Chapter Text
“Attention passengers. The departure of QF75 to Brisbane has been delayed, again. Please check the boards for the most up to date information. We apologise for the inconvenience and will provide further details as soon as they become available.”
Louis tilts his head back and lets out a long sigh, the groans of other disgruntled passengers sounding out around him. He’s already been at the airport for over three hours, not-so-patiently waiting for his flight home to Brisbane. He’d really wanted to get there early so he could have a bit of downtime before Dave’s wedding tomorrow night, but his window for relaxation is dwindling with every new delay that’s announced; the challenge of working in the middle of the Australian outback.
He loves it, most of the time, Broken Hill’s harsh climate and isolation notwithstanding, but even those things don’t bother him that much and the upsides far outweigh them anyway. As a Mineral Geoscientist, with a specialisation in explosives, he landed the job of a lifetime at Dartanda Mine. The pay is more than generous, and he gets to blow shit up all day, so it’s like a dream come true.
He’d always had an inkling about what he’d wanted to do, fascinated from an early age with what lay beneath the surface of the ground under his feet. Other kids wanted to build things, but he was far more interested in digging stuff up, or knocking it down, so he’d been excited to find that he could turn those interests into an actual career. It had taken a while to find the perfect gig, but the mines in Australia offered exactly the type of challenge he was looking for and were more than enough to draw him away from the UK. So at 27, he’d picked up his life and moved 10,000 miles across the globe. Six years later, he’s still in the Land Down Under and loving every minute.
Louis works hard and plays hard. The life of a fly-in-fly-out worker isn’t for everyone, but he truly loves it. He does a seven-days-on, three-days-off roster with his counterpart, Kieran, another expat who hails from Liverpool and lives in Sydney when he’s not at the mine. Keiran’s a good lad, stocky and sure of himself as most Rockers are, which is the apt nickname given to the people like them who blast rock in the open cut mines. He and Keiran have separate cabins on site, but they share a truck, or ute as the Australian’s call them, and they also share one other important thing; their beloved dune buggy. It’s a little bit Mad Max, and a little bit insane, but it’s a great way to let off steam.
“Attention passengers. The departure time for flight QF43 to Sydney has also been delayed. Again, we apologise for the inconvenience and updates will be provided when they are available.”
More groans ring out around him and he glances up at the board, furrowing his brows. All flights out of Broken Hill are now delayed, which… isn’t normal. The weather seems to be fine, so he doesn’t think the issue is a localised one, but he flicks over to the weather app on his phone just to be sure. As expected, there’s nothing to indicate the reason for the delays at this end, so it must be a problem where the planes are coming from. He regularly catches this flight and he knows that his plane is supposed to be coming in from Sydney, so he flips over to check the weather there.
“Oh shit,” he murmurs to himself. There’s a dust storm bearing down on Sydney. He taps on his Twitter icon and hits the search, his stomach sinking as he sees the ‘Trending in Australia’ hashtag that reads ‘Dust Storm’. “Fuck.”
He scrolls through and stops on a 7News report about all flights being grounded in Sydney with diversions for incoming flights to other major airports. The gravity of the situation quickly becomes clear; he’s not flying out of here any time soon.
Louis automatically goes into incident management mode and takes stock of his potential options. If the flights are grounded in and out of Sydney, that’s going to completely screw up all air travel on the whole of the East Coast. International flights will get priority, followed by capital-to-capital flights, with regional areas being relegated to the back of the queue. It could take days for things to get back to normal and that would mean missing the wedding, which he really doesn’t want to do. He and Dave may not be super close, but Louis is a man of his word and besides, he loves weddings and he’s honestly been looking forward to the break.
He’s going to have to drive.
And it’s not like it’s a short hop either. Broken Hill to Brisbane is over 1,500kms and while he’s never actually done the drive, he guesses it’s going to be around 18 hours or so. He can’t go back and pick-up the truck because Kieran needs it. Plus, it’s not really even theirs, it’s a company car, so that’s immediately off the table.
Fuck. He’s going to have to grab a rental.
Louis casually looks around to see if other passengers have realised what’s happening, but everyone seems oblivious. He notices that the TV screen in the departures lounge is off which is probably going to work in his favour. Craning his neck around he checks the car park, spotting the big yellow Hertz sign designating where the rental cars are usually lined up. There’s only one, a big silver truck covered in the same orange dust that blankets everything and everyone in the outback.
All he has to do is get to the rental car desk and secure the vehicle without triggering a stampede of other desperate passengers. What could possibly go wrong?
He reaches blindly for his carry-on, keeping his eyes on the truck like that will somehow call dibs on it, thankful that he always travels light so he doesn’t need to worry about checked baggage.
Louis slowly gets to his feet and pockets his phone, turning around to head for the desk and that’s when he spots him. There’s a man across the lounge staring at him, tall and broad and fucking gorgeous, with dark sunglasses pushed back on top of his head, and he’s looking at Louis with narrowed eyes.
They both take a step at the same time and then stop in unison. The man’s eyes dart to the car park, then over towards the rental car desk, and finally back to Louis, one side of his mouth curling up into a wry grin. Fuck.
Louis takes off at a brisk walk, the man matching his pace as they both make a beeline for the desk which is equidistant between them. They meet in the middle and cover the last few steps side by side, coming to a halt in front of a bored looking guy in a glaringly bright yellow Hertz shirt. The guy, Aaron according to his name tag, looks up a bit dazed and confused, glancing between Louis and his competition.
“How can I help you?” Aaron drawls out in a thick Aussie accent.
Louis smiles. “Hi, I’d-”
“Yes,” the man interrupts. “I’d like to rent a car.”
Louis scowls, irritation bubbling up in his veins. “I’d like to rent a car, please. That one,” Louis says, pointing over his shoulder to the silver truck just outside the building. “One way. To Brisbane.”
“Same,” the rude man adds as Louis only now registers his English accent, not all that dissimilar to his own.
Louis reaches into his pocket and retrieves his wallet, sliding out his licence and credit card. “Here,” they both say at the same time as they slap their cards down on the top of the counter.
Aaron just blinks up at them, his freckled cheeks and sandy blonde hair giving the impression that he would be better suited to a sundrenched beach with a surfboard under his arm and not the dusty, dry heat of the Australian outback.
Louis rolls his eyes and turns to the man standing beside him. “Listen, buddy. I was here first and I need that car.”
The man snorts out an indignant laugh and looks at Louis with condescension in his gaze. “Well, buddy. I was actually here first and I need the car a lot more than you do.”
Louis sighs and looks back at Aaron. “Do you have another car?”
Aaron appears to be a combination of amused and slightly nervous when he says, “No. Only one car left, and it hasn’t even had its turnaround done, so actually neither of you can have it yet.”
“How long?” Louis asks, his level of irritation rising rapidly.
“Needs a clean and check. Probably about a couple of hours.”
“Nope. I need it now,” the other man says, his deep voice quickly grating on Louis’ nerves. “No cleaning or checking required. I’ll take it as-is.”
“That’s against policy,” Aaron counters. “Besides, it’s been off-roaded in the mines for two-weeks, so trust me, you want it checked if you don’t want to end up broken down on the side of the-”
“Fine,” Louis interrupts. “Check, but no clean. I need to get out of here.”
“Well, there’s only one car so one of you is going to be stuck. I’m not sorting it out either. You both got here at the same time, so by the time I get back, you’d better have decided who’s getting the car. I don’t get paid enough for-” Aaron waves his hand between Louis and the other man dismissively. “For whatever’s going on here.”
Aaron grabs his walkie-talkie and slides off his chair, giving instructions to whoever is on the other end of the line before leaving Louis and his competition at the desk.
Louis sighs and straightens his shoulders, turning to the man who is already glaring back at him. Awesome.
He decides to try placating him, appealing to his good side, if he even has one. “I need to be in Brisbane by tomorrow afternoon for a wedding. It’s really important.”
The man crosses his arms over his chest. “I do too.”
“What?”
“I have a wedding to get to as well.”
“Well, I highly doubt that,” Louis scoffs, not bothering to hide his disbelief.
“You calling me a liar?”
“Mate, I don’t know what your deal is, but whatever.” An idea starts to form in Louis’ head. He’s always been good at problem solving under pressure, and while this isn’t ideal, it seems like it might be the only option. The man might be coming across as a bit of an asshole, but he’s not exactly giving off serial killer vibes either. “Look. You need to get to Brisbane, I need to get to Brisbane, and there’s only one way out of here that I can see.”
The man’s eyes go wide, mouth dropping slightly open. “You’re not seriously suggesting-”
“I am. I’m not backing down, and clearly you aren’t either, so suck it up, buttercup.”
The man sighs and shakes his head, shoulders slumping. “Fuck. Alright.”
“Road trip with a complete stranger. Yay,” Louis deadpans, turning back to the counter as Aaron reappears. “We’ll take it.”
Aaron snorts out a laugh. “Righto, then. Who’s paying?”
“I will,” the man says, sliding his credit card further across the counter, glancing at Louis as he further explains, “My company will cover it anyway. We’ll sort it out later.”
Aaron gives a curt nod and takes their licences, starting to fill out the paperwork.
“I’m Louis,” Louis offers, holding out his hand.
The man engulfs Louis’ hand with his. “Harry. Nice to uhm- Nice to meet you?”
Louis chuckles and drops their hands. “You sure about that?”
“No. Not really. But I figured pleasantries were in order, given the circumstances.”
“Well, don’t put yourself out or anything, mate.”
“Fuck. This is going to be a long drive,” Harry groans and Louis heartily concurs.
The paperwork is dealt with swiftly, signing up for the top insurance coverage because neither of them are idiots, and agreeing to the exorbitant return fee as they’ll be leaving the vehicle in Brisbane and not driving it back. Honestly, rental car companies are such opportunistic bastards.
They trudge out to the car park, trailing behind Aaron. It’s fucking hot, of course, with dust picked up in mini-whirlies that spin around on the black ashphalt ground. Louis isn’t a massive fan of flying, but he’d give just about anything to be sardined in a cramped cabin right about now eating shitty pretzels 35,000 feet in the air.
Aaron does the walk through, checking off the mileage counter and fuel level and pointing out the dented bumper. Harry signs off and takes the copy of the document and the keys.
