larry smut

; hello, heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338309?view_adult=true#main
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"I got you a present," Louis says before he even says hello, how was your day, babe, so Harry knows what the present is, or at least what sort or present it is. There's also a sharp, lethal mischief in the dark of Louis's eye, and that combination of cheekiness and heat is always a dead give away. That Louis's plotting something, has been for awhile now, and Harry's going to get it, whatever it is.

"Oh, yeah?" Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. "A new phone charger? Mine's still broken, the electrical tape didn't work."

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. "Oh, a phone charger? Is that what you need?" he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that's so, so high and gentle that it's scary. He's putting on a show for Harry, and Harry's thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they're talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry's living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

"Mmmhmm," he hums, letting Louis steer him to the couch in their sunken living room. They stumble down the stairs, Louis grabbing his Selfridges shopping bag and rifling through it along the way, and Harry's breath catches as he pulls out a little cream-coloured gift bag from inside.

"Look like a phone charger to you?" he asks, handing it to Harry, who has just dropped onto the couch, stomach in eager knots. He has no idea what it could be beyond that it's dirty, maybe some lube or another plug, a bigger one this time since he's getting better at taking whatever Louis has to give him. He wonders if you can even get plugs at Selfridges, if Louis stopped somewhere else, or if this is just, like, the world's fanciest diamond-encrusted plug or something.

"No," Harry says, carefully smoothing out the tissue paper, fingers slow with awe, with how much he loves Louis. "Looks like something more fun."

"Well, go on, then...open it, yeah?" Louis prods, sitting down beside him and nudging his thigh with his knee.

Harry does as he's told, carefully taking the smaller, swaddled package inside the bag and tenderly unwrapping it. The instant his fingers touch something smooth and silky, he knows what this is. He and Louis have talked about it before, about how he likes to look pretty even though looking pretty embarrasses him, about how feeling embarrassed turns him on, about how he just knows that if he ever put on a pair of panties he'd mess them up inside because there's so, so much about the idea that's titillating, so much humiliation and delicacy all rolled up into one. Would love to see you in a pair, if i'm honest, Louis had said, months ago, so Harry had sort of forgotten. But now, with the lace brushing his knuckles as he gasps and holds them up, his cheeks burn, and he remembers everything. "Are they...did you get me knickers?" he whispers.

"I did," Louis confirms smugly. "Not sure if they're your size, but it's more the thought that counts, and you're gonna look fit in anything, whether it fits you or not....so yeah. Go try 'em on," he says, leaning forward and nuzzling into Harry's neck before he presses a rough kiss there. "Wanna see you, pretty baby."

Harry's heart stops, and he makes a fist around the panties, loving how they're tiny and thin enough to crumple up in his palm. "Okay," he breathes.

He doesn't even think to go into the bathroom to change into them, he just unbuckles his belt, undoes the button of his trousers, and shimmies out of it all right there on the couch, cock already chubbing up, getting thick and heavy against his stomach. He has undressed in front of Louis more times than he could ever count, but in moments like this, it feels so charged, so different, like a ritual. Louis's watching his every move so attentively, chewing his lips, pupils big and flint black, the blue of his eyes edged out into a thin, icy ring. He looks so hot, and furthermore Harry feels hot under the burn of his gaze, even if he isn't stripping sexily or anything, just rolling his pants down his hairy thighs, which are gonna look absolutely ridiculous in these panties. "I should have shaved," he mumbles, rubbing his palms over the hair, making it go against the grain. "Sorry it'll look funny."