Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

forty-three

When they get to the hotel, everything is normal. The room is essentially the same as the one last night, with two queen-sized beds, everything fairly clean.

Louis sets off to take a shower, leaving Harry to his own devices. This is a mistake. By the time he gets out of the shower after an admittedly long time standing beneath the hot spray, probably forty-five minutes later, he finds Harry almost naked and well on his way to intoxicated.

Harry doesn't seem to be perturbed by Louis' presence. In fact, he lets Louis stare at him as he stares at his own reflection in the mirror and drinks straight out of a bottle of cherry wine, his grip loose on the neck. He's wearing nothing but lace panties, red this time, as he sways slowly back and forth to whatever sultry indie music he's playing this time.

"Louis!" He exclaims excitedly, when he realizes Louis is standing there staring at him. Harry glides over to him, somehow graceful despite his drunkenness, and says, and Louis quotes, "I want you to fuck me again."

Louis stares at him some more. His eyes do not travel south to where Harry's big hard dick is trapped in soft lace, peeking out the top and already leaking precome, which is just ridiculous. "You're ridiculous," he tells him. "Isn't your ass sore?"

Harry smiles at him, big and wide. "It is, but if I take my medicine I'll feel better."

It's a sexual come-on, a gross one at that because it alludes to a doctor kink which Louis definitely does not have. Harry probably does, though. Louis doesn't want to know that. "Go away," he mutters, trying to create some space between them. How can this keep happening? He thought he was in the clear...

The next word Harry says is something that changes Louis forever. He wishes he would have never heard it.

"Daddy," he whines, pouting. "Why not?"

"Please don't call me that," Louis groans, feeling distraught and embarrassed. He covers his face in his hands, absolutely horrified. "I am really not into that. Jesus. You're really insane, Harry, you know that right?"

Completely disregarding what Louis just said, Harry continues on making his life hell. "Daddy, I need you... Why won't you fuck me?"

"Have you never heard of masturbation, Harry? It's this thing you do when you're horny and no one else is willing to fuck you. Works like a charm?"

"Will you show me, Daddy?"

"You're insane."

"Please?"

He doesn't mean to give in. He really, really doesn't. Especially when there's absolutely nothing in it for him except watching Harry get off and perhaps tiring him out enough to get him to stopping calling Louis Daddy.

He sighs. What the hell? He can play along; he's running out of reasons why he shouldn't. Harry is drunk but not enough that he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. They've done this before, it's not new. Louis made the mistake last night, already ruined their friendship. Is one more sexual interaction really going to make things that much worse?

"Get on the bed," Louis orders. Whatever. He can do this. He can step up, be a little harsher than usual, let Harry call him Daddy, fuck him hard and harder still. What does it even matter at this point?

The speed at which Harry complies is embarrassing for Harry, exposing how desperate he is. He lies back on his forearms and spreads his legs wide like he's inviting Louis in. And god, does Louis want to go. The red lace is sheer enough that he can see everything, and it's tempting as hell.

He's here to prove a point, though. Maybe even to be a little condescending. Harry seems like he likes that.

"Touch yourself," Louis orders, taking a seat on the bed but not getting close. He can't believe he's doing this, but here he is, on the end of the bed, looking coldly at his roommate who's wearing nothing more but red lace and begging for Louis to fuck him. Insane.