Larry Smut

Black Box

Sometimes Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles had sex. Sometimes it was quick. Sometimes it was long. Sometimes it was due to boredom. Sometimes it was due to want. Sometimes it was in hiding. Sometimes it was open. Sometimes it was romantic. Sometimes it was hot. Sometimes it was standing up. Sometimes it was lying down. Sometimes it was good. Sometimes it was amazing.

This time, though, it was unlike any other.

They definitely had a pattern – not that neither of them minded, necessarily. It was just their go to method of action. The boys would kiss, and lightly grope before Louis would initiate taking off their clothes, and Harry would grab the lube from the top hand drawer. Louis would ride Harry, and they would meet orgasm (Louis first, then Harry), before Harry would grab a towel to clean them off, and Louis would pull Harry in for a snuggle. It was how they worked, and it was definitely enjoyable.

But – although neither boy would admit it- sometimes Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles would get a bit bored of the same routine. They were in a rut, caused by mutual comfort and love and lack of imagination. Sometimes they craved for a shot of the unusual.

Sometimes Louis Tomlinson had dreams. Sometimes they were about sex, and most of the time, they were about Harry. He pictured a lot of things; Having sex in public places, getting caught, Harry moaning, and sometimes he got an idea. An idea of how to spice things up.

Sometimes – like this time – he put that idea into good use.

They were in the preparation stages of their second album, which meant that they would spend five hours locked in a recording studio dodging the crummy pop songs management would force them to listen to (in hopes of creating a sugar-coated image) and relishing in the few songs that were actually listenable. It was awful, and it left their ears exhausted at the end of the day. The only high point was that, during this time, Louis and Harry would still share their flat, granting them much more privacy then they were usually warranted.

And for this, Louis was greatly appreciative: they would need all the privacy they could get.

Fortunately, the preparation period meant that they had more days off than per usual, so Louis didn't have to wait long to put his plans into action. They had only a half-day's work on Wednesday, and with all of Thursday off, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

As it the universe was on his side, Harry had agreed to lunch with Nick, his close friend, on Wednesday leaving with the flat and his organizations.

He made his way up the stairs to their shared bedroom, closing the door with his foot, and dropping the several heavy bags to the floor. Sighing slightly, Louis began without any more hesitation. He picked up the small trash that scattered the room, throwing it into the receptacles quickly.  Next, he shed the normal down duvet from the bed, replacing it instead for solid black satin sheets; they weren't normally his style, as they liked to glide off the skin instead of bundling it in warmth, but for tonight's purposes they would suffice.

Rummaging through a bag, he placed a shiny, thin black box in the center of the bed, before immediately opening another bag. He retrieved white roses, and, after ripping the flower peddles off from the stem, he arranged them in a heart, totally covering the black box that Louis had set down moments ago. He placed his iPod on the dock at the head of the bed, flicking it to be ready to the playlist he already created. Returning his attention to the bags, the tan boy threw some other materials they would need (mostly lube) into the drawer next to his side of the bed.

He had a few hours left to go before Harry would return, and he figured he should make the best use of his time. Moving into the bathroom, Louis turned on the water to scolding before peeling off his clothes and brushing his teeth very thoroughly. Spending to an exurbanite amount of time in the shower, Louis emerged nearly an hour and half later, muscles relaxed, skin scrubbed almost pink and strongly smelling of the musky vanilla body wash his Hazza loves so much. After toweling himself off, Louis styled his hair, and dressed in black boxers and a button-up shirt he didn't bother closing: it wasn't like he planned on keeping his clothes on anyway.