Tracing -- Harry/Louis
Title: Tracing
Author: seemslikeaporno
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Louis.
Rating: NC-17.
Warning(s): Basically PWP? Includes oral and potential voyeurism.
Summary: He hasn’t touched Louis like this since the party; they had hardly had enough time to look at each other in their rush to prepare for the road-trip with the other boys the following morning, and since then, they haven’t had a real moment alone. Even now the boys’ presence is tangible. When one of them shifts or breathes too loudly in their sleep, Harry watches Louis’ eyes flit towards them and then back to the road and then briefly to Harry, clearly trying to maintain his self-control. (Words: 2,100+ | Written for this prompt over at the kink meme.)
Disclaimer: This didn't happen and I don't profit from this.
.
.
i don't know where were going
but i know where we've been.
we've been hiding from each other,
we've been hiding from our sins.
“call me in the morning” by taking back sunday
.
.
“Sleepy?” Louis asks from the driver’s seat, sending a close-lipped smile to Harry on the passenger side. Harry blinks a few times and pulls his cheek off of the window, which he had apparently planned to use as a pillow. He quickly shakes his head, picking a greased curl from his forehead and pushing it to the side, and Louis laughs to himself, turning his eyes back to the road. “Mhmm,” he hums.
“I need a shower,” Harry murmurs, choosing to let the accusation drop, mostly because it’s true.
“We all do, Haz.”
If the boys in the back were awake, they would likely agree. On what Niall calls their ‘Grand Road-Trip of America’, they haven’t been able to stop at a hotel in two days, deciding to drive through the night so that they could reach their destination -- which, currently, is Colorado -- faster.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Harry asks, running his fingers through his hair and attempting not to grimace at the slimy feel.
“Yep,” Louis says, reaching for the coffee cup in the holder, “I’ve had about ten cups tonight. I’m not due to crash for at least,” Louis pretends to check a watch, “twenty-four hours.”
“We’ll be switching drivers long before then, just to be safe.” Harry shifts in his seat, turning to look at the three boys sandwiched together in the back, their limbs entangled in a heavy sleep. “I know that Zayn and Niall are capable sleeping just about anywhere, but it’s weird to see Liam sleeping in that position.”
Louis looks back instinctively and then almost veers off the road. He rights the car with a lurch that jostles all of them but doesn’t awaken any of the sleeping boys.
“Sorry,” Louis mutters his apology.
Harry faces forward in his seat, shaking his head. “S’fine. There aren’t many cars on the road, anyways.” There is a short silence. “Louis,” Harry starts unsurely, moving his hands to his lap, “Can we -- like, talk about. Us? Us.”
Louis hums thoughtfully, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly.
“We could. Or, like, we couldn’t. Either way’s fine.” He pauses a beat. “Personally, I’m in favor of the latter.”
“Louis,” Harry sighs, tired, “You -- I mean, we haven’t really talked about anything lately. Not just us.”
“I know.” Louis sighs, too, shifting into the fast lane to pass a slower car, “I know, you’re right, Haz. I’m just. I’m not sure what to say about it. I can’t very well make a drunken -- reciprocated, thank god -- pass on you and then just say that I wouldn’t be opposed to something similar happening again. It would sound undignified. It would be undignified.”
“You just said it,” Harry points out, grin playing on his lips, knocking his smile back and forth, like it can’t decide which way to spread.
“Oh, darn.” Louis doesn’t sound all that upset. “Ah, well. I’ve never really been that dignified.”
“Me neither,” Harry agrees. “So, you’re...okay? We’re okay?”
“I -- think so,” Louis says, flicking his eyes towards Harry and then back to the road, “Yeah, I think we’re okay. If you’re okay. Because I’m actually a bit giddy.”
Harry covers his mouth when he laughs, trying to stifle the sound so that he doesn’t wake up the others.
“What? You think my being giddy is funny?”
“Giddy,” Harry repeats the word, tests it on his tongue, “The word is funny. Not you.”
“On the contrary. I am hilarious.”
