#i hate you fic
#larry stylinson
#lourry
It’d been two weeks, and Harry was getting frustrated. He was frustrated, and angry, and horny. He drummed his fingers absently on the table as he watched Louis muck around with Niall out of the corner of his eye. His leg jiggled with unused energy as his jaw tensed, his lips tightening into a thin line. He tapped his fingers harder against the desk as Niall’s hands wandered lower over Louis’ torso, tickling him, Louis’ giggle slipping into Harry’s ears, taunting him.
Louis had been avoiding Harry at all costs, and the only contact Harry had had in two weeks was his right hand. He was starting to chafe.
Zayn had been letting Louis stay at his house—the bastard had been doing that from time to time throughout their time together, whenever Louis needed a little space. Harry usually wouldn’t have minded; he liked his space from the other boy, as well. But the past two weeks had been absolute torture. He’d forgotten how hard it was to quit sex cold turkey, and if he was being honest with himself, he needed some—like, now. He was ready to explode.
He wasn’t paying attention to the interviewer, either. He was rambling into the microphone in front of him, talking about fans or something. Harry didn’t really care. All he knew was that if he shifted the wrong way, he’d have a huge problem on his hands, and that Louis was letting Niall touch him, and not Harry. And Harry was furious.
The interviewer wraps up, and Harry can’t get out of the room fast enough, scrambling from his seat and bolting to the parking lot. He hops awkwardly from side to side as he waited for the other boys to come down. Zayn exited first, waltzing over and slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders. It took everything in him not to tense up under his friend’s embrace, the touch creating a queasy feeling in his stomach.
“Boys’ night out,” Zayn said, giving Harry a look like he knew what Harry was feeling, “You need to get out, Haz. You’re too on edge.”
Harry frowned, considering. If he went out with Zayn, he could find someone else who needed a quick fuck with no commitment—and maybe he’d even forget about the sting of Louis’ avoidance. He finally sighed, nodding.
“Yeah, alright,” he rubbed his face tiredly, a small smile playing at his mouth, “I guess I could use some time to unwind.”
“Excellent,” Zayn grinned brightly, dropping his arm as Liam came out with Louis and Niall. He turned to Liam, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, much like he had done with Harry only moments ago. The boys all piled into the car, Harry ending up next to Louis by chance. He was tense the entire ride home, Louis doing his absolute best to ignore him as he chatted with the other boys, their thighs pressed tightly against each other’s. It really couldn’t get much worse than this.
*~*~*~*
Apparently, though, it could. And it did, get worse, that is. Harry knocked back his drink, the thick bass of the music thumping in his bones as he looked around the dark club. Strobe lights flared for a moment, and he shut his eyes against it, his alcohol addled brain protesting the visual assault. A small hand on his forearm caused his eyes to flutter open, taking in the scantily clad girl in front of him. Her fingers stroked carefully on his arm, her eyes roving over his body hungrily.
“Would you, ah,” she licked her lips, her voice low in his ear as she rocked forward on her toes, “like to dance?”
Harry didn’t say anything, merely moving his hands up to grip her slim hips, pulling them down to his pelvis. He felt her smirk against his ear, her hair brushing his face. They stumbled blindly towards the dance floor, wriggling through the gyrating bodies, guided by the fluorescent paint that was splattered across sweaty skin and mussed hair. He rucked up her skirt, exposing her thighs to his wandering fingers. She turned, pressing her back against his chest, her hands twisting backwards to grasp at his hair as he ground into her ass.
