Larry fics

The One In Which Harry Styles Has Blue Balls

Summary:

Harry Styles is horny. The problem is...Louis won't leave him alone. He seems to have a sixth sense for when Harry needs a wank - showing up for a cuddle or with a pile of DVDs or take-away. Even when Harry tries to escape and have a wank in the shower, Louis is there brushing his teeth and prattling on, oblivious to Harry's growing problem. Harry can't refuse time with Louis, doesn't want to, but Louis, unknowingly, is only making his problem worse.

Work Text:

The One In Which Harry Styles Has Blue Balls

Harry Styles is horny.  So horny he can’t think of anything but tearing off his trousers and bringing himself off in a series of frantic, juddering strokes.  He’d spent most of their interview with Sugarscape with his boner tucked up under his waistband, nervously fidgeting and giving brief, bewildering replies to the interviewer’s questions.  The other boys had begun to give him odd looks by the end and he’s fairly sure he’d made a right prat of himself somehow, although he can’t for the life of him figure out what it was he said because every time he shifts, his cockhead rubs up against his stomach just so and it’s taking all his concentration not to have an orgasm on national television.

Harry wanted to go to the toilet for a quick one after, but Paul had dragged them off towards their waiting car and there were crowds and they couldn’t get separated and there wasn’t any time to stop.  And then there were hands grabbing him on the way out, anonymous hands, but hands nonetheless, and then Louis’ hip was wedged up against Harry’s in the cab and Zayn fell asleep on Harry’s other shoulder and Harry had sat in the middle of the two just throbbing-throbbing-throbbing and trying to follow the other boy’s conversation, but failing.

By lunch, Harry’s boner’s had gone down somewhat, but not enough to be undetectable so he’s carrying his coat in front of him, which had prompted Liam to ask on the ride over if he was cold and prompted Louis to snuggle closer and prompted Harry’s erection to give a by-then-painful twitch.

“What was all that then?” Liam asks with one raised eyebrow, when they’re all five of them alone again at lunch.  

Harry gives Liam a blank look and Niall says, laughing through a mouthful of sandwich,  “When she asked what your favorite color was, you said banana.”

“Banana’s a color,” Harry mumbles, color flooding his face as he tries to sink under the table entirely.  Maybe he’d manage a bit of privacy under there at least.

“Sure it is Hazz,” Louis grins, slapping Harry on the back.

***

Harry Styles has had a boner all day and it’s all Louis’ fault.  Harry feigns exhaustion when they arrive back at the hotel, yawning theatrically in the lobby as the others take off for the hotel bar, but Louis insists on bunking with Harry (as always).  Harry tries to sneak off for a quick wank in the shower, but then Louis is in there too, telling a loud, hard-to-follow story about pigeons and breakfast pastry and a fountain, as he brushes his teeth.  Harry tries to wank anyway, but when a low moan escapes his lips and Louis asks, “everything all right in there Hazza?”, he gives up.  He can’t get off without making noise and he can’t make noise without drawing Louis’ attention.

By bed-time, Harry is lying on his stomach, the friction of the mattress against his trapped hard-on entirely unbearable, but the alternative - tenting the blankets so Louis can see, is infinitely worse in his mind.  Harry’s gone so long without release that his balls feel as if they’re being continually squeezed and there are actual, literal tears welling in his eyes when Louis finally flicks off the telly and snuggles up to him.  Harry wills himself to think of footie or food or anything but the excruciating ache between his legs and the way Louis smells and the way Louis’ hot breath tickles the hair at the back of his neck and the way Louis’ thigh is draped over his and goddamn, this is all Louis’ fault.