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The sight was something pulled straight from an erotic romance novel. The ones Harry bought avoiding the cashier’s judgy stare and kept hidden under his mattress and inside his lingerie drawer.
The boy was littered in tattoos. He was lean, chest decorated with a patch of dark, fine hair that stopped just above his sinewy abs and resumed below his belly button in a tantalizing happy trail. Though his wrists were slim, his bare, brawny arms looked strong and skilled carrying the hefty pool cleaning tools out to Harry’s garden without a single huff.
Harry let himself be delighted in the vision as he lay on a sunlounger a few feet away, ogling safely hidden behind the expensive, wide-squared Gucci sunglasses he had treated himself to last Christmas. The hot summer sun glimmered on the boy’s back, his golden skin taut over firm muscle as he swung a leaf net over Harry’s swimming pool. Little specks of sweat kissed his long spine, trailing from the nape of his neck to his waist where his shorts hung low, the top of his white briefs - like a sin - peeking above.
Suddenly thirsty, the tip of Harry’s tongue licked over his bottom lip. Instead of taking a sip of the strawberry lemonade he held in his hand, he wondered whether the boy’s skin would taste salty if he were to dip his tongue in the dimples on his back.
Harry wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with such inappropriate thoughts popping in his mind regarding the sinful boy working on his pool, yet he felt his entire face flush red. He brought his cold glass of lemonade up to his warm cheeks.
Ignorant to Harry’s turmoil, the boy squatted down, his toned legs bending as he drew the handle towards him. Harry wasn’t strong enough to reel his imagination back in. He was enraptured by the way the position accentuated the heart shape of the boy’s ass, plump and round and a perfect handful. It would probably mold around his fingers if Harry squeezed, and the boy would grunt one of those little moans he allowed himself when he thought he was out of Harry’s earshot while he worked on the other side of the pool. Harry would bring the boy closer by his slender hips so he could swallow it, feel his skin burn against his…
“Ah! Fuck!”
Pink lemonade spilled all over Harry. Sharp and bitterly cold, it dribbled from his collarbone where the glass tipped over before hitting the ground, down to his breasts and tummy, soiling the fluffy pink robe that covered his body.
He was such a cliché. A MILF thirsting for her pool boy.
Either his curse or the glass smashing on the ground must’ve been loud, because in the distance, Louis called, “I can get that Ms Styles!” He put his tool down before approaching, immediately bending down to pick up the big shards of glass scattered around Harry’s feet.
“Oh, I can get it, Louis…” Harry said faintly, but Louis stopped him.
“It’s no big deal, Ms Styles,” he said, carefully placing the shattered glass on the palm of his hand. He shot a dashing grin up Harry’s way. “Besides, we don't want you cutting your pretty self.”
Harry wanted to argue, but the sight of Louis on his knees before him stole him of breath.
When Louis stood up, Harry pushed his sunglasses in his hair. Up close, Louis’ tan looked unfairly pretty. Harry dared to cup his cheek in his palm as he would the children in his family whenever they did something nice without him having to ask. Louis’ skin was warm and slightly sweaty. “You are always such a dear.”
A pretty, dusty pink spread over Louis’ cheekbones. It wasn’t the customary heat of the summer coloring his face, though. This shade of red was more delicate, more unexpected. More… bashful. Louis was blushing.
“I’ll make us a drink. As a thank you,” Harry blurted, clinging to a spark of courage.
“It’s really not necessary, Ms Styles…”
Usually, Harry would insist people called him Harry. Ms Styles made him sound older than he actually was. But the words tasted naughty from Louis’ mouth, and he seemed to love calling him that. Harry absently wondered if calling him Ms Styles had Louis’ cock stirring in his pants, too.
“Oh, c’mon. You deserve it,” Harry insisted, tilting his head in what he hoped was a charming pout.
With a shy nod, Louis gave in. In the kitchen, Harry fixed them a frozen watermelon margarita each, while Louis deposited the broken cup inside an empty cereal box before taping it closed and throwing it in the trash.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to drink while at work…” Louis chuckled after a few sips.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Harry promised around the straw in his mouth. The words rattled noisily inside his head.
They had seamlessly wandered back to the pool to enjoy their drinks. The decision to sit on the same chair had seemed inconsequential at first, yet the constant brushing of Louis’ bare thigh against his was starting to make Harry’s head spin. Or maybe it was the drinks catching up to him.
“So, do you like it?” Harry asked in lieu of focusing on Louis’ smell beside him - tart, heady and like the summer sun.
