Work Text:
prologue
When Harry sent a copy of the ad to his sister, she replied quite plainly with “You're ridiculous.”
And yes, the whole thing does seem ridiculous. But he can’t leave room for misunderstanding. He doesn’t have room for misunderstanding.
"Straight men or women only" in bold letters is about as clear as any advertisement could possibly be.
“You sound like a homophobic dickhead,” she said. And she was right. Which is why he adds a note that he himself is gay.
“You shouldn't punish someone who needs a place to stay because they're attractive to you. That's not their fault. Why not just practice self-control?” His sister bickers endlessly.
Harry figured she wouldn't understand, although yes, she made valid points.
The whole problem is that he doesn't have self-control. He tells himself he isn't lonely, only to fall for the first guy who pays him any attention. Because as it turns out, he is. Lonely. Or just hopeful?
He's on a never ending plight to find The One. Only that plight is getting quite tiresome.
He considers adding glitter to his ad but figures that might defeat the purpose. Given the whole “gays are made of glitter” notion. It's true anyway. For the first time in his life, he’s trying not to attract gay men.
That day, he posts several copies of his ad on the bulletin boards in Carlisle Hall, where most of his fellow students will see them.
He’s learned from experience that looking for roommates on Craigslist is a long road to disappointment, as evidenced by Rhett or Jasper, the men he shared a place with in the past. They were albeit good in bed, but awful in every other aspect of sustaining a relationship. It's not even that Harry's heart is broken because it really isn’t.
He's just tired of gay men who pretend to want more and are only capable of less. And exhaustion sometimes calls for desperate measures. Which is why the next person to live with him will come without the potential for any attraction to Harry whatsoever, and thus very incapable of weaseling their way into his head or his heart.
Harry triumphantly slaps one last staple into the corner of his last flyer and smiles.
Now all that's left is to wait.
♡ ♡ ♡
'Check this out.'
Louis pulls up the message from Niall with a picture of the top half of a room ad. He sees the words "Looking for Roommate!" with contact info and his interest is officially peaked.
'Free rent!' Niall adds. 'Lease is paid for!!'
And that's all Louis really needs to know.
He calls during a break between classes, foot bouncing nervously while the phone rings.
"Hello?"
Louis full stops. He's thrown by the voice on the other end, how deep it is and steady. He clears his throat and rights his baseball cap. "Hi," he says. "I'm calling in response to your ad? For a roommate?"
Automatically, there's some commotion on the other end, followed by a squawk.
"Yes," the person on the other end huffs. "Yes, hi!"
He's clearly been asleep. Louis smiles.
"Is the room still available?"
"Yes! Still available. Hi, my name is Harry."
"I'm Louis," Louis answers.
"Thank you for calling, Louis. So, would you mind meeting soon? You can see the place and we can talk a little more about things."
"Sounds great. I'd love to meet as soon as possible," Louis says.
"How's today sound?" Harry asks, eagerly. "Or tomorrow?"
"Today is perfect. I have a class in an hour but after that, I can meet you whenever," Louis says, just as eager and finally so close to not living in Niall's closet.
“Great,” Harry chirps.
♡
Harry texts him an address and tells him to come on by whenever he's finished with his class. Louis runs back home as soon as he’s through to change out of the shirt he's been wearing since yesterday and smear on some deodorant.
The apartment is within walking distance. He goes on up to the third floor, apartment C and knocks, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He runs his hand through his hair again, wishing that he’d taken the time to wash it, and then the door flies open.
Full stops are apparently a new thing for him. His hand freezes in his hair. His eyelids freeze. Everything ceases except for the person in front of him, Harry, who's lips are curving into a grin.
He's a vision, really. And he's hardly trying to be. His hair is looped into a sloppy bun. He's wearing glasses, a simple black t-shirt, skinny jeans, and socks. Maybe it’s the smile that hits Louis hardest, the smile that makes the skin around Harry’s green eyes crinkle and a dimple appear in his left cheek.
"Louis," he says, holding out his hand.
Louis snaps metaphorical fingers at himself and his brain starts working again like it's supposed to. He meets Harry's hand with his own and they shake. "Hi," Louis says.
Harry ushers him in. "Have a seat. I made tea."
Louis slips past him, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Harry making a study of him. The room smells of incense and maybe freshly baked banana bread. It’s clean, well furnished and cozy. They take a seat at the table and Harry still hasn't stopped with the open scrutiny.
He fixes Louis a cup of tea using a genuine porcelain tea set and slides a little jug of milk over to him.
"So I didn't expect for someone to respond so quickly, with it being the middle of the semester," he says, taking a sip of his tea. "My last roommate was great but he decided to move in with his girlfriend. As the ad stated, there’s no rent because it's campus housing so that was all paid for at the beginning of the year. Fully furnished. So, it's basically just a matter of supplying your own groceries."
It sounds like a dream. Louis has the money for rent but his job at Asda doesn't pay much as is and it would be hard on his bank account, especially trying to afford food as well. So really, there's nothing stopping him from jumping on this opportunity. Not to mention having a beautiful roommate never hurts.
"Sounds perfect," Louis says.
"Great," Harry says. He quiets and his eyes narrow. "Just one quick question..." He sets his cup down. "You aren't gay, are you?"
Louis’ brows reach upward for the ceiling. "Uh..."
"Sorry. I'm sure you saw on the ad. I guess I should explain…” Harry picks at the quick of his nails, eyes cast downward. “I've just come out of a relationship and I'm not interested in starting anything new. And I'm graduating so I’d like to focus on my senior thesis these next few months, you know?" He bites his lip. "So that's why I specified straight men or women only on the ad. To ensure that I maintain a platonic relationship with my new roommate."
Louis drops his gaze to his lap. Niall didn’t include that little detail, perhaps because he knew Louis would never go for this. Or more likely because he was just desperate to get Louis out of his closet. Funny how he’s metaphorically pushing him into another one.
Louis hasn't considered himself straight since freshman year of high school. He's fortunate enough to have had a family that was supportive of him when he first realized and he hasn't had to lie about himself since. He never would have thought this would be the moment for him to start again.
The thing is he really needs this place. This is an incredibly sweet deal. It's only for a year. And he doesn't plan on bringing guys back here anyway. He hasn’t dated a lad seriously in at least two years. Maybe next semester he can even look for housing some place else. But he can't pass this up right now. And if it doesn’t work out, it’s of no monetary or emotional loss to him.
He can be a straight man if it means he’s not homeless.
"I understand," Louis says. "You don't have to worry about me at all."
Harry interprets that the way Louis wants him to. He smiles and it's such a bright smile, so earth-stopping, that for a moment Louis wants to take it back. Because he's not sure how he can live with this boy and pretend to be uninterested.
