Larry Stylinson Smut

just want to feel your lips against my skin

Basically, this is how it started.

Louis was sixteen when he came out to Harry, his seventeen year old best mate who was already out. They’d been best friends since childhood and they vowed then never to keep secrets from each other. It was easy, just as everything had always been easy for the two; easy.

And well, a year later, Louis’s crush (the reason he realized he was not exactly straight in the first place) asked him out on a date. Louis just about as ecstatic as anyone could be, and who could blame him? The juvenile ecstasy of young love and desire.

It was nice while it lasted, the excitement of being acknowledged by his crush, and not only that butseeked, desired back. It was good, but the fact is, nothing good ever lasts.

They were sat in Harry’s room, resuming their usual activities after school: homework, snacking, and not doing homework. Flicking at his paper, Louis timidly brought it up in their dulled silence. That’s usually how it went; Harry, the ever dutiful senior doing his assignments and Louis, the restless junior watching him, always bashfully looking away when Harry caught him with pleased eyes and a private smile.

“So—um, Zayn asked me out.” Louis whispered to his paper, knowing all of the possible reactions he could receive from Harry simply by the cadence of his breath. And, wow, they really needed to cut back on the time they spent together. Louis considered it for a moment, what his life would be if he spent less time with Harry but soon and discarded the thought, knowing that he could last never a minute less with the boy.

At Louis’ confession, Harry wasn’t surprised. See, Harry’s friend, Liam, was best friends with Niall who was friends with Zayn, and Niall told Liam that Zayn said he was going to ask ‘that Junior twink, Louis is his name?’ on a date. And it was rather well known that a date with Zayn could very well be just be fucking in the back of his old Mustang, none of the ‘proper dinner and a movie followed by a walk in the park strung with fairy lights’ antics like Louis deserved.

Not that Harry was jealous, per se, but to beat around the bush of it, we’ll just say it was because Zayn had something Harry didn’t have, something Harry could hardly dream of having. But, if anyone asked, Harry totally was not jealous.

He acted excited for Louis’s benefit, despite it all. “Really?” He prompted, letting his voice climb an octave higher than usual in questioning. It was too played up, and Harry knew Louis saw right through it.

Louis finally looked up, nodding his head with a small smile on his face, not noticing Harry’s predicament. He had to push up his black-framed glasses from where they slid slightly down his nose because of the way he was sitting, leaning over his paper, and it never failed to make Harry’s heart palpitate. “Yeah, and -- and, you know,” Louis stuttered in his words, his face a blushing pink. Curse his shyness.

Harry put on a confused look. “I know what?” He asked, always knowing how to handle Louis when he had a hard time finding words, which happened often.

“You -- we both know, like, how he works, so afterwards, I wanna give it to him.” Louis admitted, quieter than ever, not wanting to confess what ‘it’ was. But Harry knew, he always knew.