Chapter Text
TOMLINSON, Louis William
Height: 5 ft 9 or 175cm
Weight: 150 Ibs or 68kg.
Nationality: English
Birthdate: December, 24th
Status: established
Known for: eyes, sassiness
Agency: Modest Management
Famous Friends: R&B singer Zayn Malik, footballer Stanley Lucas
Modest Management’s greatest asset and accomplishment, and Simon Cowell’s biggest pride. At the age of 22, he’s been in the business since 2009, after trying out at a handful of TV stations, when his drama teacher advised him to give up on being an actor because he was too much of a twink to ever make it in this world, and gave him a few model agencies numbers and addresses. He was seventeen and in desperate need of money, so he tried out for all of them and wound up hired for a teenage winter calendar. The rest, as they say, is history.
The first time Louis meets Harry he falls in love. Well, not love, but he’s definitely infatuated. And this is how it went:
June, 2014
“I cannot believe you’re making me wear Armani again, Eleanor”, he huffed already exhausted. It was still 4pm. “It’s outdated, I’m not fifty... And I don’t even like this collection, it doesn’t even fit well.” He said pulling on his Calvin Klein boxers while his assistant slash stylist slash guardian angel took the trousers out of the hanger.
“Look, Louis, it’s a smart move, okay? The man himself is gonna be there”, she reasoned.
“Yeah, but he’s eighty-one, does he even know who I am? Does he even recognize his own suits?” He asked feeling impatient, trying his best not to mess up his hair. He wasn’t in the best of moods.
Eleanor laughed and dismissed him, saying that his clothes were waiting to be worn and that the car would come at six thirty to pick him up. Louis couldn’t wait to be back on his bed, having to fly to New York the next day. He loved his life, he really did, he just truly hated it sometimes.
Louis was the kind of person who would totally judge a model if he weren’t one. Looking from the outside everything was easy and shiny and maybe it actually was if compared to “normal people’s lives”, his conscience would say. But in reality, in his reality, being a model meant absurd hours and frozen-smiles; it meant too much finesse and too little fun – believe it or not.
When he first received his contract, many years ago, it was pretty clear he would never be a runaway model and the reason was pretty clear: he was too short, too curvy, but he still had something. “I haven’t seen anyone photograph this well since Timothy”, Andrew G. Hobbs had said. “Your features are so symmetric, I’d dare say you have a perfect face”, click. Back then Louis had been just so excited to work with him that he could barely thank the guy, just smiling and trying not to throw up.
His career didn’t escalate quickly, though. It took him a year of small pictures and zero to none pieces on important magazines, but one day Simon decided he was ready to pose for Vogue in the – back then – new H&M collection. Alice Hawkins photographed him and gave his face a full page. People got interested. Two months later he was on the cover of GQ Magazine wearing Burberry, getting paid more money than he had ever seen and being invited to the most exclusive parties, meeting all kinds of people.
Louis lived a whole new level of rich these days, one he didn’t even believe was possible. He was the third most well paid model in the world and the most expensive one in Modest’s history – Simon had had to raise his salary after Mega Model Agency tried to steal him two years ago. He had people. He had a “guy” for everything; and most of the time his guy was a girl, but that was fine because Louis was all about girl power.
Speaking of…
“You ready?” Eleanor asked. He hadn’t even buttoned the shirt up yet. “Fuck, Louis, c’mon, make up is here”, she let him know and he decided it was best if he were shirtless after all.
Forty minutes not so fashionably late Louis arrived at the mansion Simon had rented for the party, where a line of black town cars were lined up. There were too many paparazzi, but he barely blinked when he made his way to the main entrance, already used to the flashes.
Modest was completing 25 years and although it was considered too young in the market, it was already influential, especially in the UK. Its headquarter was located in London, of course, but they had two other buildings – one in New York City and another one in Milan. Simon had built an empire worth of four hundred million dollars and knew how to celebrate it.
As soon as Louis entered the ballroom, Lauren, Simon’s wife, walked on his direction for hugs and kisses and mise-en-scéne.