“Safe travels, guys. And good luck, I reckon you’re gonna need it,” Aaron says, his cackle ringing out as he leaves them to their own devices.
“Okay. I’ll drive the first shift,” Harry states, opening the back door and chucking his bag inside.
“Fine by me,” Louis says as he rounds the back of the truck. “Could do with a nap actually.”
They climb inside and Louis dumps his carry-on at his feet, buckling up his seatbelt as Harry adjusts the driver's seat back to accommodate his ridiculously long, jean-clad legs, his scuffed brown RM Williams leather boots covered in dust and matching Louis’ own. The dark-blue denim clings to Harry’s muscled thighs, his white t-shirt stretched over his chest tight enough that Louis can’t miss his puffy nipples pressed against the thin cotton. Jesus, this guy is fucking fit. He’s not Louis’ usual type, but he wouldn’t be opposed to a roll in the proverbial hay on their journey. Louis hasn’t gotten laid in months and he had kind of hoped he’d get some action at the wedding, but maybe they can take advantage of their predicament if Harry’s up for it.
There’s a stale odour in the cab, sweat and dust and something like rotten eggs, and Louis briefly wishes they’d opted for it to be cleaned.
“Fuck, it stinks in here.” Harry presses the button to lower their windows as Louis reaches forward and cranks up the air con to full blast, the warm air quickly turning cool.
Louis settles back in his seat. “Smells like gross toe jam.”
“You’re familiar with that then?”
“What? Yeah. ‘Course.”
“Well, don’t kick your boots off then. Don’t need any extra stench in here,” Harry warns as he fiddles with the rear view and side mirrors.
“I didn’t mean my feet, you wanker.”
Louis doesn’t miss the satisfied smirk at the corner of Harry’s mouth as he releases the handbrake. “Ready?”
Louis purses his lips. He hates when people jump into things without preparation and planning and it seems like his companion is one of those people. “How about we plan the trip first before we drive off aimlessly? You know, set the sat nav, work out where we’re going to stop for breaks and food, maybe some accommodation for tonight?”
Harry twists around in his seat. “Ooohhh, you’re one of those people?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“A control freak.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’s fine. I’m just more of an adventure seeker. Like to let the road unfold before me and enjoy the journey.”
Louis’ blood boils in his veins. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? He’s about to rain hellfire down on him when he catches the glint in Harry’s eyes. Cheeky, fucking, shit. He fixes Harry with a challenging stare. “Oh yeah? Care to explain your behaviour back in the departure lounge then?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Harry asks faux-innocently.
“I mean, you’re full of shit. You’re just as much of a planner as I am.”
“How do you figure that?”
Louis narrows his eyes. “There were, what, seventy people in that lounge? And yet you and I were the only ones to work out what was really going on, what the implications were going to be, and then devise a plan to get out of there. What was your process?”
The self-satisfied grin that blooms on Harry’s face is one Louis can’t help but mirror, no matter how hard he tries.
“Well, I checked the weather app, then social media, and worked out what the problem was.”
“Same,” Louis says, nodding.
“Then I checked the car park and realised-”
“There was only one rental car left.”
“Yeah. Clocked you from across the room and assumed you’d made the same deduction, but I didn’t want to create a scene or a stampede, so I just hoped I could beat you to the rental desk.”
“Hmmm… shame for you that those stupidly long legs couldn’t carry you there a bit quicker.”
“Shame for you that your arse couldn’t bounce you over faster too.”
“Oi!”
Harry’s grin turns up into a full-on smirk. “Anyway, I thought we could just get on the road and sort out the other stuff as we went along. That’s the advantage of having two people in the car.”
Louis huffs out a breath and turns to look 2out of the open passenger window, trying to hide his own smirk and the hint of a blush he doesn’t think could be reasonably excused by the warm weather. “Yeah. Whatever. Let’s go, Harold.”
“It’s just Harry, actually.”
“Of course it is, Harold.”
Harry makes a disgruntled growling sound at the back of his throat, but peels out of the car park anyway.
They spend the next twenty minutes as they make their way out of town bickering about where to stop for food, finally settling on the Broken Hill Outback Resort, which is essentially the last possible place they can stop before they hit the open road and hundreds of kilometres of nothing but dust and emptiness. So it’s less of an actual agreed decision and more of a needs-must scenario.
Harry grumbles about the lack of healthier options and Louis grumbles when Harry refuses to allow him to get a beer in case ‘something happens and you have to drive’.
They sit across from each other at a table inside by the window while they wait for their meals, both scrolling through their phones. It’s not awkward, as such, and Louis has never been one for idle chit-chat anyway, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.
The entire place is filled with tourists, families mostly, even though it’s nowhere near the school holidays, the car park is packed with big SUVs towing caravans which doesn’t bode well for the trip as they’re going to have to navigate them on the highway. Harry seems to be a decent enough driver though, which Louis is grateful for. Poor drivers irritate the fuck out of him and as he’s going to be stuck with Harry for the next twenty-four hours with most of that spent in the truck, that would’ve really sucked.
“So, I thought we could switch at Noona. It’s about four hours away,” Harry announces, looking up from his phone. “Then it’s another four hours to Walgett where we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, alright,” Louis agrees. “Sounds fair.”
Harry gives a curt nod of his head. “That’ll leave us about eight hours for tomorrow, so if we get an early start, we can be in Brisbane by mid-afternoon.”
“Works for me.”
Louis has another two hours to drive north up to Noosa after they drop the rental car at Brisbane airport. He has to factor in the time to get from the airport to his house and grab his things, but then he’ll have his own car for that leg of the journey, and thankfully it’s an evening wedding, so he should make it with time to spare, just not as much as he hoped for.
The server brings their food and drinks on a tray and he sets it down with a tired smile. “Grilled Chicken Burger?”
“That’s me, thanks,” Harry says and flashes him a winning smile, all teeth and dimples. He brightens up in response, appearing to become a little flustered and Louis gives a small chuckle at the interaction. He takes their drinks off the tray while the guy, who must be no more than twenty, bats his eyelashes flirtatiously at Harry and slides Louis' plate in front of him without taking his eyes off the object of his affection.
“Thanks, mate,” Louis says, but the guy isn’t paying him any attention whatsoever.
“Can I get you anything else, Sir,” he says, emphasising the last word as he turns toward Harry, leaning his hand against the table, the tray hanging from the fingers of his other hand and resting against his thigh.
Louis snorts a laugh at that and decides to have a bit of fun. “Yeah, babe, did you need anything else?”
Harry’s gaze darts over to Louis and he doesn’t look best pleased, but Louis just pastes on a sickly sweet smile. Their server doesn’t seem to be too impressed either, snapping his head around and giving Louis a petulant and slightly exasperated huff before leaving them to their lunch.
“You alright there, honey bunch?”
Louis skewers a chip and brings it to his lips. “Peachy,” he says and pops the chip into his mouth.
“Why did you have to be so rude?”
“Me? Seriously? He’s like, fifteen years younger than you and he was the one being rude. How does he know we’re not together?”
“Maybe something to do with our acidic chemistry? Anyway, exactly how old do you think I am?”
“Old enough to know better. Eat your fucking lunch so we can get out back on the road.”
“I was just being polite.”
“You were flirting.”
Harry rolls his eyes as he picks up his burger in both hands. “If you think that was flirting, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“Oh yeah? You gonna dazzle me with your superior technique and hit on some other poor soul in here?”
Harry tilts his head to the side, challenge in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just hit on you instead.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Whatever. I’d probably need a jackhammer to get through your icy exterior anyway.”
“Keep your jackhammer away from me. Don’t want that thing anywhere near me.”
“No danger of that.” Harry leans down and takes a bite of his burger, tongue first.
“Ugh. You’re like a horny manchild,” Louis says and Harry grins around his mouthful of food. “Smug isn’t an attractive look on you, either.”
Harry chews his food, swallowing it down. “You saying I’m attractive?”
“One thousand percent, no,” Louis lies. He may think Harry’s a prize dickhead, but he can’t deny that the man is gorgeous. Unfortunately, he’s obviously well aware of it, which definitely takes the shine off any appeal.
Harry waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Awww, Lou. I think you like me.”
“I think you’re an idiot and don’t call me that. Only my friends call me Lou. Actually, let’s just stop talking altogether.”
“Suit yourself,” Harry says with a shrug of his shoulders.
The rest of lunch is spent in blessed silence and when they go up to the counter to pay, Louis earns an evil eye from the server from earlier, which Harry enjoys far too much for Louis’ liking. They both use the bathroom before climbing back into the truck and getting out on the road, Harry taking up the driving duties for the rest of the trip to Noona.
The tentative peace lasts for all of ten minutes until Louis pairs his phone to the car and puts a playlist on.
“You’re such a fucking music snob,” Louis accuses, feeling justified given Harry’s reaction to his choice of EDM.
“I’m not a- It’s not that I don’t like EDM, it’s just not very soothing for the drive. Haven’t you got some classic 70’s rock or something? Or some Fleetwood Mac? Or even an 80’s and 90’s mix?”
“So what you’re saying is, that there’s no good music from this millenia?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Stop putting words in my mouth. What about some Ed Sheeran?”
“Nope. I’m thinking Death Metal next.”
“You’re a philistine.”
“Snob.”
“Fine. You get to choose now, but I get control when you’re driving.”
Fifteen minutes later, it becomes a moot point because they lose internet and Louis doesn't have any music downloaded, so they have to switch to Harry’s phone because of course he has a stash of woefully boring songs readily available.
Louis begrudgingly settles on an album called Burnt Letters by some Aussie guy called Taylor Henderson who isn’t actually half-bad, not that he’ll give Harry the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. It’s a bit poppy, a bit country, with pretty nice piano and guitar ballads, and his voice is quite soothing.
The sameness of the landscape and the straight road that disappears into a heat-haze-mirage has Louis’ eyelids staying closed longer and longer with each blink until he finally succumbs, dozing off in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
When he’s pulled from his brief nap, it’s by the sound of another voice; deeper, smoother, more alluring. As he lets the sound of singing filter into his ears he realises that it’s not coming out of the speakers, but rather, it’s Harry. He’s harmonising along with some artist that Louis doesn’t recognise, taking a lower part and then switching it up to a higher range. It’s, well, it’s beautiful.