But then Harry says, "You can move in this week."
And that's the end of that.
♡
On the following Tuesday, Eleanor comes by to help Louis pick out an outfit for his interview the following day. (She’s a fashion design major and knows Louis’ style better than most.) Harry happens to pass Louis’ bedroom doorway just as Eleanor is helping with his bowtie and his brows shoot upward.
“Oh, hey,” Louis says. “Harry, this is Eleanor. El, this is Harry.”
Eleanor waves. “Hi there.”
“Hi,” Harry says. He hesitates. “Are you two—? Is this your girlfriend?”
“Yes,” Eleanor says quickly, reaching her hand out for Harry to shake.
Ironically enough, she proposed the exact idea to Louis at lunch the previous week. I’ll be like a beard , she’d said. If Louis had been able to say no in every language, he would have. He did at least say it in English. She clearly just hadn’t been listening.
He shoots her a very discreet glare but she isn’t paying him any attention to him.
Harry grins. “Nice to meet you.”
The thing is Louis thinks Harry is starting to suspect. Especially because sometimes Louis stares and sometimes Harry catches him. He would love to stop. Except he can’t.
He’s just your type. No way this is going to work without me, Eleanor had said.
Louis wasn’t even aware he had a type prior to meeting Harry.
It’s funny: the look on Harry’s face the moment he shakes Eleanor’s hand is one of relief. And while having a beard is a little extreme, Louis can’t say he isn’t grateful.
♡
He and Harry study together the following day, which is nice, given that Louis’ preferred, yet ineffective method of studying has always been cramming the night or even the morning before an exam.
Harry is determined to keep him on top of things. They huddle around the coffee table with their books all spread out around them, cups of steaming tea and bowls of chopped fruit.
As is the case when Harry is doing virtually anything, he’s adorable when he’s really into his work. His hair is pulled into a half-hearted bun on top of his head and there are red framed glasses on his face. His nose and his brows are perpetually wrinkled in concentration, until of course, Louis distracts him.
“Staring at your book like you want to kill it,” Louis murmurs.
“Funny because the book isn’t the one distracting me. Again ,” Harry says, looking at Louis.
Louis smiles, drumming his pen on his notebook. “We should take a break.”
“We just took a break,” Harry reminds him.
“Making a fruit salad isn’t a break,” Louis says. “We should go for a walk or something. Go play some footie.”
Harry sighs, shaking his head. “How about this?” he says, looking at Louis squarely. “You finish reading another chapter. I finish my chapter. And then we go play footie.”
“You’re on,” Louis says.
They get about two pages in when Louis says, “New glasses right?”
Harry huffs a laugh. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs. “Yes.”
“They’re cute,” Louis tells him.
Harry shakes his head. “Yours too.”
“Oh, why, thank you,” Louis says, fluttering his lashes playfully.
Harry tries to start reading again.
“We should make like those birds on your chest and fly away from these books.”
Harry drops his forehead to his book and laughs. “Oh my God,” he wheezes.
Louis chuckles, flicking a piece of a paper at him. “I mean it. I can’t go on. I’m so bored, I can literally feel my brain dying.”
Harry blows a strand of hair away from his eyes and shuts his book with a resigned sigh. “Let’s go play footie.”
Louis pumps his fist victoriously into the air.
♡
He’ll remember not to distract Harry from studying in the future, especially if it means that Harry will stay up late to make up for the lost time. Louis comes out of his room at 2 AM that night to find Harry curled over the coffee table, snoozing into his text book.
He laughs quietly to himself and ducks down beside Harry. He reaches out to brush a curl away from Harry’s nose, running his thumb softly over his cheek before he realizes what he’s doing. He curls his hand away.
“H,” he murmurs, poking him in his shoulder.
Harry makes a muffled noise of complaint and snorts. Really cute.
“Come on, love,” Louis says, shaking him gently. “You’ll hurt your back sleeping like this.”
Harry’s eyelids flutter. “Avogadro’s number,” he babbles. “Empirical versus molecular...formulas...”
Louis presses his lips together to keep from laughing. “Definitely gonna ace your exam if you’re reciting terms in your sleep.”
Harry’s eyes open, one after the other. “Louis…?” he mumbles.
His name in Harry’s drowsy voice is melodic. Butterflies swoop in his stomach for a moment. “Yeah, it’s me,” he answers. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
He helps Harry to his feet and they shuffle off toward their rooms. Louis retrieves Harry’s glasses and his phone from the coffee table and sets them on his bedside cabinet, plugging the phone up to charge.
He spots a neon green dildo in the drawer, lube and condoms, and aggressively does not think about Harry using any of those items.
“Thanks, Lou,” he hears as he’s pulling the door closed.
He turns and sees Harry smile sleepily, his face mostly buried in his pillow.
“You’re welcome,” Louis says. He hesitates for a moment, eyes tracing the moon spilling over Harry’s form and the soft curve of his mouth. And then he pulls the door closed.
♡
Got the job! he texts Harry on Thursday, following a call from his new employers. For some reason, Harry is the first person he wants to tell.
His phone starts buzzing in his hand as he heads to his next class. He pauses in the hall, pressing a finger to his other ear so he can hear. “Hello?”
“You got the job!” Harry yells back at him.
Louis laughs. “I did! And they want me to start soon too.”
“Oh my God. We should celebrate!” Harry says. “We’re going to celebrate tonight.”
“How?” Louis says, his cheeks aching from grinning for too long.
“I’ll think of something,” Harry says. “I’m really proud of you, Louis. I knew you’d get it, though. They’d be fools not to hire you.”
Louis’ heart does the thing again. He’s got to schedule a checkup to have that looked into. “Thanks, babe. I have to get to class but I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
“See you tonight!” Harry says happily. They hang up and Louis hurries down the hall, running a little late when he has to make it across campus. It means he has to break into a sprint to get there on time. This professor likes to lock her door as soon as the time changes. No grace periods. No mercy.
He makes it to class but all he can think about while he’s there is his new job and celebrating with Harry. Luckily enough, it’s his last class of the day. When he’s finished, he heads back to the apartment instead of meeting up with Zayn and Niall.
When he steps inside, it’s dark and smells strongly of vanilla.
And then by the kitchen doorway, he catches the glow of candles.
Harry smiles, holding a tray with several cupcakes aligned neatly in two rows. Louis steps closer, setting his bag down. “What’s this?”
“This is us celebrating,” Harry informs him.
Once he’s close enough, Louis sees the wording on the cupcakes, written in blue icing, “Congrats Louis” with an exclamation point. Each one has a candle stuck in the center of its perfectly whipped icing.