“Yeah, yeah. Tastes really good, Ms Styles. Thank you.” As if to prove it, Louis raised the glass to his mouth and took a generous swig. The watermelon stained his lips red and he licked them, a lopsided grin perched on his face.
Giddiness quirked up the corner’s of Harry’s lips. It was because he was staring intently at Louis' face that he noticed his blue eyes sweep over his figure. And although he tried to be discreet, Harry caught him.
The revelation sent a thrill down Harry’s spine. He felt suddenly naked, and then was made aware he essentially was.
Due to the lemonade that hadn’t quite dried yet, Harry’s robe clung to his chest. Its sheer fabric smoothed around the curve of his breasts and perked his nipples under his bikini top. His cleavage looked obscene. Louis’ gaze kept drifting down. Harry eventually understood the constant licking of his lips wasn’t simply because of the fruity drink, and the words stumbled out of his mouth before he could even try to stop them.
“Have you been with an older woman before, Louis?”
It took a while for Louis to answer. Harry put his empty margarita aside, Louis quickly finishing off his. Adrenaline coursing through him, Harry stared at the pretty flush coating Louis’ neck, and started to worry maybe he had stepped out of line.
But then, Louis said, “No, ma’am.”
There was a dangerous glint in Louis’ eyes when he met Harry’s. Harry was tempted to call it desire. Lust. With his heart pounding in his ears, he reached a hand out and cradled Louis’ warm cheek like before. All the earlier innocence was missing from the gesture, but then maybe it hadn’t been all that innocent to begin with.
“That’s a shame…”
He didn’t mean to sound so lewd, but by the way Louis’ eyes darkened, maybe it was not such a bad thing. Harry let the sudden burst of confidence drive him to brush the pad of his thumb over Louis’ bottom lip. It was soft under his touch, but Louis didn’t allow him any time for another thought before he took it into his mouth. His pretty, warm, watermelon stained mouth.
“Would you like to?” Harry’s voice came out in a rush - as if he hadn’t meant to say it but ultimately couldn’t stop himself. Wouldn’t.
Averting his eyes, Louis huffed out a single, coy laugh. Harry’s thumb, now slick with Louis’ spit, gently swiped over his lip where it rested like a promise.
“Want to be good for you, Ms Styles,” Louis confessed.
Harry smiled a devilish smile. His dimples popped just as Louis leaned in to meet his mouth.
Louis’ kiss was surprisingly harsh. Harry hummed pleased and sagged forward anyway. Louis’ hands were calloused and warm and his thumbs rubbed Harry’s skin clumsily as he wandered his body, but never for more than a second or so before he drifted somewhere new. It was almost as if he was afraid Harry would change his mind and he wanted to drink his fill before he pulled away.
Harry wanted this to last. Wanted this moment to stretch and stretch and for Louis to keep kissing him and kissing him. Pressing a hand on Louis’ chest, he curled his tongue inside Louis’ mouth and licked the silly worry away, earning himself an electrifying moan that poured lighting in his veins.
All too soon, Louis eased back. Harry followed, leaning into him with his eyes slipped shut and his tongue tingling. The frown that pulled on Harry’s brows when he was only met with air was replaced by a low moan when he felt Louis skim the tip of his nose over his neck.
Harry twisted his hands in Louis’ wispy hair, joy bubbling up in his chest. Quickly losing himself in the comforting fervency of Louis tracing kisses from his neck to his chest, he missed Louis pulling on the string of his bikini top until he felt the warm summer breeze graze his now free tits.
“Oh!” Harry gasped. Wickedness washed over Louis’ expression.
This time, Harry kept his eyes wide open. He had to fight the pleasure wanting to slip them closed, mouth stuck in an endless “o”, but he refused to miss the way Louis fed himself his tit. How he cupped the petite slope and sucked it into his mouth, not before sticking his tongue out to flick the nipple.
“So pretty, Ms Styles,” Louis kept mumbling. He buried himself in the valley between Harry’s tits and squeezed them around his face, joggling his head from side to side at the same time as he delivered wet, earnest kisses. It drew a fit of giggles out of Harry. Louis stopped only to look up and return the smile.
His almond hair fell prettily on his forehead and Harry wanted to touch him, to feel him. To explore all that naked, tan, sweaty skin. To thumb the little rolls of flesh his abs folded into when he was bent like this playing with Harry’s breasts. To grab onto his freckled shoulders and kiss him again. But Harry could only tangle his fingers in his hair while Louis kissed a line down his body, tonguing at the butterfly on his tummy, nibbling at the laurels on his hips.