Louis is curled up against the backrest, turned towards Harry to avoid the bright sunshine coming through the passenger window and he blinks his eyes open slowly. Harry is reclining in his seat, one elbow propped on the window sill, thumb and forefinger loosely guiding the wheel, the other elbow resting on the centre console as his fingers tap out the beat of the tune. His body is open, thighs spread wide as he watches the road ahead, cheekbone and jawline accentuated as the words fall from his plush, full lips.
“I can feel you staring, you know,” Harry says, mouth curling into a smirk.
“You’ve got a nice voice.”
Harry glances over, brows furrowed like he’d been expecting Louis to snark out some retort and not a compliment. “Oh. Uhm- thanks?”
Louis sits back up in his seat, a yawn escaping his lips. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still an A-grade wanker.”
Harry snorts out a laugh. “How do you know I’m a skilled wanker?”
Louis shrugs. “Big hands. They’ve gotta be good for something.”
“What, these?” Harry waves both of his hands about an inch in front of Louis’ face and Louis bats them away.
“Oi! One hand on the wheel at all times. I’d very much like not to end up wrapped around a tree in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.”
“Bum-fuck nowhere,” Harry parrots back. “Honestly, your mouth and your creative curses.”
“Never had any complaints about my mouth before.”
“You’re filthy.”
“Takes one to know one,” Louis sing-songs.
“Hmmmm,” Harry hums and goes back to his singing.
It should be annoying, is the thing. Louis isn’t usually a fan of other people singing in the car, and he finds pretty much everything about Harry annoying, so maybe it’s because he’s just woken up from a nap, or maybe it’s the warmth of the cab, or maybe it’s something else he can’t quite put his finger on. Regardless, he doesn’t tell Harry to stop, just starts humming along to the melody as he stretches his legs out into the footwell and toes off his boots. He rubs his feet together and then brings one leg up, tucking his foot under his bum, hoping that Harry doesn’t call him out for taking his shoes off. He doesn’t actually have stinky feet, not usually anyway, but these boots are fairly old, so it’s six-to-five-and-pick-’em as to whether they smell a bit.
“I need to pee soon,” Louis announces. “How much further to Noona?”
“About ten minutes. Can you hold it?”
“Yeah. Wait, how long was I asleep?”
“A few hours.”
“Shit, sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. It was nice to have a break from your special brand of witty banter,” Harry says, words coated in sarcasm.
“Charming.”
“Always. Besides, it’s better that you sleep now instead of getting tired while you’re driving. I’d also prefer not to end up wrapped around a tree.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver.”
“Said every bad driver ever.”
Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes, shifting in his seat to try and relieve the pressure on his bladder. As the Welcome to Noona sign appears up ahead he leans forward, sliding his boots back on. “Have you been here before?”
“Nope. I always fly. You?”
“Same. So, who do you work for?”
Harry side-eyes him. “Are we making small talk now?”
“Figured we could try being civil to each other.”
“Alright,” Harry says, drawing out the word. “Uhm- Geomorph Technologies. I’m a geothermal energy scientist. You?”
“Dartanda Mine. Mineral Geoscientist and Explosives Specialist.”
Harry slows the car as they enter the township. “You’re a Rocker?” He asks in reference to Louis being a rock blaster.
“I am,” Louis confirms, extending his arms out in front of himself and threading his fingers together, turning his palms out and cracking his knuckles. “Don’t tell me you have a problem with that.”
“Not at all. That’s- That’s actually pretty cool.”
“Why thank you, Harold.”
“S’just Harry.”
“So you’ve said. Manchester?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Well, Cheshire, Holmes Chapel, actually.”
“Doncaster for me.”
“No shit,” Harry says and glances over at Louis. “I’m a Donny Rovers fan.”
Louis chuckles at the crazy coincidence. “Seriously? Don’t think I’ve ever met a Rovers fan that wasn’t born and raised in Doncaster.”
“They’re a good team. Great heart. Coffee?” Harry asks, pointing towards the rest stop with a coffee caravan.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Harry pulls into a spot between the toilets and the caravan and shuts off the engine. “I’ll order the coffees while you go to the loo. What do you want?”
Louis can see that they have a proper coffee machine and a display of plastic wrapped muffins in a basket on the counter. “Just a latte, no sugar, and a muffin as long as it’s choc-chip or blueberry. Thanks, Harry.”
“Ahhh so you are capable of saying my actual name,” Harry teases as they get out of the truck.
They round the front of the vehicle and Louis can’t help himself. “Sure thing, Hazza.”
Harry snorts out a laugh. “Go on and shake your snake.”
“You’re such a weirdo.”
“Takes one to know one,” Harry sing-songs Louis’ phrase from earlier and Louis just flips him off as he walks towards the restroom.
Louis truly hates using public toilets, but he’s had to get used to the gross bathroom facilities on the mine site, so this one is almost a step-up. He pees and washes his hands before heading back out to find Harry already back in the truck with the engine running indicating that the coffee preparation was disturbingly speedy, which doesn’t bode well for its quality. Oh well, coffee is coffee, he supposes.
Harry reverses out of the parking spot with one hand pressed into the steering wheel which, for some unfathomable reason, has always done things to Louis’ insides when he’s seen guys do it before. The effect on Louis when Harry does it is no less impactful, his bicep flexing under his thin white t-shirt, the tendons in his forearm standing out, and long fingers extended. The thoughts that pop into Louis’ head are out of his control when the visual is right there, so he decides to cut himself some slack. He averts his gaze, focusing on devouring his choc-chip muffin, just as he’d asked for, and washes it down with his latte. As expected, the coffee is pretty atrocious and the muffin isn’t particularly appetising, but for a roadside caravan in outback Australia, he really can’t complain that much.
It’s not until they’re a few miles down the road that Louis realises they were supposed to switch driving duties at the rest stop. He could just let it slide and relax, but then Harry would probably make him drive the whole way tomorrow, and besides, Louis isn’t an asshole, no matter what Harry might think; Louis is all about fairness and Harry should get to take a break too.
“Hey. You wanna pull over. We forgot to switch.”
“Huh? Oh, shit, yeah. Force of habit.”
Harry pulls over on the shoulder and Louis jumps out and jogs around the back of the truck while Harry goes around the front. Much to Louis’ annoyance, he has to shift the seat forward and raise it up as well.
“Do you lay down while you’re driving or something? Jesus,” Louis says as he adjusts the mirrors and guides the truck back out onto the road.
“You’re just tiny.”
Louis snaps his head around and is already glaring before he even sees Harry’s smirk. Louis refocuses, looking back out of the windscreen. “Fuck off. You’re not that much taller than me, you’re just ridiculously out of proportion with those…” Louis waves his hand in the general direction of Harry's legs.
“Teensy. Tiny.”
“You’ve maybe, maybe got a couple of inches on me,” Louis chides and narrows his eyes, glancing over at Harry briefly and watching as Harry barks out a laugh, throwing his head back and elongating his neck in a way that does absolutely nothing for Louis. Nothing at all, he lies to himself.
“I’m six-foot, even,” Harry says after he regains his composure. “And if you’re more than five-seven I’ll eat my fucking boot.”
“I’m five-nine,” Louis snaps.
“You absolutely are not.”
“I absolutely am.”
Harry chuckles, throaty and airy. “Maybe standing on a step-stool.”
“You say one more thing about my height and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Louis seethes and then realises it’s the first time he’s thought about their sleeping arrangements for this evening. Not that he thinks it’ll be a problem. It’s not as though there’s likely to be a lot of demand for rooms at a three-star motel in an out-of-the-way place like Walgett on a Thursday night, so they definitely won’t be sharing a room.
“Whatever you reckon, Lou.”
“Lou?”
“Sure. You seem to be having so much fun coming up with nicknames for me, figured I stick with it, no matter if it’s only usually reserved for friends.”
“You’re the most irritating person I’ve ever met.”
“I highly doubt that. Anyway, it’s your fault. You bring it out in me. I’m usually quite charming.”
Now it’s Louis’ turn to bark out a laugh. “Just put some music on, you wanker.”
“Again with the wanking reference. You got a fixation or something?”
“You’re the one who’s filthy mind keeps finding the gutter, not me,” Louis counters as a B-double road train swooshes by, rocking the truck.
“Fair. Never said I was an angel. Hey, we’ve got internet. You want me to put on one of your hideous playlists while we still can?”
The generosity of Harry’s gesture catches Louis off-guard. “Oh. Uhm, yeah. Thanks.”
“Turn your head this way for a sec.”
Louis does as instructed and finds Harry holding Louis’ phone up for the facial recognition to register. “Just pick the Bangers 7 playlist. I think you’ll like it.”
“Actually, this isn’t half-bad. Looks like you’ve got some musical taste after all,” Harry says as the intro for Coldplay’s ‘Viva La Vida’ fills the air.
“Wow. Big compliment coming from the music snob. I’m honoured,” Louis deadpans.
“As you should be,” Harry says haughtily and goes to drop Louis’ phone into the cupholder, but then stops. “We should probably swap numbers.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, for safety, I guess. Like if we get separated on the journey.”
“Yeah. Yeah okay, fair enough.”
Harry fiddles around with his phone for a few seconds. “Alright. Fire away.”
Louis reels off his number and hears a text message notification go off on his own phone, making a mental note to add Harry’s contact properly when they stop.
They drive along in easy silence for a while, the playlist moving on from a few Coldplay tracks to some Queen and then Oasis. Louis relaxes into the motion of the car, only a few trucks and some pesky caravans to negotiate as they travel down the seemingly never ending road.
Harry hums the melodies for a while and when he stops, Louis looks over to find him asleep, mouth slightly open and head resting on his tensioned seat belt.
Left with his thoughts, Louis can’t help but let them fill with Harry. He’s a bit of an enigma, is the thing; whip smart, quick off the break with his witty banter, a kindness that he seems intent on keeping under wraps (at least in front of Louis) and hot as fuck while still somehow being a bit nerdy. It’s a heady combination, and maybe under different circumstances, the divide between them wouldn’t seem so insurmountable. As it is though, he can’t see this turning into anything more than what it is; two strangers sharing a ride out of necessity, all thoughts of a quick shag of convenience having faded away.
