One Direction fic. Don't read it if you want to keep your soul from the clutches of Harry Styles
Title: That Dragon Tickles
Author: theskyturnsred
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Warnings: Underage explicit sex, Drug use, Dub-con, Swearing
Disclaimer: I am not in any way associated with any of the real people mentioned in this story. This is fiction, and is not intended as an actual portrayal of the figures involved. Further, I am not in any was associated with Skins. I do not own the fictional characters also portrayed in this story.
Summary: Thirteen year old Harry is a manipulative little snot, who will get the boy he wants, even if the boy he wants is his older brother's best friend.
Notes: Written for this prompt at 1dkinkmeme. This universe is shamelessly stolen from the first season of Skins. So shamelessly, in fact, that all of the character names are the same, except for Harry and Louis. I blame this dive into insanity entirely on Harry Styles and his gorgeous face. Thank you sarahsan for the beta and the peptalk and the general awesomeness<3
It’s about four in the morning when Harry is sneaking back to his house. Well, not quite sneaking, yet, because he’s not actually close enough to the house to need to sneak. His hair is a mess. He somehow has on eyeliner that he was not wearing when he went out. His too small shirt and his too tight jeans revel a strip of soft teenage belly and one hip marked with a bruise.
He’s still floating happily, tipsy, off of a few smuggled beers.
When he gets about a block from his home, he stops and frowns, because his brother and all of his brother’s friends are sitting on the sidewalk in front of the house, drinking beers of their own.
He peers closer, but doesn’t want to actually walk any further and risk detection. Tony has enough blackmail on him to last six months, and Harry’s not looking forward to adding to the list.
There’s four of them. Tony and Michelle, of course. Chris. And Louis.
Harry smiles. Louis is the best looking bloke in the whole town, and a right flamer, at that. Tonight, Harry can tell even from here, he’s just as happily drunk as Harry himself is. He’s laying on the sidewalk with his feet kicked out in the street, while Chris babbles on about something Harry can’t hear from here. Tony and Michelle are snogging pretty intently.
Harry huffs a sigh and tries to decide on his best plan of action for getting back into the house.
The struggle with this, though, is that he’s just drunk enough to be very properly distracted by Louis. So in the end, rather than any kind of ninja-awesome stealth attempts, he just continues strolling up the street, and he’s quiet enough that Louis is the only one to hear him, because he’s the only one not otherwise distracted. And when Harry snaps his finger up to his lips to indicate silence, Louis only smirks at him.
That smirk does something to Harry. And suddenly, flawless escape isn’t really so high on his list of priorities. He decides to take a little risk.
So he smirks back, and rather than sneaking the last ten steps into the alley way that will provide him re-entry to his bedroom window, he takes the three steps to close the gap between himself and Louis. Still quiet as a mouse, he kneels all the way to the ground where Louis is laying, softly and wetly kisses his lips, and simultaneously steals the beer out of his hand before Louis is any the wiser. And in another moment, he’s flitted off, down the alleyway and up the dumpster, over the sill into his bedroom window, lips tingling and with an extra half a beer more than he’d counted on getting tonight.
~
It doesn’t actually happen that often, but Harry really hates it when he and Tony end up in the same place to party on a Saturday night. Usually.
For the most part, they run with totally different crowds in totally different places, but if a good band comes to town or some kind of rumour of cheap drugs spreads around, it has happened that Harry will be having a great time and looking to score and have his buzz totally ruined by Tony coming ‘round to give him a good threatening.
Tonight, he sees Tony and Michelle across the room almost as soon as he arrives, and he wonders what his chances are of scoring some pills before he actually has a run in with one of them.
He’s texting his friend who passed on the tip, when a shadow falls over his phone and makes him look up again. It was nothing, but when he looks across the room at Tony and Michelle again, just to make sure they’re still there, he sees Louis with them now, and Maxxie and Sid and the whole lot of Tony’s friends. Which means his chances of getting run off tonight are a lot higher, but his chances of making his own fun are looking better too.
He has business to take care of first, and he pats his pocket to ensure he still has his cash, then follows in the shadows of dancers and burlier boys in order to sneak past the group of Tony’s friends and into the back room, where he finds the hookup he was looking for, and at an even better price than he was expecting.
The pills feel like fire in his pocket. He’d wanted to be high as a kite by now, and dancing with sweaty strangers. But the loosely planned and vaguely defined idea in his head of somehow getting high and dancing with Louis have him intrigued enough to be on his best behavior. He uses what little self control he has to keep the pills in his pocket, and he makes his way to the upper balcony of the club, where he can be out of sight but still keep an eye on Louis. His friends text him, asking him where he disappeared to, and he continually keeps them a step or two behind him; if this thing is going to work out, he needs to be alone.
It takes a while for any of them to move, and Harry is feeling really pretty creepy and also desperate and pathetic. He’s about to throw in the towel when Tony finally hauls Michelle to the dance floor. Initially, the rest of them linger for a moment, then they disperse into the crowd to dance too, and that’s his shot.
He gets eyes on everyone, mapping out the room in his head so he can figure out how to accidentally slide into Louis without any of the rest of them seeing him first.
He takes the stairs down two at a time. By the time he reaches the ground, two of the pills from his pocket are in his hand, and he melts into the crowd, keeping his head down, slithering in his target direction at a steady and rhythmic dancing pace. When finally he makes it to Louis, he slides up and slots in behind him, and Louis doesn’t even turn to look, of course. Because it’s the way of a dance floor. Which is perfect.
Harry has to stand up on his tiptoes, and still doesn’t reach Louis’ ear but it’s close enough that Louis will hear him. “Having fun?” he whispers, and he puts a hand on Louis’ hip and pushes a little, urging him to turn around.