“Dear, long time no see”, she said, taking two champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray, handing him one immediately. “How are you?”
“I’m great”, he replied, game face on. “Tired, but great.”
“I hear you’re flying to New York first thing in the morning?”
“Yes, I have a shoot there the day after tomorrow, plus my friend’s playing at the Madison Square Garden on the weekend, so.”
“Zayn Malik, right?” She asked trying to disguise her obvious disgust for his friend. “You’re good friends?”
“The best”, Louis gave her his best smile.
“Hm… The companies you walk around with, Tomlinson”, she laughed.
“You don’t seem to dislike Stan”, Louis pointed. “But that may be because he’s Beckham’s puppy and you guys have been trying to get Brooklyn to sign with Modest since he was sixteen”, he said as politely as he could. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I see some other friends across the room.”
Lauren gave him one of those yellow smiles she herself used to distribute and he made his way around, talking to everybody he knew and waving at the people who clearly knew who he was but he hadn’t been introduced to yet. He knew everyone who was relevant, though.
After talking to Simon for five minutes and getting to know three potential new models he’d get to get to know a few weeks from now at the annual meeting – in which Simon would make him “help out the new people around” (and by that he meant: “teach them how to play by my rules”) –, Louis could finally make his way outside.
It was freaking hot in the UK and he was stuck in a suit. He saw Alexa Chung by the pool and went to say hi. She was good fun and nothing like the stuck up people in their world. All in all, Louis thought he knew how to choose his companies pretty well, thank you very much, Lauren.
“Versace fits you well, my dear”, he said getting closer to her.
“Well thank you, love”, she smiled and gave him a kiss. “It’s good to see you, Louis”, Alexa said eyeing him head to toes. “You look exhausted.”
“Haven’t gotten properly drunk yet”, he said more like an excuse than anything else. He was exhausted, but he never liked to show… Anything, really.
“Now would be a great time to get to the bar”, Eleanor showed up by his side wearing an amazing dress Louis couldn’t quite point the designer. It was probably one of her not-yet-famous-but-promising friends’ work. “Hi, Alexa”, she smiled.
“Looking dashing as ever, Eleanor”, she smiled and they hugged briefly. Everyone was so friendly for British people. Again, Louis blamed it on their world. “You should totally date your assistant, Louis, become a huge beautiful cliché.”
“I would, if she had a penis”, he winked and both of the girls laughed loudly and Eleanor nodded her head disapprovingly, as if she couldn’t believe the things Louis was capable of saying. “Oh come off it, you’ve known me for forever now”, he said.
“Never cease to surprise me”, she said. “Go to the bar, Louis”, Eleanor pointed in the direction of Giorgio Armani himself and Louis rolled his eyes.
“He doesn’t even know me, this is pure bullshit”, Louis warned her pointing to his clothes and then in the direction of one of the most powerful men in fashion.
“He’s not your regular eighty-one year old guy”, Alexa told him. “First time I met him he said I’d end up working for a magazine and here I am, editing for Vogue”, she said. “He’s got vision.”
“Well of course he does or he wouldn’t have built a fucking empire”, Louis muttered. “Ok, I’m going there and getting super drunk. See you later, ladies. Or not.” He smiled and walked over to the bar asking right away for the strongest drink in the house.
“You know, your looks will fade-away, Tomlinson”, Giorgio spoke to him turning with a smile on his face.
Oh. He knows who I am. Fuck, Louis, breathe.
The thing was: Louis didn’t have to love the new Armani collection to acknowledge that that man was an inspiration. A genius. A fucking God. And he knew who Louis was. Okay. He was breathing. He was fine.
“Yours haven’t, so I can hope”, he responded not quick enough but with the right amount of flirt to his tone, making Giorgio laugh and study him for a few seconds.
“You’re lucky my partner isn’t here”, he said.
“Actually, I’m not”, Louis frowned, doing his best to still seem charming, “it would’ve been an honor to meet him.”
