blue surrender [l.s.]

9. if all you want is a quick fuck, then let's go

valley girls - blackbear

*

warning: smut. will not warn again.

***

"Give me your strongest vodka." Harry orders, and the bartender raises an eyebrow at his sudden command before going with it.

He slides the glass to Harry on a napkin, and Harry practically chugs the drink back. "Thanks." Harry rasps, handing the bartender a ten after ordering two more.

Louis flashes across his mind as he finishes off his third drink. Maybe he should call him, his buzzed mind suggests. Maybe Louis can distract him for a minute or two.

Harry doesn't realise what he's doing when he brings his cracked phone to his ear, and the line begins ringing. "Yeah?" Louis croaks, sounding like he was woken up. Harry quickly checks the time, a slightly blurred 7:16 p.m. flashes up at him before he brings the phone back to his ear. It should be around morning back there.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Harry asks, paying for another glass of vodka and thanking the bartender as he sips it through a straw. Gets you drunker quicker, he thinks.

"Uh, kinda. But it's alright. How was... it?" Louis yawns into the receiver.

"Sorry about that. But, well, it was. Okay," Harry shrugs, though Louis can't see it. He takes another long sip of his drink, accidentally making a slurping noise.

"Are you drinking?" Louis immediately asks, and Harry groans mentally. Louis' gonna think he's some kind of wuss for taking his sadness out on alcohol.

"No," Harry answers bluntly, secretly drinking the rest of his drink down. He ignores the burn in his throat.

"Harry. Please don't drink," Louis sighs.

"I'm not drinking," Harry says through his teeth. "look, I don't know why the fuck I called you. It was a bad idea, sorry for waking you, goodbye."

"No, wait!" Louis protest just as Harry is about to pull his phone away from his ear. "just- I'm sorry, I can't tell you what to do or how to cope with your loss. Just. Keep talking to me, yeah?"

Harry considers this, he does. The conversation might even get interesting, who knows? Harry's known to his little group of friends for being unable to hold his liquor well, which sometimes gets him into trouble.

"Alright," Harry decides. Why not?

***

Three hours later, Harry is stupid drunk. He was able to hold his liquor well, actually, until he started losing count of how many drinks he'd had and started telling Louis that he'd like to suck his dick.

"Harry, you're drunk, stop," Louis chuckles after Harry tells him how well he thinks he could take Louis without gagging.

Louis is trying so hard to hide the fact that Harry is actually turning him on. He'd occasionally had the wet dream of Harry sucking him off, woke up to a painful erection only to get off to the thought of Harry's cherry red lips around him.

He's not sorry, not really.

"No. Seriously, Lou. Bet you'd love it if I teased your slit and only sucked your head until you were begging for more," ... which, okay.

Louis' breath hitches for the trillionth time, but this time Harry hears it. "Touching yourself, Louis? Like the thought of my lips around you?" he asks lowly, making sure the bartender or anyone surrounding him can't hear him. He's practically slurring, but he's still understandable.