When he does, Harry has his empty hand up, with a finger pressed to his mouth the way he’d done last time they’d seen each other.
Louis’ smirks again, his eyes twinkling in this amused, charmed way. “You are way too young to be here,” he offers immediately.
Harry rolls his eyes, and now, he brings his hand up and pushes a finger to Louis’ mouth, to shush him. And with a graceful movement, he slides a pill up his palm with his thumb, eases it into Louis’ mouth, and then gently tugs his lower lip down, seeing how the pink inside of it glistens beautifully.
Harry makes sure Louis’ eyes are still on him when he lifts the same hand back to his own mouth and drops his pill under his tongue. He swallows it, and tilts his head back, eyes closed, revealing his neck for Louis, showing it off a bit. He knows Louis wants him. Some part of Louis wants him. He just needs to appeal to that part.
So, he’s a bit shameless. He knows that. Louis knows that. “Are you even in fourth form yet?” Louis asks, and it’s part teasing, part disbelieving.
Harry huffs a laugh, letting himself really start to enjoy the music, now, and the warmth and humidity of the room around him and the way the crowd jostles him and his head is starting to spin delicately. “This isn’t school,” he said, stepping forward to fully close the gap with Louis. “Just dance with me.”
He reaches up, tugs open the lower part of Louis’ jaw to check to make sure his pill is gone, then he nods, satisfied, and turns around in his arms to press back against him, tugging Louis’ arms around him as he starts to move against him.
He feels Louis tense up behind him, trying to fight it, trying to push him off despite the swell of the crowd pushing them together. He laughs softly in Harry’s ear, friendly, trying to be. “Harry, you should dance with someone your own age,” he muses softly.
But Harry shakes his head and takes advantage of their entrapment, wiggles closer. “I want to dance with you. It won’t kill you,” he ensures him, guiding one of Louis’ hands to each of his hips and keeping his dancing wickedly, but subtly, sexy. He’s got the fish hooked. He can’t rush to reel him in. “I know you came here to have a good time. Now you have pills and a warm body. That’s the makings of a good time,” he reminds.
Louis seems to settle, then - though whether it’s because Harry changed his mind or because he knows he has no escape, Harry’s not going to try to figure out. Once they’re fitted together, he rests his head back against Louis’ chest, at his shoulder, and they find a rhythm, rocking together, and in a bit more time, it seems Louis’ forgotten about trying to escape, because they’re starting to sweat, to stick together, their dancing heavier, closer. Louis’ hands are wandering, up to Harry’s stomach, down his thigh and around to his bum, which makes Harry moan softly - and it’s not even put on, it’s real. “Yes,” he whispers softly, rocking his arse into Louis’ hand. He opens his eyes for a moment and all he can see is a sickening blur of color and he closes them tightly again, grounded in Louis as the world spins around them.
Harry’s not sure how they get from the dance floor to the bathroom. What matters is that they do and he doesn’t even care that there’s something cold and metal and nearly sharp pressing at his back, because Louis’ mouth is warm and soft and it tastes like balloons and there’s a dragon sitting on the toilet keeping watch over them as Harry wrenches Louis’ jeans open and stuffs a hand inside.
He yelps a little when the dragon’s fire breath misses them by mere centimeters, but he doesn’t let it deter him. He pushes back against Louis, now, pinning him to the opposite wall of the stall and sinking to his knees, taking Louis into his mouth, pausing a moment to go lax, and then down his throat. It’s a skill he can only manage when he’s on pills, but luckily, he’s only given head before when he was on pills, so his record is good.
The dragon’s tail wraps around his thigh and that encourages him, makes him bob his head a bit faster, put his hands on the stall to steady himself. Louis’ hands are in his hair, both of them petting and gently tugging and it’s really really turning Harry on, to the point that he pops off with a lewd wet sound and looks hungrily up at Louis. “Want you. Want you.”
Louis whines a little. “Want you. Don’t stop,” he says, pushing Harry back down, and Harry goes compliantly, more than happily. He hums a little, and he gets his hands around Louis’ warm thighs for balance, rather than the cold wall. His head spins even more, now from the lack of breath, and it just makes it better, makes the world around them blurrier and blurrier until all he knows is the taste of Louis’ cock and the tickle of spit dribbling down his chin and the tickle of the dragon’ tail.
Louis makes the most marvelous whimpering sound when he comes, pulling Harry off of him in this slow, lewd manner, so that he manages to shoot twice in Harry’s mouth and twice on Harry’s face. Harry’s all too eager to give him the show he seems to want; he tips his head back and closes his eyes and licks his lips clean, letting some of the come dribble down off of his chin and neck til it stains his shirt.
He gets yanked up and flipped, pulled back and wrapped up into Louis’ arms. There are soft, warm kisses on his neck and Louis has a hand on his thigh, one on his belly, one on his heart, one in his hair, one cleaning the come off his face, and one pressing down into the front of his jeans. It’s fantastic and Harry wilts against him and trembles and whimpers Louis’ name. His whole body is alight with his arousal and the tingles of all of Louis’ touches. Louis’ breath is still heavy in Harry’s ear while he unthreads Harry little by little until he shakes apart in Louis’ arms, only held up by those arms around him.
He’s pretty sure he passes out there, like that, the two of them standing there together panting for far too long.
When he wakes up, it’s about five am and he’s in his bed, jeans shucked off and blankets tucked in around him.
~
Enough time passes without Harry seeing Louis that he knows Louis must be intentionally avoiding the house. Usually, he’ll see the whole lot of Tony’s friends at least every weekend, and nearly two full weeks pass without any sign of Louis.
So, Harry has to get a little creative.
