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breach, slipping one finger inside. He works it in and out carefully,

licking at Harry‟s fingers in time, and watching Harry‟s other hand

clench and pull at the sheets.

“Fuck, Lou, you‟ve got to—you‟ve got to give me more than that,”

Harry says, his breath harsh. Louis lets his fingers fall from his mouth,

but covers Harry‟s hand with his own to hold it down.

“Is that so?” he says, and slips the second finger inside. He can see the

effect it has, can see Harry‟s dick twitch in response, and knows he

must want to touch himself, but Harry‟s free hand stays twisted in the

sheets and he knows it‟s because Harry‟s realised Louis wants it that

way.

Louis spreads his fingers slightly, starting to open Harry up, and

watches the shaky rise and fall of his ribcage. He can see every hitched

breath exposed there, every bitten-off gasp. Harry looks at him with

heavy-lidded eyes, waiting for Louis‟ next move, and spreads his legs

wider. Louis knows it‟s a ploy for more, but he‟ll be damned if he

doesn‟t fall for it.

He stops scissoring his fingers and pushes them in deep, sliding in past

the second knuckle. Crooking them, he starts drawing them back out,

and there. Harry‟s hips push jerkily back against his fingers, spasms

running through his thighs, and his face turns to the side, pressing into

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the bed. “Fuck, Lou,” he says, his eyes closed tightly now. “Again.”

His hand opens under Louis‟ and laces their fingers together.

Louis moves closer, settled on his knees between Harry‟s outspread

legs, one hand twined with Harry‟s and one hand working inside him.

He repeats his earlier movement, dragging his fingers across the same

spot, and watches rapt as the muscles in Harry‟s torso flutter and his

free hand goes white-knuckled in the bedclothes. Harry‟s so hard, God,

he‟s leaking against his own stomach. Louis feels an echoing ache just

looking at him, but he can‟t do anything about his own hard-on with

both his hands otherwise occupied.

He picks up a rhythm, his fingers moving back and forth smoothly, and

Harry‟s right there with him, his hips rocking to meet Louis‟ every

movement. Louis can tell he‟s hitting that spot in Harry every time by

the soft, desperate whine that starts coming from him when he exhales.

Louis doesn‟t think Harry even knows he‟s making a sound, too caught

up in pursuing whatever sensation he‟s feeling, whatever Louis‟ giving

him.

Harry‟s eyes slip open, staring Louis down. “Louis,” he says, his voice

tight, “Please, I can take more. Please.” Louis‟ fingers glide across that

spot again on the last word, turning it into a stifled shout.

“Hmm,” Louis says, considering the spectacle that Harry presents.

“No.”

“Fuck,” Harry practically spits, pushing down hard against Louis‟

fingers. “I do not know what I see in you, Jesus,” he says, panting, but

there‟s the shadow of a grin on his face. Louis smiles back, and twists

in a third finger without warning.

“Christ,” Harry cries, his back arching off the mattress. His arms jerk,

and his tight grip on Louis‟ hand nearly pulls Louis off-balance. He

slides back into the same rhythm as before, transfixed by the state

Harry is in, covered in a sheen of sweat, the flush that Louis has seen so

often in his cheeks having crept all the way down his chest. It‟s darkest

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on his cock, which lies wet and full against his stomach. Suddenly,

intimately, he feels like he can understand the impulse behind Harry‟s

need to photograph everything. He wants a record of this, wants to have

evidence of how Harry looked while Louis took him apart, how much

he loved it.

Louis doesn‟t want to stop teasing Harry, but that desire isn‟t strong

enough to keep him from touching him as much as he possibly can. He

bends over, sliding his knees back, and presses his mouth to the hollow

of Harry‟s hip in a wet kiss before sinking in his teeth. Harry lets out a

low groan, his left leg drawing up over Louis‟ shoulder. Louis soothes

the bitemark with the flat of his tongue, steadily ignoring the feel of

Harry‟s cock brushing against the side of his face and neck.

