⚠️by 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙬𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙤𝙤 on ao3
⚠️summary:
It starts with a picture of Harry in Rolling Stone, standing in the Queen Anne’s lace and wild carrot, denim jumpsuit unbuttoned to his navel, tits all out on display. It starts as a joke; it doesn’t end there.
This is basically 3000 words about Harry Styles’ tits. Enjoy.
⚠️words: 2685
🤍🤍🤍
It starts as a joke.
They’re curled together in the catch of the sheets, where they can just be without the constant flash of cameras, the constant questions, and Louis has the interview with Rolling Stone open on his laptop.
“Two things about English rock stars never change: They love Southern California, and they love cars,” Louis reads, and then snorts, shaking his head and trailing a lazy hand down the back of Harry’s head, fingers light on the tanned skin of his back. “Bit trite,” he says by way of criticism, reaching for his drink.
“Got magazines to sell,” Harry mumbles from Louis’ armpit, where he is half asleep.
“Americans do love to think everyone loves them the most,” Louis remarks idly, tracing a finger up and down Harry’s spine as he scrolls through the article. “You’re going to have them fucking drooling, babe,” he adds. “These pictures. Filthy.”
Harry grins, propping his chin on Louis’ chest. “You like those? Told Ryan they were thirst traps.”
“You were right.” Louis scrolls through the article some more, lapsing into silence, and Harry burrows back down into his armpit, resurfacing when Louis makes a sound — a sound he used to only make when Harry was sweat soaked and panting, spread out under him, Louis’ palm pressed to the crease of his mouth, pressing pressing — “fuck.” It’s raw and guttural, hoarse, and Harry’s not even sure Louis meant to say it out loud.
“Alright?” Harry asks lazily, peeking up again.
Louis has the laptop paused on the picture Ryan took of Harry in the weeds by the ocean, out in the Queen Anne’s Lace and wild carrot, the denim jumpsuit hugging his hips, splayed open at the collar. “Pure sex,” Louis says, and Harry hides his grin in Louis’ shoulder.
“Thought you’d like that one.”
“Fucking indecent ,” Louis says, kissing the top of Harry’s head. “Tits all on display like that.”
Harry barks out a laugh. “You like my tits,” he accuses, tilting his face up for Louis to kiss him, and Louis does.
**
So, it starts as a joke. Only, Louis can’t stop thinking about it — about the curve of Harry’s pecs cupped in the denim, the barest hint of a nipple. It’s downright obscene, and as Louis goes about his business in London and Harry in LA, he can’t stop thinking about it.
They have to be careful. There’s too much at stake to come clean about it, and it is, Louis admits, nice to have a little (big) secret from everyone but their immediate families, nice to keep this, if nothing else, out of the spotlight.
It’s nice to get to be authentically himself with at least one person, nice to be able to wank off to Harry Styles and know that he is the only person who’s coming near that arse, regardless of what the gossip rags say.
It’s nice, also, to have someone who knows him — has known him since he was 18. Nice to have someone who doesn’t judge him, who loves him, he supposes, regardless of kink or scandal.
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Larry smut
Fanfiction𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐨𝟑 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬😈🥵 ⚠️𝙞𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣...