i 0d2125e00f277ca8 (64 page)

relaxes around him, dropping his head against the ground and closing

his eyes as he focuses on the feeling. It feels good, this part, always

does, half the feeling of Harry stroking him open and half the feeling of

what‟s to come, the anticipation of the way Harry‟s going to fuck him.

They‟ve done this so many times that Harry starts finding his prostate

almost immediately after he works a second finger in. The slow, steady

rhythm he picks up has Louis‟ fingers fisting in the fabric underneath

him of their own accord, his face twisting to the side as his hips rock

back against Harry‟s hand. “You wanna know how you feel, Lou?”

Harry says quietly, and normally all Louis wants is to hear Harry sing

431

his praises, begs him to talk to him in that voice all sticky-slow, but it‟s

not what he wants tonight.

“No,” he says, and he can feel Harry‟s hand falter, but he keeps his

eyes closed. “Just... can you just touch me?” he says softly, screwing

his eyes shut even tighter. “I just want you to touch me.”

Harry‟s other hand falls to his waist, not stilling him, fingertips just

pressing lightly into the soft flesh there. “Don‟t touch yourself, then,”

he says, his voice low, and then goes quiet. Louis shakes his head in

agreement. As much as his cock needs attention, he doesn‟t want to

come too soon, and with the unrelenting way Harry is fucking him with

his fingers he‟s already too close to the edge.

Stretching him further, Harry adds a third finger and another drizzle of

lube, gliding back inside to pick up his rhythm again. Louis can barely

stay ahead of it, no time to recover from one white-hot push against his

prostate before the next one comes, but he still arches back against it,

his body wanting as much as it can even while his brain starts to short-

circuit. Harry is fucking merciless, apparently making up for not being

able to talk by trying to fuck Louis to death. Louis throws an arm over

his own face, muffling the weak moans he can hear coming from his

mouth.

“God, look at you,” Harry says, and Louis can‟t see him but he can

imagine his face, knows what that growling tone means. He can‟t even

be bothered to be annoyed that Harry couldn‟t manage to be quiet for

five minutes, can‟t spare the brain cells. “You were made for this, you

know that?” Harry continues, twisting his fingers in wickedly on the

next thrust.

“Oh God oh God oh God,” Louis lets out in a rush, his legs shaking as

he pushes back even harder on Harry‟s fingers, desperate for the

lightning it sends through him, for the way it has his cock heavy and

full.

432

“Could you come like this?” Harry asks, voice still harsh. Louis feels

him lean forward, his hand leaving his waist, and gasps when Harry‟s

thumb presses hard into the bruise on his throat. His eyes fly open to

meet Harry‟s. “You could, couldn‟t you? God, look at how much you

fucking love it,” Harry says, his fingers still driving in, Louis‟ eyes

rolling back a little every time. “M‟gonna make you come like this.”

His pace doesn‟t let up for a second, playing Louis‟ body like an

instrument. Maybe Louis should resent the loss of control, but his brain

is still stuck on oh God oh God oh God from earlier and hasn‟t yet

found anything more worth thinking, aside from maybe Harry Harry

Harry. He didn‟t want to come earlier, but he needs too, now, needs it

like he needs to breathe. Harry slides his free hand down Louis‟ chest,

nails dragging, and only pauses to pinch one of his nipples hard enough

to make Louis whine. Taking in his reaction, Harry does it again, and

Louis can feel a familiar tension gathering. He chases it, grinding down

hard on Harry, and God God yes yes Harry please Harry God—

He spills all over his own stomach, the muscles there quivering

uncontrollably. When he blinks back to himself, Harry is pressing

kisses down his sternum, his fingers still inside him but unmoving.

“Fucking amazing, amazing, Lou, God, I—” and then he reaches

Louis‟ stomach and licks at the mess there, staring up at Louis the

entire time.