He looks up along the length of Harry‟s body, meeting his eyes, his

fingers still working inside him. “Tell me,” he says, surprised at the

hoarseness of his own voice, “Tell me what you‟re feeling.”

Harry draws in a gasping breath but doesn‟t break eye contact. “God,

Lou,” he says, squeezing hard with the hand Louis still has trapped

against his. “You feel—fuck, you make me feel so good, this feels so

good, please—”

Louis sucks hard on the bitemark again. “Please what,” he says,

breathless.

“Please,” Harry says in a ruined voice. “Please,” and Louis has to bury

his face against Harry‟s hip in the face of his open want.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, pressing one last kiss to the bruise forming

where he bit Harry.

He pulls his fingers out gently and lets go of Harry‟s hand. Harry

makes an unhappy sound at the loss, sliding his leg off Louis‟ shoulder.

Louis shushes him and reaches for the condoms, still on the bed where

he left them. His fingers are still slick, though, and he fumbles with the

package, unable to tear it open.

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“Here,” Harry says, sitting up slightly. He reaches out, and Louis hands

him the foil square. With his clean hands, Harry tears the package open.

He slips the condom out, and then reaches down between his legs,

grabbing Louis by the base. The contact is a shock; so focused on

Harry, Louis hadn‟t given much thought to his own state. He does his

best to keep his composure as Harry places the condom over the tip,

and then unrolls it in a single slick slide of his fist. Even through the

latex, the sudden sensation has Louis grasping at Harry‟s shoulder,

looking for balance.

Harry turns his head to nip lightly at Louis‟ arm, and then looks up at

him with a smile. “I‟d tell you to be gentle with me,” he says, wide-

eyed with false innocence, “But I think you‟d take me seriously.”

Louis knows a challenge when he sees one, and pushes Harry on his

back, laughing. He plants his hands firmly on either side of Harry‟s

head, looming above him. “One of us has to,” he says, leaning in to kiss

him, and God, the last time they kissed must have been only a few

minutes ago, but somehow Louis has managed to miss it already.

He makes himself pull away and sits back, pulling one of the pillows

with him. He pushes at Harry, getting him to lift his hips, and slips the

pillow underneath. “What a gentleman,” Harry murmurs as Louis grabs

the lube and slicks himself up one last time.

“If you say so,” Louis says, smiling, and lines himself up. He looks at

Harry carefully, and has his answer when Harry‟s legs lock behind him.

He pushes in slow, watching Harry‟s face and holding fast to his hips.

It‟s almost too much, the feel of Harry tight around him and the look on

his face, eyes closed and teeth biting down on his lower lip. Louis is

almost halfway inside when Harry lets out a broken noise.

Louis freezes. “Okay?” he asks, his thumb stroking over Harry‟s

hipbone.

“Better than,” Harry says, his eyes still closed. “Keep going.”

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“Good,” Louis says, and reaches out to wrap a hand around Harry‟s

cock as he pushes the rest of the way inside.

Harry‟s eyes fly open at that, ribcage heaving. Louis keeps stroking

him, twisting at the end the way he‟s learned Harry likes, and pulls out

slightly, his own breath coming short at the hot drag of it. He wants to

wind Harry up some more, wants to bring him to the edge, because he

knows he won‟t be able to last long like this.

It seems that Harry has other plans, though. He bats Louis‟ hand away

from him and reaches up to Louis‟ shoulders, pulling him down into a

kiss that‟s all teeth and tongues. Harry‟s arms twine around Louis‟ neck

and his legs tighten around his waist, pulling Louis in deep.

Wrapped up in Harry, Louis has to break the kiss and take a couple of

deep gasping breaths. He‟s braced above Harry, but his arms are

shaking, and he drops down onto his forearms and buries his face in

Harry‟s neck. He tries to regroup, but it‟s difficult to focus when

there‟s so much of Harry everywhere. Louis noses up under his jaw,

pressing light kisses to the skin there. Harry sighs happily, his hands

dragging down Louis‟ back in a soothing motion.

