they can try but they’ll never touch us

by Anonymous

Summary:

It’s so hard for Harry to keep Louis off his mind when pictures keep dropping of his husband hot and sweaty on the field.

Notes:

All the italics were erased and I’m too tired to go back and fix them, sorry. Hopefully you like this drabble, yesterday #he was too hot to ignore.

England has never been known for its good weather. Harry’s stuck at home sitting by his phone, rather pathetically, waiting for Louis to call, eyes on the grey skyline. He’s been checking twitter for the updates because he knows Louis won’t be able to, his husbands on the field and Harry knows it slips his mind to call sometimes. It’s so not fair how he’s become like every other fan in the world, stalking a fan account for pictures of his hubby when he’s literally got a ring wrapped prettily on his finger. 

He had his fun earlier, fluffing Louis’ hair and kissing his cheek as he helped his hubby shrug into the jacket. Even before that, they’d messed around in the shower. Louis had fucked him against the wall, claiming it was his morning workout. Harry still shudders as he thinks about it. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since then and he’s suffering from withdrawals.

They’re married for Gods sake. He shouldn’t be feeling this petty. 

But as a new picture gets posted, a new angle of his handsome man in that jacket that compliments his eyes or the training gear that shows off his cinched waist and taut thighs, Harry’s getting impatient. He’s left three missed calls (which he knew he wouldn’t get an answer too but still he tried) and now he’s slumped over his vanity, pout on his lips as he paints his nail in a mint green shade. 

Finally, his phone rings. Harry looks at the screen, Lou 💍❤️and smiles before he picks up.

“Hi,” he mumbles, flexing his fingers to admire the shiny coat of polish. 

“Baby, you okay? Eaten yet?”

“Yeah, I had a salad for lunch. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, they fixed lunch up for us.

“Are you on your way home?”

“Not yet, baby,” he laughs. “Gotta hit the showers first. I’m sweatin’ like mad.”

“I know, I saw the pictures.”

“Oh yeah?” His tone shifts, flattered by the attention, no doubt. “Been stalking me?”

“Duh, there’s nothing else to do. You left me here all alone.”

“Baby,” he laughs louder, “you know I’d never do that on purpose. Why didn’t you go out? Weathers alright.”

“Didn’t wanna go out,” he mutters, “wanted to spend today with you.”

“You can,” Louis soothes. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t shower.”

“What?”

“I want to kiss you in your kit. You need to see what they’ve been saying. Everyone wants to fuck you.”

“Bloody hell, darlin’. I’m still in public.”

“Sorry,” Harry giggles, happy with his nails. “But it’s true. You look so sexy I need you to get home now.”

“Yeah? What do you wanna do with me?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Might need to shower again.” Harry hears some ruffling over the phone. He assumes Louis’ going somewhere private and his stomach tightens when he hears his voice, lower in tone. “You could join me. Put on one of my old jerseys after, I could give you a lesson.”

Harry grins widely, staring at himself pathetically in the mirror as he asks, “What kind of lesson?”

“Could teach you what I learnt today.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Harry nods, already figuring out what he’ll do to get ready. “Want you to show me all your best tricks.”

Louis swallows, “I can do that.”

“And I’ll show you mine.”

“Know anything about football, baby? From my memory, you were never too good at it.”

“You’ll be surprised how much I know.”

“Fuck, Haz, I’ll be home soon.”

“Can’t wait,” he beams, stroking the underside of his lip. He thinks he’ll put on some lipgloss. “Bye Daddy, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“See you soon, baby.”

“Wait!” Harry shrieks, nearly about to cut the call. “Don’t shower!”

Louis’ laugh tumbles across the line, making Harry’s smile widen. “Alright, baby, no need to shout. I’ll be there in thirty.”

Despite Louis’ wishes to shower together, Harry has other plans. Instead, he has a quick body shower in ten minutes. Shaves any thin patches of hair, moisturises, then brushes his hair, letting the small tufts at the back of his hair curl up as they air dry. Now, in black lace underwear, he opens Louis’ side of the cupboard and pulls out a jersey. It’s an old one from the band days, white with black accents and ‘Tomlinson’ embroidered on the back. Slipping into it, Harry sighs at the smell that engulfs him. Rich, heavy musk, and cigarettes, his mouth waters. The jersey just passes his ass, long legs on show. Then, he opens Louis’ sock drawer and pulls out a crisp new pair of his football socks, pulling them up to his knees. 