Louis swallows around the weird lump in his throat. “This is lovely,” he says.
Harry sets the tray down on the table. “But wait! There’s more,” he says like an infomercial narrator. He goes into the kitchen and comes back with a paper bag. He draws a bottle of tequila from the bag and shakes it. “Because why not?”
Louis laughs. “Good question.”
Harry reaches into the bag again and withdraws a box of Cocoa Puffs. “I saw your box was getting low. And you’re going to need to eat breakfast now every morning before work.”
There’s seriously something wrong with Louis’ heart.
“And…” Harry says. “I got you a travel mug so you can take your tea along with you in the mornings too.”
He extracts a travel mug, one that’s decorated with pictures of Spiderman. “Fitting, right?” Harry says, lifting his brows.
“I love it,” Louis says. “Harry…”
“And there’s pizza finishing in the oven too,” Harry says. “Surprise!”
Louis drags his hand down his face, cheeks warming. “This is incredible,” he murmurs. “Thank you. It’s just an internship.”
“It’s not just anything,” Harry argues. “It’s an amazing accomplishment. You’re my roommate and my friend. So we’re going to get drunk on tequila, stuff our faces with pizza and cupcakes, and celebrate. Understood?”
Louis snorts. “As the queen commands.”
Harry grins. “And this is why you got the job. So smart,” he says happily, and with that he lifts the cupcake with the exclamation point and hands it to Louis. “Congratulations.”
Louis shakes his head and laughs into a bite of his cupcake, getting icing all over his mouth. “Thanks,” he mumbles with his mouth full.
Harry laughs, lifting a cupcake for himself and taking a bite. Icing covers his lips too. Louis tries hard not to think about licking it off.
♡
The first time it happens is Thursday.
Louis returns home from work and finds Harry completely and utterly stark naked.
He has a towel binding up his hair as he saunters into the kitchen and out of view. Louis hears the fridge door open and shut, bottles rattling around. And when Harry reappears in the hall, it’s with the rim of a beer bottle pressed to his lips.
Louis doesn’t miss a thing. Not his cock bobbing along between his legs. Not his delicate swell of an ass. Or his abs. Or his broad back. Or his long glowing legs. He takes it all in, his throat closing up, and his trousers stretching too tightly over his crotch. And then the door of Harry’s room closes. He never even sees Louis frozen at the door.
And Louis never gets the image out of his head.
It happens again on Saturday.
Louis wakes up, planning to go do some skateboarding with Zayn, and watch the football match later with Niall. But his morning is practically free. So he thinks to go fix himself a cuppa and maybe watch a movie with Harry like they did last Sunday.
He steps into the kitchen and there’s Harry. Naked yet again.
Harry sees him immediately this time. There’s really no missing Louis paused by the entryway. He lowers his banana, but not before the image of him naked with phallic objects directed at his mouth imprints itself on Louis’ brain.
“Louis,” he says in mild shock. “Sorry, I thought you’d probably be asleep for a little while…”
Louis doesn’t even know where to look. If he meets his eyes, Harry will probably be able to read the truth right on his irises. If he looks down, he’ll be tempted to stare at his junk. If he doesn’t look at him at all, that might be too obvious, too hetero to be believable. He doesn’t know. He can’t think like a straight man because fucking hell, he isn’t straight.
“Sorry,” Harry says again. “I should put on some pants.”
“No,” Louis says. “You’re fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Lies. All lies. He’s literally never seen anyone like Harry before. He definitely would have remembered.
“I just tend to sleep naked. And then I wake up and I don’t feel like putting on clothes. I don’t like wearing clothes much at all,” Harry babbles on.
Oh, joy! His unnecessarily fit roommate has just declared himself to be a nudist. This really could not get any better.
Louis determines to start the kettle. At least then he’ll have a reason to put his back to him.
“My last roommate, Liam, never seemed to care. But if it bothers you, I completely understand,” Harry says.
Of course it fucking bothers him.
Louis finds his mug and a teabag. “Honestly, it’s your place too. You should be free to do whatever you want,” he says. Don’t be a fucking martyr. Don’t do it. “And it’s not like… you know, I’m not interested or anything, so…”
“Right,” Harry says. “Well, thanks. Promise I won’t do it if you have friends over.”
Louis thinks about the fact that mostly all of his friends are gay. He really doesn’t think they would mind at all.
“You never know. Might be a good ice breaker if we ever have a party,” Louis says, and that earns him a laugh from Harry.
“We should do that. Throw a party. I bet that would be fun.”
“I’m in,” Louis says. “Always up for a party.”
They start discussing plans, though Louis always finds a reason to keep his back to Harry, either to finish his tea or start on some oatmeal or fetch an apple from the fruit basket. And when there’s nothing left for him to do, he makes his excuses and flees the kitchen as quickly as he can.
♡
It never gets easier. He catches Harry naked over and over. Each time, it feels like another nail in Louis’ heterosexual coffin. It’s like some sick, twisted form of orgasm delay. You bet your ass he wanks to the visions stuck in his head almost every night. But it’s never satisfying. He’ll bust a nut in the shower only to come out and find Harry with his tight little ass waltzing past the doorway, and the cycle of torment begins again.
Louis’ balls are so blue they’re turning purple in some places. Sexual frustration incarnate would look and talk like him. He is sexual frustration. Harry might be Satan’s first born. And this fucking flat is the actual literal Underworld.
Harry switches it up, of course. Some days he’s wearing boxer briefs, so tight Louis has to worry about his cock, but they offer some marginal sense of relief. That is, until Harry starts doing yoga in them, stretching in all sorts of shapes in just a thin covering of cotton. Louis walks in to him doing so on the following Thursday.
“Hey, Lou,” he calls while engaged in a split, bending over between his outstretched legs.
Louis doesn’t even answer him. He watches him for two seconds longer, his poor dick crying out in his jeans. Wordlessly, he stalks to his bedroom and gets to work.
♡
They’re studying again later that night. Harry dons a large t-shirt but no trousers, which is yet another minor improvement. Very minor.
While Louis is contemplating the likelihood of his balls actually falling off from frustration, another less grizzly thought pops into his head.
“Hey,” he says. “The guy I saw you with earlier, in the quad. Is that someone you’re dating?”
Harry removes the end of his pencil from between his teeth. “Nope. I’m not dating at all, remember?” He smiles. “But he did give me his number.”
“Hm. You could still put that to use,” Louis says, glancing at him and wiggling his brows.
Harry rests his head against his fist. “Are you proposing a booty call?”