Louis lifts a shaking arm and grabs blindly at Harry‟s head, pulling him

up his body for a wet kiss that‟s more an excuse for Louis to catch his

breath than anything else. Harry hasn‟t pulled his fingers out, though,

and as he kisses Louis he pushes them in deep, the renewed pressure

wrenching a sob from Louis.

Harry nuzzles against his ear, his other hand stroking lightly up and

down Louis‟ side. “Lou,” he murmurs, “God, Lou, incredible.” He

kisses his ear, his shoulder, trailing kisses down his arm and sucking on

his fingers. Already dizzy, Louis‟ head starts spinning at Harry‟s words

and the soft way he‟s touching him. This is a last, not a first, and Louis

can‟t deal with anything that feels like a promise tonight. “Do you think

you could get hard again?” Harry asks, breaking his reverie. “Do you

think you could come again?”

433

“Hazza,” Louis croaks out, and it‟s the first word he‟s said in God

knows how long. “I don‟t know, I don‟t—” he trails off, as Harry bites

down on the soft pad of his thumb.

“Can I try?” Harry says, and Louis feels like his skin is on fire but he

still nods. The smile he gets from Harry is worth it.

Scooting back on his knees, Harry withdraws his fingers just enough to

apply more lube, and then slides them back in, encountering little

resistance with Louis already as fucked-out as he is. Setting a slower

rhythm than he had before, he ducks his head and licks carefully at

Louis‟ spent cock.

“Fuck,” Louis grinds out. It feels good but it hurts, too, like a layer of

his skin has been burned away. When Harry looks up at him, though,

he just slides his fingers into his hair and waits. Harry goes back to

work, this time gently sucking the head of Louis‟ cock into his mouth,

his eyes falling closed and his face going peaceful as Louis strokes his

hair clumsily.

It‟s so much, it‟s too much, but it‟s working. Louis can feel his cock

slowly start to fill up again as Harry sucks more and more of it into his

mouth, his lips wet with spit and the remains of Louis‟ first orgasm.

Soon enough Louis is thrusting shallowly into Harry‟s mouth, torn

between the wet heat around his cock and the long fingers inside him.

He can‟t look away from Harry, his face blissful as Louis weakly fucks

up into him, seeming to have no thought at all for his own neglected

cock which Louis hasn‟t touched once all night.

Finally Harry pulls off, his mouth wrecked, and the cool night air is a

shock but a relief, too, a moment for Louis to feel like he might not fall

completely apart. Taking his chance to form coherent thoughts, Louis

manages to summon a complete sentence. “Fuck me,” he chokes out.

“Now. Please, Harry, I need you to—”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry says, his voice completely destroyed. “I can do

that.”

434

He climbs up over Louis, close enough that his curls fall almost to

brush against Louis‟ face. Bracing himself up on one hand, he uses the

other to line himself up, Louis using what strength he has left to wrap

his legs around his waist. For all his teasing, Harry doesn‟t waste time

here, sliding into Louis sure and deep. Louis groans at the sudden

fullness, because Harry‟s fingers are fucking miraculous, but his cock

is big, and the weight of it inside him is an entirely different kind of

overwhelming.

Louis lets his head loll back, but then Harry‟s fingers are on his face

and lips, and Louis can‟t help but suck them into his mouth, licking and

biting at the skin there. He lifts his arms to wrap them around Harry,

dragging his nails down his back, and Harry growls at the feel of it,

fucking into Louis hard. Louis is glad to have something in his mouth

then, to stifle the sounds he‟d be making otherwise.

He feels raw and red and open, and the slide of Harry‟s cock feels

amazing, but it feels like too much for one body, too. It‟s like an itch

that can only be scratched by tearing off his skin, like it hurts but he‟ll

kill anyone who tries to stop it. Tears spring to his eyes, not from pain

or sadness but from how fucking overwhelming it is, like he needs to

get rid of something to make room for how this feels. He knows the

exact moment when Harry spots them, sees the way his mouth goes lax

before he pulls his fingers from Louis‟ mouth. He drops onto his

forearms to kiss Louis with a groan, pushing his tongue into his mouth

and moaning when Louis winds his fingers into his hair and pulls hard.

