Arse You Like It - Louis/Nick - 1/1
Title: Arse You Like It
Pairing: Louis/Nick Grimshaw
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: A peek into Nick Grimshaw's sexual history via the medium of bums. Except with Louis it's a little bit more than that. - ie. character study and ship headcanons from the bedroom AKA bum talk then sex.
Disclaimer: I do not know these people in reality, it isn't true and not meant to offend. The beauty of fictional constructs.
A/N: I really don't know. I started thinking about different arses and this happened. I guess you could say this is my Louis' Arse Headcanon. I am never doing Nick's POV again. I feel so rusty. :( Comments are always love. <3
Nick’s seen his fair share of arses. The slang term for idiots, yes, but also actual bums attached to actual people.
In fact, he’s not afraid to admit that since he grew into himself in confidence and looks, he’s seen a pretty good cross section of the male populace. You could say these days he’s somewhat of a bum connoisseur. A butt specialist. An arse aficionado.
There’s a few that sticks in his mind, he realises one day when he’s in a meeting with Finchy, feet up on the table and a chewed pen in his mouth. It doesn’t matter that their timelines and circumstances are all jumbled up in his head. He’s a little bit proud that he even remembers some of their names.
For example, there was Will, the English model that Nick had blagged into meeting off the back of his friendship with Henry (not for the first time) and then shagging for a whole weekend. That was despite the bloke’s naturally waifish ways and flat-as-a-pancake arse. Nick found that whilst his dick was very much in the game, his heart and mind were not. He missed having something to grab onto, flailing around uselessly with a grimace until he resorted to settling his hands on the headboard above the guy’s head. He did have a pair of rather nice cheekbones though.
There was Gianni. A young, shy Italian that Nick should’ve known better than to pursue and whilst on holiday in Ibiza no less. He’s not sure he’s learnt his lesson about youthful, fit men in its entirety, but at least there’s no more beanpole body and a tiny, cute arse. It was a step in the right direction, he liked to slap it playfully and watch it turn pink but his voice was the most distracting part about him. It was something else, especially when he moaned out in a language that sounded sexy from the first syllable, but Nick quickly grew tired of that after he started babbling marriage and promises of Skype calls when Nick had to inevitably fly back home.
There was also the hot Brazilian god with a bubble butt to die for, Philip. Plenty to grab for sure and, upon making eyes at him, Nick discovered he was the strong, silent type, so there was definitely no room for schmaltzy talk of a future. All was well with the sex except...he never did stay silent for long. He may have been built like a brick shithouse but, boy, did he love cock an insatiable amount. There’s nothing wrong with that per se but disappointingly, once you’ve had one arse like that gyrate back onto your dick, it kinda feels like you’ve seen them all.
Or Nick’s judgement is clouded by who he knows at present. He has the lucky pleasure of knowing him so completely. Sometimes it’s like Louis is truly and utterly unique...and that’s just his arse, never mind any of his other assets. Try as he might, Nick has never been able to deny that he’s attracted to Louis. He’s a feisty, perfectly proportioned package who keeps him on his toes. His arse is no different in the how is your body real stakes.
He doesn't quite possess the excess of a massive bubble butt, but it’s definitely not flat either and luckily that fits right into Nick’s hands, sometimes literally. If there’s one word Nick had to use to describe Louis Tomlinson, especially in regards to his perfect bum, it’s...perky. “Eminently squeezable all over” sadly wouldn’t count as just one word if Nick wasn’t in the habit of breaking a few little rules and somehow Louis makes him break a lot of them and his arse is somewhat of a problem, too tempting to resist.
His buttocks are peach-round and smooth but also incredibly firm, not an inch of flesh out of place. Nick supposes he can thank youth and maybe football for that alongside the strength in his fine thighs. It’s curious that the dark hair on those legs never seems to follow inwards or near his arse, not even downy fuzz. Nick has often found himself idly wondering if that luck is how he’s also been blessed with immaculately arched eyebrows. He almost doesn’t want to ask in case there is some secret to it. All this comes together to mean that he likes nothing more than when Louis slides into his lap, preferably sans clothes and often with Nick inside him. He has a sneaking suspicion Louis gets off on riding him as much as he does giving over the reins of control. Whether fast and slick or slow and deeply hard, Nick’s hands never stray from that arse for long.