He looks perfect now, feels giddy like he’s a teen again waiting to surprise Louis in one of their hotel rooms. It doesn’t take long to put on his face cream, curl his lashes, and put on lip gloss. 

Ten minutes until his husband comes home… just ten minutes.

Harry’s in the kitchen, arranging a mini charcuterie board for them to snack on and that’s when the front door opens. He hears the door shift and then click shut and the scuff of Louis’ trainers on the wooden floor. The sound gets louder because of course, Louis hasn’t taken off his shoes. For once, Harry’s not going to complain about it because he’s so excited to see his husband instead. 

He remains indifferent, placing grapes onto the board until Louis arrives, clearing his throat behind him. When Harry turns around, there’s a mischievous glint in his green eyes as he gives his husband a coy smile. The sight of Louis is like his wettest dreams come to life.

“You’re home.”

“Fuck, baby, what are you wearing?”

“Like it?” He preens, standing on his toes. “I wore it for you.” He gives a slow twirl, shows off the back and shakes his hips. “Your name on me.”

Louis licks his lips, admiring him quietly with dark hooded eyes and Harry takes the chance to do the same. Shit, Louis is so handsome. He listened. He’s still in his kit. The navy blue so enticing on his tanned skin, making his eyes look darker. Harry’s mouth waters, his crotch heats up. Louis’ hair is still damp with sweat, speckled over his forehead in a messy fringe and he needs to run his fingers through that.

“I told you not to shower.”

Harry bites his lip, “I want to have our lesson with you looking like this.”

“Bloody hell,” Louis mutters, stepping into the kitchen. At last, he touches. One hand sits firmly on Harry’s hip, the other grazed the bare skin of his thighs. 

“You look gorgeous, darling.” Crinkles by his eyes makes Harry’s heart melt. 

“And you look handsome. Really handsome. I almost replied to fans on Twitter telling them to stop thirsting over you from my real account.”

“Rookie mistake,” Louis laughs. “You know you should never do your stalking from there.”

“Sorry, my brain stops working a bit when I see pictures of hubby looking like he’s just fucked me then ran onto the field.”

Louis’ brow piques in amusement, “I looked like that?” 

“Bed head, sweaty, sexy, of course you do. Just check twitter, all your fans are going crazy.”

“They’re my girls, they’ll always be good to me.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Aren’t I your girl?”

“You’re my wife,” his voice drops. “You’re the only one I care about. The only one that gets to have me like this.”

Butterflies swarm in Harry’s gut, he pulls Louis down to kiss, pressing their lips together and sighing in relief at the touch. Louis smells like grass and sweat and his cologne, it’s intoxicatingly alluring. Harry fists his hands in his hair tighter, pulls him closer, neglecting what he’s doing for more of the taste on his tongue.

“Turn around, let me look at you properly.”

Harry whines, reluctant to listen, but he spins on his heel anyway. He knows Louis wants to see his name on Harry’s back, and he shivers when his husband traces the lettering with a heavy finger. Just to be a tease, he leans over the counter, presses his ass out and shakes it teasingly, giggling when he hears Louis swear.

His fingers drag down to the hem of his top, tugging it up to expose his underwear.

“Like it?”

“Love it. It’ll be hard to play football in that,” he mutters.

“I don’t mind if it’s too tight or rubs,” he whispers.

“Because you’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

Harry groans, turning back around to face him. He hooks his arms over Louis’ shoulder again, “Can you show me your tricks now?”

“Which ones do you wanna see?”

“You choose, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “bedroom, now.”

 

 

That’s how Harry finds himself pants off, just in Louis’ jersey with his knees on either side of his hips, bouncing on his cock. He’s facing away, back arched and ass out as he grinds down on Louis’ thick cock, moaning hot and loud. Louis squeezes his hips, ruts up to help, shorts discarded on the floor. Harry whimpers, wanting to be face to face so he can hide away in the crook of Louis’ neck and smell him. Lick his sweat and nose his way to his armpits but Louis wanted him this way, bare ass on show sinking into his cock, back brandished with their name.

“You take me so well,” Louis grits, “wearing my clothes, taking my name, I’ll do you proud baby.”

Harry leans forward, pressing his forehead onto Louis’ knee for stability. He’s stretched out so thick like this, can’t breath as Louis’ cock keeps pounding against his prostrate. His hands grope Harry’s thighs, stroke his back, creep down to his hole that’s stretched out. 

“Tired,” he gets out, breathing loudly. 

“You?” Louis chuckles, “Baby, I’m the one who’s been training all day.”

“Wanna come, Lou.”

