Came To Win - 1D: Louis/Harry - 1/1
Title: Came To Win
Pairing: Louis/Harry
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17 - swearing and sexually explicit situations
Word Count: ~4,000
Summary: This is for this prompt on the kink meme - AU. Louis is a rugby player and Harry is his model fiancé. Before a game, Harry surprises Louis with a little visit..
Disclaimer: This is not true, made up and not meant to offend. The beauty of fiction.
A/N: My first AU for this fandom. Maybe my last lol. I struggled so much with the second half of this but I hope you like. Title is half a lyric from Placebo's Spite & Malice turned into a really awful pun. You're welcome. Comments are always love. <3
With an hour to go before the game, Louis takes his things out of his rucksack and pulls his kit bag across the floor to in front of his feet. Preparation like this has been second nature to him since he played age group rugby and especially since he turned professional once he was eighteen. Tonight is a mid-season Premiership match and whilst every game and its opposition are treated with the respect they deserve, it isn’t a nail-biting final with a trophy hanging in the balance, so the banter in the changing rooms is flowing free.
“How’s the target practice been this week, Tommo?” one of his teammates chirps as he walks past Louis half naked and glugging a bottle of water.
“Fine, thanks,” he replies happily from his place on the wooden bench, “A hundred passes and none off target. How’s the running in a straight line coming along, Jamie?”
“Ouch, man, that hurts!” Jamie clutches his chest in a wounded display before ambling out of the door still dressed in just his shorts.
Shaking his head fondly at the inside centre, Louis steps out of his sweatpants and sits back against the wall to start dressing in his kit. When he leans over, he can feel the body contouring ridges of his navy and red player’s shirt along his spine and it makes him smile to think this is what his life has become. He’s playing a sport he loves for a job, has the nice things that come with a successful career and on top of all that an unbelievably gorgeous fiancé. He’s so thankful that nobody at the club seems to care that he’s gay and thus his fiancé is also a man, but supposes that has a lot to do with really high profile players having the guts to be themselves in public. Besides, nobody probably minds because Harry’s quite the catch. People might call Louis biased, except his agency and everywhere he gets booked as a model successful in his own right would definitely agree with him. Tall and just the right amount of breadth in his limbs to not be so lanky anymore, Louis sometimes wonders what Harry sees in a dirty, aggressive sportsman like him. Of course, it’s controlled aggression and mostly energy and Harry always says he prefers it when he’s playing because at least he’s not moaning about an injury preventing him from being out there with his teammates. Apparently, aggression and such strength can also be quite sexy.
Feeling a stab of yearning for his lover as he sits in a room far, far away, Louis stands up and hunts in the pockets of his rucksack until he finds his wallet. He knows it’s the worst cliché but, with Harry in Paris doing some...fashion thing, Louis feels like he hasn’t seen him weeks rather than days and if he wants to have his face stare back at him from a slightly wrinkled square of a picture then he -
“Oi, Tommo!” comes a shout and Louis looks up without any annoyance because he’s used to it, “Quit making moony eyes at that bloody picture again, we’ve got warm up soon!”
He gives his teammate the friendly version of the middle finger (thankfully not a sexual act) without turning around and carefully puts the photo back so he can pull on his socks to be ready for warm up like he really should be. To help him along, he unravels the wire of his earphones from around his iPod and switches his music on in the hopes that the pumping sounds will make him work faster and also psyche him up for the match. He tucks the iPod into the waistband of his shorts because of the lack of pockets (he whinged about that once before realising that being in a relationship with someone like Harry was really starting to rub off on him and he promptly shut up) and his hands are moving in the air, swapping between air guitar and air drumming until suddenly the earphones are yanked out dizzily quick and big palms clamp over his already closed eyes.
“Do you really have time to be dancing your pretty little arse off to - ” there’s a pause and Louis hears the music drift close but not to his ears - “Survivor - right now? Darling, I thought you had more taste.”
“It’s a classic, just ask Rocky,” he shrugs, picking up their rhythm of conversation like they haven’t spent a day apart as he turns in the embrace and launches himself at his fiancé, “What’re you doing here, Harry?!”
He smiles, “Don’t I get a kiss first?”
Rolling his eyes like it’s a hardship to ever kiss him, Louis obliges somewhat chastely then belatedly realises when he pulls away that as well as the lack of music in his ears now, there is also a lack of teammates. The place looks sort of eerie without them here in person but crammed with their stuff.
“I told them to give us some time alone.” Harry says sweetly, reading his mind.