A sliver of fat adorned Harry’s belly right above the waistline of his panties. Harry could never quite get rid of it no matter how many hours of pilates and yoga and running he fit into his busy mom schedule. Mostly, it made him feel holy. That his body had been devoted and resilient enough to grow life - twice - inside it. Right now, that heartwarming thought was thrown to the back of his mind as Louis sank his teeth down, curving the flesh into his mouth until the skin turned an obscene color of carmine.
Harry’s cock twitched insistently under the blue nylon of his bikini, demanding Louis’ attention. Louis caught the lace end of Harry’s panties between his teeth next, and without shying away from Harry’s hungry, greedy stare, he pulled. Surely, the cloth fell open. Louis didn’t waste any time taking Harry’s cock into his mouth.
“Louis, fuck!”
Sliding to his knees, Louis swallowed Harry’s shaft until the tip hit the back of his throat. He did not gag. Harry reckoned this was its own version of holy.
Once Louis began to bob his head, Harry could barely conceal the whimper that ripped through his body. It was useless to try and keep cool after that. The way Louis hollowed his cheeks made Harry’s cock weep inside his mouth. He held onto Louis’ shoulders all the while, though he failed to trace the freckles under his fingertips like he had ached to do earlier.
“Louis. Baby.” Too gone too soon, Harry could feel liquid heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. Urgently, he tried to pull Louis off of him, giving Louis’ hair a sharp tug. Louis’ tongue dragged on the underside of his cock before drawing back with a loud, wet pop.
“Fuck,” Harry silently cursed. If he’d been standing, he’s sure his legs would’ve given out.
Curling a sure hand on the back of Harry’s head, Louis claimed his mouth once he came up. The taste of himself on Louis’ tongue was intoxicating.
“Want to fuck you,” Harry confessed quietly against Louis’ lips.
“Mhm.” Louis mewled. “Want that too.”
Louis kept kissing him while he guided Harry to lay back on the pool chair. He only stopped to get rid of his swim trunks. And even then, Harry only pouted at the loss of contact for barely a second before Louis was kissing him again, this time straddling his lap.
“Have any lube, Ms Styles?”
Blindly, Harry reached under the pillow on his chair and presented Louis with a half full bottle of lube. Louis smirked.
“Were you expecting this? Or do you make it a habit to keep lube under your pillows?”
Harry bit his lip, guilty. A timid blush crawled from the high of his cheeks down to his chest, where his breath stuttered.
“Do you jerk off out here?” Louis sounded delighted by the thought. “Do you touch yourself while thinking of me?”
“Louis…”
“You do.” Gone was the wide-eyed, demure boy Harry had lusted over. In his place was this bold, dirty mouthed man that stared down at Harry with fascination pooling black around the blue of his irises.
“Does it get you hot watching me work?” The raspiness in Louis’ voice made Harry’s cock twitch up against Louis’ heavy, naked form atop him. Louis rested a strong forearm on one side of Harry’s head so he was unable to do anything but listen as he leaned down on the other and whispered hotly in his ear, “Do you think of bending me over the bar, spank me when I do something bad? Or maybe you would like me to eat you out? Isn’t that what MILFs love? To get their pussy eaten?”
“I want to fuck you,” Harry grunted.
“Yeah, you’ve said.”
Frustrated, Harry squeezed Louis’ arse. His hand grazed Louis’ forearm and he realized with a start that Louis had been prepping himself while he had his eyes shut listening to the filthy words drip from Louis’ mouth like honey.
Louis worked quickly with sticky lube and nimble fingers. He hovered above Harry’s hips, leading the head of his cock to trap between his cheeks. Despite his own hardness standing red and angry against his stomach, Louis seemed intent on taunting them both by rotating his hips in tight, slight circles. Back and forth. Side to side.
The drag of his shaft around Louis’ hole had Harry salivating. Even so, he wouldn’t take any more teasing. He grabbed Louis’ hips and sank him down completely the next time his cock caught on Louis’ rim. He smeared a sob on Louis’ chest.
Louis was warm and tight and wet. He was everything Harry dreamed of - from the curl of his eyelashes that shutterd closed to the whimper that escaped past his soft, bitten lips. He looked grand atop Harry. Elegant even, with his arched back and his firm abs and his thick cock slapping on his hip every time he bounced. Although, obscene seemed to be the truest word that described him at that moment.
Harry traveled his hands throughout Louis’ body, wanting to learn by heart how it responded to the pleasure. The edges of his hips were painted in red, finger-shaped bruises and Harry choked. He fitted his fingers on the mauled skin and yanked Louis down to his lap, ripping a weil from the boy’s throat.
“There, there!”