“Maybe you can”, he smiled satisfactorily, “I have an invitation for you, one I came to deliver in person… And Simon thinks I’m here for his extravaganza, but, shhh”, he said.
“Hm- excuse me”, a voice came from across the bar, “your drink, sir”, the guy said and Giorgio turned to give him attention, so Louis did the same and holy mother of God who was that?
Louis didn’t have time to concentrate or even assess the guy properly because Giorgio had already resumed to talking again and Louis knew how to keep his priorities in check. Kind of.
“How would you like a trip to Milan by the end of the month?” He asked.
“What kind of trip?” Louis asked taking a sip of his cuba libre.
“A business one”, he told him. “I see you can wear my suits, Louis”, Giorgio continued and he called me my first name this is actually happening do not freak out now, “the question is, can you wear everything else?”
“Uhn--- where is this going?”
“We have been talking about the spring collection and yes we know it’s last minute but we’ve had- problems. Your name came up in a lot of meetings and one of my assistants told me you’re not easy to be persuaded, so that’s the main reason I’m here.”
And Louis would have loved to have understood everything he was saying, if it hadn’t been for a curly haired bartender Louis was too aware of at the moment.
“I’m- uhn. What can I do for you?”
“Model for us, of course”, he said, “lead our spring collection for men.”
“I don’t do runaways, though”, he made it clear and took another sip of his drink. “I’m not sure if I can lead a campaign.” Lie. He’d led quite a few at that point, but for brands he actually enjoyed, modern brands. As much as he respected the company, he wasn’t sure he’d feel comfortable modeling for people he was often criticizing.
“Tomlinson, you and I know you can.” Giorgio accused him.
“I’d-uh, like time to think, if that’s okay, sir”, he finished.
“Here’s my card, my personal number’s in there”, he said and slipped Louis a paper card. Do people still use this? I think so, he concluded holding that one. “I’ll have my people contact your people, but think about it.” And he left, like that, leaving Louis gaping and in need of much more alcohol.
Saying no would probably make him seem too much of a snob. Saying yes could paint him as antiquated as people were saying Armani had become and end his career.
“Scotch, neat”, he turned to the bar. Curly haired was looking at him like he was an alien.
“You just said no to Giorgio Armani”, he said in a raspy voice and then moved to get another glass. Was that his normal voice? Did people actually sounded like that in real life?
“I said I would think about it”, Louis defended himself.
“Will you?” The guy asked and handed him his drink.
“Of course, I just-”, why am I even telling you this? “need to think a few things through.”
“You’re insane”, the guy laughed. “But I guess being Louis Tomlinson allows you to actually turn down a personal invitation from Giorgio Armani.”
“I did not turn down”, he said trying to be impatient but just really endeared. The guy seemed mesmerized by the situation. Not that Louis wasn’t, he was just… Less than the curly haired boy.
Somebody called him. The boy, not Louis. And he had to turn away to prepare another drink, which gave Louis the perfect opportunity to ogle his perfect body from a good distance.
He was tall. At least five centimeters taller than Louis, and his hair was long, and seemed silky and soft and Louis desperately wanted to pull it. And as the night went on, things just got more interesting, as Louis decided he wanted to have that red mouth with plush, plush lips wrapped around his cock and maybe bury his fingers in his ass and what even were those legs?
He wasn’t wearing a uniform like the other bartenders and waiters. The guy was in the skinniest jeans Louis had ever seen and a black button up with white hearts all over it that Louis thought would look ridiculous in anyone but him.
He got drunker. On his fourth glass of whisky he decided he needed some water and curly haired was happy to please, finally on Louis’ side of the counter again.
“Still here, I see.”
“This is the best place of the party”, Louis replied.
“And why’s that?” The guy asked like he knew Louis had been watching him. Had he been this obvious? Probably yes. Zayn used to say Louis couldn’t lie to save his life when he had alcohol in his system – which differed drastically from his sober masked self.
“Why d’you think?” He asked and smiled hoping he wasn’t sounding too creepy.