So Louis takes a proper look at him. He wishes he’d been paying attention when Harry had walked through the door because he bets he would’ve looked gorgeous in Ray Bans which now sit on top of his head of curls, although he probably wouldn’t have liked the stares that would’ve got him. Given half a chance, his teammates would fuck Harry whether they were gay or straight. They’ve never told him outright obviously, that thought is horrible anyway, but it’s hard not to guess. It seems like no one is entirely straight around Harry and he can see the many reasons why. Louis loves his big, green eyes and lips that are borderline sinful and the lean muscle that makes up his toned body. Even his four nipples are fascinating and entertaining and make for some very responsive, fun times. Like any good model, he’s also got a great sense of style wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. Paparazzi have been known to follow him occasionally and Louis marvels at how easily he takes it in his stride and tries to include Louis like he wants to share all parts of his life with him, even the bits that Louis has nothing to do with or doesn’t completely understand. Today, like always, he’s dressed for the weather in a thin, grey marl v-neck jumper with a navy blazer, blue skinny jeans and suede boots. It’s a perfect model’s day off get up and it says he’s not here for anyone but to support Louis and Louis feels an intense rush of love and affection for him.
He kisses him gently on the nose. “You look fantastic, by the way. Was Paris very sunny?”
“Thanks. And I didn’t go to Paris.” Harry grins, catching Louis’ fingers where they’ve wandered up to trace his face and holding on, “I just made you think I was going to Paris. I stayed with a friend last night and then travelled up so I could surprise you.”
“Well, I’m definitely surprised.”
“Surprised enough to fuck me?”
Louis blinks curiously at Harry’s expression that’s either uncharacteristically coy or cleverly sly, he can’t work out which. “What?”
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about on the drive over,” he confesses quietly, pressing in closer towards him, “for you to fuck me.”
Louis clutches at Harry’s waist as he smoothes his hands down Louis’ arms, briefly squeezing his well defined biceps and down to catch hold of one hand. He tries to pull it around his body and reaches up to cradle his neck and jaw with the other before swooping down the mere inches to kiss him harder than their greeting. Louis’ entirely conscious that he’s still bare-chested and feels the strike of a shiver as Harry’s wandering fingertips palm there, clenching in flesh and the sprinkling of hair with a needy moan.
“Is this convincing you?” he mutters, pushing his crotch insistently forward.
There’s the undeniable hardening shape of his erection and Louis knows he’s one step away from slipping down on the bench on his arse, so he nods wordlessly and finds himself manhandling Harry into the nearest wall with more force than he means. Even so, Harry wrenches his mouth away and gasps, squirming when Louis scrabbles at his belt buckle.
“Have I ever told you how hot you look in your tiny shorts?” he says in a rush, stealing kisses from the side of Louis’ mouth whenever he can.
“They’re not tiny!”
“Oh, they are. Look.” Harry grabs at Louis’ thigh, the cut of the material showing off the slim but solid bulk of muscle on his leg. “I almost wish I’d come after the match was over.”
“Really? Why?”
“Dirt on your knees, grass stains and sponsor dye on your arse, maybe a cut above your eyebrow....” Harry swallows visibly, his pupils expanding, “I wish we could build our own pitch, so we could go out there in the rain and you could fuck me in the mud.”
Louis closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Harry as his mouth opens but nothing he could say seems to suffice in that moment. Instead, he murmurs a quiet reminder that he might have a condom in his wallet and is worrying about the lack of lube until Harry gently pushes him back a step then slips his hand into the inside pocket of his blazer to produce a travel size bottle. Louis can feel the flush spread from his neck and tilts his head, considering questioningly whether Harry really wants to do this now. Harry’s only non-verbal answer is to bite his lip and not even make eye contact, choosing to let his gaze roam the body stood in front of him until Louis turns away from the lust-fuelled scrutiny in favour of rooting around for his wallet again. Dropped to the bottom of his rucksack, enough seconds go by so that when he looks at Harry again it’s to see him lean back onto the wall and his jeans fully open with his hand shoved inside.
“Stop staring!” Louis laughs when the intensity of Harry’s eyes gets to be too much.
“No,” he smirks, “you’re fucking sexy with your tiny shorts and your knee socks and lethal boots. Even the taping around your elbow is a turn on.”
Louis chuckles disbelievingly as a warm hand comes out and curls around the waistband of his shorts, yanking him close so their bodies collide. When Harry begins inching them down and having a cheeky grope of his arse on the way, Louis swipes his tongue against his and starts to tug off his blazer whilst Harry is busy wriggling out of his jeans so they pool low enough at his ankles that he can push them out of the way with a foot.
“Better strip you of these.” he grins, still removing the garments on his partner’s top half, “Don’t want you walking out to the stands with come on your jumper now, do we?”
He stands naked except for his boxers that slip to show the jut of his hips and Louis can feel the bone against his skin as he pins him in place with his own. He leans a hand on the wall for solid balance and uses the other to angle Harry’s chin and lick into his mouth until Harry is trying to rock forward with his erection and the kisses turn sloppier from unfulfilled need.
“I mean it,” he breathes, “I need you inside me.”