His husband's hand creeps forward, over his stomach, then sinks down to grasp his cock. “Gonna come in my shirt, baby?”

Harry sucks on his lips, nodding furiously. Louis can’t see him, so this’ll have to make do. “Please.”

“You’re gonna come to my game, won’t you? Wear my name like this so everyone knows who you belong to. Who takes you home at night and loves you so well.”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. “I’m coming. Never missed a game.”

“That’s right,” Louis mumbles softly. “Never have. Always came to support me. I love you so much.”

Harry reaches back for his hand, settles for touch if he can’t see. “Love you,” he gasps, pushing his hips back onto the huge cock. “Please make me come.”

“I’ll get you in the box so no one will see you. You’ll be there, baby. Watching me play.”

“Score for me.”

“I will.”

“I’ll reward you if you win. Anything you want.”

“Want me to win that badly?”

“No, I just wanna treat you to something. Watch you work for it.”

“Didn’t I work for,” he thrusts up, “this?”

“No,” Harry gasps, high pitched, his eyes rolling back. “Your body did all the talking.”

“Nice to know how you think of me.”

“Fit body, good face, big dick,” Harry slumps forward, hips twitching weakly. “Best dick in the world.”

“Baby, fuck, you’re about to cum.” Louis pulls him up easily with his strength. Even though he hadn’t done the two weeks of training he’d hoped to do, he’s always been fit. Played enough football for fun, raced with the boys, and had enough sex to maintain his stamina (though he’d hardly admit that on National TV). Shuffling the two backwards, Louis lazes against the headboard then pulls Harry back against his chest, sighing as he holds his baby close. 

“Come anytime you’d like, darlin’. I love you.”

Harry turns over his shoulder at the caring voice. With hooded eyes and pink skin, he chases Louis’ kiss, finding a steady rocking rhythm, happily pleased at the lack of effort this position required. He only needs to shift his hips a bit and clench down, and Louis groans deep by his ear as he tugs at Harry’s cock, teeth sinking into his neck. 

“What will my reward be? If I win?”

“Anything,” Harry pants.

“Yeah?” Louis can feel himself get close to the edge. “I want you to give me a show when we get home. Dress in a nice outfit and show me how proud you are. Cheer me on a bit.”

“Who am I dressing for? Your team or just you?”

Louis growls, “You’re thinking about thanking my team?”

“It’s a group effort. I’ve got to let them all know they’re appreciated.”

“No you don’t. Definitely not you. They can find themselves their own personal cheerleader.”

“Is that what you want? Someone to flaunt a bit of ass and skin to keep you motivated?”

“You’d do it for me anyway, won’t you?” His fist curls under the hem of Harry’s jersey, abandoning his cock as he tugs the material up. “Wore this for me with just panties underneath. Shit. Will you wear panties to the game?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you wear navy? Or white? Match us.”

“Yeah, I’ve got those colours—Lou, I’m gonna come!”

Louis works quickly to tug the jersey off of Harry’s body, groaning loudly as his skin is bared. Greedily he admires the view of Harry’s lean back, the absurd way his waist curves in and how his ass sticks out. He bunches the fabric and presses it against Harry’s cock, encouraging him to rut into it.

“You can let go, baby.”

“I’m coming.”

“Let go,” Louis chides.

Harry slumps back onto him as he comes, moaning loudly as his orgasm shakes through him. The sounds of him; the vibration of his body and how he clenches his ass when he’s done makes Louis see stars as he shoots his load.

“Could go for that shower now,” Louis sighs.

“Wanna cuddle first.”

“Okay,” he whispers, helping Harry shift on his lap, “we can cuddle for a bit, baby.”

“Can’t wait for your game,” Harry mumbles. “Know you’ll be amazing.” 

“Thank you, baby.”

“Even if you don’t win, I’ll still be proud.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry smiles, pressing a kiss onto his damp skin. He inhales the scent appreciatively, “Don’t want you to shower.”

“You’re not gonna say that tomorrow when I wake up smelling.”

“No, I like this smell. Smells like you.”

“Okay,” he laughs, “you little freak. But I still need to shower.”

“Shame,” Harry mutters, eyes sweeping shut.

“Gonna nap, baby? Sweet dreams.” Louis pulls him in closer, dotting his forehead with kisses. He adores Harry’s jealous side, his quiet side, his anger and mischief. They’re all parts of Harry no one else can touch. And he knows that no matter what happens on Sunday, Harry will be there, hidden in plain sight, cheering him on. 

Notes:

Thanks for reading, this is my first time doing something like this.