He’s still got some pills left, and he trades two of them and his dealer’s number to one of Louis’ younger sisters in exchange for an invite to their house to “work on a project.” She doesn’t ask questions, and Harry knows she won’t. As long as she doesn’t blab to any of her other sisters, he’ll get away with this just fine.
He really plays it up, too. When he gets over to their house, he brings a science board and bag of craft paints and she leads him upstairs. He goes to her room first and stashes the project stuff out of the way, then slips off and lets himself into Louis’ room.
Louis isn’t there, and he doesn’t expect he will be for a while, so Harry gets onto his laptop, which is open on the desk. He snoops a little bit, because it’s just too easy, but mostly the stuff he sees is boring and he’s not actually feeling all that much of a stalker so eventually he gives up. He plays computer games for a bit, then gets up and kicks his shoes off and curls into Louis’ bed.
It smells like him and Harry completely buries himself under the covers and he doesn’t even mean to fall asleep there, but he does. Luckily it’s a light sleep and he startles awake when he hears someone coming down the hallway, peering out from under the blankets just in time to see Louis slip into the room. He smiles, warm and elated that his plan has worked, in some way or another.
Louis hasn’t seen him yet, so he sits up, leaning back casually onto the pillows with his legs crossed under the blanket and one arm up, tucked behind his head with his elbow towards the ceiling.
He rustles enough to startle Louis, who looks up, alarmed, then glares a little, his face instantly going red. “Harry, what are you doing here?” he hisses.
Harry’s grin is cheeky and sly. “Do you always look so upset to come home to a boy in your bed?”
Louis rolls his eyes. “When it’s actually a boy - as in a child - yes, I do, you twat,” he growls, annoyed.
Harry lets it roll off of him. “Didn’t seem to hinder you the other night,” Harry reminds him, tilting his head up a little bit to give Louis a little flash of his neck, wondering if Louis remembers that part as vividly as he does.
“Yeah, well, you had two heads at the time and butterflies floating around both of them,” Louis points out. “So it hardly counts.”
Harry shrugged. “You had 10 hands and there was a dragon keeping watch over us and I’m counting it,” he bites back boredly. “But, if you have such a problem with that memory, why don’t we just make another,” he suggests, sitting up and tugging his shirt off shamelessly, setting it aside.
Louis’ face flames redder and he just shakes his head, dropping the bag he’s still wearing on his shoulder onto the floor and rolling his eyes even harder. “Harry, you’re too young, and you’re my best mate’s little brother, and it’s just not happening, alright? You got what you wanted last time, just let it go.”
Harry hums, considers this. Then he clambers out of the bed, getting his feet on the cold floor and walking over to Louis, who backs up until he’s trapped himself against the wall, and Harry wants to laugh but he just closes the distance between them and stops right in front of Louis.
“I don’t think I’m going to let it go,” he informs him, as if he’s letting him know he’s decided to water the plants. “I thiiiiink that, either you’re going to hook up with me again, or -”
Louis looks almost like he wants to laugh at this point. He’s sure whatever argument Harry’s about to make is going to be endlessly amusing. “-I’m going to tell my parents, and your parents about how you slipped me pills and made me choke on your dick and wouldn’t even let me up to breathe much less call for help,” he explains, voice soft and soothing and scary charming as he traces absent little circles onto Louis’ chest.
Louis’ face falls into disbelief, then worry, then up into fake bravado.
“Oh, whatever, you tosser, you-”
“Absolutely. Would,” Harry assures him, hard and cold now. And in the same breath, he puts his warm hand down the front of Louis’ pants, squeezing him delicately, like it’s the most precious dick in the world, like it’s made of rare colored diamonds and precious platinum.
“But don’t worry,” he promises softly, standing on his tiptoes so he can kiss Louis’ neck. “I’m going to make this very worth your while. And really, this is what you want, isn’t it? Because now you can do all of the things you want to do to me anyways, and you don’t have to feel guilty either, do you? You tried to say no,” he singsongs soothingly.
Louis frowns, and he closes his eyes. Harry’s knows then, that he’s getting to him, if Louis can’t even look at him and try to maintain any resolve. He smirks, sucks softly on Louis’ clavicle again, making sure to leave a little bruise as evidence of his claim.
“Harry, we really can’t,” he insists again, so Harry flicks his wrist a little and wrings a soft whimper out of Louis’ mouth.
“We both want to,” Harry argues back softly, nuzzling, letting his curls tickle Louis’ chin. “It’ll be okay, Louis,” he said. “You’re not my first, or anything.” He pushes his hands under Louis’ shirt and tugs away just enough to tug it off of him. He’s beautiful. His skin is perfectly milky and sinfully soft and Harry presses forward, his ear over Louis’ heart, and hugs him fully, tightly, eyes squeezed closed as he lets himself take in the feel of Louis’ skin on his own. He smiles. “Just the best,” he adds softly.
He hears Louis swallow tightly and then feels a hand in his hair the next minute. “Harry,” Louis whimpers, but it’s still strained, like he still wants to fight this.
Stubborn wanker.
“I really want you to fuck me, Louis,” he whispers into Louis chest, one hand opening his jeans up more so he can stroke him better. “Thought about it so many times,” he offers. “Ever since the first time I met you,” he whispers.
Louis sniffs softly, his hips moving in a jerky way that Harry is pretty sure he didn’t intend to happen. “You’ll....really tell that story?” Louis whines softly and Harry can’t help but think that there’s an edge of hopeful desperation to his voice.
“To everyone in town,” he says steadily, and it’s the most backwards thing because Louis relaxes then, finally, and he comes to himself a bit, lifts his arms and pushes Harry, walks him backwards until they’re falling over into each other into the bed.
