I Think It's Strange That You Think I'm Funny

Rating: NC/17

Word count: 6k

A/N: I do not own One Direction (bc if I did, why would I be writing about it when I can watch irl lol) and I am not making any profit from this. Enjoy .x

He’s already somewhat drunk when he sees him. Beautiful, he thinks. Light brown swishy hair, delicious thighs, and a lovely bum to match—he’s got his eyes set.

The club lights pulse in front of his eyes as he staggers his way to the boy. The drink in his hand threatens to spill over, and when he’s only a couple of people away, he knocks it all back, tosses the cheap plastic cup somewhere to the left, and saunters his way up to him.

He was talking to another bloke, some tall, dark-skinned guy with a spectacular quiff (Harry wonders if it feels heavy on his head) when he spots him also. The boy says something, and then quickly shoves quiff-man away from him, carding his fingers through his hair and tilting his head towards Harry.

For a split second, they both eye each other, but then feather-haired grins.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” says Harry. He eyes the boy up and down—damn those thighs—and then with a jolt remembers his manners.

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles.” He throws him a toothpaste-ad worthy grin, flashy his pearly whites that he hopes aren’t stained by the shots of tequila.

“Louis,” the boy replies with an equally cheeky grin. Up close, Harry sees he has stunning blue eyes not yet dulled by the weak club lights. If anything, they look brighter in comparison, the gaze catching 

onto his irises and making them look bigger, endless, like oceans of blue Harry could dive into and drown in.

Harry blinks as a hand is waved in front of his face, then blinks again. 

“You were staring,” the boy—Louis—says, now with a full, megawatt smile to accompany it. “I guess I do tend to have that affect on people.”

He had no idea. “Nah,” says Harry. Lier, his brain whispers. “I was just post-starstruck from your friend’s skyscraper hair.”

Louis laughs, a bright, loud sound that’s music to Harry’s ears. Were boys like these common to come upon on earth? Harry doubted it.

“You mean Zayn? Yeah, he probably has enough gel in that thing of his that I bet it would shatter if I threw a brick at it.”

They both giggle, Harry albiet a bit drunkenly. He decides he’s not nearly woozy enough to try and pull this gorgeous stranger.

He nods at Louis’ drink in his hands. “What is that?”

Louis grins, “Blue-rasberry vodka with lemonade,” and tips some of it back. Harry admires the stretch of his smooth throat, the expanse of skin, and the gentle bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Harry gestures at his drink. “Mind if I try?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never let a stranger steal any before upon meeting him,” Louis hums.

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, Harry quickly presses a close-mouthed kiss to each corner of Louis’ mouth, then draws away, grinning widely down at him.

Louis blinked, and then laughs, handing over his drink to Harry. “You’re quite something, aren’t you?”

“I guess I do tend to have that affect on people.” Harry smacks his lips. “That was actually quite good.” He steals another sip from the glass.

When he turns back to Louis, who has his eyebrows raised and a smile playing at his lips, he winks. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Louis giggles. Harry almost forgot why he was there in the first place, too occupied with admiring this gorgeous creature to remember his epic plan of seduction in the first place.

He slips his hand into the small of Louis’ back. “Care to dance?”

Louis gracefully takes his hand. “Of course good sir, lead the way.” He grins at Harry under his lashes.

Harry pulls both of them into the center of the dance floor, in the midst of the sweaty, grinding mass of couples, and then places his hands on Louis’ hips. Normally, he’s not this forward or touchy-feely with someone he just met, but tonight, he’s too drunk and happy to care and Louis is too pretty to keep his hands off of.

Louis turns around, sliding Harry’s hands in his until they’re relocated at his waist, and winds his fingers up, up, up through Harry’s neck into his mass of curls.

Harry slowly grinds his hips into Louis’ ass—oh, fuck, it’s plush and swell and soft and—Harry’s gonna get hard if he thinks about it more.

He grips Louis’ hips tighter and rubs against them harder, rougher, until he feels Louis pushing his bum into his crotch and twisting his hair around his fingers and fuck, his pants feel a little tight south and that’s just embarrassing, getting hard after a bit of grinding.

Louis rubs against his crotch harder, up and down and in tight circles and fuck, that ass of his, and yes, Louis is pulling harder at his hair and it’s all too much and Harry moans softly and digs his fingers in his hips and leans down to whisper into his ear, “Want to come home with me?”