“I think you’ve been staring at my legs for quite some time now and I feel flattered, honestly”, he smiled.
“Aren’t you too confident, curly?” Louis asked and smirked.
“Hopeful”, he corrected and turned around so he’d answer a girl’s call on Louis left. Damn. It took him less than five minutes to come back. Louis was back to drinking whisky. “You’re gonna pass out that way”, mile long legged curly guy said.
“You’ve no idea how tolerant I am”, Louis told him. “Drunk, yes, passing out… Never. I guess.”
“You guess.”
“If it happened, I don’t remember.”
The guy laughed. A loud laugh that resounded above all the noise and got to Louis’ ears like music, pure melody. Right then and there Louis decided he’d never heard anything as special as that. What was happening with him?
“I’m Harry, by the way”, he introduced himself and before Louis could say anything, a big guy came behind him.
“So sorry, H, got stuck in traffic and I—”
“’S fine, Mark”, Harry said. “Just get started, yeah?” Big guy said of course and thanked him one more time, nodding a hi to Louis.
“See you around, Tomlinson”, Harry smiled and left the bar.
This wouldn’t be the last time Louis saw him at this party, even if he had to actually look for him – which he was drunk enough to do.
Louis was dancing. He’d found some models that had worked with him in the latest Adidas campaign and they were good fun, so they did some shots together and went to the dance floor where Modest employees were politely moving without actually taking their feet off of the floor. But Louis was having fun. Alcohol did wonders to him.
Eleanor would occasionally throw him a “be careful” glance because she knew he’d never be able to wake up the next day unless he managed to get to bed until two am. Louis checked his phone and it was barely midnight, so he pocketed it once again and Lucca-- was it Lucca?! came behind him and moved their hips according to the music.
Louis threw his head to one side smiling brightly trying to not let his drink spill when he saw it. Him. Again. The curly mile long legged guy. Harry. Harry was his name, Louis could remember. He was talking to Nick and they were both smiling and no, Louis thought.
Nicholas Grimshaw was Simon’s assistant. Every once in a while Simon would find a new administrative puppy and make them his second best, just so he’d get bored after a few years and move on to the next nice thing. Nick came in two years after Louis was hired and he took great dislike for the guy at first talk. Despite his impeccable taste in clothes, he was a terrible human, Louis thought.
And now he was talking to Harry. But Harry was already Louis’s and he’d be damned if Nick put his claws on that boy. No way.
He moved his legs quicker than his mind could process and he was next to them in a heartbeat.
“Well if it isn’t almighty Tomlinson”, Nick said smiling smugly.
“Grimshaw”, he acknowledged his presence with a nod and turned to Harry with his brightest smile. “Nice to see you again, Harry, it’s been a while”.
“I’m sure your hour and a half without my presence was unbearable”, Harry rolled his eyes.
“You two know each other?” Nick asked like he was genuinely surprised, but didn’t let anyone answer. “I was just congratulating Harry here on the amazing job he did with the food… Everything’s amazing.”
“Oh you…” Louis started.
“I was just filling in from a friend who was late, as you saw--- but, yeah, I took care of dessert and, like, stuff”, he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Harry didn’t look like the most confident of people, even if he seemed to have his moments. Louis was so curious about him.
“Well, now that I know you’ve made it I have to taste it, right?” Louis threw him a cheeky smile and waited for Harry to blush, but he didn’t, which was somewhat a nice surprise.
Louis was used to leave some people star struck, even if he were just a regular guy, if he said so himself. Harry didn’t seem disturbed, though, just gave him a show of white teeth and perfect lips curving upwards, a low tiny laugh in the back of his throat.
“I promise you everything I touch tastes pretty good”, he winked.
“God, I cannot stand the innuendos”, Nick rolled his eyes, voice affected. Louis wants to ask him why the fuck don’t you fuck off then? but he didn’t even need to, cause next thing he knew, Grimshaw was petting Harry on the shoulder as excusing himself.
