his inner thighs for long minutes. He murmurs reassurances, asks Louis how he's feeling and what he wants, tells him how well he's doing. When Harry finally does swallow him down, Louis comes with a quiet whimper that sounds like relief, and he's heavy-eyed and sleepy after.
Restraints work too, Louis allowing his wrists to be pinned behind his back while Harry spreads him open and licks at his hole for what feels like hours, until Louis' nearly crying into the sheets.
Harry never hurts him. Louis doesn't need it, he doesn't need punishment, that's not what this has ever been about. The important part is the reassurance, that he's putting Louis in a situation where he can feel open and thoughtless, but always with a safety net. In Louis' real life, there's nobody checking in to make sure Louis is happy all the time - he gets crap thrown in his face every day (Harry thinks of the Eleanor situation with a grimace) and he just has to deal. Really, it's the fact that Harry is giving Louis a choice which seems to be so important.
After they feel like they've figured this stuff out, after they've managed a few instances of Louis slipping down into that lovely sub place, Harry and Louis are confident enough to try fisting again.
Harry's learned his lesson, so there's no mention of plugs this time around. Instead he eases Louis into it, presses him down into the bed after a long bath when Louis is already soft and clean and happy. They melt into slow, lazy kisses and touches, Harry keeping their lips connected as he runs his hands reverently over Louis' body. When Louis is half-asleep beneath him, his eyelids drooping over warm blue eyes and his body arching under Harry's touch, Harry allows his hands to drift down to Louis' thighs and encourages them to fall open for him. Louis settles back against the pillows and just watches Harry with this pleased little smile, his eyes warm and full of trust.
Harry's extremely generous with the lube, works up one-two-three fingers, so familiar to them now. Louis is reacting to it just as strongly as ever, because he knows what's happening next. He lays spread beneath Harry, breathes deep and deliberate as Harry starts up to push up into him with four slender fingers. Harry's flushed all over with the knowledge of what they're doing, amazed by Louis and the tight warmth around his fingers as he presses in just a little bit deeper.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Harry murmurs, unwilling to raise his voice and break Louis out of his daze.
Louis dips his head in a slow nod. “Good,” he replies. His voice is barely-there, raspy thin. He clears his throat and licks his lips nervously. “I’m - yeah. Fine. Keep going.”
“Okay.” Harry stops his movements, leaving his fingers tucked inside Louis’ body. He leans forward and presses his lips to Louis’ thigh. There’s a faint tremor beneath his skin and Harry uses his free hand to stroke soothingly over Louis’ hip. “I’m gonna try the whole thing in a minute, yeah? Don’t forget to word out if you need to.”
They’ve never required a safeword for Louis but Harry’s had one for months, so Louis is familiar with its use. He nods again and squirms slightly on Harry’s fingers, like he’s testing the fit of them inside him.
Harry carefully withdraws his hand and reaches for the lube again. He drizzles it generously over his entire hand, then rubs more of the cool slick over Louis’ rim. It already looks stretched and pink from Harry’s fingers. He looks down at the size of his hand, suddenly doubtful that this is even possible.
Louis notices his hesitation. He nudges Harry’s thigh with his toes and quirks an eyebrow at him. “You look terrified, baby. You can word out too, you know.”
Harry considers it for half a second. But then he remembers that this has come to mean so much to Louis. He thinks about that glorious feeling of floating away, the state of mind that Louis has only just discovered. He wants to be able to get him there.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I want to do this for you.”
Louis’ smile crinkles his eyes. “Okay. Let’s just take our time then.”
He’s more alert than he was a few minutes ago, brought out of his haze by his need to care for Harry. Harry frowns upon realising this; this whole thing is supposed to be about Louis. He leaves his spot between Louis’ legs to lean over him instead, and drops his head to press their mouths together.
Louis pushes up into the kiss immediately and Harry gentles him, slows the kiss down. He rubs his thumb in circles against Louis’ jaw until Louis sighs into his mouth. They kiss for long moments, until Harry can feel Louis relaxing back into the mattress again, his muscles loosening.
When they break apart Louis gives him a dopey smile. “I’m ready.”
Harry pecks him on the nose. “Okay.”
He scoots back down, adds a little more lube to make up for what dried while they were kissing. “Hold your legs for me?”
Louis nods, reaching down to grasp the back of his own thighs and hold himself open. Harry has to suck in a breath at the sight; Louis golden and lovely, spread open for him. He tucks his thumb in against his palm, folds his fingers in as tightly as possible. Then he finally starts pushing in.