“Absolutely. Nothing wrong with it,” Louis says. “As long as everyone knows where they stand, I’m a supporter of quick shags. It's human.”
Harry twirls his pencil between his fingers. “Haven’t you ever done that and ended up being genuinely interested in the person though?”
“No,” Louis says. “That’s not how it works for me. If I’m genuinely interested in a person, I wouldn’t suggest fucking for funsies. They’d know for sure.”
Harry studies him for a moment, his gaze flickering to his notebook. “How so?” he asks eventually. “If you were genuinely pursuing a person?”
Louis sits back against the couch. “Well, first, I’d tell them. I’d look them in the eye,” he says, looking Harry in the eye. “And I’d tell them. I want to be with you. Just like that.”
Harry trails his fingers along the column of his neck idly, blinking heavy lashes, and pursing his rose petal lips. “And then what?”
“And then…” Louis begins. “I’d show them. I’d never stop showing them.”
“Are we talking in bed? Or with flowers and chocolate?” Harry wonders.
“Both. In bed... with chocolate,” he says.
They stare at each other for a long time after that, and then they erupt in laughter, curling over the coffee table.
“Really sexy,” Harry compliments, shoulders trembling as he giggles.
Louis crumples a piece of notebook paper and launches it at him. It clocks him in the forehead. Harry reaches across the table and flicks Louis in his cheek, and Louis attempts to lick his finger.
“Disgusting,” Harry complains.
“You’re distracting me. I have serious academic obligations here,” Louis says, straightening his book. “Jesus.”
Harry smiles. “Whatever,” he says, looking at his own textbook. Their eyes flicker furtively to each other’s again, and they smirk for just a second before looking away.
Louis actually gets a bit more done this time around, despite Harry being a massive distraction just sitting there in his pants. He finishes two chapters, highlights a bunch of text, and even takes notes. And then after a while, he sets his highlighter down and groans.
“Alright. My back is killing me. I’m giving up,” he says, massaging his neck.
Harry puts his pencil down. “Let me help.”
Louis is about to ask how when Harry scoots right behind him and sets his cool fingers on the back of Louis’ neck.
“You don’t have to--” Louis’ voice drops off when Harry starts kneading his fingers into his sore neck.
“How’s that?” Harry asks quietly.
Louis’ eyes slip shut. Harry runs his fingers from the nape of his neck, down each knot of his spine. “Good,” Louis murmurs.
Harry sets both hands on Louis’ shoulders and rubs the tense muscles there firmly.
“Is that what you did with Eleanor?”
Louis’ brows furrow. “Huh?”
“When you wooed her,” Harry says with a soft laugh that tickles the back of Louis’ neck. “Is that how you did it?”
Louis licks his lips. “Can't remember.”
“I bet you didn’t even need the flowers or the chocolate,” Harry says. He drags his hands down Louis’ spine, circling his thumbs. The pads of his fingers are warm enough that it almost feels like they’ve met Louis’ bare skin. “I bet all you had to do was just say the words and she was a goner.”
“You think I’m that charming?” Louis says, playfully.
“Yes,” Harry says without pause. “I know it’d work on me.”
They grow quiet, both coming to realize the gravity of those words as the same time. Harry withdraws his hands from Louis’ back and shuffles back to his spot at the coffee table. His ears are noticeably pink. He smiles. “Feel better?”
Not really. His muscles are looser but his heart strings are still pulled tight.
“Yeah,” he says, lifting his highlighter, and they both get back to work.
♡
They invite about twenty to thirty people over on Friday for a small party, not expecting everyone to show up, but pleased when about 24 people do. All of Louis’ friends are there: Niall, Nick, Zayn, and Eleanor. Harry’s former roommate, Liam, is there as well, and another friend of his named Cara.
They’re the first ones to show up and of course, it becomes clear almost immediately that Niall and Zayn are dating, and Nick is gay too. Minutes later, they’re both in the kitchen, mixing Louis’ signature punch.
“So, all of your friends are gay?” Harry questions.
Louis opens a bottle of Peach Ciroc, sliding his eyes away from Harry’s. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Funny that.”
Harry’s eyes narrow slightly. “I think that’s great,” he says. “So you and Eleanor are the only ones then?”
Louis makes an affirmative noise instead of answering with a ‘yes’ because he hates lying outright to Harry.
“Do you add the whole bottle of this too?” Harry asks, holding up the bottle of Bacardi Lemon.
“Sure do,” Louis says, throwing him a wink.
Harry smiles, opening the bottle up, and together they empty their bottles in the punch bowl. Of course, there’s some actual fruit punch added to the mix as well. They give it a stir and Louis lifts the spoon to Harry’s mouth to taste it.
Harry’s eyes linger on him as he takes a sip and smiles. “Delicious,” he murmurs. “And maybe, lethal.”
“Perfect,” Louis says, lifting the bowl.
For their first party, it’s pretty amazing. Mostly everyone has a cup in their hand. Someone has sparked up a joint on the balcony. The music is maybe a little louder than it should be, but it’s worth it for the fact that people are actually dancing, including all of Louis’ friends and Harry’s friends too.
Eleanor has had one too many cups of punch and considering that one cup is about all you need she’s practically hanging off Louis’ shoulders. But it’s fun, everyone dancing together, and swinging around together. He catches Harry’s eye a few times but he’s always smiling.
The fifth time it happens, Louis extracts himself from his friends, and beckons him close with a wiggle of his fingers. “Let’s see what you’ve got, babe.”
Harry laughs, setting his cup down like he means business. He sashays over, swinging his hips left to right. He pauses to twerk or attempt to twerk. Louis cackles, curling over with his arms hugging his tummy. He takes Harry’s hand when he reaches for him. And somehow Harry ends up sliding his arms atop Louis’ shoulders and Louis’ arms encircle Harry’s waist.
Everyone is pressed closed in their living room. Everyone is pretty drunk, including Harry and Louis themselves. There’s really not much room to dance at all without their bodies being welded close. But they dance on, the music filthy, and the moves filthier.
Harry’s breath is warm on Louis’ neck. His body is warmer. Louis presses his nose to the base of his throat and breathes in the scent of his body wash, the one he sometimes takes whiffs of while he’s in the shower. He splays his fingers along Harry’s lower back, just out of reach of his bum.
Their legs are slotted together in such a way that each time they sway, their thighs brush each other’s crotches. And after swaying together enough times, the inevitable happens.
It feels like they both take notice of their mutual erections at the same time. They draw away from each other as if burned. Harry’s eyes shoot down to Louis’ crotch and widen. “I’m--” he begins, stepping back. “I’m sorry.”
“Harry…” Louis tries, taking a step toward him. Wrong move.