“Okay, that too,” Harry relents, grinning like a fool. “So, does you being giddy mean I get a repeat?”
“Means you can return the favor,” Louis says, a ghost of a smirk appearing and disappearing on his lips. (Lips that were wrapped around Harry’s cock in Nick Grimshaw’s bathroom during one of his infamous parties. The lighting had been dim and Harry’s vision was swimming, and he’s sure that Louis would look much prettier with his limbs stretched over the duvet in the moonlight. It seems a much easier task to complete once he realizes that Louis is granting him permission.)
“I would love to,” Harry says, the left side of his mouth curving upwards.
“Well, we’re stopping in a few hours, anyways, s -- Harry!” Louis jerks the wheel to the left on instinct and Harry has to use the hand he’s placed on Louis’ inner thigh to brace himself in order to avoid slamming his head in Louis’ shoulder. “What are you doing?” Louis hisses, throwing a concerned glance to the backseat.
Harry looks, too, but is merely greeted with three snoozing bandmates.
“They must’ve been shattered,” Harry says.
“Don’t avoid the -- get it off!” Louis says, half-heartedly batting Harry’s hand away.
Harry pouts. “That’s what I’m trying to accomplish, Lou.” If Niall was awake, he might’ve gotten a snicker for that one. Louis, of course, doesn’t look particularly impressed.
“I’m driving?” Louis says, voice raising at the end, like a question.
“So? It’ll help keep you awake.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, still trying to get a chuckle out of him.
“Our bandmates are in the backseat?” Louis is still doing that funny thing with his voice.
“They’re asleep,” Harry says, unable to stop himself from smiling with the challenge, “Come on, it’ll be -- I’m really hard,” he says, dropping his voice an octave, “And I don’t want to wait. I want to make you feel good, Lou, please.” Harry gazes at him from under his eyelashes, long fingers creeping their way up Louis’ thigh, dangerously close to his zipper.
“They -- Harry, what if they wake up?” Louis asks, throwing yet another glance in their direction. “We don’t even know what our relationship is, can you imagine having to explain it to one of them?”
“Lou, it’s us. We don’t have a label. Never have.” Harry runs his hand over the half-interested bulge in the denim of Louis’ jeans. Louis swallows, clearly considering the proposition. Harry unbuckles his seatbelt, leaning forward to press his lips to Louis’ cheekbone, running his hand along Louis’ length.
He hasn’t touched Louis like this since the party; they had hardly had enough time to look at each other in their rush to prepare for the road-trip with the other boys the following morning, and since then, they haven’t had a real moment alone. Even now the boys’ presence is tangible. When one of them shifts or breathes too loudly in their sleep, Harry watches Louis’ eyes flit towards them and then back to the road and then briefly to Harry, clearly trying to maintain his self-control.
“Please, Louis,” Harry murmurs, breath hot against Louis’ ear, and Louis breaks, nodding a couple times in affirmation, afraid to speak on the chance that his voice will be too loud. “Yes, god, it’s going to be good, I swear,” Harry babbles quietly, the pace of his own heart skyrocketing, pounding in his ears, as he pops the button on Louis’ skinny jeans and pushes his hand into his boxers to grip Louis’ cock.
It’s an awkward angle, but Louis still jolts when he feels Harry’s hand around him, and Harry breathes out through his nose to keep himself composed. It’s incredible that even touching Louis’ dick makes his own harden further; he uses his free hand to unzip his own jeans, merely to relieve the pressure.
“I -- can’t believe you’re doing this,” Louis says a little hysterically, laughing to himself, “Oh, god,” he gasps, sucking in an unsteady breath when Harry rubs his thumb over the head of Louis’ swollen cock and blinking furiously to clear his vision so he can see the road.
“Shh,” Harry soothes, kissing his way down Louis’ jaw and neck, “Don’t want to wake them up.”