Harry spared a second to wonder what the ladies at his country club would think if they saw him. Would they turn up their carefully sculpted noses at the way he lapped at Louis’ neck, hungry for his sweat and his smell and his desperation? Or would they be jealous to know Harry had his pool boy fucking himself and gasping on his cock? Would they clasp their six hundred quid purses to their chests if they came to learn Harry gave it as good as he took it?
Perhaps they’d be helpless to gawk at how well Harry wore it - curls tousled on his forehead; raw bitten lips; robe draped open and soiled around him; bikini forgotten as his breasts hung free and sweat ran between them. Wanton. Deliciously debauched.
“Fuck,” Louis grunted. “How do you do it, Ms Styles? How are you a better fuck than any girl at my school?”
Every word drove Harry closer to an orgasm. The hair on his legs stood tall and he felt drunk, an ache on his tummy that grew deeper and larger and was only satiated by the tight squeeze of Louis around him. He was close. His cock throbbed inside Louis and he swore Louis could feel it.
“Do you fuck many young boys like me? That it?” Louis’ voice wobbled. The muscles of his thighs jumped under Harry’s palms. “Lucky them. Lucky me.”
The slap of skin on skin contact began to rattle like the seat of a roller coaster driving up a rail. Heat bubbled insistently from Harry’s stomach to his groin and all it took for his orgasm to reach its crest was Louis’ shameful mouth saying against his, “You’re the hottest mama I’ve ever fucked.”
It overcame Harry completely. He clashed their mouths together so urgently their teeth clanked, but neither of them cared. Louis rode him and kept riding him through the high. Even after he whimpered from the oversensitivity and Harry’s come began to spill from him.
When Louis came, he splattered all over Harry’s torso. Some even caught his chin, right below his bottom lip. Harry poked out his tongue, seeking whatever he could reach of it, tasting it.
“You’re unbelievable.” Louis huffed out a laugh when he caught him. He leaned down and bridged their mouths, still smiling.
Satiated, Harry let the drowsiness of his orgasm drift his eyes closed.
*
A ray of light seemed determined to rouse Harry from his nap. He scrunched his eyes tighter.
Though his skin felt tacky and his limbs were rather numb under Louis’ heavy weight, he hoped that if he ignored all but them cuddled up like this, he’d get to inhabit the fantasy a little while longer.
And then it slipped from his grasp anyway to the tune of a lock coming undone.
“Daddy!”
A chorus of certain, quick steps was heard inside the house. They grew louder and closer, and Harry knew it was all over before he even saw his son’s face barreling into the patio.
“Mrs. Brown said homework was all wrong!” Rowan stepped out first. The green shirt of his school uniform was no longer tucked neatly into his pressed trousers and the sweater Harry had put on him this morning before walking him to the bus stop was now missing from his narrow shoulders. For his own sake, Harry expected it to be balled up in his backpack.
“Mommy!” Elliot shrieked with joy a few paces behind. His backpack, too big for his tiny figure, bounced in time with his blond curls as he skipped over to Harry.
“Hi, little darling.” Harry caught his youngest in his arms after having fastened his robe around his waist. He settled Elliot into his lap and silently thanked Louis for being thoughtful enough to have cleaned and dressed them before they had dozed off.
“What do you mean it’s all wrong?” his husband asked next to him.
“She said!” Rowan dragged his vowels into a whine. “Math must’ve been taught differently when you were in school a long time ago. She told me I had to put the numbers in again.”
“I’ll tell you where Mrs. Brown can put those numbers…”
“Louis!” Harry fired. “Be nice.”
Mrs. Brown was a bitter old lady whose delicacy towards children had become as faded by time as the thin, white hair on her head. Still. His children were lovers, not fighters.
The frown that tugged down the corner of Rowan’s mouth quickly dissipated. There was little he found more amusing than his parents bickering.
“Alright.” Louis grabbed Rowan’s hand. He stood up. “C’mon. We’ll YouTube it or something.”
Their daydream might’ve went up in smoke the moment his children stepped foot into the house, but Harry had learned to find solace in the bits that trickled into their everyday life. Like the slight limp in his husband’s walk as he entered their home. Harry hid a giggle in Elliot’s curls when he noticed.
Later, after Louis had bathed the kids and Harry had read them a story about princesses and castles and dragons to put them to bed, Louis hugged Harry’s hips as he washed the dishes from their dinner.
“Maybe,” Louis whispered in his ear. “Maybe next time Mommy has to punish me for not knowing math.”
A cackle rushed out of Harry before he clamped a soapy hand over his mouth. His head thrown back on Louis’ shoulder, his heart swelled with happiness.
“Yeah. Maybe next time.”
☼