In a romance novel, perhaps you’d expect his arse to be the same skin tone as his lovely arms but Nick enjoys that it’s not. In the summer months particularly, he has a t-shirt tan or, if Nick has been an especially good boy, it’s a nearly naked one but he always seems to have the faint whisper of a tan-line just under the twin dimples of his lower back and starting again remarkably further down his thighs than Nick appreciates because it’s surprising how Louis’ not into tiny shorts. The change is subtle, still an inexplicably golden hue, but Nick loves nothing more than tracing the fading difference with his tongue.
Having regular sex with him (as regular from a jet-setting popstar anyway), the cleft in his delectable cheeks is just as enticing as the rest of him and a surprising shadow is cast between his buttocks, framing them as it becomes a spot that Nick finds his eyes helplessly drawn to, even when Louis is simply bending over in sweatpants low on his hips and the waistband of his underwear high. Typically, Nick likes it best when he’s not wearing any. He also has a penchant for teasing, they both do, as Louis settles onto his hands and knees anywhere and everywhere before Nick rocks forward and watches how the length of his lubed cock fits snugly against his arse, the promise of a fuck. Louis can’t help a shiver as Nick thumbs at the rim of his hole mid-thrust and he’s been known to give Louis a light slap or two, delighting all too much in the firm jiggle of muscle. At the same time, Nick chooses that second to stop avoiding his prostate, fucking those breathy moans clean out of him, so that he never associates a friendly pat from his handsy bandmates with what Nick is able and willing to give him.
Something he loves in abundance is to lick Louis out and a lot of Nick’s opinion is influenced by Louis himself. The dirty flair of it has Louis like putty in his hands as he takes his time to spread him open and stare before he gets to the rimming. He responds eagerly to anything, his hands curled into fists as if ready to fight back and deny it all, but ruins it through muffled noises of protest. He tries to hurry Nick along by being vocal and bossy, helplessly reacting to deliberate, warm huffs of breath by the clenching of his hole. Where he’s the most sensitive is a shade darker than the rest of his body, matching the colour of his peaked nipples and tight skin across his balls until Nick licks deep, sucking and biting a rosy blush into the whorl of flesh. Besides a cock, Louis comes hardest when Nick eats his arse without mercy, sometimes with a hand splayed over his spine to keep him from moving or the exact opposite by sneaking in a roll or a pinch of a nipple to make him squirm and shake at the point of climax. Louis always complains afterwards, but Nick simply inclines his head at the evidence splashed on his belly and the tremors he can’t hide from a pretty good orgasm.
Nick thinks it’s with a sense of revenge for the above that Louis loves a good cuddle. Nick’s never been quite so hug-orientated, unless he’s deliberately chosen to be annoying and limpet-like, but for Louis it looks almost a part of who he is. Outgoing, affectionate and with a curiosity that’s nearly insatiable for the stuff he has a pinch of interest in, Nick sees it as damn fortunate that Louis ended up in a career with four other boys who, if not actively love it themselves on a personal level, tolerate his tactile nature and love him for who he is anyway. Although Nick hasn’t told him, he’s opened him up to a whole new avenue to explore - to read Louis when he wants a hug, when he needs a hug and where. A lot of the time prolonged cuddles have to happen behind firmly closed doors, but Nick’s alright with that, even when Louis sometimes sneaks in an after-sex special because usually it leads to kisses and, if Nick is particularly good at being persuasive, kisses lead to another round in the sack with his popstar nearly-toyboy (“I’m far younger than you,” Louis had reminded with utmost glee actually post-first time sex, “so that makes me your toyboy, eh?“ “You are never ever to use that word to mean this...thing between us, never mind actually be one. It has to be at least 10 years!”). Nick’s fairly certain he was convinced to be so tactile by Louis starting on the not-so innocent benefit, swaying into his personal space on tiptoe until Nick had no choice but to grab hold, hands quickly drifting to Louis’ arse to keep them close to each other. It’s that which often has him automatically drawing Louis down as he rides his dick, his arse fitting into his palms perfectly and there for him to devour in more ways than one as Louis concentrates on the sliding friction on his cock from Nick’s torso beneath.