Louis bites his lip as a shiver racks through him and the touch of Harry’s warm, unoccupied hands shove them hard against each other in an almost rutting motion that he has no control over. He’s not bothering anymore to hide the fact that he wants to tear Louis’ shorts off, but before he does do that and ruin a perfectly pristine pair, Louis concedes and holds his hand out for the lube. About to give it to him, Harry pulls it away at the last second with a shake of the head.
“Just put it all over you, it’ll be enough for both of us. Lou, trust me.” he entreats as an afterthought when his lover is about to loudly protest.
With a resigned sound, Louis puts his forearm against Harry’s chest and watches his face intently as Harry stares at him sliding the condom down his cock before slicking himself up with plenty of lube as trusted. They chase each other’s tongue through giggles and as Louis lifts Harry’s thin legs by the back of his thighs and encourages them to wrap securely around his waist. They use the wall as a third man and Louis smiles against Harry’s lips as he realises the slight leverage and starts wriggling to find any minimal friction in such a hold.
“I’ve got you.” Louis says into his collarbone, wetting the skin with the drag of his mouth and willing his arms to lock under the weight of another fully grown man. Keenly aware that they’re rapidly running out of time before warm up, his thoughts swing around to other men. “Do you think they’re watching us? The guys, I mean.”
“Probably, insatiable bastards.” Harry snorts then spots Louis’ look of alarm, “But don’t worry. I’m all yours. What was it your dad used to say? ‘A scrum half’s job is to keep his head down and his arse in the air’? You don’t have to wonder why I chose you when you asked me out...”
Louis jumps, startled, when a hand slides down to squeeze his arse, “Hey! I fuck you!”
“No, sweetie,” Harry smiles, “we switch. Or have you forgotten? Do you need a little reminder?”
With renewed determination to make him a little less cocky about surprising him with his visit, Louis holds him flat against the wall and guides himself in carefully but efficiently. It’s a welcoming press of flesh that he’s used to, but just the wrong side of tight and not as slick. He eyes the half used sample of lube sat on the bench seat and ordinarily it would be easy to grab, but with Harry’s combined weight and legs like a vice, it’s next to impossible unless he carries him somewhere. After the test of a thrust and Harry greedily trying to bear down on him, Louis mutters a quick “hold on tight” before he curls his hands more firmly around his lover’s thighs and twirls them around with only a slight stumble. Harry’s mouth opens on a gasp from the movement of Louis inside him and he can’t help his grin as Harry clutches at him tighter through shock rather than command. He snatches the half empty bottle from the bench seat and doesn’t stop putting one foot in front of the other until there’s one stumble too many and Harry’s hiding his giggles in his neck. Louis pulls out slowly and lets Harry put his feet back on the ground, but wastes no time to kiss him to distraction and he’s right where he wants him.
With a quick swipe of the arm, pieces of kit, water bottles and even the emergency first aid box go flying from a table in the centre of the room and onto the grimy floor and Louis kisses Harry forcefully, leading with his mouth, until he gets the clue and hops onto the edge. Louis follows him; the sight of his already spread legs making his stomach fall pleasantly like something akin to the first drop in height on a rollercoaster.
“Maybe - ” he starts, licking his lips, “ - maybe tonight you can refresh my memory if we win. You are sticking around, right?”
If anything, Harry’s eyes lose their colour to blacken even more, “With a promise like that, yeah definitely.”
Louis leans over with one hand braced on the table by Harry’s side and the other curled around himself, dipping down to seal Harry into a kiss as he presses inside again with his lube slickened dick. He feels teeth graze his lip on a grimace and straightens immediately whilst wasting no time to grab the last of the bottle of lube as it rests precariously under Harry’s arm. He wriggles impatiently and Louis just about catches it with a snort of laughter before it rolls somewhere he has no hope of retrieving. He unscrews the cap and pours with a flourish, watching the liquid fall over his half hidden erection and reaching down to thumb the excess into Harry’s stretched hole, grinning when he gasps and tries to rock more of Louis into him.
“Lou!” he whines low in his throat, far gone already and nothing like the composed model in front of a camera, “C’mon - fuck me - fuck me, please,”
Louis tosses the now empty bottle over his shoulder and hears it clatter on the tiles as Harry draws him near with his legs and he buries to the hilt with one pointed thrust. Harry arches on a gasp, long torso curving and an arm reaching out to claw at Louis’ when he stays still for more than he likes and smirks down at him knowingly. With Harry writhing on his cock, Louis gives in to the inevitable with one brain cell on the amount of time they have left and grabs Harry by the ankles, raising them until he’s fucking into the V of his long legs. He’s trapped himself with the only touch he’s able to being his curled hands and Louis starts squeezing the bones on every thrust in and releasing as he pulls out, its own rhythm that has Harry struggling to breathe through the building scent of them together.
“Harder!” he groans, throwing a sweaty arm over his eyes as Louis watches his palm slither to tweak a nipple then down to tug furiously at his cock.
