Larry Stylinson One-Shots

#20

This one is smutty for all you dirty fucks heh •◡•

Title: 'Cause All We Ever Do Is Love by eversincewefellapart on AO3

Summary: "Harry," Louis says again, before giggling again and quickly stepping into the room, turning around and shutting the door fast but silently. Harry's eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open when Louis turns around again, pressing his back to the door, legs pressed together, a familiar pink skirt wrapped high around his waist, falling to naked mid-thigh.

(PWP ft. 16 year old Harry, 19 year old Louis and that fucking pink skirt.)

Word Count: 2,803

Harry can hear Louis' little giggles before he can see the pixie-like boy, sitting at his study desk, fingers skimming over the keyboard quickly when the door to his room pushes open.

"H," Louis whispers, voice gleeful, and when Harry glances over his shoulder, Louis' little fingers are gripping the side of the door tightly, head peeking out. Harry gives him a questioning smile.

"Harry," Louis says again, before giggling again and quickly stepping into the room, turning around and shutting the door fast but silently. Harry's eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open when Louis turns around again, pressing his back to the door, legs pressed together, a familiar pink skirt wrapped high around his waist, falling to naked mid-thigh.

"Louis?" Harry asks, and it seems like they're introducing themselves again, saying each other's names so much. He brings his hands down from the laptop to his lap, over his crotch, because he's sixteen and the sight of his wank image in a small pink skirt as him hardening embarrassingly fast. He shuffles in the chair, turning sideways to give Louis a puzzling glance.

"H," Louis greets again, smoothing his little hands down the pink, his fingers sliding between his thighs, quick but slow enough for Harry to notice. He swallows dryly, shifting in the chair. "Just finished a twitcam, did y'watch it, love?"

"No, I- I hadn't, I needed." He doesn't finish the sentence, I needed to finish this report, because his mouth goes dry and his tongue stiffens as Louis pushes himself from the door and walks over to him nonchalantly, feet padding softly against the thick carpeting of his room.

"I wanted to humor everyone, and I found this ridiculous skirt. I had a little fun with it." He leans his bum against the edge of Harry's desk, dangerously near to him now, a bare thigh right in Harry's vicinity. "I didn't put it on, though; thought you'd appreciate it more than other people."

Harry blushes then, trying to say something but nothing comes out. Louis just smiles down at him before reaching down and gripping his shoulders gently, pushing him in the chair again until he's pressed against the back of it fully. Harry watches dry-mouthed as Louis straddles his thighs before plopping into his lap, and he thinks he's going to die, this is it, he'll die with his best mate wearing a pink skirt in his lap. He had so much potential, really.

"Why?" he croaks out a second later, as Louis adjusts himself, trying to make his position more comfortable. The way Louis' squirming, though, has Harry growing harder even quicker, and his heart thumps, brain spinning, prays Louis won't notice. Louis notices everything, though.

"Because, Harry," he says, stilling and bringing his hands up, one cupping the side of Harry's neck, the other brushing the fringe out of his eyes, "I thought you'd appreciate it. Do you?"

Harry looks down, blushes harder, and his own hands come to grip Louis' waist, thumbing at the noticeable lump the folded waistband of the skirt makes under his Rolling Stones shirt. "I guess."