That’s not even starting on toys. Nick never could’ve imagined that one of the words he would come to associate with Louis is sensitive - incredibly caring towards the people he loves the most, acutely aware of his surroundings and when the atmosphere needs a mood lift and an attentive listener for serious matters, business or personal, but also sensitive in sexy ways too. Nick had taken a gamble once, on the present for Louis’ 21st birthday, and still didn’t know how to feel when Louis simply stared down at the silver-chained nipple clamps in their little box, adam’s apple bobbing slowly. When they actually got to playing around with them, he finally understood why as Louis’ body arched taut like an unreleased bow, quickly writhing and jerking in relief and arousal as Nick gave his trussed up nipples a tug here and a rub there. Also, like any self-respecting man who loves cock and his own buried inside a fantastic arse even more, Nick had to try him on plugs and vibrators. He wasn’t underwhelmed by the reaction, clutching, grasping limbs and breathy moans that grew raspy and broken as Nick teased his hole with sensation and kept him full of come if the mood struck, his arse clenched tight around the plug even after a long, hard, knee-weakening fuck.
Whilst most of what Nick can do to him is in the wide spectrum of greatness, he’s figured out some of Louis’ few dislikes too. He shies away from the light brush of fingers on his sides because he’s ticklish and too distracted from the pleasure he’s otherwise (hopefully) feeling and much rather prefers a proper grip, occasionally borderline manhandling. He’s not into Nick’s mouth spending too much time around his balls either, maybe for the same reason, although his own tongue is rather clever and talented in those little extras amidst a blowjob that Nick fortunately never takes for granted. The fact that they never have semi-public sex is a given because of who they are, except there was that one misjudged time in Gillian’s tiny excuse for a garden, behind an old shed in the dying minutes of a raucous party when Nick just couldn’t wait a whole cab ride to his flat to share his opinion with Louis on exactly what he thought of his new, practically painted-on jeans. Even if they weren’t considered worthy of the tabloids and then some, Nick doubts that they’d ever do something like that again as they’re both far too lazy in quickly shucking their penchant for tight clothing unless they’re about to have a drunken shag. Nick remembering such a thing is testament that they weren’t even remotely tipsy that night, just horny.
From appreciating Louis’ body and knowing his true limits, Nick’s allowed to be his otherwise irrepressible self and it’s become one of his favourite things when Louis tries to get on with the rest of his day or a night of sleep to mischievously fit a finger into the back of his underwear to yank them down just before the cleft of his arse, to stroke the space where it starts to dip and often bring him back into the mood or physically into bed so Nick can yet again thoroughly explore where it leads.
It might be nice to see Louis just in his underwear right now, but Nick is glad that this is one of the times where an alternative is actually somehow better as Louis appears from Nick’s bathroom across the hall, naked except for one of Nick’s black t-shirts that had been hastily thrown on the minute he had enough energy to get to his feet. Nick constantly tells him that the majority of his flat is lower than pavement level and he has “a new invention called blinds”, so nobody would see if Louis happened to take the short walk from bedroom to bathroom in his birthday suit, but he clearly hasn’t convinced him yet.
The chosen t-shirt has always been baggy on Nick but is positively sinful on Louis, the neckline ripped all to hell over sharp collarbones and ink and the memory of his sway-hipped walk burned into Nick’s mind as the material skims his sun-kissed thighs and there’s hope for a need to bend over, displaying a hint of bare cheek or, some of the time, the glimpse of a plug. Even without that, Nick enjoys watching him move slowly back towards him and his bed, post-coital and soft around the edges.
He reaches out with a lazy arm to catch hold of the t-shirt hem and pull up for a cheeky look at his dick instead when something damp and vaguely whiffy suddenly slaps across his face instead of his chest where he’d expected. Nick pulls it off immediately, flailing slightly as Louis clambers over his torso to wriggle in beside him rather than walk around to the side of the bed. Nick feels himself hold his breath and his position for a second, frozen and clutching at the flannel as Louis’ thighs open up around him just as quick and give him a peek of his soft cock and so much lovely skin and muscle that his own makes its interest known. It’s only when Louis slides a hand underneath his crazy bedhead and waits for Nick to come back to him does he come unstuck and slap the flannel between his palms like he’s stretching pizza dough.
“I hope this is clean!” he frowns.
“I dunno, Nick, is it your come flannel?” Louis must see him take a second to think hard because he makes a face suddenly. “Oh my god, that’s horrible, “I’m not touching that again!”
“You helped me ruin it!” he argues back, “This is your come too, Tomlinson,”
“Fuck you, I’m spotless!”