Harry stirs just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon, the indigo night sky pin-pricked with a billion stars pushing the last of the deep oranges and reds into the ground.
“Hello there, sleepy head.”
“Ugh,” Harry grunts. “Feel like shit. I'm not much of a napper.”
“I do okay in the car and plane, but if I fall asleep on the couch, I’m a grumpy bastard for the rest of the day.”
“You? A grumpy bastard? Surely not.”
“I know, right? It’s almost unimaginable, what with my permanently sparkly personality and all.”
“Exactly.” Harry chuckles as he stretches his legs and arms, yawning with a little squeak at the end. It’s far too endearing for Louis to process, so he opts for giving Harry instructions instead.
“Can you uhm- the sat nav is just taking us to Walgett, not to the motel. Could you find one and punch it in?”
“Sure. I wonder what five-star establishments they have in lovely Walgett?” Harry muses with a grin in his tone.
“Probably a Hilton, or a Marriott, maybe a Park Hyatt or a Shangri-La.”
“Ha ha. Three-stars okay for you then?”
“Honestly, as long as it has a bed, a shower, and something other than dirt on the floor, I’ll be fine.”
“A man who’s easy to please. I like that.”
“I’m a simple guy, Harold.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Oi! Smothering you in your sleep is still a serious option.”
“Hmmmm…” Harry dismisses offhandedly. “There’s three places, but the Barwon Inn seems like a good option. Seven k's on the other side of town. It’s got a restaurant, a bar, and cabin accommodation. One-fifty a night.”
“Sounds good to me. Plug it in.”
Harry updates the sat nav as Louis drives on through the almost faded light. Walgett is a sleepy little place, not unlike so many other small towns in rural Australia. It’s flat as a tack with a wide main street and the only things showing any signs of life after sunset are two pubs and Chinese takeaway.
It only takes a couple of minutes to pass through the township and without the aid of the streetlights, the landscape is lit by nothing more than the truck’s headlights that shine beams down the blackened river of tar. Moths and other insects dart across the white foggy illumination, the painted lines on the road seeming to jump up at them and take on a 3D effect.
“The turn’s just up ahead, about 500 metres on the left,” Harry says and Louis eases off the accelerator, letting the truck slow down under its own momentum. “Should be a dirt track.”
The sign for The Barwon Inn comes into view, slightly obscured by trees and with no lights of its own. Louis flicks on the indicator, the rhythmic tick-click tick-click managing to line up with the beat of the soft song, turned down low and hovering comfortably in the background.
The track is wide and the canopy of trees is cut back, presumably to allow for the large B-doubles and other oversized vehicles to navigate their way up to the Inn.
“It looks busy. Shit,” Louis says as the main building reveals itself in a clearing, cars and trucks similar to theirs lined up out front.
“Fuck. Maybe we’ll have to sleep in the car.”
“No way. Nope. Not happening.”
“Are you a creature comforts guy then?” Harry asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“If by creature comforts you mean an actual bed in a room with four walls and a roof, then yes.”
“Me too, to be honest. Never really cared for roughing it,” Harry admits as Louis pulls up near the reception.
“Sounds like we’re peas in a pod on that front then.”
“I’m too old to sleep on the ground. Bad back too.”
Louis cuts the engine and glances over at Harry. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmmm… It’s not too bad, mostly. Just gotta keep limber and not do anything too stupid.”
“That’s crap, I’m sorry.”
“Ah well, shit happens, right?”
“That it does, Harold. Come on. Let’s just pray they’ve got rooms available and all these people are just here for dinner.”
“On a Thursday night?” Harry asks, not sounding too convinced.
“Maybe it’s bingo night or something.”
Harry chuckles as he opens his door and jumps down, Louis doing the same, the gravel crunching beneath their boots.
The Inn is a classic homestead style, a long, single-storey building with a bull-nosed verandah wrapped the whole way around and anchoring the dwelling into the countryside. Music spills out from sets of open doors spread out down one side, disco lights flashing on and off in a rainbow of colour, hoots and hollers from the patrons inside filling the still night air.
“Pretty rowdy game of bingo,” Harry comments from over the bonnet of the truck, smirking.
“Don’t underestimate them. Those oldies can throw down. Have you ever been to a Crochet Circle?”
Harry snorts out a laugh. “I have, as a matter of fact.”
“Liar.”
Harry draws a cross over his chest. “Swear to god. Wild times.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Louis says with a shake of his head as he pushes the door to reception open, an electric bell ding-donging inside.
The desk is unattended, an old air conditioner humming away in the window, and a spinning stand with leaflets espousing tourist-y things to do in the area.
Harry steps up to the counter and jingles the little bell on the desk while Louis hangs back and peruses the leaflets; horseback riding and walking trails, opal fields and gem fossicking, even a place where you can soak in artesian thermal baths.
“Fancy a thermal bath?” Louis asks, plucking the flyer off the stand and holding it up for Harry to see. “Could be good for that bad back of yours.”
Harry rolls his eyes and turns back around, leaning his forearms on the high counter and stretching up onto his toes. Louis can’t help the way his eyes trail down the broad expanse of Harry’s back, over his pert bum, and all the way down his long, long legs. Of course, Louis is too distracted to notice that Harry is watching him over his shoulder until it’s too late.
“Got your fill there, Lou?”
Louis snaps his mouth shut because naturally he was slack-jawed as well, just to add insult to injury. At least he wasn’t drooling, so small mercies and all that.
Louis just huffs out a breath and shrugs a shoulder like he’s totally unbothered, which he mostly is. He pops the leaflet back and sidles up next to Harry to wait for signs of life.
A woman in her mid-fifties comes through the doorway at the back of the reception area, dolled up in full makeup, auburn hair swept up into french roll, a long, black sequin covered strapless dress hugging her ample figure and sparkling in the fluorescent lighting.
“Hello there,” she greets with a bright smile. “I’m Beth. Welcome to The Barwon Inn.”
“Hi, Beth. I’m Harry and this is Louis. It’s lovely to meet you, and can I just say, you look absolutely stunning,” Harry says in that charming, flirtatious way he effuses so effortlessly.
Beth blushes and smooths down her hair. “Aren’t you a love. What can I do for you two?”
Louis clears his throat. “We were actually hoping to grab a couple of rooms for the night.”
“Oh dear, you couldn’t have picked a worse night,” she says and Louis’ heart sinks in his chest. “We’ve actually got a big function on tonight. It’s Meryl and Darren’s combined 50th birthday party, you see. Everything in the area is booked out actually. Both motels and the pub in town, and here as well.”
“There’s really nothing?” Harry asks and Louis is worried that they may have to sleep in the truck after all.
“I do have something, but it’s…” Beth trails off, looking back and forth between them.
“It’s…?” Harry prompts.
“Trevor took a tumble off his tractor, poor thing, and he and Gail are missing the party, so the room they had reserved is available, but-”
“We’ll take it,” Louis interrupts and Harry snorts out a laugh. “If that’s alright, of course.”
“It’s a smaller room at the end of the row. Just a single really, but it’s big enough for one double bed and an ensuite bathroom. If you boys don’t mind sharing, it should do you fine for the night.”
The words ‘one double bed’ are still whirling in Louis’ brain when Harry hands over his credit card, Beth smiling as she takes it and sits down at the desk. She taps away at the keyboard and in less time than it takes for Louis to regain his faculties, she’s handing over the key.
“Thanks, Beth,” Harry says. “I’m sure we’ll be very comfortable.”
Beth stands back up, using a pen to point out directions on a laminated map of the property stuck on top of the counter. “So we’re here, at the main house, if you just drive down to the big water tank and take a left, then head to the end of the row, room 28 is the last one before you hit the bush.”
“Sounds perfect,” Louis says, chiming back into the conversation.
“The dinner portion of the party is over, but the kitchen should be able to rustle up some meals for you, if you’re hungry. I’m sure Meryl and Darren wouldn’t mind you joining in with the festivities if you fancy a few drinks. And I’m sure the old ducks at the party would love to entertain two strapping young lads like yourselves.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry asks and nudges Louis in the side. “Hear that, Lou. We’re strapping young lads. Are you in the mood to get your party on?”
Louis hip-checks him back, grinning as he glances over. “Always, Harold.”
Beth claps her hands together. “Alright then, I’ll see you two in there once you’ve settled in.”
“Thanks, Beth,” Harry says as they head out. “Save me a dance, yeah?”
“Oh, I will,” is the last thing Louis hears Beth say before the door closes behind them and they’re back out in the night air.
“She’s a cheeky one,” Louis comments as they haul themselves back into the truck. “Reckon you’re onto a sure thing there, Hazza.”
Harry chuckles as Louis starts the engine. “Stop it.”
“Too old for you?”
“Age is but a number,” Harry says all zen-like. “It’s more that I don’t swing that way.”
“Me neither,” Louis offers as he backs out of the parking spot, not that he thinks it really needs to be confirmed.
“Figured.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmmmm… oh, I think that’s us.” Harry points to the end of the third building they come across, segmented into five rooms with doors opening out onto a long verandah in a similar design to the main house.
Louis pulls up alongside, shutting off the engine and they both jump down out of the truck. It’s quieter here, away from the noise of the party, just the low hum of the Australian bush to fill the space.
They grab their bags and wander over to the door, Harry sliding the key into the lock and pushing it open. Turning on the lights he whistles, long and low. “Wow. She wasn’t sugar coating it, was she,” Louis states as he leans on the door jam and pokes his head inside, looking around the tiny room.
“At least it’s bigger than the truck.”
“Barely.”
The interior isn’t exactly generous, but it seems to have everything they’ll need for a decent night’s sleep. There’s a bed to the right with single shelves attached to the dark wood veneered headboard in one unit and just enough floor space on either side of the bed to manoeuvre around it. Above, mounted on the exterior wall, is an air conditioner and on the opposite wall to the left underneath a mirror is a narrow sideboard, come desk, come luggage-rack.
The decor is what he’d expected. It’s basic, but clean; soft furnishings in muted browns and greens, dark grey, easy to keep clean carpet underfoot, and cream coloured walls, along with the obligatory framed landscape print hanging over the bed.
Harry makes his way through the gap between desk and bed to the bathroom and flicks on the light, turning back around to open up a thin wardrobe, revealing a small bar-fridge and compact hanging space. “Not too shabby,” Harry announces and dumps his bag on the bed.
