Friends With Benefits (Larry AU) COMPLETED

Pulling

Waking up the next morning, I almost forget what happened the night before until I see the tissue I'd used to clean up my mess on my desk.

I sit up abruptly, head spinning.

Louis Tomlinson is gay. And hot. And likes being called a slut. And begs for more. And cries out like a girl. And has lube in his top drawer.

I struggle not to get hard again. I'll go out and pull. I need to fuck. I'll fuck anything in sight, I know it.

I leave my room, planning to get some water from the fridge, to go and have a shower as soon as possible, but I stop walking as soon as I get into the kitchen.

Looking like a fallen angel, Louis sits back in a chair at the table, an empty bowl in front of him, half a glass of orange juice, leaning back with his eyes closed. His long hair is messy from sleep, flicking so deliciously up at the back of his neck, his chest completely bare, letting me hungrily check out the dips of his collar bones, the 'It Is What Is Is' tattoo obscenely spread out underneath them. The number above his left nipple. The light dusting of hair in the middle of his chest. The way his waist slightly pulls in to make him look a little curvy, and the way his hair grows down from his navel to somewhere in his pajamas bottoms, on his deliciously toned stomach. What a fucking God.

The way he's breathing lets me know he isn't asleep, but more resting his eyes. He looks like he has a hangover.

I decide to play with him. I walk past him to lean against the kitchen side.

"And you moan at me for being too loud..." I say, completely loving the way he jumps, his muscles tensing on his bare stomach.

"Fuck," His voice rasps. "You scared me."

I smile, checking his chest out again. Torture.

He suddenly blushes, taking in my words.

"Oh, I'm really sorry. I'd like to be all cocky about it, but I have nothing." He replies, chuckling, looking a little embarrassed. You're not sorry, you loved it.

"Didn't know you were that sort of person, Lou. I didn't even know you were gay." I say, looking at him properly now I knew he was. This is a new guy.

He laughs at me, amused by what I've said.

"I'm proper gay, and I'm not that sort of person," He replies, but catches himself because he is though. It makes me laugh. "I suppose I am. That's why I don't drink."

Proper gay? I like the sound of that.

"Drinking does that to you?" I ask, keeping that back for when I need it. I lick my lips thinking of how I could get him to drink and land in my bed.

"Well, not always, but I did last night."

"Why?" I ask, needing to know why last night was an exception.

He sighs, sounding frustrated.

"Because I knew what I wanted as soon as I had that first drink," He rushes. "I hadn't been out in so long, and Zayn really wanted me to go, and I hadn't had sex in a year-,"

"A year?!" I gasp.

I could've fucked you everyday, why didn't you tell me?!

"Can we not do this?" He stands up to clean after himself, clearly embarrassed. "I know how silly it sounds."

Was he trying to be celibate? Like, why has he not had sex when he loves it like that?

"What about before that?" I ask, following him to the sink, desperate to know why he stopped having sex. I lean against the wall, watching as he washes his bowl up, torturing myself with his toned stomach.