The Man in The Mirror

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⚠️by 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨_𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 on ao3

⚠️summary:

“No peeking. You can’t turn around until I say so, okay? And no touching yourself. This,” Louis pressed a palm against Harry’s crotch, “is mine.” Harry nodded mutely, narrowing his eyes at Louis as he tried to work out just what his husband was up to.

⚠️top Harry, bottom Louis

⚠️PICTURES IN THIS ONE ARE-

⚠️words: 4312

🤍🤍🤍

Saturday dawned bright and early. It was so close to the end of the challenge, so close to not having to have sex every damn day. Don’t get Harry wrong, the sex had been mostly, all, amazing, but it still became unspontaneous, almost a chore, and he couldn’t wait till he didn’t have to have sex with Louis so that he could have amazing, spontaneous, incredible sex with Louis at every opportunity imaginable.

The kids woke early, their screaming voices echoing through the house before Harry was ready for it. Louis slept on, oblivious. Harry quickly shucked his covers, wanting to let his boy sleep which meant getting to the kids before they did the seemingly impossible and woke their deeply asleep father.

Mornings like this called for a trick Harry's mum had used on him and Gemma when they were kids. Saturday morning TV, a strategically placed box of jaffa cakes in a kid-accessible cupboard, and Harry turning a blind eye. After getting the kids downstairs, wrapped in blankets and still sleepy eyed, but pretending otherwise, he strategically ‘went to the loo’ which really meant standing in the hall as he listened to Izzy rummage in the cupboards and persuade her innocent brother that they could get away with the jaffa cake theft. As soon as the deed was done, kids settled on the sofa with their contraband and cartoons, Harry filled two cups of coffee and within five minutes was crawling back under the covers, snuggling up to the furnace that was his husband.

“Mmmm, is that coffee I smell?” Louis’ voice was rough with sleep and tempted Harry to get today’s sexcapades out of the way early doors. He was just considering the relative merits of Louis in his arse versus a twenty-minute nap when Georgie barrelled through the bedroom door, crying about his sister hogging the jaffa cakes. Harry sighed. He was sure he and Gemma had been better at letting the jaffa cake trick give their parents a lie in.

Two hours later the entire family was washed, dressed, breakfasted and wrapped in coats, ready to head out the front door. Louis had suggested they go to one of those places where you paint your own pottery for an exorbitant amount of money, and then have a walk in the woods with the dog. The whole family painting mugs would possibly require a new mortgage, but as soon as he voiced it in front of Izzy and Georgie it was a done deal.

By half one the whole family were covered in paint, Georgie had cried three times and Izzy twice, and they had left their resultant masterpieces to be fired in the kiln (the leaving being the cause of many of the tears). Louis had eventually had to bribe Georgie to let the girl running the store keep his mug with the promise of ice cream, even though it was fifteen degrees outside if they were lucky, grey clouds threatening on the horizon.

Throughout their walk, bathtime, dinner and bedtime stories Louis became progressively more antsy, refusing to answer questions as to why. Instead, he just gave Harry knowing and slightly nervous smiles. By the time the kids were settled Harry was honestly exhausted, done in from a full day of family bonding, autumnal air and Louis being a generally confusing pain in the rear end. All he wanted to do was settle on the sofa with a large glass of tesco finest pinot gris, Gilmore Girls on netflix and a pack of hobnobs.

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