“Agreed. I’m famished. Wanna grab some food and a drink or two?”
“Wouldn’t mind a shower, to be honest. Feel like shit after the drive. But you go ahead.”
“You just want to tart yourself up for the old ducks. I’m wise to your moves, Harold,” Louis accuses, wagging a finger at him.
Harry rolls his eyes, leaning down to dig through his bag. “Don’t go mocking my moves, Lewis. I’ll have you know they’re epic.”
“You know what? I have no doubt about that,” Louis agrees with a chuckle and drops his bag on the desk. “Mind if I use the bathroom and splash some water on my face before you shower?”
“Go for it,” Harry says with a wave of his hand, not looking up and continuing to rummage inside his bag.
Louis wanders in and closes the bathroom door behind him, peeing and washing up before heading back out, but he stops short, towel clutched to his chest. Harry is facing away from him, the contents of his bag emptied on the bed and he’s, well, he’s shirtless. His skin is smooth and lightly tanned, the broad expanse of his back on full display, muscles shifting underneath as he appears to be looking for something.
Louis takes a settling breath and goes over to his bag. He shouldn’t be getting worked up about seeing a guy with his shirt off, it’s ridiculous. “Y’alright there?”
“Forgot to pack my fucking deodorant.”
“Oh, uhm- You can use mine, if you’d like?”
Louis slides his hand into his backpack, averting his eyes as best he can until he sees Harry in his peripheral vision.
“Yeah? That’d be awesome, thanks.”
“Can’t have you all stinky when you meet your harem for the first time.”
“My harem,” Harry parrots back with a snort as Louis hands the deodorant over, making the mistake of lifting his gaze.
His breath is sucked from his lungs as he takes in Harry’s puffy nipples, light dusting of chest hair, and impressive display of tattoos inked onto his skin that are enough to make his mouth go dry and a flush creep up onto his cheeks.
Fuck. Louis snaps his head up, finding Harry grinning down at him. Bastard. Louis needs to get his shit together and get the hell out of this tiny, claustrophobic room so he can catch his breath and regain his composure.
“Right! I’m going to- I’m, drink- I’m going to get a drink,” Louis stammers out and spins on his heel, flinging the door open and stepping into the night, the sound of the insects swallowing up what Louis suspects is a snicker from his roommate as he closes the door behind him.
He strides off, heading towards the main house, his purposeful footsteps echoing in the almost eerie darkness, faint shadows of lower lying shrubs thrown up and pasted against the smooth grey trunks of the taller eucalypts, making them appear to loom over the landscape.
The brighter lights from the main house come into view as he rounds the last of the accommodation buildings, the sound of someone belting out a murderous rendition of Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’, jarring to Louis’ ears.
He steps up to the first open doorway, kicking the dirt off his boots before venturing inside. The interior is dimly lit and open plan, with streamers hung from the rafters and clumps of silver and gold balloons stuck the support beams spaced down the hall-like room. There’s a bar at one end, an impressively bearded bartender serving up cocktails with a flourish as a group of party-goers cheer him on, and a makeshift stage area at the other end with the karaoke machine. A massive ‘Happy 50th’ banner is fixed to the wall in front of Louis, white background with sparkly blue writing, one corner sagging slightly where the tape has come away.
“Well, hello there,” a woman says from beside him. “You’re far too young to be part of this soiree.”
Louis turns with a smile. “Just passing through, actually. Fancied a drink,” he says, looking down to find a small woman, probably in her eighties, with rosy cheeks and steely grey hair pinned back by a butterfly clip on one side.
“Oh my. Young and handsome,” she coos as she scans Louis’ face. “I’m Glenda.”
She holds out her hand and Louis shakes it gently, her fingers frail. “Louis. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Polite too. You’ve got trouble written all over you. Come on, let’s get you that drink,” Glenda says and links their arms together, tugging Louis along with her towards the bar.
“Wayne! Get this lovely boy a drink. What would you like, dear?”
“Just a beer, thanks mate,” he says to Wayne. “Whatever you’ve got on tap’ll be fine.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Wayne asks as he starts pulling Louis’ beer.
“He’s just passing through, Wayne,” Glenda answers for him.
In addition to his ample beard that reaches well below his chin, Wayne is the quintessential Aussie, outback bloke; short cropped hair, broad shoulders, strong forearms, thick fingers, and a tuft of ginger hair peeking out above his white collared shirt. Louis would guess he’s in his late thirties, but perhaps the harsh country has aged him beyond his years. He’s not attractive in the traditional talk-dark-and-handsome sense, but Louis has always had a soft spot for that capable, man-on-the-land thing, particularly when it comes to flings.
Wayne glances up at Louis “You from the mines?”
“Yeah,” Louis says with a chuckle. “How’d you know?”
“Don’t get a lot of tourists ‘round these parts, mainly just truckies or mine workers on their way to the coast.”
“Well spotted, and yup, I’m a fly-in-fly-out Rocker at Broken Hill, but the planes got grounded in Sydney ‘cause of the dust storm and I need to be home for a wedding tomorrow, so driving was the only option.”
Wayne raises an eyebrow. “A Rocker, eh?”
“Yeah. Mineral Geoscientist too, but mainly explosives on this gig.”
“Nice. Always loved blowing shit up when I was a kid. Maybe I missed my calling?”
“Never too late for a career change,” Louis offers, a hint of flirtation in his tone.
“Glenda, who do we have here then?” A woman says and Louis glances past Glenda to find another elderly lady standing on her other side.
“Keep your mitts off him, Marjorie. I found him first,” Glenda snaps and Louis and Wayne chuckle.
Louis’ beer is set down on the bartop, poured to perfection with a full head of froth. Wayne leans into the bar, cupping one hand against his cheek conspiratorially and using his other hand to point towards the women. “You’d do well to keep your wits about you, mate. These old ducks can be quite the handful.”
“Wayne Bartholomew Kettering,” Glenda chides. “Don’t make me tell your grandmother about your behaviour.”
Wayne rolls his eyes. “See what I mean?”
“I’ll watch my back,” Louis says with a wink.
“I reckon it’s your arse you’ll need to protect.”
“Who needs to protect their arse?” Harry asks, materialising on Louis' other side.
“Me, apparently,” Louis offers. “Harry, this is Wayne, and Glenda and Marjorie.”
Harry’s face morphs into one of his megawatt smiles. “Hello, everyone.”
“Oh! I call dibs on this one,” Marjorie says and totters around behind Louis, sliding in between him and Harry. “Hello there, young man. What brings you to our lovely town?”
“Well, I’d like to say that you’re the reason,” Harry teases, oozing charm and Marjorie titters in response. “But sadly, we’re just stopping here for the night on the way to Brisbane.”
Louis takes a sip of his beer as Glenda slots herself further into his side.
“Can I get you a beer, Harry?” Wayne asks, hands planted on the bartop, elbows locked, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show off his flexing forearms and it makes Louis a little weak in the knees. It’s hard not to draw an immediate comparison between Wayne and Harry though, and much to Louis' chagrin, Harry wins hands down.
“That’d be great, cheers. Glenda, Marjorie, can I buy you lovely ladies a drink before we hit the dance floor?”
Louis snorts out a laugh, Wayne chuckles, and the women swoon.
An hour later, Louis is three beers in, pleasantly buzzed, and has had his cheeks pinched and arse squeezed more times than he has in recent memory. Glenda and Marjorie had managed a few dances before their advanced years caught up with them and they’re currently sidelined, but all that did was allow for the next dance partners to take their places.
Beth, who they met at check-in and was promised a dance, is currently being spun around the dance floor by Harry while Louis is being schooled in the Promenade by Janice, a spry and effervescent woman who can’t be a day under ninety.
Harry, for his part, is playing it up for maximum effect; two-stepping his way around the floor, spinning and twirling while his partners smile and laugh, and belting out every song which is effectively putting all the other karaoke singers to shame.
Not to be outdone, Louis is putting on a show all of his own, shaking his arse when it isn’t being squeezed, popping his hips, and incorporating the odd body-roll much to the delight of everyone watching on from the tables dotted around the room.
Birthday Boy, Darren, finally relinquishes the mic, much to the relief of Louis’ ears and the DJ puts on Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Landslide’.
“I think I’m going to take a break,” Janice says, puffing out her breaths and laying a hand on Louis’ chest. “This was wonderful. Haven’t felt this alive in years.”
Louis squeezes her shoulders, smiling down at her. “Of course, love. Thanks for the dance.”
“You should give your boyfriend a spin,” Janice suggests, nodding towards Harry.
Louis glances over and finds Harry already coming towards them, Beth heading over to a table to sit down. “Oh. Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
Janice furrows her brow. “Really? Well, no time like the present to do something about that,” she says knowingly and pats his chest, giving him a grin and wink before she walks away.
“Hey,” Harry breathes out, a lopsided smile on his beautiful face.
“Hey, yourself. You all danced out?”
Harry’s smile evens out, a dimple popping in his left cheek as he tilts his head towards the bar. “Could do with another drink, actually.”
“Sounds like an excellent plan.”
Wayne greets them with a nod as they approach. “More beers?”
“Nah. Reckon it’s time for a switch.” Louis nudges Harry’s side. “What do you fancy?”
“Tequila,” Harry states almost before the question has left Louis’ lips.
“Hard core,” Wayne says approvingly. “I like it. We don’t have top shelf stuff here, but I can rustle up some salt and lemon to ease it down.”
Three shots down and the buzz in Louis’ veins has morphed into something akin to a vibration, making his skin feel alight with a fire born of the atmosphere and alcohol. Birthday Girl Meryl has taken up residency in front of the karaoke machine and is currently blasting out a none-too-shabby version of Daryl Braithwaite’s ‘The Horses’, most of the party guests on their feet forming a semi-circle around her, arms in the air and fists pumping.
Harry is by his side, swaying to the music and bumping their hips together as he croons along with Meryl and the rest of the crowd. It’s just gone midnight and some of the oldies have taken their leave in favour of retiring to bed, the night of excess too much for them, but there’s still around twenty revellers remaining.
The song comes to an end and Meryl takes a low bow, laughing at the hoots and hollers from her adoring audience. “Right,” she says into the mic. “We’ve been fortunate tonight to have a couple of blow-ins to help us celebrate, and I think it’s about time they got their English arses up here for a sing-along. Harry and Louis, come on down!”