Harry scoots back hurriedly as Louis continues to crawl on top of him, like a cat on a prowl. Harry’s whole body shudders a little, and as soon as he has crawled fully back in the bed, he rolls himself over onto his belly and looks at Louis over his shoulder.
Louis’ eyes are hungry and dark and Harry goes impossibly hard in his jeans. Which, as it turns out, are exactly what Louis is after. The next moment, he strips them off of Harry’s legs with grace this is just unfair. For only the briefest second, Harry starts to worry about his thin body and his pale legs but then Louis is on top of him, his exposed dick pressing against the bubble of Harry’s ass, and he forgets to be self conscious and just moans, openly wanting, needy.
“Yes,” he hisses softly as Louis works his briefs down and Harry presses his ass up against him shamelessly. “Yes, please, Louis.”
Louis produces lube and a condom from somewhere under one of his pillows, and hell, if Harry’d known that was there he’d have had himself prepped and ready and naked in Louis’ bed by the time he even got home - but that was a lesson for later. For now, he spread his legs some, pressed up onto his arms to expose himself better, to open his body up for Louis.
Louis, though, seems to be a bit fed up with Harry running the show, and he smacks Harry’s ass and then shoves him back down. Harry flops into the mattress and groans softly, but it’s with arousal. “Oh, fuck,” he bites softly. “Yeah. Want to make me your bitch, Louis?” he taunts softly.
“Like you’re not already?” Louis whispers against the back of his ear as he presses two lubed fingers inside of him. Harry’s back arches and he gasps softly, fingers curling into Louis’ sheets.
“Always have been,” he assures Louis. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve been your bitch,” he whispers - a promise.
Louis seems to like that, because he ruts his dick against the side of Harry’s leg, and he’s still just as warm and hard as he’d been when he was in Harry’s hand. It makes Harry fumble blindly to get his hand back around it, missing the weight in his palm, but Louis smacks his hand and moves away, making Harry whine. “Wanna touch you,” he whimpers.
“You can have my dick when I give it to you, Harry. You cheeky little brat. You need to learn that you don’t always get everything you want,” he whispers. He curls his fingers just so and Harry arches into him again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to ache in places he never has before, because nothing has ever made him feel so good, nothing has ever arched his back like that or made his insides this molten hot.
“Please, Louis,” he whimpers again. “Please just...give me something.” His voice is shaky and breathless, and all Louis gives him is to curl his fingers again. It lights his belly on fire and sends rockets off in his head. “Fuck, this is even better than when you had ten hands,” he babbles into the pillow.
Next thing he knows, Louis’ tongue is on him, swiping hot up his spine and he feels his cock twitch between his body and the mattress. “Shit, fuck, Louis, yes, god.” He lifts his head up, cranes around to try to see what is surely the sexiest thing in the history of the world. And he promptly gets his head shoved back down into the pillow.
And he’s just about to get annoyed about it when he hears the wrapper of the condom crinkling and at that point Harry’s just too damn turned on to even care anymore. He presses his hips up, one last attempt to open himself up for Louis, and this time, he doesn’t get pushed.
Louis’ whole arm wraps around his stomach to support his frame, and he feels the head of that perfect dick pressing insistently at his ass. It’s so good he can’t even breathe.
Harry’s arms are a bit shaky, but he slowly presses himself up onto them, just enough to get this angle right. Then he closes his eyes and lets out every last bit of his breath and at the very end of it, that insistent press turns into a soft pop and Louis slides in all at once, like he hadn’t expected the sudden acceptance.
It topples both of them over and they land in a heap, Harry wincing, but immediately wrapping his arm back around him, into Louis’ hair. “Yes,” he whispers softly, and this time it’s so much less wanton and so much more awed, amazed to finally have Louis in him the way he’s dreamed of for years.
Louis kisses his ear and then tugs one of the extra pillows and shoves it under Harry’s hips. Then his warmth is gone from Harry’s skin as he sits up and Harry whines at the loss. He’s distracted from it for a moment, because Louis’ strong hands take his hips and start to work himself in and out, and instinctively, Harry’s slutty little hips work with him, but he’s not satisfied.
He pushes up himself, onto his knees, leans back into Louis, who tenses for a moment, and Harry is certain he’s about to get shoved down again, but Louis slides one arm up off of his hip and wraps it around Harry’s chest, cradling him back until they’re skin to skin again and it’s really easy like that, both of them moving their bodies together, both of them able to enjoy it more with only half of the effort.
“Can’t....last,” Harry whispers softly, and it’s too soon, not nearly long enough, but Harry is 13 and Louis is his prince and this is so much better than he ever could have imagined it’d be. “Gonna, yes, Louis,” he gasps softly, and he comes, just like that, never even needing to be touched. He turns his neck back at an impossible angle just to be able to nuzzle under Louis’ jaw while he comes.
Louis isn’t very far behind him; Harry’s still a bit hazy, but he knows that nothing in the universe could possibly be as sexy as the way Louis whimpers his name.
They’re both trembling then, and it’s out of necessity that they topple over together, both of them too shaky to hold themselves up any more. For long moments, the only sound is their laboured breaths, perfectly in sync.
Harry shifts his head a little, tucking himself more comfortably into Louis’ neck and sliding his hand until he finds Louis’ and he can tangle their fingers together.
“We’re going to keep doing this,” he informs Louis after a moment or two.
“Or else you’ll tell that story?” Louis asks softly, his voice flat.
Harry nods against him. “Yup,” he confirms.
Louis pauses, even his breathing quiet for a moment. “For how long?” he finally asks.
Harry licks his lips, considers his best answer. “Until I’m 16,” he decides.
He feels Louis’ face shift as he quirks an eyebrow. “And then?”