He feels Louis shiver, which makes him grin in spite of himself—hey, at least he’s not the only one turned on—and slowly nod, the wispy hair on his head tickling his cheek.

Harry hazily remembers to text Liam and Niall to tell them where he went (although he doubts they care, probably to wrapped up with each other to notice, or care) and tugs Louis by elbow outside the club into the street, where he quickly flags down a cab and pushes Louis inside. He rattles off his address to the driver, and then turns his attention to Louis, who started kissing down his neck, into his collarbones that his tight black v-neck shows off. His lips are soft, and thin, and Harry doesn’t think twice before lightly tugging him up to his face and covers his lips with his own. They taste like blue raspberry and Harry can’t get enough of it and licks deeper into him, tasting more alcohol and something also distinctly different, something more him. It’s addictive, whatever it is, and he wants more.

Before he knows it, the driver is tersely coughing at the pair of them because yesyesyes they’ve arrived at his flat thank god and he pulls a twenty out of his pocket and throws it at the front seat, not bothering to get the change before pulling Louis out of the taxi and through the front door his flat.

Louis stumbles through the door, panting lightly and kicking his shoes off, a sigh escaping his slightly swollen lips, as he glances around the tiny, but obviously lived in, home. Harry is hit by a sudden need to have him make that save groan except panting and sweating under him as he fucks into that delicious arse and Louis suddenly finds himself slammed against a wall with Harry crammed between his thighs and sucking at his lower lip and holy shit Harry’s talented with his hands. Louis groans and pushed down into Harry’s hands as they knead and work his ass while he nibbles on his lip and Louis feels dazed. This sexy boy that appeared out of nowhere next to him, with his tousled hair and tall stature, sure knows how to make Louis feel as if he would slide down the wall, unable to support himself, if he wasn’t gripping him by the ass and fuck does it feel good.

“Bed?” He feels, rather than hears, Harry murmur into his ear, licking into it after. Louis shivers then nods, dizzy with alcohol and lust and the feeling of the thin material of his tight pants against his dick making him light-headed. Harry lifts him up, and after walking it seems ten steps, tosses him onto a small bed before tugging himself out of his pants.

The rest of the night is a haze of sweaty skin on skin and the whimpers and moans of heat coursing through their veins as they bring each other closer to ecstasy, Louis being pounded into as Harry ruts into him and curls his hand around his cock, finishing the same time as each other and drifting off to sleep in the hot mixture of sweat, lube, and come on Harry’s sheets.

-

When Louis wakes up, it’s hard to tell what hurts more at first, his head or his bum. This is not good. He’s supposed to be recording the last of his album and be making his way to France this weekend, not being stuck in London because the goddamn plane was delayed for three more fucking days and spending his night picking up pretty boys at clubs.

Before he can figure out where the hell he is, because the pillow he’s grasping is much too soft to be Zayn’s, a face floats in front of his unfocused eyes.

“Good morning!” Harry chirps. For someone that drank more than he did, he looks unusually chipper. Did last night even affect him at all?

“Not really,” Louis grumbles. This just makes Harry’s grin stretch wider. “Why does my bum hurt so much?”

“Well, you were a rather flexible bottom,” Harry winks. Louis groans. “I’m usually top.”

“Maybe next time.” Harry winks again, then jumps up and wanders to the kitchen, where he starts banging pots and pans that rattle Louis’ hangover-addled brain.

Louis rolls his eyes. “We’ll see.” He glances at his watch, then looks around Harry’s room—or rather, the entire flat, because the living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all crammed into a tiny space smaller than Louis’ recording studio. “What’s with all the paint on the walls? Did you do that kinky shit with another one of your playmates?”

Harry snorted. “Nah, I paint for a the local art gallery. My paintings are sitting about three feet away from your head, actually, if you wanna take a look.” His tone was strangely hopeful yet hesitant.

Louis craned his neck, and sure enough, leaning against the wall were a bundle of canvases that gave off a faint smell of chemicals. “Look at that, another artsy guy wandering the solemn streets of London.”

Harry smiled another one of his quirky smiles. “Another?”

“Yeah, I’m a singer and songwriter, but don’t expect me to tell a lot of people that because it makes me look like a twat.”

“I don’t think you’re a twat.”