Louis wanted to ask if Harry knew Nick before, if they were friends or if Nick was simply hitting on him just like Louis had attempted to at the bar a couple of hours earlier, but he decided that it’d be better to carry own with his plans than to initiate a conversation about one of his least favorite people in the world – and this list was big.
“So, Harold, will you let me taste you then?” He asked. “I mean--- the things you’ve made?”
Louis smirked and for the first time that night Harry seemed affected. Finally.
“My name’s Harry”, he replied in a low voice. “And I will let you taste both, if you play your cards right.”
“”M a great player, Harold.”
“Right”, Harry snorted and started walking, leaving Louis a bit light-headed and stuck in one place. But then he looked back and asked you coming? And yeah, Louis was.
“Where are we going?” He asked when Harry got out of the saloon and walked past the bar as well. Louis was following suit.
“The kitchen”, Harry kept walking.
“You do know you could just point to passing waiters and I’d taste it anyway, right?”
“Yeah”, the tall guy threw him a smile and opened a silver door, revealing a lot of other people in white clothes. They were all screaming about something, trying to communicate over the outside noise and their own voices and Louis asked himself if Harry dealt with that every day.
Some of them stopped to look at Louis as he followed Harry, but none of them seemed to actually know who he was, so he didn’t say a word, just waited for Harry to stop near a counter and say something to a blond guy, but he couldn’t understand.
“Stay put”, Harry said and oh, Louis actually obeyed.
There were a lot of bodies moving, waiters and waitresses entering and leaving the kitchen, the door making noise every time it was opened and closed. There was the blond guy giving directions to two older guys and a few girls decorating a dessert.
But somehow Louis couldn’t focus in any of them, just watched the lanky guy move around those bodies like he was at home, grabbing something from each counter and putting on a--- was that a box? Louis couldn’t see.
“’M gonna be taking theeeese”, Harry said to the girls who were working on the dessert thing-y, “cause they don’t look right anyway.”
“Harry”, one of the girl sighed.
“I love you”, he kissed her cheek, “and you can do better. Going. Do not screw up, do not call me.”
“Thank you, boss”, another girl responded with an ironic tone and Harry blew her a kiss, walking towards Louis with not only a box full of things but a bottle of wine Louis did not know. He was drunk enough already, but… He could go back to sobriety the next day, right? He wasn’t drinking because of the pain that night, anyway, so it didn’t count.
“Follow me”, Harry said. Louis seemed to be doing a lot of that already.
They walked to the back of the mansion. There was a beautiful yard and the lights were dimmed. The noise wasn’t even bothering him, but maybe because Harry’s laughter was louder and made him warm all over. That was dangerous because Louis was really just looking for a quick fuck, he sure as hell didn’t want to start liking the guy or anything like that.
His self-sabotaging mind decided it was time to end the chit-chat when he finally tasted the last delicious candy Harry had made and asked for the wine.
“No glass?” Louis raised a brow. “A bit too shabby, Harold”, he teased.
“Oh, can’t the almighty Louis Tomlinson drink from the bottle?” Harry placed a hand on his heart with a ridiculous affected tone to his amazingly raspy voice. Fuck, Louis was confusing adjectives now; it was just ridiculous and affected. “I’m so sorry if my standards are too peasant for you.”
“I’ll manage”, Louis said closing his mouth around the tip of the bottle and making a show at drinking the wine. Harry was a bit flushed, eyes focused on Louis throat and mouth. “What?” He smiled eyeing Harry when he decided he’d had enough.
“You look good like that”, Harry said, getting close to him. They were sitting on the grass and Louis was sure his Armani suit was dirty already. He had zero fucks to give about it. “Something tells me your mouth looks great wrapped around other things.”
“Says the one with the plush lips”, Louis answered in a low voice, moving a bit closer, their thighs touching. Harry moved forward.
“You like my lips?” Harry asked licking them and roaming his eyes through Louis’ face. From eyes to mouth.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t tasted them yet”, Louis said and surged forward, cutting off the distance between them.