It’s slow, almost ridiculously so. Louis is breathing roughly already, his eyes dark as they watch the movement of Harry’s arm. Harry slides closer and hunches down so that he can kiss the inside of Louis’ thigh. He’s barely up to his knuckles but Louis feels so tight around him still. “Keep going?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Louis whispers immediately. Harry can tell just by looking at him that he’s nearly under; his eyes are glazed, his cheeks flushed and his mouth slack. He’s hard against his belly.
Pressing harder, Harry watches with wide eyes as Louis’ body continues to stretch around his hand. He gets past his knuckles, hears Louis’ breath hitch desperately and sees his fingers turn white against his thighs.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Louis is saying under his breath. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and there’s a pink flush spreading all the way down his chest.
“You’re alright,” Harry soothes. He strokes Louis’ thigh with his free hand and presses more kisses into his skin. “You’re doing so well.”
One more nudge and his whole fist is fit snugly inside Louis’ body.
“Jesus fuck,” Harry mutters. His eyes are wide as they take in the sight of Louis stretched around his wrist, his hand entirely enveloped in his heat.
Louis has completely lost the ability to speak. He can only release small whimpers as Harry carefully slips his hand back a couple of centimetres and then back in again. But Louis’ desperately hard now, his cock flushed red and smearing precome onto his stomach.
“So good Lou, ‘m so proud of you,” Harry says. He works up to a rhythm with those tiny thrusts, only pulling out a little before pushing his fist back in. Louis’ head falls back against the pillow and his hands go slack on his own thighs, letting his legs splay wide instead.
Harry can’t get over how beautiful it is to see Louis falling apart like this. He’s responding with his whole body; his back arched, muscles quivering, breath heavy and unsteady. He’s drawn tight like a bow and Harry wants to see him break, wants to see him lose it completely.
He pulls his hand out a little further this time, rotates it slightly and pushes in. He knows he’s nudged Louis’ prostate because Louis releases all the air in his lungs in a shocked whoosh. Then he moans, long and broken. Harry repeats the motion, making sure to hit Louis in the same spot each time. Tears have started to leak from Louis’ eyes, mixing with the sweat beading on his skin. Harry moves, leans up to take Louis’ cock into his mouth and begins to suck him in earnest. Louis cries out desperately and begins to shake all over. Harry tongues at his slit and pushes his fist into him one more time, and Louis is destroyed. He sobs when he comes, filling Harry’s mouth in thick spurts that coat the back of his throat. Harry swallows around him and slips off his cock slowly. He licks around the head of Louis’ cock until Louis is whining at the oversensitivity.
He’s not recovered at all; his body is still trembling uncontrollably and he’s breathing like he’s run a marathon. But there’s a dazed, blissful smile on Louis’ face and his eyes are heavy with satisfaction. His muscles are slack and although he winces when Harry very carefully pulls his fist from his body, he doesn’t protest further.
Harry dries his hand on a towel he’d set aside earlier, then crawls up the bed to settle his body carefully over Louis’. His cock is a thick, hard line against Louis’ belly, his own arousal suddenly so much more urgent now. “Lou,” Harry murmurs. His hips shift and he shudders as his cock rubs against Louis’ warm, soft skin. “Fuck, Lou, that was incredible.”
Louis smiles up at him, eyes still glassy. He tilts his head back in an obvious request for a kiss and Harry grants it immediately. He thrusts down again, his dick rutting against Louis’ belly. It’s messy and perfect and Harry comes quickly, smearing Louis’ skin with it. He gasps into Louis’ mouth and kisses him harder, filthy.
As Harry recovers, he moves away from Louis’ mouth to dot kisses over his jaw and neck. His hands run down Louis’ body, noting how lax and pliable he is now. He makes himself pull away and look into Louis’ eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Louis nods, then finally finds his voice. “Yeah. I’m....kind of wonderful, actually.”
“That’s good. I’m gonna clean up and then we’ll go to sleep, yeah?”
“Mmm,” Louis hums and stretches languidly. His eyes are already beginning to fall shut. There’s tear-tracks drying on his cheeks and Harry peppers kisses over them until Louis gives a soft laugh and pushes him away. “M’all floaty still,” he sighs happily.
“I know, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Louis agrees.
“I’ll be right back.”
Harry slips into the bathroom to thoroughly wash his hands, then returns to the bed to run a soft cloth all over Louis’ body. Louis lays still and quiet under the attention, his mouth still set in a content smile. When Harry is finally done, he tosses the cloth away and pulls Louis close. Louis immediately snuggles into his arms, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s chest like an affectionate cat.
“You did so well,” Harry praises again. “So well, Lou, I can’t believe it.”
“Love you,” Louis says, voice blurry with oncoming sleep.
Harry murmurs the words back to him. By the time he’s pressed a kiss into his hair, Louis is asleep in his arms.