“God, you like this,” Louis gets out, breathless. Harry can’t disagree; something about one of the others catching them, of seeing Louis fall apart because of Harry, is exciting. Harry keeps Louis from talking anymore with a sharp tug to his cock; Louis has to rip one of his hands from the wheel and bite down on his fist to keep from outright moaning, and that’s -- that’s hot, makes Harry tingle all over, sends a spark of interest straight to his cock.
“Fuck, Lou,” Harry manages gruffly, swallowing thickly as he adjusts Louis’ boxers to pull his dick through the slit, where it stands erect and nudging against Louis’ tummy if Harry lets go. Harry licks his lips, repositioning his hand at the base and then hesitantly presses his lips to the tip of his cock, easily wrapping them around the head.
Harry isn’t particularly skilled with this facet of sex, but watching Louis give him a blow job about a week ago now had been one of the most thrilling moments of his life, and he’s eager to return the favor. He starts with what he knows he likes, himself -- with licking a stripe from bottom to top, with moving his hand lower to fondle Louis’ balls, with hollowing out his cheeks when he sucks. Louis seems to appreciate it, hips bucking up a couple times on their own accord and his fingers clenching the hair at the back of Harry’s head.
“Please, Harry,” Louis whines, trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on the road so that they don’t all die in some fiery car crash.
Hearing Louis say his name spurs Harry on, makes him speed up his tempo and work twice as hard to give Louis what he wants. At a few points he overcommits and nearly pulls off gagging, but even with the tears stinging his eyes, he doesn’t stop. He hums around Louis’ cock, using the flat of his tongue to lick at the underside. He wants Louis to fall apart, wants him to be so overwhelmed that he can’t even think straight.
Louis fists his hand in Harry’s hair, keening desperately and rutting his hips up, accidentally jerking the wheel too far to the left and almost sending them into the opposite lane of traffic. He blearily fixes it, almost losing it when Harry pulls all the way off of his cock only to go right back down, taking nearly all of him into his mouth in one swift movement.
“Fuck, Harry,” Louis says, “I’ve -- we’ve got to pull over, oh, god,” he cuts himself off because Harry seems to be ignoring him, opting instead to make these little gagging noises when he deep throats Louis’ dick. The noises alone could probably send Louis over the edge, but the fact that Harry is working so hard to please is what really gets to him.
Louis ends up pulling onto the shoulder of the road and blearily puts the car in park while Harry finishes him off. He comes with an unintentionally loud moan and Harry swallows around him, not letting any go to waste. He pulls off with an obscene pop and then runs his tongue over his swollen, red lips, his green eyes glinting when he grins at Louis, who can’t quite seem to catch his breath.
“Harry -- Haz,” Louis manages, panting. He squeezes his eyes closed and then blinks quickly, trying to clear his vision.
“G-good?” Harry asks, and oh god, his voice is hoarse and gravelly and -- “God, Lou, I need -- please, can you --?” Harry is already pulling his dick from his jeans, rutting into his hand.
“Y-Yeah, yeah,” Louis says, spitting onto his hand and running it once, twice, three times over Harry’s achingly hard cock before Harry comes over his fist with a high whimper, his whole body going tense and his brain fuzzy at the edges.
“Good?” Louis asks, laughing a little breathlessly, “Oh, god. Oh my god, we just -- ” He turns to look at the boys, who, aside from shifting slightly amongst themselves, haven’t moved at all. “There’s -- there’s no way,” Louis says as Harry opens the glove compartment to track down a tissue to clean himself with.
Harry tucks himself back into his pants and actually does the same for Louis, buttoning him and smoothing out his shirt and hair until they look relatively normal.
“We’re never doing that again,” Louis tells Harry sternly. Harry grins at him, sliding his seatbelt back on as Louis pulls back onto the road, “Oh my god, how did they sleep through that?”
“Clearly, we’re masters at stealthiness,” Harry jokes, allowing his hand to rest on Louis’ thigh in the safety of the dark.
In the backseat, Liam blinks awake underneath Zayn and Niall, who have piled on top of him from either side. He glances towards the front, looking between Harry and Louis, and then shudders.
“Weirdest dream ever,” he mutters, and then promptly returns to sleep.