Harry shakes his head, drawing further into their crowd of friends and away from Louis. He lets the crowd swallow him up and then he’s gone, leaving Louis there like an idiot.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. Louis has a couple more drinks, which help… a lot . It’s how he ends up wandering into Harry’s closet where he knows he keeps some of his things from doing drag events on campus, like his prized rainbow tutu.
He doesn’t know where Harry is at that point. He tells himself he doesn’t care. He pulls the tutu on and goes marching out for his friends and Harry’s friends to see.
It sucks to have to get pissed just to feel okay but when Harry comes out of hiding, he takes one glance at Louis in his tutu and doesn’t look at him again.
At the very least, Louis knows he looks cute. He knows there are plenty of people here to dance with. And plenty of drinks to throw down.
And so long as those things are true, the rest doesn’t have to matter.
♡
He passes out on his bedroom floor and the next thing he knows it’s morning. He wakes up to find Harry in the kitchen, scrubbing the counter clean.
“Morning,” Louis says, tentatively.
Harry glances at him fleetingly. “Morning,” he says, directing his gaze at the counter again. He definitely remembers then.
“I’m going out. To meet Eleanor,” Louis says.
Harry’s gaze swings toward him. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Okay.”
He looks away. Louis blinks.
“Have fun then,” Harry says quietly. He starts scrubbing again, more vigorously than before. Louis doesn’t know what to think about any of this. It’s obvious that he’s made a tremendous mess of things.
Coming into this, he’d thought that he could go along with it all until it fell apart. He figured that whenever it did fall apart, it would be of no great consequence or emotional sacrifice to him.
But he’s grown to like Harry quite a lot, aside from being ridiculously attracted to him. He’s grown to appreciate all the little things about him. His jokes, even the ones that aren’t funny. His smile and his pout. His way of rambling for hours and still somehow making sense to Louis.
He likes him. More than he came here expecting to. And he would hate to have to lose him now.
♡
Eleanor suggests telling Harry the truth as soon as he gets home. And at first, it seems like a sure route towards Harry kicking him out. But the more Louis thinks about it, the more logical it seems.
Lusting after his roommate can only go on so long before it ends in disaster. And if Louis’ ship is doomed to sink, he’d rather not go down as a liar. So it seems this is it. The jig is up.
As soon as he steps into the house, Harry is waiting for him by the kitchen, leaning his shoulder into the wall.
“Could we talk about something?” he asks, stepping into the living room.
Louis sets his bag down on the floor. “Yeah,” he sighs heavily. “I think we have some things to talk about.”
“Let me go first, please?” Harry asks. “I think I know what you’re going to say and I feel like if you just let me explain, it would make things a lot easier on us both.”
Louis’ brows crease. “Okay.”
“First of all,” Harry begins after a deep breath.
Louis braces himself.
"I saw Eleanor with some guy," Harry blurts. "Last night. And I didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry."
Louis somehow resists the urge to laugh. “When?” he asks. Because as far as he knew, Eleanor wasn’t dating anyone. He’ll have to have a talk with her, for sure.
“At the party,” Harry says sadly. “I’m sorry. After-- after we were dancing, I went to my room, and I saw them in the loo. I wanted to do something. I just--”
"Harry, it's really okay. Actually--” I’m gay. That’s what he should say. That would fix everything. He might lose Harry but at least he’d be free of the lies. “Me and Eleanor broke up. So it's cool."
He facepalms internally.
Harry’s expression changes completely. “Oh.” He frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is it because she was cheating?”
“No,” Louis says. “No, we just decided we were better off. Not together. We’re still great friends, but that’s it.”
Harry nods, biting on his lip. “Well, that’s good then.”
His eyes drift away.
Louis clears his throat. “About the party--”
“I’m sorry,” Harry blurts again. “I know for you it was more of a biological thing. Like you weren’t reacting to me because you aren’t gay. I know that. But I just--”
Harry covers his face with his hands.
“This is a disaster,” he mumbles.
Louis takes a step forward, eager to comfort him, and to assure him that it isn’t his fault at all, if that’s what he’s getting at.
“I went through all this trouble to find a roommate I wouldn’t be attracted to. And then I went and--” Harry sighs. “I mean, I’m sure you know . Like you have to know that you’re pretty fucking fit.”
Louis’ thoughts slow to a halt. He opens his mouth to speak but can’t.
“And you know, I considered saying no when I first met you. Because you’re exactly my type. But I just--” Harry groans. “I’m sorry. If this is going to be a problem for you, I understand. But obviously, I’m not going to come onto you or anything. I just feel like I should be open about my attraction to you. And then we can work through it, if you want to stay. And I’d love for you to stay. I love having you here.”
Louis blinks a few times and takes a big breath of air. Harry doesn’t want him to leave. Harry’s just attracted to him. He feels bad for being attracted to him.
“Why would I want to leave because you’re attracted to me?” Louis questions. He blinks, knowing he’s probably blushing. “I mean, you’re beautiful, so. Regardless of whether I-- It’s still a compliment coming from you.”
Harry’s lips twitch. “Don’t sweet talk me now. You’re going to make it worse.”
Louis laughs softly. “Worried you’ll fall in love with me?” he asks.
Harry pouts and looks away. “Very funny,” he mumbles. “Are you we okay then?”
“We were never not okay,” Louis says. “Promise.”
Harry smiles. “If you say so.”
“Hug on it?” Louis asks, holding his arms open.
Harry steps close after only a second’s hesitation and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck. They squeeze each other gently. Louis takes a quick whiff of Harry’s hair, and then they release each other.
“We’re good,” he says.
Harry nods. They’re good.
♡
Louis comes home with a massive paper bag in his arms and calls into the apartment, “Haz, I got Thai.”
He kicks off his shoes and removes his rucksack, dropping his keys onto the coffee table. He sets the paper bag on the kitchen table and starts removing cartons, including coconut curry chicken.
He hopes that a night of his favorite food and rom coms will cheer Harry up. He’s been different lately. He keeps all of his clothes on, for one. And actually respects Louis’ personal space. Only problem is Louis doesn’t want him to.
Harry appears in the hallway.
And Louis freezes.
He looks fantastic, not at all dressed for a quiet Sunday night, wearing tight white jeans and a black patterned shirt. His hair is extra curly and seems to glow like his skin. He smells nice too, some sort of cologne drifting off of him.
“Uh…”
“Sorry, I’m actually heading out tonight,” Harry says.
“Yeah?” Louis says nonchalantly, drawing another carton out of the bag. “For a date?”
Harry swore off dating, he knows. He knows a date isn’t likely. But he’s actually nervous for a second about even the prospect of Harry saying yes.
“Yes,” Harry says.
Louis’ gaze swings to him. He stands frozen for several seconds. “Seriously?” he squeaks.
“Yes,” Harry repeats.
“I thought you weren’t dating?” Louis questions. “What happened to that?”
Harry shrugs. “I changed my mind? That guy asked me out and I said yes.”
Louis scoffs quietly and looks away.
“What?” Harry asks, crossing his arms.
“Nothing,” Louis replies. He slides the coconut curry towards the center of the table. “Just surprised, considering how adamant you were about it. Considering you put out an ad to avoid dating.”
“Why do you care at all?” Harry asks.
“I don’t, believe me,” Louis replies. “Like I said, I’m just surprised.”
He feels Harry’s eyes on him but he doesn’t look up. He lifts his carton of food and slips past Harry into the kitchen.
“Have fun,” he says.
Harry doesn’t respond. He returns to his room. Louis extracts a beer from the fridge and pops it open, leaning against the counter. He starts on his food, stabbing his chopsticks into his chicken like it’s the guy taking Harry out tonight.
Harry comes out of his room, wearing shoes and slipping his phone into his back pocket. “Bye,” he says.
“Later,” Louis mumbles.
He waits until he hears the front door close to decide that he isn’t in the mood for Thai food after all. He puts his food and Harry’s food in the fridge for later, and goes to the freezer for ice cream.
Of course, he never bought ice cream in the first place. So he takes Harry’s carton of Butter Pecan and shuffles into his room to finish it off.
He doesn’t know when his feelings changed like this or when lust and attraction turned to actual longing. He just knows that they have. And it sucks. And if ice cream is the only thing to make him feel marginally better, well Harry has it coming.
♡
Two hours haven’t even passed before he hears the front door open and close. Louis mutes his TV and climbs out of bed and into the hallway.
He sees Harry collapse into the couch with a big sigh and he strolls into the living room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his joggers.
“Hey,” he says.
Harry glances at him. “Hi.”
Louis sits on the arm of the chair. “Did your date go well?” he asks stupidly.
“Obviously not,” Harry replies.
Louis lingers there, feeling awkward.
“I’m fine,” Harry says. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I can’t really help it, so…” Louis trails off. He takes a seat on the couch beside Harry, bracing his arms on his knees. “You want to talk about it?”
“No. Because you’ll probably just gloat,” Harry murmurs.
“I would not,” Louis argues. He sighs. “I’m sorry about earlier. You just took me by surprise. I’ve gotten used to it being just us and maybe I was a little jealous. That’s all.”
Harry pushes his hand through his hair. “You really shouldn’t be jealous of anyone,” he says. “You’re like my best friend.”
Louis’ eyes flutter away at the sound of the word. It hurts, even though he knows it shouldn’t. He hates that it hurts. “Well, I’m prone to irrational jealousy sometimes.”
Harry laughs softly.
Louis nudges his knee against Harry’s. “What happened? Was he a dick?”
“No,” Harry murmurs. “I mean, I guess you could say he was. But not without reason. He said I was clearly emotionally unavailable.”
Louis huffs. “Definitely a dick. Where’d he even get that idea?”
Harry looks at him and then looks away, shrugging. “No clue,” he says. “He thought I was disengaged. And I was. I just didn’t think he’d notice.”
“You have something on your mind then?” Louis questions.
Harry looks at him again. “Lots of things. But I don’t want to talk about them, really.”
Louis nods. “Alright,” he says. He pats Harry’s knee. “Let me make you a drink then.”
Harry smiles. “Nothing too lethal, please.”
“No promises,” Louis says, laughing. He heads into the kitchen and starts on a special concoction, toning down a bit on the tequila. He adds some Grenadine syrup and pineapple juice and a bendy straw like Harry likes.
He goes back into the living room and bows his head while offering it up. “Only slightly lethal,” he says grandly.
Harry takes the drink and smiles around the straw as he takes a sip. “Hm, delicious,” he reports.
“Let me try,” Louis says, taking his hand and drawing the drink close. He takes a sip from Harry’s straw and licks his lips, nodding. “I’m basically a genius.”
Harry’s eyes linger on him for a second. “Basically,” he says with a roll of his eyes. He starts to lift his feet onto the coffee table.
“Here,” Louis says, patting his lap. “You’re not the only one who gives good massages.”
Reluctantly, Harry rests his feet in Louis’ lap instead. Louis slides his boots off, one after the other, and sets them on the floor. He takes Harry’s right foot and starts a massage.
“You’re gonna find someone, you know?” Louis says quietly. “One day, you’ll meet someone who makes you forget everyone else.”
Still a martyr apparently. It aches to say it because Louis wants to be that person himself. He knows he could be if Harry gave him the chance. But he also knows this right now is something Harry needs to hear, that there’s hope for him still. There has to be. Louis would lose faith in the whole world if there were no men willing to love Harry the way he deserved.
"You're a good one, Louis," Harry says softly. He takes another sip of his drink, wrapping his lips around the straw. “I think Eleanor was wrong to let you go…”
El would have a great laugh about that later. “Thank you,” Louis says quietly.
Harry leans over and sets his glass down on the coffee table, revealing a strip of skin on his hips and the leaves of his laurel tattoo. He rests his head against the back of the couch, hair spilling this way and that.
“Feeling better yet?” Louis asks, rubbing his thumbs into Harry’s ankles.
Harry sits forward, resting his arms atop his knees. “I started feeling better as soon as I came home,” he says smiling. “I feel better knowing you’re here.”
"Good," Louis says. He looks at Harry's mouth, noticeably damp and red from the Grenadine syrup in his drink. "You're one of the good ones too, you know? You're lovely. I don’t know if the blokes you dated have said that much. But it's true."
Harry smiles, all lopsided with that one dimple making a crater out of his left cheek. He blinks lazily and his eyes drop quickly to Louis' mouth. "Thank you," he says.
Louis curls his hand around Harry’s ankle, just beneath the hem of his jeans.
"You're welcome," he replies.
Harry looks at his hand and then he looks at Louis. He lifts his palm to Louis’ cheek. “I’m just really happy you’re here. You make me happy.”
Louis licks his lips. “You make me happy too.”
“I do?” Harry murmurs, stroking Louis’ cheek with his thumb.
“You do…”
Harry hums happily, smiling, and then he just leans in and rests their mouths together firmly, wetly. Louis’ heart jackknifes. Harry pulls back just as quickly and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. “‘M sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Louis says, sliding his hand to Harry’s thigh. Harry looks up, giving Louis the chance he’s been looking for, and Louis takes it. All the tension that's been building the last few weeks deflates in one fell swoop when he kisses him, and finds that Harry's lips are as soft as he thought they'd be. All of the frustration fades and pours from his body.
Harry draws back again, their lips separating with a loud smack, and stares wide-eyed at Louis. His fingertips press firmly against Louis’ chest. They're still close, breathing each other's air, eyes bouncing all over each other's faces.
Harry knows . It's obvious from the look in his eyes that Harry knows, that he probably has known for a while. Louis isn't straight at all and Louis very much wants to kiss Harry again. He knows and it seems like in the next half-second he decides that he doesn't care right now. Because he wants to kiss Louis too.
He leans back in and that's all Louis really needs. Harry moans when their mouths meet and fall open and the kiss deepens. He gives full control of it to Louis, lets him lead their tongues in a conversation and a dance. He's a good kisser too. He knows when to lick and when to bite. He knows where to touch Louis, to stroke his scruffy chin or tug on the back of his hair.
Louis pulls away when neither of them have air and are past the point of pretending they do.
"Please don't be angry," he breathes. "I lied to you and I'm sorry. But I've wanted to kiss you and touch you from the moment I saw you. I really want to touch you."
"You should then," Harry says, and he kisses Louis again.
Louis ends up in his lap, knees hugging Harry's hips and Harry's hands spread out over Louis' lower back. And he's never kissed or been kissed like this.
He pulls away again. "When you say I should touch you, do you mean like above the belt? Or do you mean it's safe to pop your jeans open?"
Harry lifts his brows, lips twitching. He reaches down and opens his own jeans. "There,” he says.
"Who says I didn't want to do it myself?" Louis asks, leaning back in to kiss him again. He tugs Harry's jeans open a bit further and pushes his hand beneath the zipper.
Their mouths meet again while Louis runs the tip of his finger up the hard ridge beneath Harry's cotton briefs. “You’re sure this is okay?” he questions.
“You know it is. Stop teasing me, Louis. Come on,” Harry says emphatically, pushing his hips upward and nudging his cock into Louis’ hand. “Touch me, please?”
Louis wraps a hand around him and starts to pump him slowly, running his thumb over the head of his cock. Harry’s eyelids flutter open and closed. His mouth parts to make way for a breathy gasp and Louis uses the opportunity to push his tongue into his mouth.
“Can I touch you too?” Harry murmurs when they separate.
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, please.”
Harry pushes Louis’ joggers down enough that he can pull his cock out in the open. “Let me,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of Louis’ mouth and then his cheek.
It's more intimate and gentle than Louis would expect of an encounter like this. But he remembers that this is Harry , the guy who gave him a back massage within weeks of them living together, and Harry who nibbles at Louis' food and steals sips from Louis' tea and Harry who's broken every boundary line human nature forms, demanding residence in Louis' personal space like it was his too.
It makes sense. They make sense.
He slides his hand around both of their cocks and starts to pump his fist over them gently.
Louis moans and pants into his mouth, pushing his hand into Harry’s hair. “Can’t believe this is happening,” he breathes.
“Me neither,” Harry says, his eyes shutting. “Wanted it to happen though. Want you so much.”
“Me too,” Louis says, leaning in to kiss him again. “You’ve no idea how much.”
They rut against each other, pushing their cocks through Harry’s fist. Their tongues meet constantly and sometimes they don’t meet at all. Sometimes they just breathe against each other’s mouths. Harry’s hand picks up speed and tightens on them. Louis reaches down to thumb their cockheads.
It’s Harry first. He hides his face away in Louis’ neck, panting unsteadily against his collarbone, and Louis feels warmth spread over his cock but knows it isn’t from him. Harry keeps stroking them together, working himself through the high, and bringing Louis there to meet him. It doesn’t take long.
When Louis comes, he presses their mouths together again, tightens his hand in Harry’s hair, and just holds them there, sweating and sighing with each other, holding each other close.
Unleashing repressed feelings has exhausted them. They’re too lazy to clean themselves up or shuffle into bed. They kiss lazily too, curled into each other on the couch, and that’s how they fall asleep.
♡
They don’t talk about what it means. The next day they wake up on the couch and untangle themselves to get ready for class, but they don’t talk about the night before. And when they come back to the room during a break from class, they don’t talk about it then either.
They both have bowls of cereal for lunch and the sound of their crunching is louder than it should be with the silence. Harry is still wearing his rucksack because he doesn’t have a long lunch period. He asks Louis how his quiz went earlier on and tells him he’s making lasagna for dinner. Louis reminds him about the leftover Thai food. And that’s it.
They say their goodbyes and head out for the rest of their classes that day.
He knows that eventually they’ll have to talk. If Harry doesn’t mention it, Louis definitely will.
But his issue is with the loss of access, compared to last night. It’s with the inability to greet Harry with a kiss that morning or during their break. He wants them to hold each other when they ask about how their day is going, not stand ten feet away. He wants to have that right. He’s impatient for it. If Harry is interested in him, he wants him to know he’s interested too. And he wants him to know now.
His last class finishes a little early and there are texts from Zayn and Niall asking Louis to come out for a pint. He feels bad for blowing them off again. But he declines. All he wants is to get home to Harry.
Of course, he finds the apartment empty upon arrival. Harry’s last class ends before his own. He knows he should be here. And yet he isn’t.
Coming home soon? he texts Harry when an hour has passed. It’s an awful position to be in: feeling like a nuisance. He could sit here all night but then he’d just be miserable.
Studying with some people from class, Harry replies.
Louis’ brow furrows. Harry never studies with people from class. He finds them all distracting. Louis licks his lips and types another message. At the library?
Yeah. Did you need something?
Louis hesitates before he types his next message. Just want to talk.
Oh. Okay.
Louis studies the message with dread pooling in his gut. He slides his phone into his back pocket, grabs his keys off the countertop and leaves.
He gets it, you know? This whole thing is unconventional. He understands Harry being uncertain. Especially because Louis lied about his sexuality and pretended to be dating a girl and pretended not to care when Harry went on a date.
But there are the lies in this mess of a situation. And then there are the truths.
Or just one really that matters:
He wants Harry. More than he’s maybe wanted anyone.
And telling the truth is hard. Sometimes it requires dedication, and a pinch of desperation. It may also require flowers and chocolate, and ambushing someone at the school library.
The good news is that Harry really is there with three other classmates. Louis was worried he might have been lying. It doesn’t take long to find him either. He’s wearing a lilac jumper and his glasses with his hair held back by a head scarf.
He showed up to this study group just to avoid Louis. It’s clear he isn’t paying attention at all, his gaze directed listlessly toward the window.
Louis takes a breath and starts toward him.