Louis giggles as Harry grabs him by the elbow, dragging him over and taking the mic from Meryl before spinning them both around to face the crowd. Louis isn’t much for singing in public, but the combination of the Tequila and beer and the general craziness of the night all mean his inhibitions are almost non-existent.
“What are we gonna sing, Hazza?”
“Shania,” Harry replies without hesitation, like he’s been preparing for this moment for a lot longer than the twenty seconds that’s passed since Meryl’s suggestion. “You’re Still The One.”
“Oooohhhh, nice. Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
“You know it?”
Louis looks at him with a bemused expression, swatting him in the arm. “Harold. Of course I know it.”
The beaming smile that blooms on Harry’s face is breathtaking. “Hey, Mr DJ,” Harry shouts over his shoulder. “Shania Twain’s, ‘You’re Still The One’, duet version please.”
“You got it,” the DJ responds and taps away at his laptop as the audience whistles and claps.
“I’ll go first,” Harry says as he slides the mic back into the cradle on the top of the stand, turning sideways to face Louis.
Louis reaches up and places his hand over Harry’s atop the mic, grinning at him as the strains of the opening stanza boom out of the speakers. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Take it away, Shania.”
Harry takes a step towards Louis, only the mic stand separating them now and close enough that Louis can see the flecks of gold in Harry’s eyes, lit up by the disco lights.
Harry launches into the first line, not needing the lyric prompts on the screen behind him although Louis might. He loves the song, but clearly isn’t as familiar with it as Harry is, and certainly not with the duet version.
Louis keeps glancing over Harry’s shoulder to check when he needs to come in, which would be a lot easier if Harry’s gaze wasn’t locked onto him like a tractor beam pulling him in and freezing him on the spot.
Harry’s voice is even more beautiful than what Louis had heard in the car, the advantage of a full-throated tone and the mic making it soar up to the rafters before diving down, wrapping itself around Louis, enveloping him and drawing him in.
Louis somehow manages to come in at the right time, belting out the lines and feeling his eyes crinkle at the sides. Harry just beams at him, nodding his head along with the beat until it switches back to his part.
The guests crowd around them, practically drowning out their voices as they join in, and by the time the song comes to an end the applause, whistles, and pats on the back make Louis’ heart swell.
“Nice work, Lou,” Harry comments as they make their way back to the bar after relinquishing the stage to Meryl and Darren once more.
“Nice work yourself.”
Harry nudges Louis’ shoulder. “Maybe we’ve missed our calling in the arenas and stadiums of the world.”
Louis glances over at him. “Fancy yourself a pop star then?”
“I think you mean rock star. Please,” Harry huffs out indignantly.
“Ooooohhh really?”
“Hey, boys,” Wayne greets them. “Nice performance. What can I get you?”
“Tequila,” Harry and Louis say in unison and then devolve into laughter.
Wayne gives them a nod. “Coming right up.”
“Great minds and all that,” Harry offers when he regains his composure. “And a couple of beers as chasers, thanks.”
Louis leans his elbows on the bar, rising up on his toes and stretching out his back. “Not sure why I always go back to Tequila at this stage of an evening. I always regret it the next day.”
“The booze demon wants what the booze demon wants,” Harry states sagely.
“The booze demon,” Louis repeats, smirking as he turns to face Harry, hip pressed into the bar.
“Mhmmmm… Hey, did you get something to eat earlier?”
“Nah. Got waylaid with the old ducks and then dancing and drinks. I could eat though.”
“Me too. Hey, Wayne. Any chance we could get something to eat?”
Wayne sets their shots on the bartop. “Kitchen’s closed. But I reckon I could rustle up some sandwiches if you give me a minute. Roast chicken alright with you both?”
“Works for me,” Louis agrees.
Harry nods. “That’d be amazing. Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” Wayne says and heads off, pushing through the swinging saloon doors and disappearing into the kitchen.
“Cheers, Lou,” Harry says, raising his shot glass.
Louis clinks them together. “Bottoms up.”
They drink their shots, the liquid travelling down Louis’ throat and leaving a familiar burn in its wake. Not bothering with the usual lemon and salt, they set the glasses back on the counter.
Harry leads them over to an empty table and they sit down, sipping on their beers as they watch the remaining party goers enjoying themselves. Wayne brings out their sandwiches and a couple of slices of Merly and Darren’s birthday cake and they dig in, making quick work of their meals.
“Fuck. Didn’t realise how starving I was,” Harry comments as he sets his spoon down on his plate, using his finger to scrape up the last of the white and blue icing.
“Yeah, same. It’s crazy how sitting around in a car all day can make you this hungry.”
“Don’t forget though, we did expend quite a bit of energy on the dancefloor.”
“True, true,” Louis agrees and pops the last forkful of cake into his mouth.
A comfortable silence settles between them, Harry kicking his foot up onto a spare chair and relaxing back into his seat. Louis keeps his eyes focused on Meryl and Darren, their family and friends circling them as they sing, having the times of their lives. He can’t help but feel Harry’s presence beside him though, his fingers tapping out the beat on his beer glass in Louis’ peripheral vision.
It’s odd, Louis thinks to himself, that he and Harry haven’t crossed paths before. They’re of a similar age and from neighbouring counties back in the UK, they attended uni in the same city and even though they weren’t at the same one, they studied related disciplines. Now they’ve both travelled to Australia and live and work in the same areas, flying in and out with the same kind of frequency. It’s like they’ve been living parallel lives, never meeting, but always just a heartbeat away.
“Penny for them?” Harry asks, interrupting Louis’ thoughts.
Louis twists around to face him. “It’s nothing. It’s just- Don’t you think it’s weird?”
“What?”
“That we’ve never met before.”
“It’s a big, wide world out there, Lou.”
“No, but like. You grew up in Cheshire, I grew up in Donny.”
“It’s not as if we were neighbours or something, Cheshire and Donny are like, eighty or ninety miles apart.”
“Yeah, but hear me out,” Louis says and leans his elbow on the edge of the table. “So, granted we didn’t live that close together, but we did grow up not too far away from each other. We’re similar ages, we’re both Donny Rovers fans, and we both went to uni in Manchester, albeit different ones. We both decided to move to Australia for fly-in-fly-out gigs, and we both live in Brisbane while we work at mines in Broken Hill.”
Harry furrows his brows, bringing his leg down off the chair where he’s had it propped up. He mirrors Louis’ position, facing him more fully. “I mean, when you put it like that, I guess it is a little weird.”
“Kinda like the universe has been trying to tell us something.”
“I wouldn’t read too much into it. Although…” Harry trails off, pausing before offering up a soft chuckle. “The cosmic forces do seem to be hell-bent on us living out this whole trope.”
Louis tilts his head, quirking a brow. “What do you mean?”
“The whole ‘one car, one room, one bed’ trope. Surely you’ve noticed.”
Harry’s gaze is heavy, eyelids hooded and it sparks something in Louis. He lifts his glass to his lips, draining the last of his beer and licking his lips, the alcohol buzzing in his bloodstream and mixing with shots of adrenaline that ride in on a heavy wave of desire.
“Hmmmm…” Louis hums as he sets his empty glass on the table. “I have noticed.”
“Not sure it’s a good idea to go against the universe when it clearly has a preconceived plan.”
Harry’s hand falls to Louis' thigh, warm and firm, the pads of his fingers tracing the inner seam of Louis’ jeans.
And there it is, the blatant, undeniable come-on. Louis had initially thought he and Harry could have a bit of fun while on their impromptu road trip, but then they hadn’t exactly gotten along, so Louis had dismissed it. That’s definitely shifted now though, and there’s absolutely no need to look a gift horse in the mouth when someone as gorgeous and willing as Harry is dropped into his lap.
Louis regards him for a moment, wondering what’s going on inside his head and whether they’re on the same page for a no-strings attached night of hot sex. He’s not entirely opposed to relationships, he just isn’t actively looking for one at present. That’s not to say that if the opportunity presented itself he wouldn’t consider it, but yeah, he’s not exactly out there seeking a partner.
There are a multitude of reasons for his lack of enthusiasm, not least of which is that his last couple of goes around the love carosell weren’t brilliant. Then there’s the issue that while he might be seen as a catch by some, with his decent income, sterling personality and wit, and good looks (he’s not being conceited, it’s just a fact), his fly-in-fly-out job isn’t particularly appealing. Added to that, as an expat, he uses pretty much all of his holiday time to travel back to the UK and will likely end up moving home at some point in the future, wherever that will be.
So casual hook-ups are the best option for him right now.
The corner of Louis’ mouth tugs up into a grin. “You know. It could be dangerous to ignore, from a purely scientific perspective, of course. What if we dismiss the universe's attempts to get us together and end up causing some kind of disruption to the space time continuum?”
Harry nods in agreement, a faux-serious expression on his face. “Could be catastrophic.”
“Exactly. I don’t think either of us want that on our consciences.”
“No. Definitely not.”
There’s a definite hunger in Harry’s eyes and while Louis wants to drag him back to their room immediately, he also needs to ensure they have the same expectations.
“So, you’re unattached, right?”
Harry looks a little taken aback by Louis' assertion that he might be doing this when he already has a partner, but Louis wants it clearly stated before they go any further. “Yeah. Of course. Wait. Are you?”
“Yes, Harold. Free as a bird.”
“Okay. Good. Are you, uhm- Are you in the market for something more that just-”
“Just a bit of fun, sure!” Louis says with an alcohol-aided exuberance. He’s not drunk by any means, just in that nice Goldilocks state where he’s had just the right amount to feel the buzzing in his veins and the lowering of his inhibitions.
Harry’s expression falters briefly, a hint of something Louis can’t quite read flashing across his face before Harry appears to gather himself again. “Oh, alright. Sure, just a bit of fun, if- If that’s all you want?”
Louis slides his hand up Harry’s thigh, brushing the backs of his knuckles against where Harry’s balls are trapped behind his jeans. “Yup! Fun sounds pretty good to me.” Louis juts out his chin, motioning towards the door. “Wanna get out of here?”
Harry gives him a nod, squeezing Louis’ thigh and giving it a tap before standing up. “Okay. I’ll settle our bar tab.”