Understanding the pace he’s setting on his own body, Louis wants to please him because he made the effort to come see him, so his hips snap forward with increased urgency until the tight skin of his balls slap against the underside of Harry’s arse and he can feel his orgasm speedily approaching the faster he moves.
“Fuck, Haz,” he groans in response, staring wide eyed when he looks down and sees how Harry takes him so easily, his wince of earlier discomfort replaced with the perpetual slack of his shiny mouth.
With working his cock, Harry tenses around Louis the closer his fist swipes up towards the crown and Louis fills between with clinging to his ankles until he can’t take it anymore, breaking much sooner than Harry lost to the pleasure of it all. Louis slumps forward with a growl and shoves in to make Harry pant continuously, waking him up from his haze of firm thrusts and twists to his erection and giggling a little deliriously when Harry’s knuckles knock against the vulnerable skin just below his bellybutton. He shifts when the yellowed bruise Harry left there a week and a half ago pains him faintly like a brilliant reminder and hardly notices the iron of Harry’s other fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder.
“Make me come,” he begs in a rumbling, but desperate voice, the vibrations against Louis’ aimless lips making him shiver to his toes, “please - just - ”
Louis turns his face below his jaw and sucks his skin between the ruthless press of his teeth, nipping quickly then tugging for longer as he tries to remember to keep moving. To increase the leverage, he puts his arm beneath Harry’s clenching thigh and folds him further in towards his chest, kneading his buttock with rough fingers until the table is creaking and Harry thinks to hold on tight. Louis bites at his jaw as Harry’s toes curl against the small of his back and he cries out, eyes rolling back as his trapped cock spurts wetly across his toned abs. The sticky feeling, knowing that he’s done that to Harry, causes Louis to follow mere minutes after as he fucks Harry through his orgasm and feels him ripple in reaction to his own. He grunts and grinds to halt, half leaning his weight on Harry now that he’s let his softening cock go.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
Harry pulls him up with palms either side of his face to look at him with a frown, “Sorry? What for?”
Louis’ slow grin breaks out, “Sorry that it had to be so quick. Think I got a bit carried away there too.”
“Do you think this is me complaining?”
Louis’ eyes follow Harry’s fingers as he trails them through the wet patch on his stomach and flinches with an outraged giggle when Harry tries to flick his hand at him. In case Harry gets anymore ideas, he withdraws carefully and turns to tie the condom off before dropping it in the bin by the table.
“There’s nowhere else right now,” he defends as Harry raises an eyebrow.
Louis takes the hand not messy with come and leads him back to his corner to pick up a towel from inside his rucksack and wipe him down with a fond smile. When Harry gets a certain grin on his face, Louis tries to dodge away but he’s grabbed into a sloppy kiss anyway and warm palms stroking over his body.
“Hey,” he says, wrenching from him and slapping the towel across Harry’s arse to make him jump, “get dressed. I don’t want my teammates to see you in your birthday suit.”
He knows Harry is blasé about nudity and is pretty sure it has nothing to do with lack of inhibitions he has with being a model. It’s just Harry, but Louis would rather keep it that way and have him all to himself. Having gone over that fact many a time, Harry complies as they sneak silly little glances at each other and grin so giddily. Louis’ just pulling down his shirt when Harry puts a hand to his shoulder.
“Good luck today. I’ll be in the stands watching. Score a try for me, yeah?”
Louis hums, pleased, and neglects to mention that his position usually creates tries and rarely score themselves. Instead, he draws Harry into his arms and gives him one last, slower kiss. It’s a short time before they’re interrupted by wolf whistling and good natured jeering, but Louis stubbornly takes his time to move his lips from Harry.
“Whoa, Tommo!” someone shouts gleefully as they all file back inside the room and take in the state of disarray in their surroundings, “It looks like a bomb has hit in here,”
“Yeah!” another voice chimes, “A sex bomb!”
Raucous laughter erupts and Louis chuckles, shaking his head, “Boys, that’s so weak. Maybe I should try again and you can come back with a better line?”
He and Harry break apart then as Louis’ teammates come towards him in some boyish show of genuine support, slapping him on the back or the arse. Harry slips out the door with a parting, intense look at his fiancé and walks like he’s heading to a catwalk.
“You’ve got a good one there, mate,” a voice says sagely to Louis’ right as he’s still staring where Harry disappeared, “a real keeper.”
Being taller than him, Louis rests his head briefly on his friend’s shoulder as he recognises the sincerity in the comment, “I know, Jams. I know.”
As luck would have it, in the seventy sixth minute and with a quick tap and go after a penalty is given, Louis runs for the line and tucks a try right near the corner flag. His team jumps all over him for his quick thinking and as he’s grinning and jogging back to the centre of the pitch, he searches for Harry’s face. He finds him eventually, on his feet and applauding with a smile. Louis smiles back because really it’s all for him.
fin.