“Then you’re going to be my boyfriend,” Harry informs him.
Author: theskyturnsred
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Warnings: Underage explicit sex, Drug use, Dub-con, Swearing
Disclaimer: I am not in any way associated with any of the real people mentioned in this story. This is fiction, and is not intended as an actual portrayal of the figures involved. Further, I am not in any was associated with Skins. I do not own the fictional characters also portrayed in this story.
Summary: Thirteen year old Harry is a manipulative little snot, who will get the boy he wants, even if the boy he wants is his older brother's best friend.
Notes: Written for this prompt at 1dkinkmeme. This universe is shamelessly stolen from the first season of Skins. So shamelessly, in fact, that all of the character names are the same, except for Harry and Louis. I blame this dive into insanity entirely on Harry Styles and his gorgeous face. Thank you sarahsan for the beta and the peptalk and the general awesomeness<3
It’s about four in the morning when Harry is sneaking back to his house. Well, not quite sneaking, yet, because he’s not actually close enough to the house to need to sneak. His hair is a mess. He somehow has on eyeliner that he was not wearing when he went out. His too small shirt and his too tight jeans revel a strip of soft teenage belly and one hip marked with a bruise.
He’s still floating happily, tipsy, off of a few smuggled beers.
When he gets about a block from his home, he stops and frowns, because his brother and all of his brother’s friends are sitting on the sidewalk in front of the house, drinking beers of their own.
He peers closer, but doesn’t want to actually walk any further and risk detection. Tony has enough blackmail on him to last six months, and Harry’s not looking forward to adding to the list.
There’s four of them. Tony and Michelle, of course. Chris. And Louis.
Harry smiles. Louis is the best looking bloke in the whole town, and a right flamer, at that. Tonight, Harry can tell even from here, he’s just as happily drunk as Harry himself is. He’s laying on the sidewalk with his feet kicked out in the street, while Chris babbles on about something Harry can’t hear from here. Tony and Michelle are snogging pretty intently.
Harry huffs a sigh and tries to decide on his best plan of action for getting back into the house.
The struggle with this, though, is that he’s just drunk enough to be very properly distracted by Louis. So in the end, rather than any kind of ninja-awesome stealth attempts, he just continues strolling up the street, and he’s quiet enough that Louis is the only one to hear him, because he’s the only one not otherwise distracted. And when Harry snaps his finger up to his lips to indicate silence, Louis only smirks at him.
That smirk does something to Harry. And suddenly, flawless escape isn’t really so high on his list of priorities. He decides to take a little risk.
So he smirks back, and rather than sneaking the last ten steps into the alley way that will provide him re-entry to his bedroom window, he takes the three steps to close the gap between himself and Louis. Still quiet as a mouse, he kneels all the way to the ground where Louis is laying, softly and wetly kisses his lips, and simultaneously steals the beer out of his hand before Louis is any the wiser. And in another moment, he’s flitted off, down the alleyway and up the dumpster, over the sill into his bedroom window, lips tingling and with an extra half a beer more than he’d counted on getting tonight.
~
It doesn’t actually happen that often, but Harry really hates it when he and Tony end up in the same place to party on a Saturday night. Usually.
For the most part, they run with totally different crowds in totally different places, but if a good band comes to town or some kind of rumour of cheap drugs spreads around, it has happened that Harry will be having a great time and looking to score and have his buzz totally ruined by Tony coming ‘round to give him a good threatening.
Tonight, he sees Tony and Michelle across the room almost as soon as he arrives, and he wonders what his chances are of scoring some pills before he actually has a run in with one of them.
He’s texting his friend who passed on the tip, when a shadow falls over his phone and makes him look up again. It was nothing, but when he looks across the room at Tony and Michelle again, just to make sure they’re still there, he sees Louis with them now, and Maxxie and Sid and the whole lot of Tony’s friends. Which means his chances of getting run off tonight are a lot higher, but his chances of making his own fun are looking better too.
He has business to take care of first, and he pats his pocket to ensure he still has his cash, then follows in the shadows of dancers and burlier boys in order to sneak past the group of Tony’s friends and into the back room, where he finds the hookup he was looking for, and at an even better price than he was expecting.
The pills feel like fire in his pocket. He’d wanted to be high as a kite by now, and dancing with sweaty strangers. But the loosely planned and vaguely defined idea in his head of somehow getting high and dancing with Louis have him intrigued enough to be on his best behavior. He uses what little self control he has to keep the pills in his pocket, and he makes his way to the upper balcony of the club, where he can be out of sight but still keep an eye on Louis. His friends text him, asking him where he disappeared to, and he continually keeps them a step or two behind him; if this thing is going to work out, he needs to be alone.
It takes a while for any of them to move, and Harry is feeling really pretty creepy and also desperate and pathetic. He’s about to throw in the towel when Tony finally hauls Michelle to the dance floor. Initially, the rest of them linger for a moment, then they disperse into the crowd to dance too, and that’s his shot.
He gets eyes on everyone, mapping out the room in his head so he can figure out how to accidentally slide into Louis without any of the rest of them seeing him first.
He takes the stairs down two at a time. By the time he reaches the ground, two of the pills from his pocket are in his hand, and he melts into the crowd, keeping his head down, slithering in his target direction at a steady and rhythmic dancing pace. When finally he makes it to Louis, he slides up and slots in behind him, and Louis doesn’t even turn to look, of course. Because it’s the way of a dance floor. Which is perfect.
Harry has to stand up on his tiptoes, and still doesn’t reach Louis’ ear but it’s close enough that Louis will hear him. “Having fun?” he whispers, and he puts a hand on Louis’ hip and pushes a little, urging him to turn around.