That last bit came out a bit rushed, and Louis raised his eyebrows at the blushing boy.

“I—I mean, I didn’t, well—uh—breakfast is ready!” Harry swooped down upon him and dropped a plate crammed with bacon, french toast, and mini-muffins (which Louis found adorable) into his lap. 

“Uh, well, it’s kinda already one o’clock in the afternoon cause we both overslept, so count this as a brunch, I suppose?” Harry shrugged.

It smelled godly.

Although the breakfast was one of the sweetest things any guy had done for him after a hectic night (his other one night stands preferred kicking him out after they finished and slamming the door in his face) Louis found it surprising. They only met each other last night, yet they’re this comfortable with each other already. Huh. Maybe it’s fate.

For some reason, Louis felt like he also could trust Harry, so he didn’t feel regretful when he asked, “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

Harry looked up with his mouth full of egg, swallowing a large lump down his throat before replying, “I dunno. Paint, probably. Read. Go to the park. Drink. Paint some more. Why?”

Louis shyly asked, “Then is it all right if I stay with you, then? I don’t really have anything planned, and you seem all right.” He grinned.

Harry grinned back. “Sure! I’ll take you to my favorite tea place down the road, they make excellent Yorkshire.”

“Excellent, let me just get a bag from my place, I’ll be right back.”

-

A few hours and two blowjobs later, dressed in slightly wrinkled clothes that spend the night smushed in his travel bag, Louis found himself propped on a stool on the counter of a hole-in-the-wall tea shop Harry insisted was popular with the residents. Harry plopped down beside him and slid him a steaming, slightly chipped mug of tea, which Louis took gratefully. It did wonders to his hangover.

Harry looked, if possible, even more gorgeous than last night. Were hangovers possible to this boy? Louis doubted.

“How’s the tea?”

“Fantastic, thanks, love. What did you get?”

“Coffee.”

Louis wrinkled his eyebrows. “Those taste like shit. Edward Cullen shit. What the heck, mate?”

“I like it! It tastes like yummy hazelnut.” Harry tore open three packets of sugar and dumped them into the cup and took a sip. “Ah. Better.”

“At this rate, your little teethies will rot out by the root, and all that’s left of you will be a mess of black gums and curls.”

“My curls are brown, thank you very much.”

“Not those, idiot, your gums.”

Harry flicked sugar at Louis. Louis laughed. He tipped back the rest of his tea—it was delicious, far better than the bags he made in the studio—and stood up. Alarmingly, the sun was already a little under overhead.

“Harry, you’re from here, right?”

“Lived in London all my life.”

“Well, would you care to show me around? I’m a foreigner here, see, so I’ll have to rely on your curls to point me the way.”

“Really? What were doing here, then?”

“Come on, I’ll tell you as we walk.”

-

Harry ended up spending the rest of the day pointing out sights like the Big Ben clock, the archway, and the bridge, all of which Louis squealed excitedly about and took pictures of with a cheap Polaroid camera he bought off a vendor on the streets. He learned that Louis, the oldest of five kids, the rest of them girls, was fiercely protective of his family, and that was how he rose to prominence, through his determination and stubbornness to support them. He was a singer and a pianist, and was noticed by Simon Cowell at one of the larger gigs he played in the UK, who immediately signed him on when he told him he was willing to work for lower pay than the rest. 

He learned that lyrics sometimes struck Louis, quite literally, out of the blue; when they were walking, when they were eating ice cream, or when they were on a boat squeezed beside 50 other passengers. He would quickly jot them down on his phone and hum a little tune, then turn to Harry with a cheerful expression and a “what?”, who would restate what he was saying again, just to see the crinkles by Louis’ eyes as he smiled again. He learned that Louis loved to smile because it made other people around him happy, although he never outright stated it; Harry could tell. 

He could also tell that Louis was not happy. When he thought Harry wasn’t looking, or whenever his phone lit up with a name Harry couldn’t quite see, he would let out a puff of air through his nose and his eyes, his blue, blue eyes, would dull a little. Harry hated seeing him like this. They’d known each other for less than 24 hours, yet Harry felt completely comfortable with this almost-stranger.

Who he was shagging.

Funny, isn’t it time to get back to the flat before it gets too dark?

“Hey Lou, d’you wanna go back to my place before it gets dark?” 