Suddenly Harry breaks the kiss, leaning back. He slides one hand under

Louis‟ arse and another under his waist and lifts, sitting back and

pulling Louis up into his lap like before. This time, though, he lays his

legs out behind Louis and lies back, pulling Louis on top of him. It

happens so fast that Louis is breathless, drunk on Harry‟s strength and

the fact that his cock is still deep inside him.

Getting his bearings, he braces his hands on Harry‟s shoulders, taking

deep breaths. He‟s always liked riding Harry, liked the control it gave

him and the way he could watch every little thing he did play out on

Harry‟s face. Now, though, it feels more exposed, just Louis with the

sky behind him and Harry watching him right back. He feels stripped

435

bare by Harry‟s vulnerability, the way he‟s spread out on the grass,

covered in sweat and waiting on Louis to make the next move.

Louis is too wrecked to do what he normally would, too drained of

energy to bounce on Harry‟s cock until Harry‟s fingers dig bruises into

his thighs. It‟s all he can do to stay upright, his legs boneless and his

own cock throbbing. Instead, he rolls his hips experimentally. Harry‟s

cock doesn‟t move in or out of him much, but it moves inside him,

throwing up sparks behind his eyes. As for Harry, he swears and lets

his head drop hard against the ground, so Louis doesn‟t think he‟s

complaining.

Holding himself up with his hands on Harry‟s chest, Louis keeps

grinding against him, grateful for the assistance when Harry‟s hands

come to his hips to help him find a rhythm. He feels absolutely ruined,

fucking split open on Harry‟s cock and hungry for it, and if he knew

how to ask for more he would.

He doesn‟t have to, though, because Harry drops a hand to Louis‟ cock

and starts stroking it, fast and tight and perfect. “C‟mon,” Harry breaths

out, flushed all the way down his chest, “Want you to come again.”

Louis can‟t say no, rutting hard into his hand and rolling back onto his

cock until finally, finally, he gets there, coming with a wordless shout

and spilling all over Harry‟s hand and stomach.

Harry keeps him from falling over, sitting up to catch Louis and hold

him in his lap. After two orgasms the feeling of Harry still inside him

seems impossible, and Louis clings to Harry‟s neck to try to stay afloat.

Thankfully, Harry is right there with him, and after one, two, three

thrusts upward that have Louis biting down on Harry‟s shoulder, Harry

shakes and comes soundlessly, the heat of his release leaving Louis

even fuller than before.

Gently, Harry tips them to the side, laying Louis out before he carefully

starts pulling out. Louis winces a little at the drag against raw flesh, but

he‟s mostly too tired to care. When they‟re finally separated, Louis

rolls over and curls in on himself, not really interested in post-coital

436

anything at all. Harry‟s hand falls on his bicep, squeezing slightly, but

Louis doesn‟t move.

They stay there a little while, silent in the dark, until Louis finally can‟t

take it, can‟t take the feeling of Harry‟s eyes on his back and the weight

of his hand and the knowledge that he‟ll be gone by the next time the

sun sets. Maybe Harry wants to make believe, wants to pretend that

tonight was anything other than what it was, but Louis isn‟t going to

play along to make him feel better about it. Louis doesn‟t think he

could if he wanted to.

“So,” he says, still not turning around. “Your train. It leaves at two?”

He hears a sharp intake of breath, and Harry‟s hand lifts away. The next

sound he hears is the rumple of clothing, the jangle of Harry‟s belt

buckle as he does up his jeans. Louis finally rolls over, just to grab his

own clothes. They‟re a little bit wet, dew starting to form on the pitch,

but he really doesn‟t care. He stands up, wobbling a little, and slides on

his glasses. Harry is dressed already when he looks up at him, face