When he does, Harry has his empty hand up, with a finger pressed to his mouth the way he’d done last time they’d seen each other.
Louis’ smirks again, his eyes twinkling in this amused, charmed way. “You are way too young to be here,” he offers immediately.
Harry rolls his eyes, and now, he brings his hand up and pushes a finger to Louis’ mouth, to shush him. And with a graceful movement, he slides a pill up his palm with his thumb, eases it into Louis’ mouth, and then gently tugs his lower lip down, seeing how the pink inside of it glistens beautifully.
Harry makes sure Louis’ eyes are still on him when he lifts the same hand back to his own mouth and drops his pill under his tongue. He swallows it, and tilts his head back, eyes closed, revealing his neck for Louis, showing it off a bit. He knows Louis wants him. Some part of Louis wants him. He just needs to appeal to that part.
So, he’s a bit shameless. He knows that. Louis knows that. “Are you even in fourth form yet?” Louis asks, and it’s part teasing, part disbelieving.
Harry huffs a laugh, letting himself really start to enjoy the music, now, and the warmth and humidity of the room around him and the way the crowd jostles him and his head is starting to spin delicately. “This isn’t school,” he said, stepping forward to fully close the gap with Louis. “Just dance with me.”
He reaches up, tugs open the lower part of Louis’ jaw to check to make sure his pill is gone, then he nods, satisfied, and turns around in his arms to press back against him, tugging Louis’ arms around him as he starts to move against him.
He feels Louis tense up behind him, trying to fight it, trying to push him off despite the swell of the crowd pushing them together. He laughs softly in Harry’s ear, friendly, trying to be. “Harry, you should dance with someone your own age,” he muses softly.
But Harry shakes his head and takes advantage of their entrapment, wiggles closer. “I want to dance with you. It won’t kill you,” he ensures him, guiding one of Louis’ hands to each of his hips and keeping his dancing wickedly, but subtly, sexy. He’s got the fish hooked. He can’t rush to reel him in. “I know you came here to have a good time. Now you have pills and a warm body. That’s the makings of a good time,” he reminds.
Louis seems to settle, then - though whether it’s because Harry changed his mind or because he knows he has no escape, Harry’s not going to try to figure out. Once they’re fitted together, he rests his head back against Louis’ chest, at his shoulder, and they find a rhythm, rocking together, and in a bit more time, it seems Louis’ forgotten about trying to escape, because they’re starting to sweat, to stick together, their dancing heavier, closer. Louis’ hands are wandering, up to Harry’s stomach, down his thigh and around to his bum, which makes Harry moan softly - and it’s not even put on, it’s real. “Yes,” he whispers softly, rocking his arse into Louis’ hand. He opens his eyes for a moment and all he can see is a sickening blur of color and he closes them tightly again, grounded in Louis as the world spins around them.
Harry’s not sure how they get from the dance floor to the bathroom. What matters is that they do and he doesn’t even care that there’s something cold and metal and nearly sharp pressing at his back, because Louis’ mouth is warm and soft and it tastes like balloons and there’s a dragon sitting on the toilet keeping watch over them as Harry wrenches Louis’ jeans open and stuffs a hand inside.
He yelps a little when the dragon’s fire breath misses them by mere centimeters, but he doesn’t let it deter him. He pushes back against Louis, now, pinning him to the opposite wall of the stall and sinking to his knees, taking Louis into his mouth, pausing a moment to go lax, and then down his throat. It’s a skill he can only manage when he’s on pills, but luckily, he’s only given head before when he was on pills, so his record is good.
The dragon’s tail wraps around his thigh and that encourages him, makes him bob his head a bit faster, put his hands on the stall to steady himself. Louis’ hands are in his hair, both of them petting and gently tugging and it’s really really turning Harry on, to the point that he pops off with a lewd wet sound and looks hungrily up at Louis. “Want you. Want you.”
Louis whines a little. “Want you. Don’t stop,” he says, pushing Harry back down, and Harry goes compliantly, more than happily. He hums a little, and he gets his hands around Louis’ warm thighs for balance, rather than the cold wall. His head spins even more, now from the lack of breath, and it just makes it better, makes the world around them blurrier and blurrier until all he knows is the taste of Louis’ cock and the tickle of spit dribbling down his chin and the tickle of the dragon’ tail.
Louis makes the most marvelous whimpering sound when he comes, pulling Harry off of him in this slow, lewd manner, so that he manages to shoot twice in Harry’s mouth and twice on Harry’s face. Harry’s all too eager to give him the show he seems to want; he tips his head back and closes his eyes and licks his lips clean, letting some of the come dribble down off of his chin and neck til it stains his shirt.
He gets yanked up and flipped, pulled back and wrapped up into Louis’ arms. There are soft, warm kisses on his neck and Louis has a hand on his thigh, one on his belly, one on his heart, one in his hair, one cleaning the come off his face, and one pressing down into the front of his jeans. It’s fantastic and Harry wilts against him and trembles and whimpers Louis’ name. His whole body is alight with his arousal and the tingles of all of Louis’ touches. Louis’ breath is still heavy in Harry’s ear while he unthreads Harry little by little until he shakes apart in Louis’ arms, only held up by those arms around him.
He’s pretty sure he passes out there, like that, the two of them standing there together panting for far too long.
When he wakes up, it’s about five am and he’s in his bed, jeans shucked off and blankets tucked in around him.
~
Enough time passes without Harry seeing Louis that he knows Louis must be intentionally avoiding the house. Usually, he’ll see the whole lot of Tony’s friends at least every weekend, and nearly two full weeks pass without any sign of Louis.
So, Harry has to get a little creative.