The nickname slipped out before he could help it (and he could tell Louis noticed by the way his ears twitched and his eyebrows raised a hair taller), but before Harry could dwell on it any longer, Louis replied “Sure. As long as you’re making me dinner.”

“What do you want? Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nah, I’m starved. Let’s go.”

-

After a delicious dinner of spaghetti and meatballs (Louis claimed he couldn’t let him go now because he made such a good housewife in the kitchen; Harry kicked him), an outrageous three rounds of hot sex, and shower groping, Louis was lying on top of Harry with his face in his curls, breathing in the sweet smell of apple and tangerine shampoo before a thought struck him.

He lept out of bed (he was surprised he even had the energy to get up off Harry, who was like an extra-fluffy Build-A-Bear stuffed animal) and tore through his bag before finding his phone. Harry lifted half an eyelid. “What.”

“Nothing, nothing, go back to sleep Harold, just thought of something.”

“Which is what?”

“Nothing, just…some lyrics. And my schedule,” Louis hummed.

“Well, your arse is more important to me than your schedule, so bloody get back in bed. I’m cold.”

Louis hopped into bed and wiggled around to face Harry.

Well, fuck.

Louis doesn’t think he ever really appreciated how beautiful this boy was. Inside and out. When they were open, his eyes were a pure, sparkling green, crystal clear, framed by long, thick lashes that curled slightly at the ends. Up close, Louis could see the little heart-shaped freckles that dotted across his nose on both cheeks, and the prominent cut of his Cupid’s bow.

He leaned in and licked at it, feeling the edge of his lip and the softness of his skin. Harry stirred.

A hand swatted at Louis’ hair.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

Louis did.

-

“What do you want to do today?”

Louis was feeling full and happy, something he hasn’t for a long time. Harry made him breakfast again, and they spent most of their morning together on his couch, switching between lazily snogging or tickling each other.

“I think I might start a new drawing today. I haven’t sketched anything in a while, I probably should…for the sake of my rent.” Harry poked at Louis’ tummy.

“You can draw my dick.”

“Nah, I’d get too distracted.” Harry winked, and poked at his little roll again. It was adorable.

“Well, stop messing with my stomach fat then! I can see how you’re easily distracted.”

“It’s not fat, it’s…cute. Like you’re still a kid.” Harry giggled.

“I am a kid, thank you very much. Twenteen years young, s’matter of fact.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you. Now shoo. Go work on your artistic artsy shit, ‘cause I feel bad distracting you from a day of progress. I’ll finish your hoard of cereal while you’re at it.”

“And you say you don’t have tummy fat?”

“You twat! Go away, don’t make me cry into my bowl of Tac-o’s. And who the fuck invented these anyway? No homo sapien would ever dream of cheerios that taste li-“

“Ok, ok, didn’t you say you were gonna leave me alone?”

“That I was, before your weird cereal caught my attention.”

Harry stayed silent as he crossed the room to gather his art supplies, in which Louis turned his attention back to the television.

Harry sat across from Louis on the big armchair, tapping his charcoal pencil against his paper, silently studying Louis’ profile as the mute television lights flickered on his face.

He didn’t think Louis truly knows how gorgeous he is. He’s all sharp edges and pointy lines, the dramatic cut of his chin and cheekbones, the soft swish of his wispy hair he likes to flip over his head. 

Harry thinks that he’s never seen anyone have more beautiful eyes than Louis. He could stare into them forever. Surrounded by thick, dark lashes that throw off light whenever he blinks, the dark, stormy blue is so breathtakingly rich he doesn’t think he could ever paint that color, not even from mixing hundreds and hundreds of shades of cerulean to achieve the right shade. He has a smooth, long neck, tapered by sharp collarbones and tan skin and Harry remembers tracing patterns in his skin over and over when Louis was sleeping the night before and Harry doesn’t think he gets appreciated enough.

He raises his pencil and makes the first mark, a loud sound in the living room of the mute television. Louis looks over, raising his eyebrows.

“What’re you drawing?”

Harry didn’t answer, busy shaping the contour of his cheekbones to answer. Louis tried again.

“Harry, what do you draw?”

Harry made a tiny hmmph noise out his nose. Louis didn’t bother asking again. Those artsy types. 

It had been ten minutes by the time Harry spoke again.

“I…” Harry mumbled something.

“What?”