If Harry were waiting for it, he didn’t give any indications – on the contrary, he let out a surprised noise in the back of his throat and grabbed the lapel of Louis’ blazer, pulling him closer so their chests were connected.
The angle was weird, because they were previously sitting side by side, but Harry’s lips were so good and his grip so firm and Louis didn’t want to do anything but keep kissing the hell out of him. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Louis wanted so much more.
“Get up”, he murmured to Harry’s mouth and only let him go so they could stand on their feet, pulling him closer again and tangling his hands on his mop of curls, clashing their lips together with urgency, the build up from the entire night catching up to them. Harry wasn’t shy at all, and Louis loved it. “It’s your time to follow me”, Louis said and pulled him by the hand.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked already panting and trying to keep up.
“This is a mansion”, Louis explained, still walking. “It ought to have many rooms.”
And yeah, it had many rooms. It should have been difficult to sneak into one of them, but it was one am, everyone was already too drunk to care or too caught up in their own affairs to actually give a shit to whatever Louis wanted to do. He saw Simon and his wife on a far corner making conversation with a Vogue rep and thanked the gods that they weren’t looking his direction.
“Is this allowed?” Harry asked in a low voice when they got to the second floor after running up the stairs.
“Course not”, Louis whispered pinning him to a wall and kissing his neck hotly, hands wandering on his body and feeling how great Harry was. Sinful, really. His body was lean and defined and Louis could not wait to get him naked.
His mouth already looked spent after a few minutes kissing and his hair was all messed up cause Louis couldn’t control himself. Harry grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back, breathing heavily and opening the door by his side.
“God, you’re hot”, Harry pulled Louis by the waist, moving his hands quickly to Louis’ ass and walking backwards with him until he hit the bed. And then Louis’ felt it. Harry’s dick. He was so hard, how was he so hard? But then one of Harry’s huge – like, huge – hands cupped Louis through his suit trousers and Louis made himself aware of how hard he himself was.
Louis supported himself with both hands by Harry’s head and kissed his mouth once again, moving down to his neck sucking bruising kisses from one side to another, leaving Harry panting below him and making an effort to remove his clothes. Louis was totally down for it, and did the same to the boy.
The logistics were terrible because he was a little more than drunk, but Harry was sober and helped him through it.
“Why are your jeans so tiiiiight?” Louis complained, kissing below his navel already completely naked, trying to remove Harry’s trousers.
“To make my legs look—aahh---good”, he said with a smirk and helped Louis with it.
“Well, they sure do”, Louis whispered not looking him in the eyes and kissed his inner thigh, massaging his bulge and making Harry moan with each squeeze.
“Lo-Louis”, Harry called, voice broken and Louis removed his pants.
“Jesus”, Louis stared in wonder when Harry’s cock slapped against his stomach.
Cocks weren’t pretty objectively speaking, but Harry’s… Well. No, Louis was just drunk. And everything about that boy was just too good, so his cock should not be a surprise. Louis was still mesmerized.
He went up Harry’s body, sucking on his nipples and stroking his dick with intent before kissing him again, wetly and hotly and so forcefully that if Harry weren’t so responsive with his hand gripping tightly in one of Louis’ arms, Louis would think they were going at it too harshly. Later Louis would find out that harsh was exactly what Harry liked.
“What d’you want?” Louis said in his ear, licking on his earlobe and swallowing a moan himself when Harry gripped his ass, bucking up his hips and sliding their cocks together. “What-ughh Harry, what-”
“Fuck me”, Harry whispered and opened his legs under Louis, “just--- please, just.”
And Louis wanted to. So bad. He wanted Harry on his hands and knees, he wanted to fuck him from behind and really pound into him, except for the fact that…
“I don’t--- shit.”
“What?” Harry opened his eyes and wow. Green glassy eyes stared at him. They were so beautiful and expectant and you’re a fucking twat, Louis Tomlinson.
“I don’t have any lube--- or condom, I”, he said and kissed Harry’s chest, “fuck.”