“Did you want me to get that?”
“Nah, it’s fine. You can grab lunch tomorrow or something, it’ll all even out in the end.”
“Alright. I’ll go and say our goodbyes,” Louis offers, standing up and making quick work of a round-the-room farewell, thanking Beth for inviting them to join in the festivities. By the time he makes it to Meryl and Darren, Harry is back by his side, their tab sorted and they wish them happy birthday once more before taking their leave.
The night is still and quiet now that the insects have calmed somewhat and a light breeze provides a reprieve from the dry heat. They’re silent as they walk back to their room, excitement coursing through Louis’ veins as their boots crunch on the gritty roadway.
He’s always loved this bit; the anticipation of what’s to come, the expectation of the first touch of skin on skin, the first kiss, the heady arousal and desire, the burning need. Louis’ cock seems to be pretty excited with what’s about to happen too, already hardening up and pushing against the buttons of his jeans.
They’re walking fast, but clearly it’s not fast enough for Harry. “You walk too slow. Come on,” Harry whines and grabs Louis’ hand, extending his strides and dragging him along. Louis catches the toe of his boot on a protruding tree root and nearly loses his footing, but he catches himself in time, chuckling at Harry’s eagerness.
“What’s your rush?”
“Been wanting to get my mouth on you for hours.”
Louis snickers, butterflies taking flight in his stomach. “Oh really?”
“Yes. And if you don’t hurry up I’m gonna push you up against one of these trucks and have my way with you.”
“I really don’t think you will.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry glares daggers at him and Louis barks out a laugh. “Don’t test me, Lou. I’m horny and you’re fit as fuck. Maybe I should just throw you over my shoulder then.”
“Well, I wouldn’t recommend it unless you want me to actually smother you in your sleep.”
Harry snorts, glancing back and grinning like an idiot. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“Fine. No caveman behaviour. You’re a party pooper.”
Louis can’t help the giggle that bubbles up and out of his mouth. “And you’re a heathen.”
“I’m more of a Heathcliff on the Moors kind of guy.”
“You are the least Heathcliff-like guy I’ve ever met,” Louis deadpans.
Harry gasps, mock-offended. “You wound me, Lou.”
Their room finally comes into view and Harry quickens his steps once more, Louis struggling to keep up with his pace. Harry drops Louis’ hand as they come to a halt under the awning over the verandah so he can fish the room key out of his pocket. Louis’ heart rabbits in his chest, standing behind Harry as the lock clicks and he flings the door open.
Harry turns, a smirk fixed on his face as he walks backwards over the threshold, dropping the key on the small desk and then beckoning to Louis with a crooked finger. Louis follows him inside, grabbing the edge of the door and closing it behind him. He leans against it, hands behind his back and gives Harry a come-hither smile, looking up at him through his eyelashes.
“Hey,” Louis says breathlessly.
“Fuck.” Harry surges forward, closing the distance in a single stride and cupping Louis’ jaw in both hands, sealing their lips together.
Louis brings his hands around to grip onto Harry’s hips, pulling him in until they’re aligned from chest to knee. Harry kisses with his whole body, sure and firm, pressing into him as he guides Louis’ face to where he wants it. It’s urgent and slow at the same time. Blisteringly hot, but tender too. Harry aligns their crotches and Louis gasps, a small moan following that Harry swallows as his tongue passes Louis’ lips.
Louis needs to get in the game, to not be a passive participant. He lifts the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, sliding it up his torso and feeling Harry’s stomach concave reflexively, his abs hardening, Louis' thumbs catching on Harry’s puffy nipples. Harry groans, stepping back and finishing the job, discarding his shirt on the floor before reaching out and yanking Louis’ shirt over his head.
Harry dives back in, his belt buckle cold against Louis’ heated skin. Louis’ fingers find the clasp and Harry mirrors his actions; buttons and flies dispensed with, boots and socks kicked off, jeans shoved down their thighs and stomped to the ground.
Louis pushes off the door and walks Harry backwards until his calves hit the bed and he goes with the motion, sitting down on the edge as Louis straddles him, using his weight to force Harry onto his back and looming over him, hands pressed into the mattress either side of his head.
Harry reaches up, sliding his hand around to the back of Louis’ neck and pulling him down into an open mouthed kiss. Louis wants to consume him, to breathe him in and taste every part of him. He wants more, so much more; to trace his tattoos with his tongue, to lick over his nipples, choke on his cock, and feel Harry pounding into him, taking him until he’s spent and laid out on a plain of euphoria.
Harry slides his hands down, gripping Louis’ arse over his briefs and spreading his cheeks. “Off. Off, off.”
Louis swings his leg over, falling onto his back and Harry practically tears his briefs from his body. “Fuck. You too,” Louis pants out, scrambling further up the bed as Harry stands, stripping off his briefs and stepping out of them. Louis has to take a moment to just appreciate Harry’s cock, because holy fucking hell. Harry’s big, not cartoonishly big, but yeah, Louis wants it inside of him ten minutes ago.
He doesn’t realise he’s staring with his mouth agape until Harry swivels his hips, making his cock slap against one thigh and then the other. “Y’alright there, Lou?”
“Huh, what?” Louis mumbles and drags his gaze up to find a very smug Harry staring back at him. Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Just get that monster cock over here.”
“Oooooh, I see how it is. You only want me for my cock.”
Louis props himself up on his elbows, smirking back at Harry. “You got a problem with that?”
Harry snorts out a laugh. “Nope. No problem here,” he says, pressing one knee into the mattress.
“Wait. You got stuff?”
Harry freezes. “Oh shit. I-”
“Oh my god. Seriously?”
“Do you?” Harry asks, a pained expression on his face.
“No!”
“Fuck.”
Louis slumps back onto the bed and flings an arm over his eyes. “This is a disaster,” he grumbles as he feels Harry crawling up towards him, the mattress dipping with Harry’s weight.
“Awwww don’t be grumpy. There’s a lot of other things I can think of for us to do that don’t require supplies.”
Harry straddles Louis’ thighs and taps out a beat on his stomach.
Louis lifts his arm enough to peek at Harry who’s grinning down at him like a Cheshire Cat. “What kind of things did you have in mind then?”
Harry reaches out and takes a hold of Louis' wrist, moving his arm to beside his head. He leans down, breath hot on Louis’ lips. “Like I said before. Wanna get my mouth on you.”
Louis swallows audibly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Harry smirks at him, gripping onto Louis’ other wrist and pushing both of his arms above his head. “Leave them there.”
“Ooohh kinky. Got any other’s I should know about?”
Harry ignores him in favour of sealing their lips together, grinding his hips down and eliciting a long moan from them both. Louis opens up and Harry fucks his tongue inside, their stubble scratching together deliciously.
Harry’s lips are gone before Louis is ready to give them up, kissing down Louis’ neck and across his collar bones. He trails his fingers down Louis’ arms, through the soft hair nestled in his armpits and along his ribs. Louis shivers in response and Harry smirks at him from his perch on top of Louis’ thighs.
“Ticklish?”
“No,” Louis lies, but Harry’s pursed lips let him know that he’s not been successful in fooling him.
“You got any other sensitive spots I should know about?”
Harry’s hands have found Louis’ hips and he gives them a squeeze.
“Some.”
“Ooooh, mysterious.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Thought you wanted to get your mouth on me?”
“Bossy, bossy.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. Not sure why that’s coming as such a surprise given the day we’ve spent together.”
“True. But don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a criticism. It’s actually kinda hot.”
“Well that bodes well. Any danger of speeding things up a bit?”
Harry snorts out a laugh and spits into his hand before wrapping it around Louis’ cock, giving a few firm tugs. “Happy now?”
“Mhmmm…”
Harry strokes him lazily, no real intent behind it. “Any technique requests?”
“See. This is why scientists shouldn’t fuck each other. Everything is an experiment.”
“You saying I should stop?” Harry asks, stilling his hand before squeezing the base of Louis’ cock, a cheeky grin curling his lips.
“Nrrrghh. No, you great muppet, that’s absolutely not what I was saying.”
“Didn’t think so,” Harry states smugly and starts stroking again.
Louis rolls his hips up, trying to encourage Harry to move things along. He’s not sure whether his urgings have any impact on Harry’s pace, but he does increase his speed somewhat, thumbing over the head on every upstroke.
Louis is so close already, which is absurd, really. He has better stamina than this usually, but there’s just something about Harry that has reset the bar on his self-restraint. Not that he’s going to complain, and doesn’t think Harry will give a shit either, besides, it’ll mean that he can get his hands and mouth on Harry sooner, so he reckons they’ll both count that as a win.
The slick sounds of Harry’s ministrations fill the room, combining with the low hum of the air conditioner and Louis' laboured breathing. Louis’ toes curl as he feels the familiar tightness in his gut. Harry’s technique is excellent, just the right amount of pressure and the twist of his wrist on every upstroke sends bolts of electricity throughout his body.
“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Louis pants out as he closes his eyes and presses his hands into the headboard.
“Years of practice,” Harry says and Louis can hear the smirk in his voice.
Harry trails his other hand across Louis' inner thigh and cups his balls, rolling them in his palm as he slides a dry finger down Louis’ taint and rubs around his rim.
Louis sucks in a breath, squeezing his eyes so tight that little bursts of colour go off behind his eyelids. “Oh shit. Oh shit, yeah.”
“Fuck, you look so good like this. All spread out beneath me.”
“Feels pretty fucking good too,” Louis says and chuckles, but his laughter is cut off by Harry pushing against his hole with more intent. It’s not enough to breach him, but sufficient to have his nerve endings firing off shocks of pleasure that rebound around his body like waves of targeted ecstasy.
“Can’t believe I’m not going to get to fuck you tonight. It’s a crying shame,” Harry bemoans as he removes the hand not working over Louis’ cock and Louis hears him spit, returning to rub his saliva around his rim.
“It’s a- It’s a lesson for us both. Never leave the house without-”
Harry pushes the tip of his finger into Louis’ hole and finishes Louis’ thought when the words die on his tongue. “Lube and condoms. Duly noted,” he says and then ducks down, engulfing the head of Louis’ cock in inside his hot, wet mouth.
“Oh fuck, yeah.”