“I draw…many things. Beautiful things.” He looked at Louis when he said that, then ducked his head into his lap again.

Louis felt his cheeks color slightly. What did he mean by that?

Another solid ten minutes of silence passed, occasionally punctured by the scratching of Harry’s pencil on paper. Louis typed up some more lyric ideas on his phone. He started humming again. He had an idea for a song, but he wasn’t sure how good it was. Ah, well. Time to find something else to do.

“I’m bored,” he said. 

“And horny.”

“Well, I’m not, and that’s nice.”

“What should I do?”

“Whatever you want to.” 

Louis wiggled out of his seat and crawled over to Harry. He grabbed the hastily flipped over paper and tossed it to the ground, ignoring the “Hey!”, and settled himself in Harry’s lap. It was a very nice lap. Warm and solid and smelling of Harry. Yay, he could get used to this.

“I want you to entertain me,” he whispered into his ear.

He shifted around in his lap until he was comfortable, knees drifting on either side of his thighs.

Harry gulped. “H-How do you want me to?”

Louis pushed his crotch onto his and rubbed up, down, up and down and yes he was getting hard and so was he and this is exactly what he wanted.

“Babe, I’ve gotta a sketch to finish, so—”

“Pleeease Harry? Let me finish you…”

Harry swallowed hard. He needed to concentrate on his picture.

“I—I don’t th-shit,” Louis had rubbed his palm over his bulge and fuck, he didn’t have the willpower to do this.

Louis started sliding down Harry’s sweatpants from his legs. He giggled. “Seems like you’re easily corrupted, eh?”

“How very dare you, I am the purest form of al-” he choked on his sentence when he felt Louis’ hand curl around his cock, and that was that.

-

Harry lay in bed, waiting for Louis to come out of the shower to cuddle with him. It’s strange, to think he’s only known this boy for a few days. It feels like so much longer.

He can hear Louis singing from here. Even his voice is angelic. It’s soft and raspy and sweet, slightly higher than his own. He can definitely imagine him in a recording studio. Harry’s sure he would be a proper popstar someday. He’s talented enough.

His thoughts are punctuated when Louis slips out the door and climbs into bed to rest beside Harry.

Even though they didn’t do much today (mutual handjobs were it before Louis claimed he wanted to work on lyrics that he still wouldn’t show Harry) Louis seemed so tired.

No.

It wasn’t fatigue.

It looked more like sadness etched on his face than exhaustion.

He buries his head into Harry’s shoulder, breathing in the sweet smell of boy from his pale skin.

He’s going to miss Harry so much.

“Harry…would you miss me?”

“Why would I miss you?” Harry smiled at him. “You’re right here.”

“I know, but…I don’t belong here.”

“What?”

“I…you know how my debut album is supposed to be out soon?”

“Yeah?”

Louis voice is much quieter now.

“I haven’t finished it.”

“Don’t worry love, I’m sure you will soon.” Harry smooths his hand through his soft hair.

“But, that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“What is it?”

Louis sighs. He sounds hesitant.

“I’m leaving for France tomorrow. I have to record the rest of what I’ve got.”

Harry’s eyes widen. What? He’s leaving? Already? They only got the weekend to spend with each other.

It went by too soon.

“Are…are you sure?”

“Positive, Harry.”

“Why so soon?”

“I…I don’t want to, Harry, I’d rather spend time with you,” Louis kisses Harry on the jaw, “but I have obligations.”

“Will I see you again?”

Louis stays silent. Harry feels his eyes go slightly teary.

“L-Louis?”

Louis shushes him and presses his lips to his to keep him silent. His lips are so, so soft, and warm, and just the right shape to fit his so they slot perfectly together.

After a few minutes of silent kissing, Louis says quietly, “I don’t think so.”

Harry’s eyes well up. Here, he had this beautiful boy in his hands, funny, sweet, everything he ever wanted for in a boyfriend, and he was going to leave the very next day. In a few hours, matter of fact.

Harry couldn’t face that without breaking up inside.

Louis must’ve seen something in his face because he slides both his hands up to cup at Harry’s cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks with his thumbs. “Shh, beautiful, it was fun while it lasted, right?”

It wasn’t the sex that Harry was going to miss.

It was Louis.

Harry was sure that give or take some more time, spending it like they did these past few days, and he’s sure he would’ve been in love with him.

His love.

