Blood Red Lipstick [L.S.] ✓

Ch. 11; Sweat.

Louis gasps, bracing himself against Harry's chest. Harry's lips are warm, moving against his own lazily.

Harry's in his lap, thighs pushing against Louis' side, the lace of his panties rough against Louis' thighs. The man still holds his face, locking Louis' arms in between his own, hair brushing against Louis' forehead. His warm, large hands holding, more gently cradling, Louis' face.

His tongue brushes against Louis' bottom lip, and Louis takes Harry's slightly parted mouth as an opportunity to plunge his tongue into Harry's.

Harry moans, choking around his tongue, one hand moving to tug at Louis' hair, the other venturing down Louis' back.

Louis leaves one of his own hands on Harry's waist, just holding the slight pudge of his love handle, the other gripping Harry's thigh, tracing the tattoo with his finger tips.

Next thing he knows, Harry's pushing him down by the shoulders, lifting himself up so he can pull his panties down, moving himself slightly further up, then manoeuvring Louis to sit up slightly.

His cock springs free, and Harry smirks when he notices Louis staring.

He can't help it, though. Harry is the most beautiful man he's ever seen. And, somehow, his cock is no different. He's thick, but not too thick, a nice length, shaven and cut, curving prettily towards his stomach, pink and flushed.

Harry's hand splays over Louis' stomach, creeping towards his waistband, slipping under and wrapping around his cock.

Louis hisses at the contact, cock hard and heavy between his legs, aching for some form of relief.

Then Harry, whilst slowly stroking Louis' cock (causing him to whimper pathetically a few times), takes Louis' hand, guiding his fingers towards Harry's lips, now with lipstick smeared all over them and his top teeth.

Harry takes his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits like he would a cock, deepthroating them slightly, all the while maintaining intense eye contact and stroking Louis' cock in a painstakingly slow fashion, occasionally punctuated by the sharp tug of the coarse hair at this base.

Once Louis' fingers are thoroughly coated in spit, he brings them round his body, near his ass, allowing Louis to take over and press one into his tight heat, slowly swirling it against his rim.

Harry moans, eyes fluttering shut, masking his eyes, now a sea of black with a ring of green, rather than the glittering green they usually are.

Louis doesn't bother being slow or gentle, just opens Harry up as quickly as possible. He's assuming he's doing something right, what with Harry begging him for more more more under his breath, voice an even lower rumble.

Harry whines as he withdraws his fingers, then grabs lube from god knows where, huffing impatiently as Louis wriggles out of his underwear, then drizzles it on his hand and coats his dick. Louis hisses at the cold.

Harry's chest is flushed, sweat dripping down his body, tattoos darker and even more prominent. 

Louis can't stop himself from leaning forward and tracing the swallows inked on his chest with his tongue, the slight salt taste blossoming across his taste buds.

Harry moans breathily in his hear, a long, drawn out one that may as well be a whine. He sucks a mark into Harry's flesh, biting slightly, and Harry curses loudly.

"Get in me already, god." He demands, shifting himself so he can fully sheath himself on Louis' dick (not even bothering to take it slowly, like most would take him inch by inch), jaw slackening. "Fuck-"

Louis chuckles, head spinning with the pressure of Harry's tight, velvety walls against his dick, the steady weight of Harry against his thigh.

He yanks Harry by the hair into a filthy kiss, his high-pitched moans muffled by Louis' lips. He nips at Harry's full, pouty bottom lip.

Harry begins moving, circling his hips in figure eights, not yet lifting up. At certain points, his moans become louder and even higher, so Louis must be pressing against his spot like this.

Louis grips his hip with one hand as Harry begins lifting himself up slowly until almost entirely off of Louis, then slamming back down with as must force as his body can muster, thighs flexing (which really makes Louis want to bite them), loud pants escaping his mouth as more sweat pours off the of them.

Harry's dick (now, he supposes, neglected other than the pressure against the inside) is now an angry red, practically standing up against his stomach, balls tightening. Precum is leaking out of him, and his eyes look a little wild.

"Close, huh?" Louis manages to pant out, and Harry nods, gripping Louis' bicep tightly as he begins thrusting upwards to meet Harry's enthusiastic bounces.

Harry's working himself towards his own orgasm, gripping Louis roughly so that he's basically smushed against Harry's chest. And, yeah, it does look like the man has tits, but the way his face is pressed against them is threatening to turn Louis straight.

Harry's moans are steadily getting louder and louder, and he keeps panting out 'fuck, fuck, fuck', until he's cumming all over Louis with a shout, dick trapped between their stomachs, smearing messily on Louis' abs.

Harry pants against his shoulder, biting slightly, and begins grinding his hips down as Louis thrusts up, fucking him through his orgasm.

He stills once he himself is pushed over the edge, and it's only then when he's cumming deep inside Harry that he realises that they didn't use a condom.

They sit in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being Harry's heavy pants, Louis' less heavy pants, and the night life outside the window, raucous music and boisterous shouts of drunk and horny people.

"Fuck." Harry manages to get out after a few moments, and Louis nods weakly. "That was..."

"Yeah." Louis agrees. Harry kisses him again, sloppy and basically just all tongue.

"Are you two finally done fucking?" Zayn grumbles from the other side of the room. "There are people in this room trying to sleep you know, and a Liam in the bathtub."

Louis' eyes widen. He forgot Liam and Zayn were here, and, judging by the panic on Harry's face, so did he.

Harry stumbles unsteadily to his feet, and ambles into the bathroom, grumbling when Liam screams at seeing him in all his naked glory.

Honestly, there should be paintings of Harry like this. Sweaty and covered in cum with an orgasmic hazy glow, wearing lipstick with his hair cascading in waves down his back, with a bite mark on his collar bone and his tattoos covered in spit.

He's fucking beautiful.

Harry stumbles back into the bedroom, cleaned off with a cloth in his hand, falling face first onto the bed and throwing it at Louis, practically passed out already.

Louis cleans himself off as well, throwing the cloth so it joins the pile of their discarded clothes on the floor, then lies beside Harry, slotting himself into place against his side, throwing a leg over his back, and Harry lazily snakes a hand around his waist, hand cupping around his front.

"Thank you." Zayn says pointedly, and they all fall asleep.