Harry's Home [Completed]

Rushed Fucks

It had all begun when Louis was out with the lads — Louis and the lads, always together that lot. It was just an usual drunken night for Louis as Harry watched him from afar in the dark, humid club, too timid to come up to him, afraid that the man dancing around like a madman might turn down a barely legal, lanky mess like him. But luck had been in his favour when a green faced Louis stumbled out of the VIP area and looked Harry in the eyes with remorse before throwing up all over his clothes.

Harry had been mortified.

But then Louis apologised over and over and over again until Harry almost felt guilty that Louis had thrown up all over him. That night, after Louis sloppily drenched Harry with water in the name of cleaning his mess up in the shabby, crammed bathroom of the club, music thumping and swaying bodies moving around, he insisted Harry to accompany him to his place, that was apparently just around the corner, for a change of clothes.

Harry was no fool. Although only in his first year of uni and never been out in a big city alone before, he did the wisest thing he could have thought of — accompany Louis.

Louis fucked his brains out that night.

The following morning was a blur of a hangover and a sore bum, but the one thing that was still engraved in his memory was Louis' face; smashed into the pillow with a drooling mouth and arms that refused to let go of Harry. Harry learnt later that morning that Louis was, in fact, eleven years older than him, a successful businessman and astonishingly a major donator of Harry's uni. He continued to apologise for the past night until Harry shut him up with a blowjob in Louis' fancy, French eggshell kitchen, begging the man to fuck his throat until Louis emptied down his throat. He then proceeded to gulp down a Yorkshire cuppa from Louis' collection to ease the soreness.

"So...you're, like, really loaded?" Harry asked as Louis passed him a steaming plate of English brekkie on the kitchen island, the smell and sight of grease mollifying his final traces of a hangover. He watched as Louis placed himself on the stool next to him, his upper body bare and ink left for Harry to ogle at. Louis Tomlinson was a fucking daddy.

"You can.. say that. I s'pose." Louis mumbled, mouth stuffed. Harry grimaced immediately, always having had a loathe for people lacking table manners. "Oh, c'mon! You've got one life, no need to ruin it by following rules that came out from some old hag's arse." Louis had noticed his distaste, immediately rolling his eyes, but something about the man told Harry that he wasn't cross at all, only a simple banter.

"But it's yucky." Harry reasoned, sipping the warm tea when his throat felt like being ripped apart. He had an audition tomorrow, for fuck's sake.

"Who the fuck uses 'yucky'? Besides, I am too old to change now."

"You aren't that old!" Harry countered, cringing when his throat ached. Louis shot him a sympathetic look, Harry rolled his eyes. He took another gulp of his tea before turning towards Louis completely, his food forgotten and attention grabbed by a pair of aquamarine eyes.

"Says the nineteen year old," Louis spat. "I can't believe I fucked a nineteen year old....twice."

"Well, you only fucked my throat the second time." It was a pathetic attempt at consoling the convicted man. Harry sighed and moved closer, scraping the stool until the air filled with its nerve wrecking screech and his toes touched Louis'. "I don't care if you are a tad older."

Louis chuckled humourlessly. "Look, I know it can be quite thrilling to have an older person take interest in you when you are younger, but believe me you will regret this when you are older," Louis sighed deeply and looked Harry in the eyes, worry evident in them. "I am sorry if I misled you or some-"