He made an executive decision that if Harry wanted something up his ass that night, he’d get it. And they were both painfully hard in need of some relief. He didn’t give Harry time to get frustrated, moving his hand down his front, completely neglecting his cock and moving around to grip his ass; he squeezed it lightly and Harry whined on the bed, messing the sheets.
“God you’re…” Louis started. He was struggling to find the right word to define what Harry was looking like. “Mesmerizing”, he finally got it right. “Don’t worry, Harry”, Louis lowered his voice, kissing his hip and then breathing hotly over his dick, “I’ll make sure your ass is well treated tonight…” Harry moaned at that. “I’ll make you come apart, darling”, Louis warned him, running his fingers up and down his thighs, squeezing a bit too much on his inner thighs and then massaging them again, using that teasing tone guys used to go wild for.
Harry seemed to be down with whatever idea Louis had in mind and a lot eager too, waiting for his mouth and fingers.
Louis went up again, stroking Harry’s cock dragging a half-stifled moan out of the boy, kissing him quiet making his hand around Harry’s dick the only sound for a while. And Harry let Louis take him. He let him have it all and that was the thing that turned Louis on the most: being able to have control of that unknown yet amazing body that was writhing underneath him.
“Would you like that, Harry?” Louis asked pulling back from the kiss, feeling Harry’s nails on his back and trying not to moan to loudly whenever Harry dug it a bit too forcefully. “Would you like my mouth there, on your pretty little ass?” Harry fucking wailed, so loud, throwing his head back and bucking his hips up. Louis had to control himself not to come right there, his dick so neglected it was going purple. “Are you imagining my tongue in your crack and then pressing into you?” He continued on his ear, “maybe a finger or two, if you’re up for it”, his voice was sending shivers down the boy’s spine, he was sure, cause he was reciprocating it by moaning shamelessly on his ear, running his hands up and down Louis’ body, scratching every part of him he had access to.
Harry grabbed Louis by the hair and made the model kiss him once more, rapidly, once again, with urgency. Louis pulled back to stare at him and the curly haired guy was just… Gone. His pupils were dilated and as he looked into his emerald eyes he couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to see him in the sun, when it’d make them even greener. Concentrate, Louis, he reminded himself and moved closer again, to whisper in his ear, “answer me, Harry”, he commanded.
“Just fucking eat me out, Louis”, Harry whimpered feeling Louis’ hands on his legs again and the model nodded wordlessly.
“Turn around for me then, princess.” He had no idea where the terms of endearment were coming from, but the boy seemed to like it and he was so responsive every time Louis used one that he couldn’t believe. “C’mon.”
And Harry did just that. He rolled over on the bed and spread his legs, his inner thighs touching the mattress and his belly supported by a pillow, head rested on the sheets, eyes barely opened.
“God, Harry”, Louis breathed out in awe. He was so beautiful. Louis had never felt skin so soft in his entire life and he had slept with his fair share of models and hot guys.
But Harry was there, spread out for him, with no shame, with so much want that Louis was losing it---- how submissive was this boy?! He wanted to find out. Would he ever have another opportunity? Oh, the things he wanted to do to Harry, with Harry.
Louis lowered himself pressing his chest against Harry’s back and started kissing wetly on his neck, tugging on his hair strongly with one hand. He couldn’t tell if Harry was more lost because of his kisses or the pull on his hair. Maybe it was the combination of both.
He traced his way down with the tip of his tongue on Harry’s spine, feeling the boy shiver. Louis dared to look at Harry’s face when he gripped his ass cheeks and massaged them, and he fucking moaned when he watched Harry biting his own lip after he spread them, cause he couldn’t be this beautiful and real and there.
Louis’ tongue traced from his thigh to his ass, following the curve of it with his hands still spreading his cheeks, moving his mouth to the inside of them, so he could finally, finally breathe hot air on his hole, “shit---Louis-fuck”, Harry moaned.
“But I’ve barely started, princess.”
“Lou---” he didn’t let Harry finished, pressing a close mouthed kiss to his hole, leaving whatever Harry was about to say stuck in his throat.