Pairing: Louis/Harry
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17 - swearing and sexually explicit situations
Word Count: ~4,000
Summary: This is for this prompt on the kink meme - AU. Louis is a rugby player and Harry is his model fiancé. Before a game, Harry surprises Louis with a little visit..
Disclaimer: This is not true, made up and not meant to offend. The beauty of fiction.
A/N: My first AU for this fandom. Maybe my last lol. I struggled so much with the second half of this but I hope you like. Title is half a lyric from Placebo's Spite & Malice turned into a really awful pun. You're welcome. Comments are always love. <3
With an hour to go before the game, Louis takes his things out of his rucksack and pulls his kit bag across the floor to in front of his feet. Preparation like this has been second nature to him since he played age group rugby and especially since he turned professional once he was eighteen. Tonight is a mid-season Premiership match and whilst every game and its opposition are treated with the respect they deserve, it isn’t a nail-biting final with a trophy hanging in the balance, so the banter in the changing rooms is flowing free.
“How’s the target practice been this week, Tommo?” one of his teammates chirps as he walks past Louis half naked and glugging a bottle of water.
“Fine, thanks,” he replies happily from his place on the wooden bench, “A hundred passes and none off target. How’s the running in a straight line coming along, Jamie?”
“Ouch, man, that hurts!” Jamie clutches his chest in a wounded display before ambling out of the door still dressed in just his shorts.
Shaking his head fondly at the inside centre, Louis steps out of his sweatpants and sits back against the wall to start dressing in his kit. When he leans over, he can feel the body contouring ridges of his navy and red player’s shirt along his spine and it makes him smile to think this is what his life has become. He’s playing a sport he loves for a job, has the nice things that come with a successful career and on top of all that an unbelievably gorgeous fiancé. He’s so thankful that nobody at the club seems to care that he’s gay and thus his fiancé is also a man, but supposes that has a lot to do with really high profile players having the guts to be themselves in public. Besides, nobody probably minds because Harry’s quite the catch. People might call Louis biased, except his agency and everywhere he gets booked as a model successful in his own right would definitely agree with him. Tall and just the right amount of breadth in his limbs to not be so lanky anymore, Louis sometimes wonders what Harry sees in a dirty, aggressive sportsman like him. Of course, it’s controlled aggression and mostly energy and Harry always says he prefers it when he’s playing because at least he’s not moaning about an injury preventing him from being out there with his teammates. Apparently, aggression and such strength can also be quite sexy.
Feeling a stab of yearning for his lover as he sits in a room far, far away, Louis stands up and hunts in the pockets of his rucksack until he finds his wallet. He knows it’s the worst cliché but, with Harry in Paris doing some...fashion thing, Louis feels like he hasn’t seen him weeks rather than days and if he wants to have his face stare back at him from a slightly wrinkled square of a picture then he -
“Oi, Tommo!” comes a shout and Louis looks up without any annoyance because he’s used to it, “Quit making moony eyes at that bloody picture again, we’ve got warm up soon!”
He gives his teammate the friendly version of the middle finger (thankfully not a sexual act) without turning around and carefully puts the photo back so he can pull on his socks to be ready for warm up like he really should be. To help him along, he unravels the wire of his earphones from around his iPod and switches his music on in the hopes that the pumping sounds will make him work faster and also psyche him up for the match. He tucks the iPod into the waistband of his shorts because of the lack of pockets (he whinged about that once before realising that being in a relationship with someone like Harry was really starting to rub off on him and he promptly shut up) and his hands are moving in the air, swapping between air guitar and air drumming until suddenly the earphones are yanked out dizzily quick and big palms clamp over his already closed eyes.
“Do you really have time to be dancing your pretty little arse off to - ” there’s a pause and Louis hears the music drift close but not to his ears - “Survivor - right now? Darling, I thought you had more taste.”
“It’s a classic, just ask Rocky,” he shrugs, picking up their rhythm of conversation like they haven’t spent a day apart as he turns in the embrace and launches himself at his fiancé, “What’re you doing here, Harry?!”
He smiles, “Don’t I get a kiss first?”
Rolling his eyes like it’s a hardship to ever kiss him, Louis obliges somewhat chastely then belatedly realises when he pulls away that as well as the lack of music in his ears now, there is also a lack of teammates. The place looks sort of eerie without them here in person but crammed with their stuff.
“I told them to give us some time alone.” Harry says sweetly, reading his mind.
