larry smut

; daddy daddy cool

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841328

summary: harry wakes up hard.
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what r u doing

Harry looks down at himself. His chest shines with a thin layer of sleep-sweat and his cock is tenting the soft coverlet Louis probably threw over him before leaving. He licks his lips and picks his phone up.

daddy, he sends again. It's a few minutes before he gets too impatient waiting for a response and adds, i'm hard.

daddys a little busy darling

Harry pouts at his phone. He snaps a photo of his face and sends it to Louis. It shows as seen pretty quickly, but no reply comes through. Harry shuffles a little on the bed, fluffing up the pillows and untangling the covers. The soft material drags over his cock making it harden further. He wraps a hand around it, squeezes the head and rubs the covers over himself a little, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting around a sigh. Louis fucked him within an inch of his life earlier that afternoon and when Harry clenches on nothing now he can still feel the sticky mess of lube and come that's left (mostly) inside him. He rips the coverlet off and lets it fall to the floor, quickly getting too hot under it.

The room has been aired, the smell of sweat and sex gone from it and the air fresher and colder than Harry remembers it being before he passed out; he shivers when it cools his skin, damp with sweat, and hits his swollen cock, the head of which is already leaking. He grabs his phone again, takes a photo of himself like that, his cock standing up from his belly, the dark pink of it muted in the harsh light of the flash that comes on automatically. He sends it to Louis, captioning it with please.

Louis' reply comes much faster this time. u kno im in public right? and then a few seconds later, that was very naughty what you did there. i thought you wanted to be good for daddy.

The shift in tone is almost as palpable as it is when Louis is physically with him. Harry's fingers shake as he types back, wsnna b good daddy pls, too riled up to worry about his typing.

wait

Harry bites his lip. He can already feel himself slipping into that calm, fuzzy place where he feels slow and sluggish and floaty and Louis' voice is the only thing that matters. There's a mild undercurrent of nervousness now though, a kind he isn't used to because they have phone sex and Skype sex all the time, sure, don't really have a lot of choice sometimes, but they don't play. Louis is very particular about aftercare and when he's in a rational state of mind Harry wholeheartedly agrees because he would never risk breaking Louis without being there to put him back together either; it's just hard to remember that when he's practically gagging for it.

There's something about the giddiness he feels at this though, because he's nervous, yes, but it's the good, excited kind of nerves he always gets when they do something new. He trusts Louis to know what he's doing and to make it good.

He stares at his phone, periodically touching the screen to keep it lit up so he won't miss the moment Louis starts typing. His leg jumps rhythmically and his cock is leaking steadily over his tummy, but he knows wait always means wait and don't touch. Louis might never know if he touched himself right now but it's not really an option. He wants to be good. His cock twitches at the thought.

He's expecting Louis to text so he nearly drops his phone when it starts ringing. He scrambles to answer it and puts it on speakerphone immediately. "Daddy?"

"I'm here, love," Louis replies. He's talking quietly and there's a rhythmical beat muffled in the background. He must be in a club somewhere, probably hiding in the bathroom having excused himself to Liam and their security and whoever else they're with. Harry imagines he's leaning against the closed door of a toilet stall, hand cupped around his mouth as he speaks directly into the phone, hair damp with sweat and mouth still tasting faintly of alcohol.