smut oneshot

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Their manager told them he was glad with how hardworking they were and therefore wanted to reward them with a fun night out, but his definition of a "fun night out" differed from Louis'. Louis' definition of a fun night was dressing in sheer, tight clothes and drinking his heart out. Instead, he had to wear a blazer and dress pants and drink decently because this was a posh party, and Louis didn't wish to upset his sweet manager.

So Louis put on a black turtleneck, a black blazer, and black skinny jeans. He styled his hair into a perfect quiff. He wanted to keep a decent profile while still looking hot, and he knew he succeeded at that.

He received a call from his colleague Liam that he'd be arriving in about 5 minutes. Since the manager opted they all arrive together in their cars, Louis chose to accompany Liam, Stan, and, of course, his best mate Zayn.

Louis waited at his front porch, taking the opportunity to light up a cigarette, and, as promised, Liam's car came into view almost 5 minutes later.

He hastily stepped on his cigarette and rode in the backseat beside Zayn. He greeted them all quickly and Liam took off, heading to the direction of the hall where the party was. They all had similar attires, and Louis especially liked Zayn's quiff with a stray strand falling on his forehead.

"Is Styles coming?" Louis asked, dreadful of the possibility of seeing his stupidly sculpted face. Louis' colleagues seemed to like Harry and they were well aware of the hatred Louis projected onto Harry, even though Harry did nothing but be nice.

"Yup, he sent me this," Zayn replied easily, showing Louis a picture on his phone. There stood Harry, dumbly making a peace sign with the caption 'Why did the ghost go to the party? He heard there would be boos and spirits!'.

Louis snorted, unamused.

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The party was going great so far. Their manager had already grabbed their attention to give them a speech about how hardworking they all were, which resulted in applause from the crowd.

Almost an hour later, Louis trudged to the bar, taking a seat on a bar stool and ordering a beer. Their manager had informed them that any drink they order is on him, and Louis was happy with that information.

Just as the bartender was sliding a clear cup of beer along the counter in Louis' direction, he heard a wolf-whistle sound from his right side. Louis glanced in the direction of the voice to find none other than Harry Styles sitting on a bar stool, body turned to Louis, his black shirt's first 4 buttons unmade, a moth tattoo peaking from underneath the almost sheer layer.

Louis chugged a long sip of his beer. Harry smirked at Louis, lips rosy, and Louis had a hard time focusing on anything else.

He had to stand his ground, though, so he coughed and looked away, keeping a neutral expression. "Hey," He said curtly.

"You're rather looking good tonight," Harry complimented, with a smile on.

"I know,"

Harry snorted at that. Then, silence followed while Louis sipped his beer away, his mind getting foggier, and it was not because of the alcohol flowing down his throat.

"Want me to get you a drink?" Harry spoke suddenly, and it was more of a command than it was a question. And who was Louis to deny that?

So Harry ordered two martinis with a straw. Who the fuck drinks a martini with a straw? Louis thought, almost scoffing.

A while later, the bartender slid two martinis on the counter, placing a single straw between them. Louis downed the whole thing in two quick gulps. Harry, on the other hand, placed his straw inside the drink (the straw that made Louis' blood boil with anger) and slowly—very slowly—wrapped his full lips around the material and took a small sip.