So Louis takes a proper look at him. He wishes he’d been paying attention when Harry had walked through the door because he bets he would’ve looked gorgeous in Ray Bans which now sit on top of his head of curls, although he probably wouldn’t have liked the stares that would’ve got him. Given half a chance, his teammates would fuck Harry whether they were gay or straight. They’ve never told him outright obviously, that thought is horrible anyway, but it’s hard not to guess. It seems like no one is entirely straight around Harry and he can see the many reasons why. Louis loves his big, green eyes and lips that are borderline sinful and the lean muscle that makes up his toned body. Even his four nipples are fascinating and entertaining and make for some very responsive, fun times. Like any good model, he’s also got a great sense of style wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. Paparazzi have been known to follow him occasionally and Louis marvels at how easily he takes it in his stride and tries to include Louis like he wants to share all parts of his life with him, even the bits that Louis has nothing to do with or doesn’t completely understand. Today, like always, he’s dressed for the weather in a thin, grey marl v-neck jumper with a navy blazer, blue skinny jeans and suede boots. It’s a perfect model’s day off get up and it says he’s not here for anyone but to support Louis and Louis feels an intense rush of love and affection for him.
He kisses him gently on the nose. “You look fantastic, by the way. Was Paris very sunny?”
“Thanks. And I didn’t go to Paris.” Harry grins, catching Louis’ fingers where they’ve wandered up to trace his face and holding on, “I just made you think I was going to Paris. I stayed with a friend last night and then travelled up so I could surprise you.”
“Well, I’m definitely surprised.”
“Surprised enough to fuck me?”
Louis blinks curiously at Harry’s expression that’s either uncharacteristically coy or cleverly sly, he can’t work out which. “What?”
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about on the drive over,” he confesses quietly, pressing in closer towards him, “for you to fuck me.”
Louis clutches at Harry’s waist as he smoothes his hands down Louis’ arms, briefly squeezing his well defined biceps and down to catch hold of one hand. He tries to pull it around his body and reaches up to cradle his neck and jaw with the other before swooping down the mere inches to kiss him harder than their greeting. Louis’ entirely conscious that he’s still bare-chested and feels the strike of a shiver as Harry’s wandering fingertips palm there, clenching in flesh and the sprinkling of hair with a needy moan.
“Is this convincing you?” he mutters, pushing his crotch insistently forward.
There’s the undeniable hardening shape of his erection and Louis knows he’s one step away from slipping down on the bench on his arse, so he nods wordlessly and finds himself manhandling Harry into the nearest wall with more force than he means. Even so, Harry wrenches his mouth away and gasps, squirming when Louis scrabbles at his belt buckle.
“Have I ever told you how hot you look in your tiny shorts?” he says in a rush, stealing kisses from the side of Louis’ mouth whenever he can.
“They’re not tiny!”
“Oh, they are. Look.” Harry grabs at Louis’ thigh, the cut of the material showing off the slim but solid bulk of muscle on his leg. “I almost wish I’d come after the match was over.”
“Really? Why?”
“Dirt on your knees, grass stains and sponsor dye on your arse, maybe a cut above your eyebrow....” Harry swallows visibly, his pupils expanding, “I wish we could build our own pitch, so we could go out there in the rain and you could fuck me in the mud.”
Louis closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Harry as his mouth opens but nothing he could say seems to suffice in that moment. Instead, he murmurs a quiet reminder that he might have a condom in his wallet and is worrying about the lack of lube until Harry gently pushes him back a step then slips his hand into the inside pocket of his blazer to produce a travel size bottle. Louis can feel the flush spread from his neck and tilts his head, considering questioningly whether Harry really wants to do this now. Harry’s only non-verbal answer is to bite his lip and not even make eye contact, choosing to let his gaze roam the body stood in front of him until Louis turns away from the lust-fuelled scrutiny in favour of rooting around for his wallet again. Dropped to the bottom of his rucksack, enough seconds go by so that when he looks at Harry again it’s to see him lean back onto the wall and his jeans fully open with his hand shoved inside.
“Stop staring!” Louis laughs when the intensity of Harry’s eyes gets to be too much.
“No,” he smirks, “you’re fucking sexy with your tiny shorts and your knee socks and lethal boots. Even the taping around your elbow is a turn on.”
Louis chuckles disbelievingly as a warm hand comes out and curls around the waistband of his shorts, yanking him close so their bodies collide. When Harry begins inching them down and having a cheeky grope of his arse on the way, Louis swipes his tongue against his and starts to tug off his blazer whilst Harry is busy wriggling out of his jeans so they pool low enough at his ankles that he can push them out of the way with a foot.
“Better strip you of these.” he grins, still removing the garments on his partner’s top half, “Don’t want you walking out to the stands with come on your jumper now, do we?”
He stands naked except for his boxers that slip to show the jut of his hips and Louis can feel the bone against his skin as he pins him in place with his own. He leans a hand on the wall for solid balance and uses the other to angle Harry’s chin and lick into his mouth until Harry is trying to rock forward with his erection and the kisses turn sloppier from unfulfilled need.
“I mean it,” he breathes, “I need you inside me.”