“Yeah, because you insist on coming on me and then I have to clean myself up with this! See how it works?”
Both sat up now and turned towards each other, Louis looks scandalised, “I don’t insist, it just happens!”
Nick’s pleased to note that he attacks first and even though it’s a struggle and Louis is awfully stubborn, he manages to pin and roll him onto his belly and settles onto the backs of his thighs to keep him there.
“Y’know, I wouldn’t do shit like that if you didn’t come in me,” Louis says, after his done grumbling into the sheets about how his life is so unfair or something and he’s carelessly thrown the dropped flannel somewhere so it’s not quite so close to his face.
“Aw, come on, that’s a special treat now,” Nick giggles teasingly as he lifts the hem of his t-shirt off Louis’ arse, his surprised gulp audible in his own ears and halting anything else he had to say. “Oh. Oh, you are a filthy boy aren’t you, not cleaning yourself up first,”
From the trip to the bathroom and the splay of his legs to climb Nick like a tree, he’s leaky and sticky with drying come and the stab of possession, of having claimed Louis so intimately and what that actually means to him, hits Nick like a punch to the balls. Before he’s conscious of it, his hand drifts between Louis’ cheeks and drags the pad of his thumb against his stretched hole, to feel the clench and flutter of muscle. Louis instantly reaches behind to bat at him weakly on instinct, but when Nick tries to move away for real, Louis’ fingers dig into his wrist. He rakes his eyes over Louis’ back and can almost feel the tremble in his bones as he chances another go at his rim, spreading him open slow and careful. Nick has to grip his half hard dick to ward off the dirty thoughts and impulses when his fingertips get tacky because there’s no way Louis is ready and Nick’s not going to push him tonight, not with how sensitive they’ve discovered he is when things are messy and the new novelty of not always using a condom. Whilst this is true, it still leaves him with a growing problem, literally, and he can’t force it to be gone anymore, not with Louis squirming underneath him and hiding his face, so Nick curls a fist around his cock and starts tugging with a moan of relief, his other hand stroking, squeezing, grasping Louis in time with his hitched breaths. To his surprise, Louis hips’ begin to rock helplessly into the bed and Nick can’t resist pressing a kiss to the shiny patch of sweat gathering over his tensing shoulderblades.
“No fingers, promise,” he takes the opportunity to whisper in Louis’ ear, but makes an embarrassing noise as he rises on his knees more and Louis pulls his own under his body.
When he shifts backwards now, his arse manages to brush Nick’s working knuckles and he gasps, overcome by how good it could feel if his hand wasn’t making a nuisance of itself. With a superhuman effort, he uncurls his fingers and grabs Louis’ hips, easing him back as his dick pushes up into thin air so the precome dripping from his slit slicks the path of him fucking Louis’ body without the breach. Louis’ breathing harder though and squeezing Nick’s hands over his hips in time with the steady thrusting, so Nick spiders one palm around and connects with his dick.
“Yeah?” he groans, manic with the need to touch this boy everywhere if it means he wants to catch up to where Nick’s at.
He feels the pleasure zing down to his toes as Louis nods frantically, his elbows nearly giving out as Nick sets a speedy pace with his hand, Louis’ skin velvety and stretched taut at the head when he’s fully erect and ready to go.
The seconds it took has Nick with a reluctant okay, toyboy quip on the tip of his tongue to show his gratitude for this impromptu second round, to make Louis laugh, until a sob from him has Nick’s head whipping up to his face that he can’t see and then down at his cock, at the feel of the slippery crown catching Louis’ rim.
“I won’t lie,” he says shakily, draping his fuzzy torso against the smooth arc of Louis’ back, “I want my dick inside you so bad right now,”
“Just keep - don’t stop, god, wait - ‘m so close,”
He growls, half annoyed, at that and Louis muffles his giggle into the sheets, but Nick’s fingers grope him hard at the base and his mirth spirals into a long, needy moan as his orgasm rattles through him. It’s considerably less come than what had first matted Nick’s chest hair and the reason he trotted off (sent) to grab something to wipe them with, but Nick will take a sticky palmful that he rubs into Louis’ belly anyway. With him rendered useless from two close together orgasms, Nick holds himself again and makes practiced work towards his release, shivering as he leans over Louis’ prone, heavily breathing form and brands him white.
In his mind, getting Louis’ arse wet all over again is just like Nick’s very own stamp of approval.
fin.