He sets one sunflower on Harry’s notebook and clears his throat. Harry looks down at the flower before his wide eyes meet Louis’. His three classmates look too, prompting Louis’ ears and cheeks to burn from the attention. Nonetheless, he begins.
“I have three sunflowers in all. And you get one for every truth I tell you. First,” Louis says, nodding to the flower waiting on Harry’s notebook. “I was never dating Eleanor or any woman. I haven’t since I was 15.”
Louis pulls another sunflower from behind his back and hands it to him. Harry takes it, his ears and neck flushed like Louis’. “Second,” Louis says. “When I want to be with someone, I tell them. Sometimes with flowers and chocolate.”
Harry’s eyes meet his again. His lips twitch.
“Third,” Louis says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He extends his last sunflower to Harry, and looks at him steadily.
“I want to be with you.”
Harry takes the sunflower.
Louis sets a Hershey’s chocolate bar on the desk too and winks. Harry laughs softly and lifts the sunflower on his notebook into his hand as well so he’s holding all three.
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Louis says. “I promise I won’t do it again. I know you might be unsure about me and what I want. But it’s you. That’s it. Just you.”
Harry holds the flowers out to him, and Louis’ smile falters. “No, wait,” Harry gasps. “I’m not giving them back. Just, could you hold them for a second?”
“Oh,” Louis breathes. “Sure.” He takes the flowers, confusedly.
Harry closes his notebook and shoves his books into his rucksack sloppily. “Sorry, friends,” he says to his classmates. “As you can see, I really have to go.”
He takes his chocolate bar, and then takes Louis’ free hand and drags him out of the library. He waits until they’re outside before rounding on him.
“You’re the one I’ve been waiting for,” Harry says breathlessly. “At least I think so. I’m pretty certain.”
Louis exhales a breath he swears he’s been holding since he moved in with Harry. “Fuck. Can you take the flowers back then please?”
Harry takes them, laughing. “Thank you,” he says. He curls his hand around the back of Louis’ neck and tugs him close and kisses him. He pulls back. “And not just for the flowers. This is going to sound crazy but thank you for lying to me and moving in with me despite my ridiculous ad. And thank you for telling me the truth because I was too scared to do it myself. I’m not now. I want to be with you too. I’ve wanted that for weeks. And you’re so important to me, Louis. I just didn’t want to lose you. I never want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and hugging him close. “Not ever.”
Harry squeezes him to his body. “Please let’s go home. I want to give you a blowjob in return for that fucking speech.”
Louis snorts a surprised laugh. “The power of flowers and chocolate.”
“And chocolate in bed…” Harry says seductively.
“Are we going to be eating chocolate off each other?” Louis questions.
“Um, yes?” Harry rolls his eyes. “Hurry, babe. My sweet tooth is aching.”
Louis throws his head back when he laughs, allowing Harry to drag him all the way back home.
After they kick off their shoes and put the sunflowers in water, Harry drags Louis into his room and drags his jeans to his ankles. He meant what he said. He wastes exactly zero time deepthroating Louis like a fucking champ.
“Is this your atonement for marching your naked arse around here for weeks?" Louis pants, his eyes on the ceiling.
Harry laughs, pulling his mouth away to murmur. "I hope I didn't cause you too much suffering..."
"My poor cock has seen enough of my hand for a lifetime," Louis confirms.
Harry cackles, hand across his mouth. “I’ll make it up to you with chocolate,” he murmurs.
“I have a better idea,” Louis says, slapping Harry’s thigh. “Want your arse up here.”
Harry’s brow furrows.
Louis kindly explains, “Should I tell you how many times I’ve thought about eating you out? Because sadly I’ve lost count.”
Harry’s eyes take on a sudden bleary quality to them. “Yes, please,” he says, moving onto his hands and knees, climbing atop Louis' body.
Louis yanks him closer by the hips.
“Oi,” Harry says. “Is this how you plan to start our relationship? By manhandling me?”
Louis smiles, running his mouth up the back of Harry's thigh, and nudging the tip of his nose against Harry's’ balls. “Are you telling me you don’t like to be manhandled? Because I do, sometimes, for future reference.”
Harry grins. “Makes two of us," he says taking a lick of Louis' cock. "But tonight I'm planning on being sweet."
Louis swipes his tongue over Harry’s hole, smiling when he feels him shiver. “You’re very sweet.” He sets his hands on Harry’s bum and spreads him apart, pressing his tongue to his hole and wiggling past his rim. Harry’s fingers tighten on Louis’ thighs.
“Very, very sweet,” Louis reports, licking him again.
Harry whines and returns his mouth to Louis’ cock, swallowing him down with renewed energy.
“God…” Louis breathes, digging his fingers into Harry’s arse cheeks. His body sags and goes pliant. They seem to be melting into each other and Louis doesn’t mind that at all. After several licks of Harry’s tongue, all matter seems to slink away from him. When Harry pushes his tongue against Louis’ slit, he pictures himself flung into space and floating now by the moon. The two of them suspended together.
"I want to take you on a proper date,” Louis pants randomly and nonsensically considering he's so beyond rational thought right now. “Like to dinner."
“Are you not eating enough right now?” Harry questions.
Louis snorts, biting punishingly on Harry's arse cheek. “I mean it.”
“After this, baby, you can take me anywhere you’d like,” Harry gasps when Louis sucks firmly on his rim. “Breakfast. Dinner. The fucking moon. I’ll go anywhere.”
“What a good roommate you are.”
“Hey,” Harry says, slapping Louis’ thigh. “I prefer ‘boyfriend’ now. Fuck-- your fucking mouth.”
Louis grins, fucking his tongue into him, into his roommate, into his boyfriend . It’s like he issues an unspoken challenge, to see which of them can drive the other wilder. After a while, they can't find words to speak. All they know are whimpers and grunts, and the sound of warm pants and eager tongues against desperate skin. They go wild at the same time, to the same degree. They come quickly, both of their mouths sealed around each other’s cocks, and then they collapse beside each other, sprawled on Harry’s bed.
"Dinner would be nice, by the way," Harry says. He sits up, his hair tumbling wildly over his shoulders, and waves the chocolate bar. “But how about dessert?”
They end their night eating chocolate squares from the dip of each other’s spines and the scoop of their collarbones, licking melted chocolate from each other’s thighs and the line of their abs.
They end their night the only way Louis wants to for the rest of his life.
There’s another benefit of officially dating Harry that Louis never sees coming.
It’s the rush of excitement he gets when the following day he comes home to find Harry naked, save for a headscarf.
And it’s the freedom he now has to strip and join the fun.
♡ ♡ ♡
the end