larry smut

harder, faster, deeper

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984728

~✰~

Harry was nervous. He was sitting alone in the waiting room of his favourite tattoo parlor, ready to get his new favourite piece (every tattoo he gets becomes his favourite until he gets another one) so technically he should feel at ease, but not today.

Harry ran his sweaty hands down his tight white jeans, his flowy periwinkle blue button-up suddenly feeling too hot even though it was unbuttoned down past his chest, revealing the spattering of ink he already had. He ran a hand through his long brown curls, and tried taking in deep breaths to help calm him down.

The problem was Jesse.

She was the artist responsible for about 90% of the tattoos covering Harry's lanky frame, but she had moved away just two months ago, so Harry had begrudgingly agreed to meet with her replacement. His name was Louis and Harry was sure he was gonna hate him, on principle. Not that Louis had done anything wrong, Harry literally knew zero about the guy except for Jesse's good word, but Harry just felt unnerved by the whole thing.

Harry didn't like change. At all. It was kind of a problem of his, that many of his friends told him to get over, but whatever, he dealt with it in his own way. The fact of the matter was that he knew Jesse, he was comfortable with her; they had become friends over that past few years, as Harry had continually handed over the contents of his paycheck and she returned the favor by marking him up with dozens of tattoos. They would talk shit about work and life and exchange stories about the guys they had hooked up with all the while she buzzed the gun, pouring ink into his sensitive skin.

Harry liked it though, the pain, the conversation, the art. It gave him a high to have to earn the beauty displayed on his body, the rumbling through his veins every time the needle penetrated his flesh gave him an adrenaline rush that he couldn't get anywhere else. Jesse just laughed at his pain kink though, getting a knowing smirk on her face when she could see his eyes dilate in pleasure, saying shit like "good thing I'm a chick, yea, Harry? If you let a bloke tat you up, I bet you let 'em fuck you right into the chair, easy."

Yea, good thing huh.

Harry had been waiting only fifteen minutes when his phone buzzed; it was from his best friend and current flatmate, Zayn. He had pushed Harry out of their place, ordering him to go and at least meet the guy, because Harry had threatened to just stay home and watch rom coms.

Zayn : How's the new guy?

Harry : Still waiting, nervous as hell man

Zayn : Nah, don't worry it'll be fine. Just getting the rose, yea?

Harry : Yep, just the rose today

The rose. Harry had been wanting for this tattoo for ages and he had really being banking on Jesse to do it. It represented friendship and love and hope and loyalty. All the things he held dear in his life and he didn't want some random guy to come and fuck it up.

Shit, he should just go home. Love actually was waiting for him on his DVR. No point in staying, he would just wait until Jesse got back and visited, maybe ....

Fuck.

Harry hated change ... but maybe, maybe this was a time he needed to just fucking try something new? Oh god, now his hands were getting sweaty again.

He scrunched his face up willing his heartbeat to slow down when his phone buzzed again.

Zayn: I can literally hear you freaking out from here. Don't leave man, don't be that guy.