Pairing: Louis/Nick Grimshaw
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: A peek into Nick Grimshaw's sexual history via the medium of bums. Except with Louis it's a little bit more than that. - ie. character study and ship headcanons from the bedroom AKA bum talk then sex.
Disclaimer: I do not know these people in reality, it isn't true and not meant to offend. The beauty of fictional constructs.
A/N: I really don't know. I started thinking about different arses and this happened. I guess you could say this is my Louis' Arse Headcanon. I am never doing Nick's POV again. I feel so rusty. :( Comments are always love. <3
Nick’s seen his fair share of arses. The slang term for idiots, yes, but also actual bums attached to actual people.
In fact, he’s not afraid to admit that since he grew into himself in confidence and looks, he’s seen a pretty good cross section of the male populace. You could say these days he’s somewhat of a bum connoisseur. A butt specialist. An arse aficionado.
There’s a few that sticks in his mind, he realises one day when he’s in a meeting with Finchy, feet up on the table and a chewed pen in his mouth. It doesn’t matter that their timelines and circumstances are all jumbled up in his head. He’s a little bit proud that he even remembers some of their names.
For example, there was Will, the English model that Nick had blagged into meeting off the back of his friendship with Henry (not for the first time) and then shagging for a whole weekend. That was despite the bloke’s naturally waifish ways and flat-as-a-pancake arse. Nick found that whilst his dick was very much in the game, his heart and mind were not. He missed having something to grab onto, flailing around uselessly with a grimace until he resorted to settling his hands on the headboard above the guy’s head. He did have a pair of rather nice cheekbones though.
There was Gianni. A young, shy Italian that Nick should’ve known better than to pursue and whilst on holiday in Ibiza no less. He’s not sure he’s learnt his lesson about youthful, fit men in its entirety, but at least there’s no more beanpole body and a tiny, cute arse. It was a step in the right direction, he liked to slap it playfully and watch it turn pink but his voice was the most distracting part about him. It was something else, especially when he moaned out in a language that sounded sexy from the first syllable, but Nick quickly grew tired of that after he started babbling marriage and promises of Skype calls when Nick had to inevitably fly back home.
There was also the hot Brazilian god with a bubble butt to die for, Philip. Plenty to grab for sure and, upon making eyes at him, Nick discovered he was the strong, silent type, so there was definitely no room for schmaltzy talk of a future. All was well with the sex except...he never did stay silent for long. He may have been built like a brick shithouse but, boy, did he love cock an insatiable amount. There’s nothing wrong with that per se but disappointingly, once you’ve had one arse like that gyrate back onto your dick, it kinda feels like you’ve seen them all.
Or Nick’s judgement is clouded by who he knows at present. He has the lucky pleasure of knowing him so completely. Sometimes it’s like Louis is truly and utterly unique...and that’s just his arse, never mind any of his other assets. Try as he might, Nick has never been able to deny that he’s attracted to Louis. He’s a feisty, perfectly proportioned package who keeps him on his toes. His arse is no different in the how is your body real stakes.
He doesn't quite possess the excess of a massive bubble butt, but it’s definitely not flat either and luckily that fits right into Nick’s hands, sometimes literally. If there’s one word Nick had to use to describe Louis Tomlinson, especially in regards to his perfect bum, it’s...perky. “Eminently squeezable all over” sadly wouldn’t count as just one word if Nick wasn’t in the habit of breaking a few little rules and somehow Louis makes him break a lot of them and his arse is somewhat of a problem, too tempting to resist.
His buttocks are peach-round and smooth but also incredibly firm, not an inch of flesh out of place. Nick supposes he can thank youth and maybe football for that alongside the strength in his fine thighs. It’s curious that the dark hair on those legs never seems to follow inwards or near his arse, not even downy fuzz. Nick has often found himself idly wondering if that luck is how he’s also been blessed with immaculately arched eyebrows. He almost doesn’t want to ask in case there is some secret to it. All this comes together to mean that he likes nothing more than when Louis slides into his lap, preferably sans clothes and often with Nick inside him. He has a sneaking suspicion Louis gets off on riding him as much as he does giving over the reins of control. Whether fast and slick or slow and deeply hard, Nick’s hands never stray from that arse for long.
