Helping Hand
Title: Helping Hand
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Louis/Harry
Word count: 7,30 words.
Rating: soft R?
Warning: Handjob. Oh god I feel so dirty now, haha.
Disclaimer: I own One Direction's beautiful arses and order them (not that they need much coaxing to do so) to have buttsex with each other every night.
Summary: Louis doesn't quite expect his life to change so drastically. Good drastically, of course.
[Read More]When Louis returns to the room after meeting with Hannah, he doesn’t expect to see Harry.
Harry, who has his hand around his cock with eyes squinted shut, half-kneeling and half-standing on the bed.
Louis certainly does not expect that.
When he accidentally knocks aside an empty Pepsi can on their messy bedroom floor and Harry wrenches open his eyes, all he can think is, “Oops.”
“O-Oh.” Harry’s face, half covered by his adorable curls, is extremely red; his breathing is ragged and Louis can tell that even a monosyllable is too much effort.
He doesn’t know what possesses him to step forward.
He doesn’t know what makes him stand directly behind Harry, and encircle his younger friend’s waist with his left hand, using the same hand to grab Harry’s cock.
And he certainly doesn’t know what overcomes him as he whispers breathily into Harry’s ear, “Let me give you a helping hand.”
Harry half-snorts, half-chokes on the pun, but immediately relaxes, shoulders becoming less rigid as he leans into Louis’ embrace.
Louis’ never done this before, ever; he’s straight, for god’s sake. But the skin-on-skin contact surprisingly gives him a feeling mockingly close to euphoria; lust tightening his abdomen and curling his toes forward.
He doesn’t stop, though, because this… experience is far from unpleasant. When his hand slows down, pumping up and down his best friend’s shaft at an exaggerated rate, Harry immediately tenses, reaching forward to touch himself again.
“No,” Louis barks, his voice deep and throaty, commanding, “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Harry whimpers then, vocal chords strangled; Louis immediately starts pecking and biting his neck to satiate him, slowly lingering his tongue for too long at one spot and giving the slightest scrape of teeth at another. It’s more of a reflex, and when Harry gives a moan that makes Louis suddenly so very hard, why not?
After all, everything Louis has done has been started with an impulse, a gut feeling. Instinct. That’s how he even bothered auditioning for the X Factor, really: a reckless need that just had to be fulfilled, a hunger that had to be fed. That’s why he was here, a few weeks into the live shows, stroking his newfound best friend.
But it doesn’t feel too weird. It felt… right, as cliche as that sounded, like he was meant to be here later after their seventh live show, at the age of eighteen, pleasuring his best friend.
Louis rubs a thumb over the delicate skin of Harry’s balls; except for the stuttered moans coming from the younger band mate, the room is silent. Louis bites especially hard on Harry’s neck then; the juncture between his shoulder and collarbone which he knows is particularly sensitive.
The Doncaster teenager adds pressure (not too rough, of course), and Harry starts fidgeting; Louis knows he’s going to come soon.
And he does, with a magnificent yell and panting Lou’s name a few times, his entire body shuddering still as he collapses in Louis’ hold afterwards.
Later they lie on Harry’s bed, pushing the stained sheets down. They don’t really talk about it, just basking in each other’s presence and listening to the sound of their breathing. The pair are cuddling; Harry pressing Louis into his shoulder, Louis’ hands resting on Harry’s waist. But this is the norm for them, cuddling together, close as they are.
-
Sometime later, Louis dozes off, and Harry’s left alone, really alone, with his thoughts. He doesn’t know where they are now, where they stand. He doesn’t want to question it too; Louis has a girlfriend, for god’s sake. Even Harry is fond of the petite blonde that Louis never stops talking about, although he can get a tad annoyed sometimes. So what exactly are they doing?
He drags his too-long fingernails through Louis’ amazing brown hair. Everyone thinks Harry’s curls are the best, but really, they have no idea how soft, or… nice-smelling Louis’ can be.
Screw it, Harry thinks. He’s definitely gay.
And on that charming note, he presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead, and falls asleep, holding the consequences at bay just for a little while now.