Author: seemslikeaporno
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Louis.
Rating: NC-17.
Warning(s): Basically PWP? Includes oral and potential voyeurism.
Summary: He hasn’t touched Louis like this since the party; they had hardly had enough time to look at each other in their rush to prepare for the road-trip with the other boys the following morning, and since then, they haven’t had a real moment alone. Even now the boys’ presence is tangible. When one of them shifts or breathes too loudly in their sleep, Harry watches Louis’ eyes flit towards them and then back to the road and then briefly to Harry, clearly trying to maintain his self-control. (Words: 2,100+ | Written for this prompt over at the kink meme.)
Disclaimer: This didn't happen and I don't profit from this.
.
.
i don't know where were going
but i know where we've been.
we've been hiding from each other,
we've been hiding from our sins.
“call me in the morning” by taking back sunday
.
.
“Sleepy?” Louis asks from the driver’s seat, sending a close-lipped smile to Harry on the passenger side. Harry blinks a few times and pulls his cheek off of the window, which he had apparently planned to use as a pillow. He quickly shakes his head, picking a greased curl from his forehead and pushing it to the side, and Louis laughs to himself, turning his eyes back to the road. “Mhmm,” he hums.
“I need a shower,” Harry murmurs, choosing to let the accusation drop, mostly because it’s true.
“We all do, Haz.”
If the boys in the back were awake, they would likely agree. On what Niall calls their ‘Grand Road-Trip of America’, they haven’t been able to stop at a hotel in two days, deciding to drive through the night so that they could reach their destination -- which, currently, is Colorado -- faster.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Harry asks, running his fingers through his hair and attempting not to grimace at the slimy feel.
“Yep,” Louis says, reaching for the coffee cup in the holder, “I’ve had about ten cups tonight. I’m not due to crash for at least,” Louis pretends to check a watch, “twenty-four hours.”
“We’ll be switching drivers long before then, just to be safe.” Harry shifts in his seat, turning to look at the three boys sandwiched together in the back, their limbs entangled in a heavy sleep. “I know that Zayn and Niall are capable sleeping just about anywhere, but it’s weird to see Liam sleeping in that position.”
Louis looks back instinctively and then almost veers off the road. He rights the car with a lurch that jostles all of them but doesn’t awaken any of the sleeping boys.
“Sorry,” Louis mutters his apology.
Harry faces forward in his seat, shaking his head. “S’fine. There aren’t many cars on the road, anyways.” There is a short silence. “Louis,” Harry starts unsurely, moving his hands to his lap, “Can we -- like, talk about. Us? Us.”
Louis hums thoughtfully, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly.
“We could. Or, like, we couldn’t. Either way’s fine.” He pauses a beat. “Personally, I’m in favor of the latter.”
“Louis,” Harry sighs, tired, “You -- I mean, we haven’t really talked about anything lately. Not just us.”
“I know.” Louis sighs, too, shifting into the fast lane to pass a slower car, “I know, you’re right, Haz. I’m just. I’m not sure what to say about it. I can’t very well make a drunken -- reciprocated, thank god -- pass on you and then just say that I wouldn’t be opposed to something similar happening again. It would sound undignified. It would be undignified.”
“You just said it,” Harry points out, grin playing on his lips, knocking his smile back and forth, like it can’t decide which way to spread.
“Oh, darn.” Louis doesn’t sound all that upset. “Ah, well. I’ve never really been that dignified.”
“Me neither,” Harry agrees. “So, you’re...okay? We’re okay?”
“I -- think so,” Louis says, flicking his eyes towards Harry and then back to the road, “Yeah, I think we’re okay. If you’re okay. Because I’m actually a bit giddy.”
Harry covers his mouth when he laughs, trying to stifle the sound so that he doesn’t wake up the others.
“What? You think my being giddy is funny?”
“Giddy,” Harry repeats the word, tests it on his tongue, “The word is funny. Not you.”
“On the contrary. I am hilarious.”