Harry’s blow job technique is also masterful, sucking him down until the tip of Louis’ cock hits the back of his throat, then pushing through and swallowing around him over and over again, tongue massaging underside of the crown in that way that Louis loves. He tugs on Louis balls in time with the bobs of his head, his free hand finding Louis nipples and pinching them in turn, the perfect pressure of the finger in his hole joining up his erogenous zones into a web of connected pleasure in a way that Louis hasn’t ever experienced with another hook-up.
“Gonna- Gonna come,” Louis manages to get out before he’s spilling into Harry’s mouth, his release crashing over him, body tensing, lungs straining for air.
Harry swallows his release, easing off his nipples and trailing his hand down to replace his mouth as he expertly works Louis through his orgasm. Louis opens his eyes as Harry slowly withdraws his finger from Louis’ hole, pushing himself up to plank over Louis, holding himself up on one arm. He leans down and captures Louis’ mouth in a searing kiss as Louis brings his arms down from above his head and wraps them around Harry’s neck, tonguing in roughly and uncoordinated as he comes down from his high, tasting his salty come in Harry’s mouth.
Louis hisses, oversensitive and a little overwhelmed and Harry removes his hand from Louis’ cock, gliding his fingertips up Louis’ side as he drops his weight and presses against Louis’ body, settling between his legs.
Louis plants his foot on the bed and bucks up, flipping them over and stradling Harry’s thighs. “Hi,” Harry says breathlessly from beneath him.
“Hi, yourself,” Louis replies, grinning down at him. “So, that was nice.”
Harry snorts out a laugh. “Nice?”
“Yes. Nice. Quite satisfactory. I’d give it a solid…” Louis pretends to consider his response, stroking his chin contemplatively and glancing up to the ceiling before looking back at Harry. “Eight out of ten.”
“Be sure to leave a positive Yelp review. We take customer feedback very seriously here at Harry’s House of Pleasure,” Harry says, pinching Louis' hips and making him squirm.
“Fine!” Louis swats at Harry’s hands, but it’s mostly useless. “Ten out of ten would definitely recommend! Stellar performance!”
He gives Harry a rousing round of applause, complete with whoops and whistles for added effect, until Harry starts tickling him with what feels like more than just two hands, fingers digging into his skin and ribs. Louis is somehow outmatched even though he’s got the advantage of being on top, so he stops trying to deal with Harry’s prodding and poking and grips onto his cock instead.
It achieves the desired result, Harry’s muscles tensing before going pliant beneath him, which… interesting. He doesn’t have time, nor the brain capacity, to think about the implications of that right now, so he focuses his attention on Harry’s cock instead.
He shuffles back down Harry’s legs and positions himself on his bony shins. Thankfully, he has plenty of built-in padding on his arse, so it isn’t too uncomfortable.
Harry watches him intently, abs clenched tight as Louis lowers himself down, holding Harry’s cock at the base and circling his tongue around the crown. “Ohmygod. Your fucking mouth. I can’t watch or I’ll come too fast.”
Louis smirks and takes the head into his mouth, letting his saliva build up and run down the shaft to smooth the glide. Harry throws his head back onto the pillow and flings an arm over his eyes, letting out a long, low groan.
Louis works himself down inch by inch. It’s a lot and maybe even the biggest he’s tried to take, but he knows he can do it. He relaxes his jaw and pushes past his gag reflex, not that it’s very strong, but he still doesn’t want to choke on Harry’s cock. Although he’s not opposed to the idea altogether and doesn’t think Harry would be either.
Harry reaches down with his free hand and threads his fingers into Louis' hair, sliding them around to the back of his skull, not applying pressure, just guiding the bobs of Louis’ head as he takes more and more of Harry into his throat.
Louis finally takes him all, burying his nose in the thatch of neatly trimmed hair and swallowing, earning a pained groan from above. He knows he’s good at giving head, it’s one of his favourite things to do in the bedroom, or anywhere else he finds himself with the opportunity, and Harry definitely seems to be appreciative of his skills.
He’s humming around Harry’s cock as he glides up the shaft when the idea strikes him. Harry’s tall, which bodes well for what he has in mind and Louis thinks Harry would be the type to be open to changing it up.
Louis pulls off and lets Harry’s cock fall away from his mouth. Harry removes his arm from his face and looks at him with confusion. “Change in position,” Louis announces, dismounting from Harry’s shins. He spins around, lying face-up on the bed and scooting back until his head is hanging off the edge, feet towards the headboard.
“Ohhhhh wow. Really?”
“Mhmmm… come on,” Louis says and motions to Harry with a wave of his hands. “Fuck my mouth.”
“Yes. Holy shit, yes.”
Harry scrambles to his feet, stumbling in his eagerness and Louis chuckles as Harry rounds the end of the bed. He stands over Louis, knees pressing into the edge of the mattress on either side of Louis’ head as his cock hangs in front of Louis' face. It’s an odd position, but with Louis head tilted back like this, it enables Harry to fuck his throat more easily.
Louis shuffles back slightly to get into the optimal position while Harry stays still, patiently waiting until Louis gives him the go ahead, thighs flexing in his peripheral vision. Louis extends his arms out to his sides and grips onto the covers to hold himself in place.
“Okay. Go for it. Don’t hold back either. I’ll whack you in the leg if I need you to stop, but otherwise keep going.”
“Fuck, alright. How are you even real?” Harry asks with a hint of awe in his tone.
“Just your lucky day, I guess,” he says and then opens his mouth as wide as he can, tongue pushed out over his bottom lip in readiness.
Harry slides inside so slowly that Louis nearly pulls the pin on the whole thing. He whines around him in frustration and that’s enough for Harry to get the message. He dicks in all the way and Louis relaxes into it, letting Harry glide in and out as he pleases. Louis has always loved this, the feeling of allowing his partner that little bit of dominance, whilst still maintaining overall control of the situation. Harry seems to be enjoying it too based on the guttural moans being ripped from his body with every thrust of his hips.
Tears form at the corners of Louis' eyes and they roll down his temples into his hair. He takes shallow breaths whenever Harry pulls out enough for him to suck in air, but he’s still getting dizzy, both from the obstructed breathing and essentially being upside down. He loves it though, and Harry is definitely following Louis’ instructions and not holding back.
Harry’s balls are slapping into his nose and resting on his cheeks when he pushes in further and stays there for a few beats. It’s an unusual sensation, all things considered, but it feels good, really good.
Louis chokes slightly, chest constructing, but Harry does as Louis had told him and keeps going.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Harry pants out, hips stuttering. “Can I come on your chest?”
Louis gives him a thumbs up, which feels a bit silly, but it seems to be effective in terms of communication as Harry almost immediately pulls out. Louis blinks the tears from his eyes and opens them up, watching as Harry strips his dick in a blur just above his face. Spurts of come paint Louis’ chest and stomach as Harry cries out, babbling strings of curses interspersed with Louis’ name, over and over again.
Harry manages to fall somewhat gracefully onto the bed beside him, and Louis is just grateful that Harry didn’t clock him in the head with his knee on the way down. Conscious of the come all over his chest, Louis wiggles his way back towards the headboard so he’s not hanging off the edge of the bed anymore, drawing in deep breaths as Harry starts to giggle.
“What?” Louis croaks out, voice absolutely wrecked.
“It’s just, like- That was some of the best sex of my life,” Harry mumbles into the covers.
“And so your response is to burst out laughing? You’re such a weirdo,” Louis chastises fondly.
Harry props himself up on his elbows, turning to grin at Louis. “Takes one to know one.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Go and grab a towel or something. You’ve spunked all over me.”
“You told me to,” Harry whines, poking Louis in the side, but he gets up anyway and pads into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel and two glasses of water a minute later, setting one of the glasses down on the shelf beside the bed.
Louis cleans himself up and chucks the towel back at Harry who catches it one-handed and throws it onto the floor of the bathroom before handing Louis the other glass. “Cheers. You gonna shower tonight?” Louis asks as he sits up and then takes a long sip of the water, the cool liquid doing wonders for his raw throat.
“Nah. I’m spent. I’ll grab one in the morning. You?”
“Yeah, same. Sleep time now,” Louis says and sets his half-empty glass down on the shelf beside the bed.
“I sleep naked. Is that okay?”
“Fine by me,” Louis replies through a yawn.
Harry goes over and switches off the lights, just the moonlight sneaking through the gap in the curtains left to illuminate the room. Louis crawls under the covers, giving the too-firm pillow a few punches in a vain attempt to beat it into submission. Harry climbs in on the other side, tugging at the sheet and blanket to dislodge them from where they’re tucked in.
“Sorry, I like to stick my feet out the end of the bed,” Harry offers by way of explanation. “I run hot, especially at night.”
“Well, I’m like an ice cube, so apologies in advance if you wake up with my feet tucked between your thighs.”
Harry chuckles at that and turns on his side, facing the bathroom with his back to Louis. “I’ve set an alarm for 5am, so we can get on the road early.”
“Ugh. Sounds delightful. Night, Harold. Sleep well.”
“You too. Night, Lou.”
Louis rolls onto his side, facing the window and snuggles into the pillow, pulling the covers up to his ears.
Sleep doesn’t come easily though, and he lays awake listening as Harry’s breathing evens out, the hum of the air conditioner providing a white-noise background that would usually aid him in drifting into dreamland. His brain is just too busy running over the day's events. It feels like he’s lived more than a day, so much has happened and all of it involves the unusual man snuffling softly in his sleep beside him.
Louis can feel the heat radiating off Harry’s body and he’s struck with the sudden urge to close the distance and press their backs together, to feel that heat seeping through his skin. He doesn’t, of course, because there’s enough about this situation that’s out of the norm for a one-night-stand already.
It’s just. Maybe this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. They might’ve had a rocky start, but they seem to have moved past that initial irritation and they had a great time tonight. At least Louis did. Plus, they’re surprisingly compatible in bed, which can definitely be a challenge to find. They work in the same industry, in relatively close proximity, are both from the UK, and they also live in the same city when they’re not working.
Harry’s an enigma, for sure, but he’s funny and charming and fit-as-fuck, and he seems to like Louis well enough, so there’s definitely at least some potential. He wonders if he should broach the subject with Harry in the morning, or just wait and see if Harry says something, and it’s those musings that follow him into his dreams.