Louis pulls himself together, lifting his head to slot his lips over

Harry‟s again, and works to find the rhythm his hand had made earlier.

As his thrusts pick up speed, Harry‟s fingers dig into his back, and

Louis starts swallowing the small noises that escape him. He can feel

the head of Harry‟s cock rubbing wetly against his stomach, and the

idea that this is working, that he gets to feel this good and make Harry

feel good at the same time, nearly undoes him.

It‟s Harry who breaks the kiss this time, his head falling back. “Fuck,

Lou, you‟re going to kill me if you keep this up,” he says, voice

rasping. Louis shifts one of his hands and runs a thumb down the line

of Harry‟s throat mindlessly.

“If it‟s any comfort,” he says, hissing as his thrust drives Harry further

into the mattress, “I‟m not sure I can. Keep it up, that is.”

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Harry just grins shakily, his nails scratching up Louis‟ back. “Oh, you

mean this,” he says, tightening around Louis, “Is more than you can

handle?” Louis lets out a noise that he‟ll find time to be embarrassed

about later and mouths at Harry‟s jaw.

“Jesus, Hazza, I‟m going to come if you do that,” he half-whispers. He

pulls out slightly before pushing back in, living for the way it makes

Harry‟s eyes roll back.

“So come,” Harry says.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “No, I can go longer.”

“Lou.” Harry is insistent. “D‟you want me—I‟m going to tell you what

I‟m feeling, like before, okay?”

The way Louis shudders is all the answer he needs. Harry leans up and

presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and even with eyes closed

Louis can feel the smile there. Then Harry falls back against the bed,

and the words start coming out.

“Fuck, Lou, I love this, I love having you inside me. I love the, the

stretch and the fullness of it, I love knowing I‟m still going to feel you

inside me tomorrow when I‟m running drills at practice, fuck,” he

catches his breath as Louis thrusts hard. “God, I love being able to feel

how much you want me.”

Louis hears the desperate sound coming from him before he realises

he‟s making it. He‟s glad he‟s got his eyes closed, because being able

to watch these words leave Harry‟s mouth as he said them would

probably send him to an early grave.

“God, this really gets to you, doesn‟t it?” Harry asks, and Louis feels

fingers stroking lightly over his face, dragging across his mouth. “I love

seeing you like this, all torn up, Jesus, Lou, you should see yourself.

Please, I want you to come, I want to watch you come, you‟re so

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gorgeous when you do. I want you to come inside me, I want to hold

you through it, please, Lou—”

And that‟s it. Louis‟ orgasm hits him like a truck, and he sees stars.

Harry, true to his word, keeps hold of him as he shakes through it.

When he pulls himself together, Harry is looking at him with an

expression that Louis can only describe as self-satisfied affection.

“I‟ve got you,” he says, and he‟s not even wrong, the bastard.

Louis sits back his haunches and pulls out as gently as he can. Harry

winces at the emptiness, his arms stretched lazily above his head, and

he‟s such a picture that Louis can‟t fucking stand it. He slides back on

his knees, getting a good look at him. Then he bends over and, in one

fluid movement, pushes four fingers inside Harry while sucking his

cock into his mouth.

Harry‟s hips buck up, out of control, and Louis holds them down firmly

with his free hand. There aren‟t any words coming from Harry now,

only high-pitched noises that get louder every time Louis‟ fingers push

inside him. Louis doesn‟t bother trying to deepthroat, just sucks hard

and wet on the head of Harry‟s cock, loving the weight of him on his

tongue. It‟s almost as good as the way Harry feels around his fingers,

hot and open and willing.

Harry tugs on his hair in a universal signal, but Louis just pushes in

deeper, just slides his mouth farther down Harry. Harry‟s hand slips