Strawberry Milk

12

It is the rare occasion that Louis isn't at Harry's flat. He would be, but Liam and Zayn had date plans tonight. Which yeah, doesn't affect him, but it does, because Liam had to watch his cousin's cat for the week whilst he was away on some important business trip, and so now he's at home, on the couch that he knows they had sex on, watching a fat, orange cat that can't even do a backflip or anything. Apparently Liam's cousin is very attached to the thing though, so, okay.

He is surfing through the channels, already giving up on all the TV series he was previously watching, because really, it's hard to catch up on over 100 different episodes, and Harry's more important, so, whatever.

He finds some TV show about cats and puts it on, picking up the fat thing of a cat and shoving its face into the screen. "Your family!" Louis yells, for no other reason than yelling seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the moment. But then the cat is mewling, and there is a gash over his pinky, and he decides he hates cats. A lot.

He sucks on his pinky, laying back over the couch just as his phone buzzes. He reaches over, realising it's from Harry, and then he is also realising that this is the first time Harry has texted him all day, and he becomes worried, fumbling over his phone password to see the message.

is this good for paying you back? x

and-and, oh.

Louis chews his lip. The picture on his phone makes him whimper embarrassingly, eyes slowly trailing over the small screen. He doesn't know if he is breathing.

Harry's perky little bum is displayed, his milky cheeks clad in delicate silk that hug perfectly around the rounds of his bum and his creamy hips. Fuck. His arse looks fantastic. Obscene and absolutely fantastic.

He quickly types out a reply, chewing at his lip and just, fuck.

To Curly :) even better. fuck you look so good.

And Louis doesn't mean for his sweats to end up at his ankles and for his dick to be hard and flushed in his hand, but, that's what happens as he stares over the image. He looks over Harry's pallid skin; all his soft curves and lush form. Harry's little arse looks like it was specially designed to be in nothing but dainty little panties that press indecent lines into his skin and just, fuck. Louis' so hard and Harry's so pretty.

God damn, fuck.

From Curly:) im using my new toy x

And god, Louis groans, closing his eyes and pumping himself faster. He can't even think of the last time he got this hard. Especially this fast, jesus. But he can't blame his body for reverting back to a 16 year old because fuck. Panties, and the dildo, and Harry. Fucking lewd.

To Curly:) yeah? i hope youre thinking of me

He doesn't think about what's going on right now, what's going on between them. He doesn't think about what this all meansbecause he absolutely cannot. All he does is thumb over his slit, biting into his lip to stop from whimpering as he bucks up into his hand. He is picturing Harry, sprawled across his lovely bed with his fairy lights casting a beautiful colour over his pearly skin that's lined in sweat. His panties pushed aside to make room for a pink dildo that he is fucking himself back on, small noises falling from his strawberry lips, and Louis knew he was gone before he even started.

From Curly:) always am. x

And attached is a lovely picture of a pink dildo wedged between Harry's lips, his eyes closed and cheeks hollowed as he presumably sucks on it. His lips are a harsh red against the light pink, and Louis can see the glow of the yellow fairy lights across his face, along with a light blush and Louis', god, he is gone.

He can't- he can't even text back so he quickly hits Harry's speed dial and moments later he hears a breathless moan through his speaker and he whimpers in response. "Fuck, Harry, you're so- I'm so-" he cuts off, squeezing his hand a little harder at the base, and he can hear a tiny gasp through the phone line.

"Louis," Harry moans out, gasping, and Louis hears the sounds of rubber and lube and he knows he's easing it inside of himself, "all for you."

Louis chokes, high and prettily in his throat, letting the moan roll off his lips. "You look so good Harry, so pretty. Fuck-" and Louis knows he's pumping his hand way too fast, and that Harry can probably hear it through the phone line, but he is so hard; leaking from the tip and flushed so dark. His stomach is swirling and his is so fucking close and he can't stop. Because Harry's whimpers are so encouraging and pretty as he smears the precum that is dripping from his tip. "Can I- another picture?" he breathes out, eyes closing as he hears Harry let out a small noise that he assumes is some form of a 'yes.'

After a moment he gets a picture of Harry on his back, legs lifted and dildo half out of his arse as he fucks himself on it, cock poking out from the top of the panties, a sharp red against the silky pink, and all Louis can get out is a string of "Fuck- so pretty- Harry- oh," before he is coming over his fist, and whimpering out Harry's name.

He is shaking on the couch, feeling ridiculous and blissed, as his breath comes out ragged and uneven, eyes heavy and jaw slack. He hears Harry finish some time later, squeaking out his name. Louis never wants to hear his name any other way then off of Harry's lips. No other way, ever.

There's a small giggle through the phone line moments later, and Louis can't help but to laugh too, feeling his heart flutter, and he wonders if now is the right time to tell Harry he's been in love with him for a while. He decides against it, because Harry sends him a picture of his stomach streaked in come. Fuck.