“Okay, that too,” Harry relents, grinning like a fool. “So, does you being giddy mean I get a repeat?”
“Means you can return the favor,” Louis says, a ghost of a smirk appearing and disappearing on his lips. (Lips that were wrapped around Harry’s cock in Nick Grimshaw’s bathroom during one of his infamous parties. The lighting had been dim and Harry’s vision was swimming, and he’s sure that Louis would look much prettier with his limbs stretched over the duvet in the moonlight. It seems a much easier task to complete once he realizes that Louis is granting him permission.)
“I would love to,” Harry says, the left side of his mouth curving upwards.
“Well, we’re stopping in a few hours, anyways, s -- Harry!” Louis jerks the wheel to the left on instinct and Harry has to use the hand he’s placed on Louis’ inner thigh to brace himself in order to avoid slamming his head in Louis’ shoulder. “What are you doing?” Louis hisses, throwing a concerned glance to the backseat.
Harry looks, too, but is merely greeted with three snoozing bandmates.
“They must’ve been shattered,” Harry says.
“Don’t avoid the -- get it off!” Louis says, half-heartedly batting Harry’s hand away.
Harry pouts. “That’s what I’m trying to accomplish, Lou.” If Niall was awake, he might’ve gotten a snicker for that one. Louis, of course, doesn’t look particularly impressed.
“I’m driving?” Louis says, voice raising at the end, like a question.
“So? It’ll help keep you awake.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, still trying to get a chuckle out of him.
“Our bandmates are in the backseat?” Louis is still doing that funny thing with his voice.
“They’re asleep,” Harry says, unable to stop himself from smiling with the challenge, “Come on, it’ll be -- I’m really hard,” he says, dropping his voice an octave, “And I don’t want to wait. I want to make you feel good, Lou, please.” Harry gazes at him from under his eyelashes, long fingers creeping their way up Louis’ thigh, dangerously close to his zipper.
“They -- Harry, what if they wake up?” Louis asks, throwing yet another glance in their direction. “We don’t even know what our relationship is, can you imagine having to explain it to one of them?”
“Lou, it’s us. We don’t have a label. Never have.” Harry runs his hand over the half-interested bulge in the denim of Louis’ jeans. Louis swallows, clearly considering the proposition. Harry unbuckles his seatbelt, leaning forward to press his lips to Louis’ cheekbone, running his hand along Louis’ length.
He hasn’t touched Louis like this since the party; they had hardly had enough time to look at each other in their rush to prepare for the road-trip with the other boys the following morning, and since then, they haven’t had a real moment alone. Even now the boys’ presence is tangible. When one of them shifts or breathes too loudly in their sleep, Harry watches Louis’ eyes flit towards them and then back to the road and then briefly to Harry, clearly trying to maintain his self-control.
“Please, Louis,” Harry murmurs, breath hot against Louis’ ear, and Louis breaks, nodding a couple times in affirmation, afraid to speak on the chance that his voice will be too loud. “Yes, god, it’s going to be good, I swear,” Harry babbles quietly, the pace of his own heart skyrocketing, pounding in his ears, as he pops the button on Louis’ skinny jeans and pushes his hand into his boxers to grip Louis’ cock.
It’s an awkward angle, but Louis still jolts when he feels Harry’s hand around him, and Harry breathes out through his nose to keep himself composed. It’s incredible that even touching Louis’ dick makes his own harden further; he uses his free hand to unzip his own jeans, merely to relieve the pressure.
“I -- can’t believe you’re doing this,” Louis says a little hysterically, laughing to himself, “Oh, god,” he gasps, sucking in an unsteady breath when Harry rubs his thumb over the head of Louis’ swollen cock and blinking furiously to clear his vision so he can see the road.
“Shh,” Harry soothes, kissing his way down Louis’ jaw and neck, “Don’t want to wake them up.”