In a romance novel, perhaps you’d expect his arse to be the same skin tone as his lovely arms but Nick enjoys that it’s not. In the summer months particularly, he has a t-shirt tan or, if Nick has been an especially good boy, it’s a nearly naked one but he always seems to have the faint whisper of a tan-line just under the twin dimples of his lower back and starting again remarkably further down his thighs than Nick appreciates because it’s surprising how Louis’ not into tiny shorts. The change is subtle, still an inexplicably golden hue, but Nick loves nothing more than tracing the fading difference with his tongue.
Having regular sex with him (as regular from a jet-setting popstar anyway), the cleft in his delectable cheeks is just as enticing as the rest of him and a surprising shadow is cast between his buttocks, framing them as it becomes a spot that Nick finds his eyes helplessly drawn to, even when Louis is simply bending over in sweatpants low on his hips and the waistband of his underwear high. Typically, Nick likes it best when he’s not wearing any. He also has a penchant for teasing, they both do, as Louis settles onto his hands and knees anywhere and everywhere before Nick rocks forward and watches how the length of his lubed cock fits snugly against his arse, the promise of a fuck. Louis can’t help a shiver as Nick thumbs at the rim of his hole mid-thrust and he’s been known to give Louis a light slap or two, delighting all too much in the firm jiggle of muscle. At the same time, Nick chooses that second to stop avoiding his prostate, fucking those breathy moans clean out of him, so that he never associates a friendly pat from his handsy bandmates with what Nick is able and willing to give him.
Something he loves in abundance is to lick Louis out and a lot of Nick’s opinion is influenced by Louis himself. The dirty flair of it has Louis like putty in his hands as he takes his time to spread him open and stare before he gets to the rimming. He responds eagerly to anything, his hands curled into fists as if ready to fight back and deny it all, but ruins it through muffled noises of protest. He tries to hurry Nick along by being vocal and bossy, helplessly reacting to deliberate, warm huffs of breath by the clenching of his hole. Where he’s the most sensitive is a shade darker than the rest of his body, matching the colour of his peaked nipples and tight skin across his balls until Nick licks deep, sucking and biting a rosy blush into the whorl of flesh. Besides a cock, Louis comes hardest when Nick eats his arse without mercy, sometimes with a hand splayed over his spine to keep him from moving or the exact opposite by sneaking in a roll or a pinch of a nipple to make him squirm and shake at the point of climax. Louis always complains afterwards, but Nick simply inclines his head at the evidence splashed on his belly and the tremors he can’t hide from a pretty good orgasm.
Nick thinks it’s with a sense of revenge for the above that Louis loves a good cuddle. Nick’s never been quite so hug-orientated, unless he’s deliberately chosen to be annoying and limpet-like, but for Louis it looks almost a part of who he is. Outgoing, affectionate and with a curiosity that’s nearly insatiable for the stuff he has a pinch of interest in, Nick sees it as damn fortunate that Louis ended up in a career with four other boys who, if not actively love it themselves on a personal level, tolerate his tactile nature and love him for who he is anyway. Although Nick hasn’t told him, he’s opened him up to a whole new avenue to explore - to read Louis when he wants a hug, when he needs a hug and where. A lot of the time prolonged cuddles have to happen behind firmly closed doors, but Nick’s alright with that, even when Louis sometimes sneaks in an after-sex special because usually it leads to kisses and, if Nick is particularly good at being persuasive, kisses lead to another round in the sack with his popstar nearly-toyboy (“I’m far younger than you,” Louis had reminded with utmost glee actually post-first time sex, “so that makes me your toyboy, eh?“ “You are never ever to use that word to mean this...thing between us, never mind actually be one. It has to be at least 10 years!”). Nick’s fairly certain he was convinced to be so tactile by Louis starting on the not-so innocent benefit, swaying into his personal space on tiptoe until Nick had no choice but to grab hold, hands quickly drifting to Louis’ arse to keep them close to each other. It’s that which often has him automatically drawing Louis down as he rides his dick, his arse fitting into his palms perfectly and there for him to devour in more ways than one as Louis concentrates on the sliding friction on his cock from Nick’s torso beneath.