He’s still got some pills left, and he trades two of them and his dealer’s number to one of Louis’ younger sisters in exchange for an invite to their house to “work on a project.” She doesn’t ask questions, and Harry knows she won’t. As long as she doesn’t blab to any of her other sisters, he’ll get away with this just fine.
He really plays it up, too. When he gets over to their house, he brings a science board and bag of craft paints and she leads him upstairs. He goes to her room first and stashes the project stuff out of the way, then slips off and lets himself into Louis’ room.
Louis isn’t there, and he doesn’t expect he will be for a while, so Harry gets onto his laptop, which is open on the desk. He snoops a little bit, because it’s just too easy, but mostly the stuff he sees is boring and he’s not actually feeling all that much of a stalker so eventually he gives up. He plays computer games for a bit, then gets up and kicks his shoes off and curls into Louis’ bed.
It smells like him and Harry completely buries himself under the covers and he doesn’t even mean to fall asleep there, but he does. Luckily it’s a light sleep and he startles awake when he hears someone coming down the hallway, peering out from under the blankets just in time to see Louis slip into the room. He smiles, warm and elated that his plan has worked, in some way or another.
Louis hasn’t seen him yet, so he sits up, leaning back casually onto the pillows with his legs crossed under the blanket and one arm up, tucked behind his head with his elbow towards the ceiling.
He rustles enough to startle Louis, who looks up, alarmed, then glares a little, his face instantly going red. “Harry, what are you doing here?” he hisses.
Harry’s grin is cheeky and sly. “Do you always look so upset to come home to a boy in your bed?”
Louis rolls his eyes. “When it’s actually a boy - as in a child - yes, I do, you twat,” he growls, annoyed.
Harry lets it roll off of him. “Didn’t seem to hinder you the other night,” Harry reminds him, tilting his head up a little bit to give Louis a little flash of his neck, wondering if Louis remembers that part as vividly as he does.
“Yeah, well, you had two heads at the time and butterflies floating around both of them,” Louis points out. “So it hardly counts.”
Harry shrugged. “You had 10 hands and there was a dragon keeping watch over us and I’m counting it,” he bites back boredly. “But, if you have such a problem with that memory, why don’t we just make another,” he suggests, sitting up and tugging his shirt off shamelessly, setting it aside.
Louis’ face flames redder and he just shakes his head, dropping the bag he’s still wearing on his shoulder onto the floor and rolling his eyes even harder. “Harry, you’re too young, and you’re my best mate’s little brother, and it’s just not happening, alright? You got what you wanted last time, just let it go.”
Harry hums, considers this. Then he clambers out of the bed, getting his feet on the cold floor and walking over to Louis, who backs up until he’s trapped himself against the wall, and Harry wants to laugh but he just closes the distance between them and stops right in front of Louis.
“I don’t think I’m going to let it go,” he informs him, as if he’s letting him know he’s decided to water the plants. “I thiiiiink that, either you’re going to hook up with me again, or -”
Louis looks almost like he wants to laugh at this point. He’s sure whatever argument Harry’s about to make is going to be endlessly amusing. “-I’m going to tell my parents, and your parents about how you slipped me pills and made me choke on your dick and wouldn’t even let me up to breathe much less call for help,” he explains, voice soft and soothing and scary charming as he traces absent little circles onto Louis’ chest.
Louis’ face falls into disbelief, then worry, then up into fake bravado.
“Oh, whatever, you tosser, you-”
“Absolutely. Would,” Harry assures him, hard and cold now. And in the same breath, he puts his warm hand down the front of Louis’ pants, squeezing him delicately, like it’s the most precious dick in the world, like it’s made of rare colored diamonds and precious platinum.
“But don’t worry,” he promises softly, standing on his tiptoes so he can kiss Louis’ neck. “I’m going to make this very worth your while. And really, this is what you want, isn’t it? Because now you can do all of the things you want to do to me anyways, and you don’t have to feel guilty either, do you? You tried to say no,” he singsongs soothingly.
Louis frowns, and he closes his eyes. Harry’s knows then, that he’s getting to him, if Louis can’t even look at him and try to maintain any resolve. He smirks, sucks softly on Louis’ clavicle again, making sure to leave a little bruise as evidence of his claim.
“Harry, we really can’t,” he insists again, so Harry flicks his wrist a little and wrings a soft whimper out of Louis’ mouth.
“We both want to,” Harry argues back softly, nuzzling, letting his curls tickle Louis’ chin. “It’ll be okay, Louis,” he said. “You’re not my first, or anything.” He pushes his hands under Louis’ shirt and tugs away just enough to tug it off of him. He’s beautiful. His skin is perfectly milky and sinfully soft and Harry presses forward, his ear over Louis’ heart, and hugs him fully, tightly, eyes squeezed closed as he lets himself take in the feel of Louis’ skin on his own. He smiles. “Just the best,” he adds softly.
He hears Louis swallow tightly and then feels a hand in his hair the next minute. “Harry,” Louis whimpers, but it’s still strained, like he still wants to fight this.
Stubborn wanker.
“I really want you to fuck me, Louis,” he whispers into Louis chest, one hand opening his jeans up more so he can stroke him better. “Thought about it so many times,” he offers. “Ever since the first time I met you,” he whispers.
Louis sniffs softly, his hips moving in a jerky way that Harry is pretty sure he didn’t intend to happen. “You’ll....really tell that story?” Louis whines softly and Harry can’t help but think that there’s an edge of hopeful desperation to his voice.
“To everyone in town,” he says steadily, and it’s the most backwards thing because Louis relaxes then, finally, and he comes to himself a bit, lifts his arms and pushes Harry, walks him backwards until they’re falling over into each other into the bed.