“God, you like this,” Louis gets out, breathless. Harry can’t disagree; something about one of the others catching them, of seeing Louis fall apart because of Harry, is exciting. Harry keeps Louis from talking anymore with a sharp tug to his cock; Louis has to rip one of his hands from the wheel and bite down on his fist to keep from outright moaning, and that’s -- that’s hot, makes Harry tingle all over, sends a spark of interest straight to his cock.
“Fuck, Lou,” Harry manages gruffly, swallowing thickly as he adjusts Louis’ boxers to pull his dick through the slit, where it stands erect and nudging against Louis’ tummy if Harry lets go. Harry licks his lips, repositioning his hand at the base and then hesitantly presses his lips to the tip of his cock, easily wrapping them around the head.
Harry isn’t particularly skilled with this facet of sex, but watching Louis give him a blow job about a week ago now had been one of the most thrilling moments of his life, and he’s eager to return the favor. He starts with what he knows he likes, himself -- with licking a stripe from bottom to top, with moving his hand lower to fondle Louis’ balls, with hollowing out his cheeks when he sucks. Louis seems to appreciate it, hips bucking up a couple times on their own accord and his fingers clenching the hair at the back of Harry’s head.
“Please, Harry,” Louis whines, trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on the road so that they don’t all die in some fiery car crash.
Hearing Louis say his name spurs Harry on, makes him speed up his tempo and work twice as hard to give Louis what he wants. At a few points he overcommits and nearly pulls off gagging, but even with the tears stinging his eyes, he doesn’t stop. He hums around Louis’ cock, using the flat of his tongue to lick at the underside. He wants Louis to fall apart, wants him to be so overwhelmed that he can’t even think straight.
Louis fists his hand in Harry’s hair, keening desperately and rutting his hips up, accidentally jerking the wheel too far to the left and almost sending them into the opposite lane of traffic. He blearily fixes it, almost losing it when Harry pulls all the way off of his cock only to go right back down, taking nearly all of him into his mouth in one swift movement.
“Fuck, Harry,” Louis says, “I’ve -- we’ve got to pull over, oh, god,” he cuts himself off because Harry seems to be ignoring him, opting instead to make these little gagging noises when he deep throats Louis’ dick. The noises alone could probably send Louis over the edge, but the fact that Harry is working so hard to please is what really gets to him.
Louis ends up pulling onto the shoulder of the road and blearily puts the car in park while Harry finishes him off. He comes with an unintentionally loud moan and Harry swallows around him, not letting any go to waste. He pulls off with an obscene pop and then runs his tongue over his swollen, red lips, his green eyes glinting when he grins at Louis, who can’t quite seem to catch his breath.
“Harry -- Haz,” Louis manages, panting. He squeezes his eyes closed and then blinks quickly, trying to clear his vision.
“G-good?” Harry asks, and oh god, his voice is hoarse and gravelly and -- “God, Lou, I need -- please, can you --?” Harry is already pulling his dick from his jeans, rutting into his hand.
“Y-Yeah, yeah,” Louis says, spitting onto his hand and running it once, twice, three times over Harry’s achingly hard cock before Harry comes over his fist with a high whimper, his whole body going tense and his brain fuzzy at the edges.
“Good?” Louis asks, laughing a little breathlessly, “Oh, god. Oh my god, we just -- ” He turns to look at the boys, who, aside from shifting slightly amongst themselves, haven’t moved at all. “There’s -- there’s no way,” Louis says as Harry opens the glove compartment to track down a tissue to clean himself with.
Harry tucks himself back into his pants and actually does the same for Louis, buttoning him and smoothing out his shirt and hair until they look relatively normal.
“We’re never doing that again,” Louis tells Harry sternly. Harry grins at him, sliding his seatbelt back on as Louis pulls back onto the road, “Oh my god, how did they sleep through that?”
“Clearly, we’re masters at stealthiness,” Harry jokes, allowing his hand to rest on Louis’ thigh in the safety of the dark.
In the backseat, Liam blinks awake underneath Zayn and Niall, who have piled on top of him from either side. He glances towards the front, looking between Harry and Louis, and then shudders.
“Weirdest dream ever,” he mutters, and then promptly returns to sleep.