That’s not even starting on toys. Nick never could’ve imagined that one of the words he would come to associate with Louis is sensitive - incredibly caring towards the people he loves the most, acutely aware of his surroundings and when the atmosphere needs a mood lift and an attentive listener for serious matters, business or personal, but also sensitive in sexy ways too. Nick had taken a gamble once, on the present for Louis’ 21st birthday, and still didn’t know how to feel when Louis simply stared down at the silver-chained nipple clamps in their little box, adam’s apple bobbing slowly. When they actually got to playing around with them, he finally understood why as Louis’ body arched taut like an unreleased bow, quickly writhing and jerking in relief and arousal as Nick gave his trussed up nipples a tug here and a rub there. Also, like any self-respecting man who loves cock and his own buried inside a fantastic arse even more, Nick had to try him on plugs and vibrators. He wasn’t underwhelmed by the reaction, clutching, grasping limbs and breathy moans that grew raspy and broken as Nick teased his hole with sensation and kept him full of come if the mood struck, his arse clenched tight around the plug even after a long, hard, knee-weakening fuck.
Whilst most of what Nick can do to him is in the wide spectrum of greatness, he’s figured out some of Louis’ few dislikes too. He shies away from the light brush of fingers on his sides because he’s ticklish and too distracted from the pleasure he’s otherwise (hopefully) feeling and much rather prefers a proper grip, occasionally borderline manhandling. He’s not into Nick’s mouth spending too much time around his balls either, maybe for the same reason, although his own tongue is rather clever and talented in those little extras amidst a blowjob that Nick fortunately never takes for granted. The fact that they never have semi-public sex is a given because of who they are, except there was that one misjudged time in Gillian’s tiny excuse for a garden, behind an old shed in the dying minutes of a raucous party when Nick just couldn’t wait a whole cab ride to his flat to share his opinion with Louis on exactly what he thought of his new, practically painted-on jeans. Even if they weren’t considered worthy of the tabloids and then some, Nick doubts that they’d ever do something like that again as they’re both far too lazy in quickly shucking their penchant for tight clothing unless they’re about to have a drunken shag. Nick remembering such a thing is testament that they weren’t even remotely tipsy that night, just horny.
From appreciating Louis’ body and knowing his true limits, Nick’s allowed to be his otherwise irrepressible self and it’s become one of his favourite things when Louis tries to get on with the rest of his day or a night of sleep to mischievously fit a finger into the back of his underwear to yank them down just before the cleft of his arse, to stroke the space where it starts to dip and often bring him back into the mood or physically into bed so Nick can yet again thoroughly explore where it leads.
It might be nice to see Louis just in his underwear right now, but Nick is glad that this is one of the times where an alternative is actually somehow better as Louis appears from Nick’s bathroom across the hall, naked except for one of Nick’s black t-shirts that had been hastily thrown on the minute he had enough energy to get to his feet. Nick constantly tells him that the majority of his flat is lower than pavement level and he has “a new invention called blinds”, so nobody would see if Louis happened to take the short walk from bedroom to bathroom in his birthday suit, but he clearly hasn’t convinced him yet.
The chosen t-shirt has always been baggy on Nick but is positively sinful on Louis, the neckline ripped all to hell over sharp collarbones and ink and the memory of his sway-hipped walk burned into Nick’s mind as the material skims his sun-kissed thighs and there’s hope for a need to bend over, displaying a hint of bare cheek or, some of the time, the glimpse of a plug. Even without that, Nick enjoys watching him move slowly back towards him and his bed, post-coital and soft around the edges.
He reaches out with a lazy arm to catch hold of the t-shirt hem and pull up for a cheeky look at his dick instead when something damp and vaguely whiffy suddenly slaps across his face instead of his chest where he’d expected. Nick pulls it off immediately, flailing slightly as Louis clambers over his torso to wriggle in beside him rather than walk around to the side of the bed. Nick feels himself hold his breath and his position for a second, frozen and clutching at the flannel as Louis’ thighs open up around him just as quick and give him a peek of his soft cock and so much lovely skin and muscle that his own makes its interest known. It’s only when Louis slides a hand underneath his crazy bedhead and waits for Nick to come back to him does he come unstuck and slap the flannel between his palms like he’s stretching pizza dough.
“I hope this is clean!” he frowns.
“I dunno, Nick, is it your come flannel?” Louis must see him take a second to think hard because he makes a face suddenly. “Oh my god, that’s horrible, “I’m not touching that again!”
“You helped me ruin it!” he argues back, “This is your come too, Tomlinson,”
“Fuck you, I’m spotless!”
“Yeah, because you insist on coming on me and then I have to clean myself up with this! See how it works?”
