Larry smut

Makes Perfect

⚠️ by 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 on ao3

⚠️summary:

"What if you practiced on like, a mannequin?" Louis presses. "Or one of those blow up sex dolls? Or even just like, I don't know, a pillow or something. Whatever it'd fit around."

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully, curls catching the light so entrancingly that Louis finds himself reaching up to push his fingers through them. "It's different, though, innit? When it's a real person. A pillow won't snog me."

"Why should it?" says Louis. "You can't even take its bra off."

⚠️words: 8610

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Harry's being a twat.

They're young, and in a boyband that's really famous, and rich (Louis's pretty sure that he's already made like, four million pounds this week), and they've got a boss flat and a day off and the time to finally finish watching the third season of Law and Order: SVU, and Harry's just sat curled up on the sofa in a proper sulk.

Louis refuses to rise to the bait on principle. He's been snacking in peace while Harry wallows, but the episode selection screen has been on the TV for about five minutes, and Harry's got the remote for the PS3. Patience has never been one of Louis's virtues, so he leans over and forcefully shoves a few crisps into Harry's mouth. Harry squawks and chokes a bit, flailing his long arms, and then blinks at Louis, who waits for him to chew and swallow.

"Pay attention to me," he demands.

Harry brushes a few crumbs from his lips. "Sorry."

"Uh huh," says Louis. He wipes his greasy fingers off on Harry's jeans. "Whatever. Why are you being so weird? You keep making sad fish face."

Harry looks intrigued. "Sad fish face?"

"Yeah, like this," Louis pushes his parted lips out, makes his eyes big. Harry grins.

"You look like Sebastian from The Little Mermaid."

Louis kicks him in the leg. "Push the button, will you?"

Harry picks up the remote, but instead of selecting an episode he twirls it in one hand. "You know, I went out last night."

"Bully," says Louis. He snatches the remote from Harry's hand and starts the next episode, ignoring Harry's frown. He had a date with Caroline last night, and clearly wants Louis to ask about it, but he takes nine million years to tell a story and Louis doesn't much care what Harry gets up to on his dates.

He lasts through another half hour of Harry's constant squirming and accidental-on-purpose elbowing and pointed waiting for Louis to pump him for information. But when Harry heaves another huge sigh, sounding positively tortured, Louis gives in with a roll of his eyes. "God, you arse, what's wrong with you? Didn't you get laid last night? Was it not good?"

"It was good," Harry answers immediately. "It was really good."

"Then what? Embarrass yourself or summat?"

"Hey," Harry protests, like he's offended Louis asks. Louis gives him a sharp, consoling smile.

"It's all right, Harold. Not every man is born with the gift of stamina."