His first love. That was leaving him.

Harry couldn’t do this.

His lip quivered and he hiccuped, sniffing softly while Louis kept cooing at him that oh, he was lovely and oh, they can still keep in touch, and nonono never, he wouldn’t forget this boy. But Harry knew he would. Louis had a whole future in front of him, and Harry wouldn’t stop him from pursuing his dreams.

He would have to take the most of it while it lasted.

He rolled Louis over, ignoring the little “oof” Louis let out, and kissed him, taking his time to trace the shape of his lips over and over until he memorized the exact angle of his Cupid’s bow, and slowly started making his way down. He nibbled on the joint of where his neck met his shoulder, taking time to suck at Louis’ pressure points and lick them over and over until there were red and purple marks blossoming under his skin. Satisfied, he kissed down his chest, downdowndown past the tummy roll he loved so much, and stopped at his cock. He kissed the head lightly once, before moving to his inner thighs, which he knew were super sensitive.

Taking his time, ignoring the steadily hardening dick next to him, he kissed and bit and nibbled at the flesh repeatedly until there was a row of angry red marks down the inside, and then switched over to the other leg and gave it the same treatment. By now, Louis was fully hard and whimpering, biting his lip to keep the noises in, trying not to move but nudging the side of Harry’s face with his cock to try and bring his attention to it.

Harry kissed the inside of his thigh once more, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his dick, collecting the pre-come that dribbled out before slowing moving downward. He went past the base, past his balls and Louis wondered where he was going before—ohhh. Harry licked over his hole and sucked at the rim and nibbled the ring a little before pointing his tongue and pressing forward and god, Louis was going to explode. That hot, wet muscle inside of him, setting every nerve inside of him on fire until he was gasping and wriggling around the bed, but he couldn’t move because Harry’s hands were holding down his hips and he was still licking into hit, face smeared with his own saliva and fuck, Louis was going to come if he didn’t stop.

Harry must’ve noticed his quivering state because he smirked into his licked out hole before pressing one more kiss to it and leaning up to kiss Louis on the lips. He tasted himself and he moaned into his mouth because fuck, that was hot and he was so preoccupied with sucking his tongue that he didn’t notice his finger slowly dipping into his wet entrance until it pushed past the knuckle and holy fucking shit he felt like he was on fire. He gasped into Harry’s mouth and rocked back onto his finger, murmuring “please, please, more, I can take it, please-” until he felt another push in with the first. Harry spread his fingers wide open, smoothing across his walls until he brushed pass a fleshy mound his nail poked at and that was when Louis broke, biting on his bottom lip and pushing down onto the fingers, moaning and gasping with pleas of “more, more, oh fuck, please Harry” and Harry squeezed another digit into him, curling and scissoring until Louis was fucking himself on Harry’s hand, moaning and red-faced and god, Harry didn’t want him to come like this before he was in him but he loved this Louis so much, so he pressed a quick kiss to Louis’ panting mouth, slipping his fingers out and leaned over to the bedside cabinet where he fished around for lube and a condom. 

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself shoved onto his back as a hand snatched the items out his hands and tore the package open. Harry didn’t realize how hard he was until Louis rolled the condom on him and squirted lube on his length, rubbing it up and down and in his own hole and fuck, that was hot. A second later, Louis was kissing him and he slowly sank down on his length. Harry clutched his hips, moaning into his mouth at the feel of him because holy shit, he was tight and Louis was gasping into his and Harry penetrated him, opening him up slowly.

“Okay?” Harry whispered. Louis whimpered and nodded and grabbed Harry’s biceps and slowly twisted around and Harry was going to come embarrassingly early in Louis’ tight, tight walls because no one had ever felt as great as Louis.

Louis slowly gathered speed, lifting himself up and pressing back down, pushing Harry’s dick deep, deeper inside him and then lifting his hips almost all the way off before slamming down on Harry. 

Harry whimpered and gasped, “ah, ah, ah” as he took his dick over and over and over until Harry couldn’t hold back and came inside of him, but Louis didn’t stop there. He felt his softening prick inside him and fuck that felt good and sank down one last time before squirting his come all over Harry’s broad chest and even catching some on his chin.

They spent the rest of the night making love to each other, until finally, Louis was so exhausted he felt himself drifting off as Harry gently wipes him off, and he wasn’t sure but he thinks he hears a soft “I love you” whispered into his hair before sleep takes over him, and Louis thinks no more.