Both sat up now and turned towards each other, Louis looks scandalised, “I don’t insist, it just happens!”
Nick’s pleased to note that he attacks first and even though it’s a struggle and Louis is awfully stubborn, he manages to pin and roll him onto his belly and settles onto the backs of his thighs to keep him there.
“Y’know, I wouldn’t do shit like that if you didn’t come in me,” Louis says, after his done grumbling into the sheets about how his life is so unfair or something and he’s carelessly thrown the dropped flannel somewhere so it’s not quite so close to his face.
“Aw, come on, that’s a special treat now,” Nick giggles teasingly as he lifts the hem of his t-shirt off Louis’ arse, his surprised gulp audible in his own ears and halting anything else he had to say. “Oh. Oh, you are a filthy boy aren’t you, not cleaning yourself up first,”
From the trip to the bathroom and the splay of his legs to climb Nick like a tree, he’s leaky and sticky with drying come and the stab of possession, of having claimed Louis so intimately and what that actually means to him, hits Nick like a punch to the balls. Before he’s conscious of it, his hand drifts between Louis’ cheeks and drags the pad of his thumb against his stretched hole, to feel the clench and flutter of muscle. Louis instantly reaches behind to bat at him weakly on instinct, but when Nick tries to move away for real, Louis’ fingers dig into his wrist. He rakes his eyes over Louis’ back and can almost feel the tremble in his bones as he chances another go at his rim, spreading him open slow and careful. Nick has to grip his half hard dick to ward off the dirty thoughts and impulses when his fingertips get tacky because there’s no way Louis is ready and Nick’s not going to push him tonight, not with how sensitive they’ve discovered he is when things are messy and the new novelty of not always using a condom. Whilst this is true, it still leaves him with a growing problem, literally, and he can’t force it to be gone anymore, not with Louis squirming underneath him and hiding his face, so Nick curls a fist around his cock and starts tugging with a moan of relief, his other hand stroking, squeezing, grasping Louis in time with his hitched breaths. To his surprise, Louis hips’ begin to rock helplessly into the bed and Nick can’t resist pressing a kiss to the shiny patch of sweat gathering over his tensing shoulderblades.
“No fingers, promise,” he takes the opportunity to whisper in Louis’ ear, but makes an embarrassing noise as he rises on his knees more and Louis pulls his own under his body.
When he shifts backwards now, his arse manages to brush Nick’s working knuckles and he gasps, overcome by how good it could feel if his hand wasn’t making a nuisance of itself. With a superhuman effort, he uncurls his fingers and grabs Louis’ hips, easing him back as his dick pushes up into thin air so the precome dripping from his slit slicks the path of him fucking Louis’ body without the breach. Louis’ breathing harder though and squeezing Nick’s hands over his hips in time with the steady thrusting, so Nick spiders one palm around and connects with his dick.
“Yeah?” he groans, manic with the need to touch this boy everywhere if it means he wants to catch up to where Nick’s at.
He feels the pleasure zing down to his toes as Louis nods frantically, his elbows nearly giving out as Nick sets a speedy pace with his hand, Louis’ skin velvety and stretched taut at the head when he’s fully erect and ready to go.
The seconds it took has Nick with a reluctant okay, toyboy quip on the tip of his tongue to show his gratitude for this impromptu second round, to make Louis laugh, until a sob from him has Nick’s head whipping up to his face that he can’t see and then down at his cock, at the feel of the slippery crown catching Louis’ rim.
“I won’t lie,” he says shakily, draping his fuzzy torso against the smooth arc of Louis’ back, “I want my dick inside you so bad right now,”
“Just keep - don’t stop, god, wait - ‘m so close,”
He growls, half annoyed, at that and Louis muffles his giggle into the sheets, but Nick’s fingers grope him hard at the base and his mirth spirals into a long, needy moan as his orgasm rattles through him. It’s considerably less come than what had first matted Nick’s chest hair and the reason he trotted off (sent) to grab something to wipe them with, but Nick will take a sticky palmful that he rubs into Louis’ belly anyway. With him rendered useless from two close together orgasms, Nick holds himself again and makes practiced work towards his release, shivering as he leans over Louis’ prone, heavily breathing form and brands him white.
In his mind, getting Louis’ arse wet all over again is just like Nick’s very own stamp of approval.
fin.