Harry scoots back hurriedly as Louis continues to crawl on top of him, like a cat on a prowl. Harry’s whole body shudders a little, and as soon as he has crawled fully back in the bed, he rolls himself over onto his belly and looks at Louis over his shoulder.
Louis’ eyes are hungry and dark and Harry goes impossibly hard in his jeans. Which, as it turns out, are exactly what Louis is after. The next moment, he strips them off of Harry’s legs with grace this is just unfair. For only the briefest second, Harry starts to worry about his thin body and his pale legs but then Louis is on top of him, his exposed dick pressing against the bubble of Harry’s ass, and he forgets to be self conscious and just moans, openly wanting, needy.
“Yes,” he hisses softly as Louis works his briefs down and Harry presses his ass up against him shamelessly. “Yes, please, Louis.”
Louis produces lube and a condom from somewhere under one of his pillows, and hell, if Harry’d known that was there he’d have had himself prepped and ready and naked in Louis’ bed by the time he even got home - but that was a lesson for later. For now, he spread his legs some, pressed up onto his arms to expose himself better, to open his body up for Louis.
Louis, though, seems to be a bit fed up with Harry running the show, and he smacks Harry’s ass and then shoves him back down. Harry flops into the mattress and groans softly, but it’s with arousal. “Oh, fuck,” he bites softly. “Yeah. Want to make me your bitch, Louis?” he taunts softly.
“Like you’re not already?” Louis whispers against the back of his ear as he presses two lubed fingers inside of him. Harry’s back arches and he gasps softly, fingers curling into Louis’ sheets.
“Always have been,” he assures Louis. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve been your bitch,” he whispers - a promise.
Louis seems to like that, because he ruts his dick against the side of Harry’s leg, and he’s still just as warm and hard as he’d been when he was in Harry’s hand. It makes Harry fumble blindly to get his hand back around it, missing the weight in his palm, but Louis smacks his hand and moves away, making Harry whine. “Wanna touch you,” he whimpers.
“You can have my dick when I give it to you, Harry. You cheeky little brat. You need to learn that you don’t always get everything you want,” he whispers. He curls his fingers just so and Harry arches into him again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to ache in places he never has before, because nothing has ever made him feel so good, nothing has ever arched his back like that or made his insides this molten hot.
“Please, Louis,” he whimpers again. “Please just...give me something.” His voice is shaky and breathless, and all Louis gives him is to curl his fingers again. It lights his belly on fire and sends rockets off in his head. “Fuck, this is even better than when you had ten hands,” he babbles into the pillow.
Next thing he knows, Louis’ tongue is on him, swiping hot up his spine and he feels his cock twitch between his body and the mattress. “Shit, fuck, Louis, yes, god.” He lifts his head up, cranes around to try to see what is surely the sexiest thing in the history of the world. And he promptly gets his head shoved back down into the pillow.
And he’s just about to get annoyed about it when he hears the wrapper of the condom crinkling and at that point Harry’s just too damn turned on to even care anymore. He presses his hips up, one last attempt to open himself up for Louis, and this time, he doesn’t get pushed.
Louis’ whole arm wraps around his stomach to support his frame, and he feels the head of that perfect dick pressing insistently at his ass. It’s so good he can’t even breathe.
Harry’s arms are a bit shaky, but he slowly presses himself up onto them, just enough to get this angle right. Then he closes his eyes and lets out every last bit of his breath and at the very end of it, that insistent press turns into a soft pop and Louis slides in all at once, like he hadn’t expected the sudden acceptance.
It topples both of them over and they land in a heap, Harry wincing, but immediately wrapping his arm back around him, into Louis’ hair. “Yes,” he whispers softly, and this time it’s so much less wanton and so much more awed, amazed to finally have Louis in him the way he’s dreamed of for years.
Louis kisses his ear and then tugs one of the extra pillows and shoves it under Harry’s hips. Then his warmth is gone from Harry’s skin as he sits up and Harry whines at the loss. He’s distracted from it for a moment, because Louis’ strong hands take his hips and start to work himself in and out, and instinctively, Harry’s slutty little hips work with him, but he’s not satisfied.
He pushes up himself, onto his knees, leans back into Louis, who tenses for a moment, and Harry is certain he’s about to get shoved down again, but Louis slides one arm up off of his hip and wraps it around Harry’s chest, cradling him back until they’re skin to skin again and it’s really easy like that, both of them moving their bodies together, both of them able to enjoy it more with only half of the effort.
“Can’t....last,” Harry whispers softly, and it’s too soon, not nearly long enough, but Harry is 13 and Louis is his prince and this is so much better than he ever could have imagined it’d be. “Gonna, yes, Louis,” he gasps softly, and he comes, just like that, never even needing to be touched. He turns his neck back at an impossible angle just to be able to nuzzle under Louis’ jaw while he comes.
Louis isn’t very far behind him; Harry’s still a bit hazy, but he knows that nothing in the universe could possibly be as sexy as the way Louis whimpers his name.
They’re both trembling then, and it’s out of necessity that they topple over together, both of them too shaky to hold themselves up any more. For long moments, the only sound is their laboured breaths, perfectly in sync.
Harry shifts his head a little, tucking himself more comfortably into Louis’ neck and sliding his hand until he finds Louis’ and he can tangle their fingers together.
“We’re going to keep doing this,” he informs Louis after a moment or two.
“Or else you’ll tell that story?” Louis asks softly, his voice flat.
Harry nods against him. “Yup,” he confirms.
Louis pauses, even his breathing quiet for a moment. “For how long?” he finally asks.
Harry licks his lips, considers his best answer. “Until I’m 16,” he decides.
He feels Louis’ face shift as he quirks an eyebrow. “And then?”
“Then you’re going to be my boyfriend,” Harry informs him.