-

Harry blinks as the bright sunlight hits him in the eye. 

He yawns, and then rolls over, intending to take Louis into his again and cuddle his warm body and-

Wait.

What?

It’s…empty.

What?

Harry blinks again, and rubs at his eyes before looking at the left side of the bed.

Nothing.

Where could he have gone?

He sat up, wincing as his sore back muscles popped when he spots a cup of tea that he certainly didn’t put there sitting on top of a bright yellow post-it note.

Louis.

He’s much more awake now.

He grabs the cup of tea, already gone cold, and moves it aside before snatching the note and holding it up to read.

Dear Harry,

My train is at 8:00, so I’ll be long gone by the time you wake up. It was really fun being with you, I enjoyed it so much. You’re a lovely lad, and I can’t thank you enough for one of the best weekends of my life.

Although you don’t have to, in case you want to, here’s my phone number on the back to keep in touch. You don’t have to. But anytime you want to talk or something, I’ll be here.

I think I’m running out of room, but I really hate goodbyes, so…see you later?

Love, Louis xx

Harry frantically checked his watch. It was 7:42. Shit, Louis was leaving soon. He didn’t think twice before shoving the note in his pocket and grabbing his shoes and car keys and, after thinking about it, his drawing of him.

He was going to the train station, and he would be damned if he didn’t see his face one last time.

-

The steam of was already billowing out of the engine of the train when Harry pulled up at the station. Throwing his door open, he raced to the platform, shoving aside people and suitcases and dodging through crowds, searching for a last glimpse of that caramel-colored hair, praying he hadn’t gotten on already.

Then he heard his name.

“Harry!”

And he turned around, seeing a shock of wispy brown before it slammed into him, hugging him tightly, and god, Harry could stay like this forever if he had the choice.

“Louis, Louis I—”

“Harry, I made you something in case you were still going to be here, to remember me by I guess, I didn’t expect you to but thank fuck, you’re so wonderful, I—”

“Louis,” Harry was crying now, “here,” he pressed his sketch of his face into his hands, fumbling with the thin package Louis handed him, and he pushed it into his pocked and squeezed Louis tighter, holding him against his body to capture a last feel of the boy that stole a part of his heart. 

Louis wiped some of Harry’s tears off his cheeks, he noticed the other boy is also crying, but he’s smiling too, and god, his heart clenched at the thought of him leaving him.

The train whistle sounds through the station one last time, and oh no oh no, Louis has to go now, and he’s pressing one last kiss to Harry’s lips before racing to the last open door, clutching Harry’s paper in his hands tightly.

Tears are still streaming down Harry’s face, and when he sees Louis’ face through the glass window looking back at him, he mouths a silent “I love you” to his moving form.

A split second passes before Louis’ lips move and say “I love you” back to him when the train pulls out of the station completely, and Harry is left standing there alone.

-

He feels numb.

Not sad or empty, just…numb.

Nothing.

He drives slowly back to his own flat, slowly, too delay going back to all the memories of Louis still lingering there, but when he arrives at the front door, he keeps his tears in until he’s on his bed, the bed they made love in less than 12 hours ago, fumbling with the package’s clumsy wrapping before slipping out a cd.

A cd…

Harry stumbles to his living room to slide the cd into his laptop and clicks the file on his screen and a few seconds later, he hears a melodic voice floating out of the speakers, singing softly to him.

To him.

Louis made this just for him.

He’s singing solo, fumbling with a few of the lyrics but managing a steady tone all the way through.

Harry thinks it’s the most amazing song he’s ever heard.

He listens to it again, and he realizes he recognizes some of the lyrics—they were what Louis was working on all those random times he dove for his phone, and he feels blessed to hear this before the rest of the world did.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel the same way again.

Harry wipes at his eyes one last time and pulls out the sticky note, the last thing Louis left a piece of himself in.

He does tend to have that affect on people, doesn’t he.

At least they didn’t say goodbye.

Come Undone With My Fingers

Title: Come Undone With My Fingers
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: Mature
Summary: Louis is desperate and wakes Harry up. Or in which Louis fingers Harry until he comes.
AN: so this is obviously my first entry! Feeling nervous haha. Hope you enjoy it (: there’s no actual smut, just fingering.

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