“That’s better, love”, Louis said and licked over it again, tortuously slow, going up and down a few times, massaging his ass.
He took his time making Harry wet with spit and saliva and when Harry finally seemed to lose it completely, trying to hump the pillow and breathing with difficulty, Louis took pity on him and sliding one hand up, he grabbed his hair pulling on it with contained strength while the other one kept one cheek to one side, so he could insert his tongue on Harry’s hole at last.
The noises Harry was making should be illegal and as Louis pressed in with more intent they just got louder and louder, giving him all the permission he needed to fuck Harry with his own tongue while pulling on his hair without actually seeing what he was doing.
Louis wasn’t one to have his face buried in someone’s ass, especially if it were someone he didn’t even know. But Harry was writhing and panting and whining and his lips were parted, both of his hands in closed fists on the sheets and he couldn’t stop moving, rolling his hips trying to get more friction on his cock each time Louis pressed his tongue further. It was just too much.
“You’re already so wet, Harry”, Louis whispered into him, pulling back a little bit in need of some air, “would you like one finger, baby?”
“Ungh” Harry responded biting on his arm.
“What?”
“Uhgfh—uhn”, Louis took that as a yes, but before doing anything else, he grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled him up so his cock wasn’t touching anything anymore, and Harry moved a hand to wrap around himself the second Louis went back to licking him, but the model was quick to slap his hand and do it himself. “Lou-Louis”, Harry cried out.
“C’mon, princess”, Louis whispered biting the inside of his asscheeks and synchronizing his licks with his hand on Harry’s dick, quick enough that his arm was cramping already, but he would not stop.
In the end, it didn’t take much more time. Louis gave Harry’s cocks a few tight strokes and turned him on his back again, so he was facing Louis. His cheeks were flushed and his legs were spread and Louis felt like he was going to come without even being touched, so he just wrapped his free hand around himself and moaned louder than he thought he would while Harry came on his own stomach, crying out Louis’ name.
“Dammit”, Louis hissed speeding up his hand coaching Harry through his orgasm.
“Come on me”, Harry whispered and smiled and how could he look so bloody innocent saying things like that?
Louis choked on his own saliva and spurted on Harry’s crotch and lower stomach, falling by his side the second he finished, feeling Harry’s hand on his hair and a light close mouthed kiss on his lips.
They were panting for a long time side by side, chests rising up and down rapidly and then Louis finally found the strength to go into the ensuite to find a cloth to clean themselves.
“What time’s it?” Harry asked with a sleepy voice once Louis was done and he stretched to the floor so he could find his phone in his trousers’ pocket.
“Two twenty”, Louis answered, eyes closing already.
“Shit”, the boy said loudly by his side and sat on the bed, “I gotta go, there’s not even buses anymore and the guys are probably gone by now--- fuck fuck fuck”, he complained while trying to find his clothes. Louis’ eyes were opened again and—
“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What? No one will mind.” Every room was probably occupied by now. Simon knew his models. And his staff.
“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.
“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.
“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”
“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”
“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lay down again.”
“Ok. Go.” Louis supported himself on his elbows to look at him.
“One, you’re… Nice, probably grew up in a house full of women. Two, damaged goods, but I’m not sure why. Three, slippery, but you’re a model, must come with the job. Four, untrustworthy. Five, you turned down Armani cause you think it’ll make you look bad, not even considering what an actual honor it’d be.”
Louis was going to open his mouth to refute the last one because he had said he’d think about the Armani campaign, but Harry wasn’t wrong about the reason and he knew it, so he didn’t give Louis an opportunity to speak up.
“In the long run, not my type.” Harry finished. “Great sex, though.”
And with that, curly tall hot amazing boy left the room, leaving Louis naked and with his mouth agape. What the fuck was Harry? He didn’t get his phone number, he didn’t know where he lived, he didn’t even know his damn last name.
So the first time Louis meets Harry, he’s a little bit in love.
The second time Louis meets Harry, he hates him.