Louis bites his lip as a shiver racks through him and the touch of Harry’s warm, unoccupied hands shove them hard against each other in an almost rutting motion that he has no control over. He’s not bothering anymore to hide the fact that he wants to tear Louis’ shorts off, but before he does do that and ruin a perfectly pristine pair, Louis concedes and holds his hand out for the lube. About to give it to him, Harry pulls it away at the last second with a shake of the head.
“Just put it all over you, it’ll be enough for both of us. Lou, trust me.” he entreats as an afterthought when his lover is about to loudly protest.
With a resigned sound, Louis puts his forearm against Harry’s chest and watches his face intently as Harry stares at him sliding the condom down his cock before slicking himself up with plenty of lube as trusted. They chase each other’s tongue through giggles and as Louis lifts Harry’s thin legs by the back of his thighs and encourages them to wrap securely around his waist. They use the wall as a third man and Louis smiles against Harry’s lips as he realises the slight leverage and starts wriggling to find any minimal friction in such a hold.
“I’ve got you.” Louis says into his collarbone, wetting the skin with the drag of his mouth and willing his arms to lock under the weight of another fully grown man. Keenly aware that they’re rapidly running out of time before warm up, his thoughts swing around to other men. “Do you think they’re watching us? The guys, I mean.”
“Probably, insatiable bastards.” Harry snorts then spots Louis’ look of alarm, “But don’t worry. I’m all yours. What was it your dad used to say? ‘A scrum half’s job is to keep his head down and his arse in the air’? You don’t have to wonder why I chose you when you asked me out...”
Louis jumps, startled, when a hand slides down to squeeze his arse, “Hey! I fuck you!”
“No, sweetie,” Harry smiles, “we switch. Or have you forgotten? Do you need a little reminder?”
With renewed determination to make him a little less cocky about surprising him with his visit, Louis holds him flat against the wall and guides himself in carefully but efficiently. It’s a welcoming press of flesh that he’s used to, but just the wrong side of tight and not as slick. He eyes the half used sample of lube sat on the bench seat and ordinarily it would be easy to grab, but with Harry’s combined weight and legs like a vice, it’s next to impossible unless he carries him somewhere. After the test of a thrust and Harry greedily trying to bear down on him, Louis mutters a quick “hold on tight” before he curls his hands more firmly around his lover’s thighs and twirls them around with only a slight stumble. Harry’s mouth opens on a gasp from the movement of Louis inside him and he can’t help his grin as Harry clutches at him tighter through shock rather than command. He snatches the half empty bottle from the bench seat and doesn’t stop putting one foot in front of the other until there’s one stumble too many and Harry’s hiding his giggles in his neck. Louis pulls out slowly and lets Harry put his feet back on the ground, but wastes no time to kiss him to distraction and he’s right where he wants him.
With a quick swipe of the arm, pieces of kit, water bottles and even the emergency first aid box go flying from a table in the centre of the room and onto the grimy floor and Louis kisses Harry forcefully, leading with his mouth, until he gets the clue and hops onto the edge. Louis follows him; the sight of his already spread legs making his stomach fall pleasantly like something akin to the first drop in height on a rollercoaster.
“Maybe - ” he starts, licking his lips, “ - maybe tonight you can refresh my memory if we win. You are sticking around, right?”
If anything, Harry’s eyes lose their colour to blacken even more, “With a promise like that, yeah definitely.”
Louis leans over with one hand braced on the table by Harry’s side and the other curled around himself, dipping down to seal Harry into a kiss as he presses inside again with his lube slickened dick. He feels teeth graze his lip on a grimace and straightens immediately whilst wasting no time to grab the last of the bottle of lube as it rests precariously under Harry’s arm. He wriggles impatiently and Louis just about catches it with a snort of laughter before it rolls somewhere he has no hope of retrieving. He unscrews the cap and pours with a flourish, watching the liquid fall over his half hidden erection and reaching down to thumb the excess into Harry’s stretched hole, grinning when he gasps and tries to rock more of Louis into him.
“Lou!” he whines low in his throat, far gone already and nothing like the composed model in front of a camera, “C’mon - fuck me - fuck me, please,”
Louis tosses the now empty bottle over his shoulder and hears it clatter on the tiles as Harry draws him near with his legs and he buries to the hilt with one pointed thrust. Harry arches on a gasp, long torso curving and an arm reaching out to claw at Louis’ when he stays still for more than he likes and smirks down at him knowingly. With Harry writhing on his cock, Louis gives in to the inevitable with one brain cell on the amount of time they have left and grabs Harry by the ankles, raising them until he’s fucking into the V of his long legs. He’s trapped himself with the only touch he’s able to being his curled hands and Louis starts squeezing the bones on every thrust in and releasing as he pulls out, its own rhythm that has Harry struggling to breathe through the building scent of them together.
“Harder!” he groans, throwing a sweaty arm over his eyes as Louis watches his palm slither to tweak a nipple then down to tug furiously at his cock.
