Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

fifty-seven

At their hotel, Harry has more energy than he has had all day.

He doesn't want to sleep, as it turns out. He wants to swim.

"We don't have bathing suits," Louis points out, approximately two minutes away from crawling into bed, shower be damned. He feels gross but doesn't care, hasn't showered since yesterday, not even after that were sweaty and fucked out from an intense round of sex.

Harry shrugs, folding down the elastic band of his joggers and flashing Louis a view of the soft cotton of his boxers. "Essentially the same thing."

Louis is really bad at saying no to him.

They end up in the pool, swimming back and forth languidly when they're not getting into playful fights and splashing each other.

Harry used to be shy about physically touch, but not anymore. Not around Louis. He clings to Louis' back, big hands squeezing his shoulders to hold on, legs wrapped around his lower back, heels digging into his stomach. He orders Louis to swim and Louis does just to humor him, letting Harry ride him like a child. It's ridiculous, and yet it still warms something in his chest. It's not often that he gets to witness a carefree Harry.

There's a hot tub to the side of the pool room and it's blissfully empty. Harry drags him over to it and he goes willingly, sinking into the steaming water with a hiss because it numbs his nerve endings for a minute, before everything dissolves into relaxation and pleasure.

Harry sits beside him on perfectly good behavior until he gets the idea that this would be a great place to kiss Louis. It comes out of nowhere, Harry leaning over and attacking his face, not starting slow, just kissing hard. To maintain his balance he presses down with the heel of his palm and it lands high on Louis' thigh, a warm heat in the hot water.

One thing leads to another and before Louis knows it they're climbing out of the hot tub and racing back up to their hotel room. They take the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator, and drip chlorinated water all the way back. Louis fumbles with the room key with Harry laughing and kissing all over his back, his shoulders, his neck. They still have their agreement, after all.

The rule is penetrative sex. They've fucked around too much earlier in the week, and now they'd be breaking their own rules if they only went for something easy like a blowjob or a handjob. Louis feels bad, thinking Harry must be pretty sore after so many days of having something shoved up his ass. But this is his idea, and he seems to have no qualms.

Still, Louis goes gentle. Much softer than last night. Slower, too. Not slowly. Of course, but slower than the rapid, desperate pace of last night. Today, the name of the game is moderation.

He opens him up thoroughly with his fingers, set on not causing Harry any unnecessary pain today. Harry is impatient and telling him to go harder but he ignores his pleas, pumping his fingers in and out at a methodical pace.

"Patience, baby," Louis chastises, going a little slower just to spite him. If Harry was Louis' boyfriend, and they had an agreement like this, he might try to teach Harry a lesson. The fun way, of course, through edging.

They're not boyfriends though so Louis feels it isn't really his place to try to alter Harry's habits. Instead, he tries not to think too hard about really being in a relationship with Harry, having him for good. He focuses on the warm heat encompassing his fingers and then that same warm heat that smothers his dick a few moments later, once he's open enough.

"So fucking big," Harry murmurs reverently, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure as Louis finds a steady rhythm and maintains it easily, hazy ecstasy coiling in his veins. "I can feel you everywhere... So good..."

"I'm glad, darling," Louis sighs, kissing him sweetly. He wants to make Harry feel good, always.

They both come, and then take a nap together, which turns into just falling asleep for the night.

Louis wakes at four in the morning, dreadfully soft and still stuffed inside Harry. He pulls out, wincing, unable to believe they've stayed in the exact same position for ten hours. No doubt, they were exhausted.

He cleans up Harry's sleeping self, wiping him down with a warm washcloth, careful not to wake him. He didn't complain at all about being sore but Louis could see it when he pressed inside and Harry scrunched up his nose like it hurt a lot. Any sane person would maybe give up sex for a day, or make an exception to the agreement that says it's okay to skip a day if his hole is too used and sensitive, but not Harry.

So Louis takes care of him like he always does, wrapping him in a blanket when he leaves the bed to take a shower. Twenty minutes later he crawls back in bed beside Harry, wrapping his arms around him protectively.