It's kind of corny as fuck. Deal.
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Louis/Harry
Word count: 7,30 words.
Rating: soft R?
Warning: Handjob. Oh god I feel so dirty now, haha.
Disclaimer: I own One Direction's beautiful arses and order them (not that they need much coaxing to do so) to have buttsex with each other every night.
Summary: Louis doesn't quite expect his life to change so drastically. Good drastically, of course.
[Read More]When Louis returns to the room after meeting with Hannah, he doesn’t expect to see Harry.
Harry, who has his hand around his cock with eyes squinted shut, half-kneeling and half-standing on the bed.
Louis certainly does not expect that.
When he accidentally knocks aside an empty Pepsi can on their messy bedroom floor and Harry wrenches open his eyes, all he can think is, “Oops.”
“O-Oh.” Harry’s face, half covered by his adorable curls, is extremely red; his breathing is ragged and Louis can tell that even a monosyllable is too much effort.
He doesn’t know what possesses him to step forward.
He doesn’t know what makes him stand directly behind Harry, and encircle his younger friend’s waist with his left hand, using the same hand to grab Harry’s cock.
And he certainly doesn’t know what overcomes him as he whispers breathily into Harry’s ear, “Let me give you a helping hand.”
Harry half-snorts, half-chokes on the pun, but immediately relaxes, shoulders becoming less rigid as he leans into Louis’ embrace.
Louis’ never done this before, ever; he’s straight, for god’s sake. But the skin-on-skin contact surprisingly gives him a feeling mockingly close to euphoria; lust tightening his abdomen and curling his toes forward.
He doesn’t stop, though, because this… experience is far from unpleasant. When his hand slows down, pumping up and down his best friend’s shaft at an exaggerated rate, Harry immediately tenses, reaching forward to touch himself again.
“No,” Louis barks, his voice deep and throaty, commanding, “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Harry whimpers then, vocal chords strangled; Louis immediately starts pecking and biting his neck to satiate him, slowly lingering his tongue for too long at one spot and giving the slightest scrape of teeth at another. It’s more of a reflex, and when Harry gives a moan that makes Louis suddenly so very hard, why not?
After all, everything Louis has done has been started with an impulse, a gut feeling. Instinct. That’s how he even bothered auditioning for the X Factor, really: a reckless need that just had to be fulfilled, a hunger that had to be fed. That’s why he was here, a few weeks into the live shows, stroking his newfound best friend.
But it doesn’t feel too weird. It felt… right, as cliche as that sounded, like he was meant to be here later after their seventh live show, at the age of eighteen, pleasuring his best friend.
Louis rubs a thumb over the delicate skin of Harry’s balls; except for the stuttered moans coming from the younger band mate, the room is silent. Louis bites especially hard on Harry’s neck then; the juncture between his shoulder and collarbone which he knows is particularly sensitive.
The Doncaster teenager adds pressure (not too rough, of course), and Harry starts fidgeting; Louis knows he’s going to come soon.
And he does, with a magnificent yell and panting Lou’s name a few times, his entire body shuddering still as he collapses in Louis’ hold afterwards.
Later they lie on Harry’s bed, pushing the stained sheets down. They don’t really talk about it, just basking in each other’s presence and listening to the sound of their breathing. The pair are cuddling; Harry pressing Louis into his shoulder, Louis’ hands resting on Harry’s waist. But this is the norm for them, cuddling together, close as they are.
-
Sometime later, Louis dozes off, and Harry’s left alone, really alone, with his thoughts. He doesn’t know where they are now, where they stand. He doesn’t want to question it too; Louis has a girlfriend, for god’s sake. Even Harry is fond of the petite blonde that Louis never stops talking about, although he can get a tad annoyed sometimes. So what exactly are they doing?
He drags his too-long fingernails through Louis’ amazing brown hair. Everyone thinks Harry’s curls are the best, but really, they have no idea how soft, or… nice-smelling Louis’ can be.
Screw it, Harry thinks. He’s definitely gay.
And on that charming note, he presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead, and falls asleep, holding the consequences at bay just for a little while now.
It's kind of corny as fuck. Deal.