larry smut

cohabitate

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790386

~✰~

"What are you going to do tonight?" Harry asks, lingering at the door of the living room.

"Nothing," Louis says, kicking his foot up onto the coffee table to emphasis the point. They've got an entire 36 hours with nothing scheduled and he's going to spend every minute of it eating crap and watching crap and not moving at all. He'll move off this couch over his dead body. Well, not over his dead body. It would have to be something dragging his dead body. The point is: "There's a match on in half an hour, I'm going to watch that."

"Okay," Harry says. "I'm going to go on the computer in my room for a bit and then I'm going to have a shower, and then I'll come down and we can make nachos or something."

"Yeah, whatever," Louis says. "You don't have to go on and on about it."

"You're good though, right?" Harry asks.

Louis nods and then waves away Harry's, "You don't need anything?" and finally Harry wanders off. He's a good lad and an even better roommate, but he's a strange duck.

Louis makes himself a cup of tea, flips through their bazillion telly stations (being a popstar is the best, he gets all the channels and his remote looks like it could launch a spaceship), and waits for the game to start. Except it's delayed because of rain and finally cancelled entirely and Louis had said he was never going to leave the couch but he's bored already. He wasn't going to leave for anyone else, but he will leave of his own accord. Maybe Harry wants to make those nachos now.

He walks to Harry's room and calls out, "Barry? Barry Giles?" but Harry's playing music loudly and doesn't respond, so Louis lets himself in.

Harry's room is tidy like Louis's never is. The blinds are drawn but it's early enough in the day that there's still the low glow of sunlight creeping in from outside.

Harry's naked in bed, the sheet draped over one of his feet like maybe it had been covering him before but he'd kicked it off. Louis doesn't recognise the music playing, something with a pulsing bass and not a lot of words. It's loud enough that Harry doesn't notice him come in at first. He's wanking with one hand, the other hand twisting between his legs, his wrist moving in a steady rhythm as he fucks himself.

He realizes that Louis's in the room at about the same time that Louis realizes the lump of plastic between Harry's fingers is a vibrator. He's fucking himself with a plastic cock and then he's kicking at the sheets, desperately trying to cover himself.

He looks up at Louis, horrified. This is when Louis should be walking back out. No, Louis should have walked back out ages ago, should have left the moment he realized Harry was naked. He could have gone quietly and Harry would have never even known he was here, but instead he watched. Instead he's walking over to mute the music.

The sudden silence feels like a punch. There's a low buzzing and Louis can't figure out where it's coming from until Harry fumbles under the sheets and turns it off. The vibrator. The buzz was the vibrator and he was fucking himself with it.

"Are you that desperate to be fucked?" Louis asks. He knows immediately that it's not something he should have said, but.

Harry screws up his face. He rubs his cheek into the pillow with his eyes scrunched shut like he's trying to burrow inside of it.

"You said you were going to watch the match."

"It was cancelled," Louis says absently. "Is that what you do then? Wait until I'm busy and sneak up here for a wank? You little tart."