Larry smut

The Frame Job

⚠️by 𝙞𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙪, mbehallie16 on ao3

⚠️summary:

Not a lot can render Harry speechless, especially not when Daddy is telling him to speak. But when Daddy walks in wearing his glasses because his contacts are acting up, everything gets a little bit... harder.

⚠️words: 3699

🤍🤍🤍

Louis likes wearing his contacts, he really does. They’re cool, and stylish, and make him feel like 90% less nerdy. The problem is that they’ve been itching like crazy all week, and Louis is about an inch from clawing his eyes out of his sockets. It’s the most irritating thing, to not be able to blink or not-blink without being assaulted by the grating sensation of shitty contacts.

Eventually even he has to admit defeat, and the white flag gets waved on day five of torture. Louis heaves a great sigh and pulls his glasses out of the junk drawer in the kitchen of his and Harry’s flat. They feel heavy on his face, all wrong, and he pouts the entire time he’s finishing up the little chores Harry begs him to do. He’ll make an optometrist’s appointment first thing in the morning because whether he continues to fight the good fight of style or gives in and wears the glasses, it’s still a shitty deal.

At least now he can watch telly in peace, he thinks. Harry’s been sprawled out on the couch for the last twenty minutes (Louis has graciously decided not to ask why he can’t do the chores himself, because he looks so cuddly and cute in his skinny jeans and Louis’ sweater) just watching Louis’ sort through the ‘organized’ piles of mail he keeps on the counter with his ever-present look of adoration. There’s nothing more welcoming than the sight of him lounging there and the promise of a quiet night watching shitty programs together.

“What’s on, love?” Louis asks as he throws away the last of the fifteen outdated sale flyers in his ‘important’ pile and approaches the couch. “Anything good?” He plops down on his end of the couch and opens his arms for Harry to crawl into, as he always inevitably does. It takes a little longer this time than it usually does, like Harry’s the tiniest bit reluctant to actually approach and lay his body down alongside Louis’ own.

As soon as Harry’s hips make contact with Louis’ thigh, however, he understands. He’s hard as a rock, his swollen length settling against Louis’ skin with much less shyness than Harry himself. That’s the strange part about it- they haven’t gone more than a few days without getting each other off in probably a year, so finding Harry hard is nothing new. What’s strange is the fact that Harry seems almost embarrassed about it, or at least a little unsure.

Guilt strikes Louis almost at once, thinking about the way he’s been acting all week. No matter how hard he’s tried to keep his discomfort from the faulty contacts from affecting his everyday life with Harry, he’d be a dirty liar if he said he hadn’t been a bit of an ass lately. Harry was just so sweet all the time, and it was hard to match him in kindness when you really just wanted to cry. He was probably horny but nervous to ask for anythng for fear that Louis would be too cross to agree.

"Baby?" he asks gently, with every ounce of sugar he can manage, “everything alright?" Harry nods, but doesn’t speak. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."

Normally Harry would respond at once to an order like that; when Daddy asks a question he wants an answer, and Harry loves nothing more than being good for Daddy. But this time Harry's just got his mouth opening and shutting with no words. Louis’ frown deepens in concern. All he can tell is that Harry is hard and apparently can't vocalize his needs, which means it's Daddy's job to understand those needs anyways. It’s Daddy’s job to take care of baby.