Understanding the pace he’s setting on his own body, Louis wants to please him because he made the effort to come see him, so his hips snap forward with increased urgency until the tight skin of his balls slap against the underside of Harry’s arse and he can feel his orgasm speedily approaching the faster he moves.
“Fuck, Haz,” he groans in response, staring wide eyed when he looks down and sees how Harry takes him so easily, his wince of earlier discomfort replaced with the perpetual slack of his shiny mouth.
With working his cock, Harry tenses around Louis the closer his fist swipes up towards the crown and Louis fills between with clinging to his ankles until he can’t take it anymore, breaking much sooner than Harry lost to the pleasure of it all. Louis slumps forward with a growl and shoves in to make Harry pant continuously, waking him up from his haze of firm thrusts and twists to his erection and giggling a little deliriously when Harry’s knuckles knock against the vulnerable skin just below his bellybutton. He shifts when the yellowed bruise Harry left there a week and a half ago pains him faintly like a brilliant reminder and hardly notices the iron of Harry’s other fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder.
“Make me come,” he begs in a rumbling, but desperate voice, the vibrations against Louis’ aimless lips making him shiver to his toes, “please - just - ”
Louis turns his face below his jaw and sucks his skin between the ruthless press of his teeth, nipping quickly then tugging for longer as he tries to remember to keep moving. To increase the leverage, he puts his arm beneath Harry’s clenching thigh and folds him further in towards his chest, kneading his buttock with rough fingers until the table is creaking and Harry thinks to hold on tight. Louis bites at his jaw as Harry’s toes curl against the small of his back and he cries out, eyes rolling back as his trapped cock spurts wetly across his toned abs. The sticky feeling, knowing that he’s done that to Harry, causes Louis to follow mere minutes after as he fucks Harry through his orgasm and feels him ripple in reaction to his own. He grunts and grinds to halt, half leaning his weight on Harry now that he’s let his softening cock go.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
Harry pulls him up with palms either side of his face to look at him with a frown, “Sorry? What for?”
Louis’ slow grin breaks out, “Sorry that it had to be so quick. Think I got a bit carried away there too.”
“Do you think this is me complaining?”
Louis’ eyes follow Harry’s fingers as he trails them through the wet patch on his stomach and flinches with an outraged giggle when Harry tries to flick his hand at him. In case Harry gets anymore ideas, he withdraws carefully and turns to tie the condom off before dropping it in the bin by the table.
“There’s nowhere else right now,” he defends as Harry raises an eyebrow.
Louis takes the hand not messy with come and leads him back to his corner to pick up a towel from inside his rucksack and wipe him down with a fond smile. When Harry gets a certain grin on his face, Louis tries to dodge away but he’s grabbed into a sloppy kiss anyway and warm palms stroking over his body.
“Hey,” he says, wrenching from him and slapping the towel across Harry’s arse to make him jump, “get dressed. I don’t want my teammates to see you in your birthday suit.”
He knows Harry is blasé about nudity and is pretty sure it has nothing to do with lack of inhibitions he has with being a model. It’s just Harry, but Louis would rather keep it that way and have him all to himself. Having gone over that fact many a time, Harry complies as they sneak silly little glances at each other and grin so giddily. Louis’ just pulling down his shirt when Harry puts a hand to his shoulder.
“Good luck today. I’ll be in the stands watching. Score a try for me, yeah?”
Louis hums, pleased, and neglects to mention that his position usually creates tries and rarely score themselves. Instead, he draws Harry into his arms and gives him one last, slower kiss. It’s a short time before they’re interrupted by wolf whistling and good natured jeering, but Louis stubbornly takes his time to move his lips from Harry.
“Whoa, Tommo!” someone shouts gleefully as they all file back inside the room and take in the state of disarray in their surroundings, “It looks like a bomb has hit in here,”
“Yeah!” another voice chimes, “A sex bomb!”
Raucous laughter erupts and Louis chuckles, shaking his head, “Boys, that’s so weak. Maybe I should try again and you can come back with a better line?”
He and Harry break apart then as Louis’ teammates come towards him in some boyish show of genuine support, slapping him on the back or the arse. Harry slips out the door with a parting, intense look at his fiancé and walks like he’s heading to a catwalk.
“You’ve got a good one there, mate,” a voice says sagely to Louis’ right as he’s still staring where Harry disappeared, “a real keeper.”
Being taller than him, Louis rests his head briefly on his friend’s shoulder as he recognises the sincerity in the comment, “I know, Jams. I know.”
As luck would have it, in the seventy sixth minute and with a quick tap and go after a penalty is given, Louis runs for the line and tucks a try right near the corner flag. His team jumps all over him for his quick thinking and as he’s grinning and jogging back to the centre of the pitch, he searches for Harry’s face. He finds him eventually, on his feet and applauding with a smile. Louis smiles back because really it’s all for him.
fin.