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There’s something to be said about Heathrow’s private lounges.
That something is thank fucking God for them.
The loveseat that Louis has draped himself over is disgustingly plush and comfortable and a welcome reprieve from the seats of first class.
Wow that thought is one of the most thoroughly pompous things that Louis has ever thought in his entire life but.
Okay, scratch that. Something less twatty perhaps.
Being able to stretch out fully on a disgustingly plush and comfortable loveseat is a welcome reprieve from only being able to sort of stretch out?
Marginally less twatty, maybe? Fuck that though, Louis has worked hard for the money he has and if he wants to revel in his love seat while he waits for his love in this private lounge he fucking will.
Maybe he’s a bit overtired if he’s arguing about his relative level of twattiness with…himself.
Either way, Harry is…somewhere, doing…something. Louis isn’t entirely sure what but he’s way too comfortable to even consider moving his hand to find his phone. Harry had mumbled something about drinks into Louis’ hair before kissing his temple and sauntering off to parts unknown. Louis sincerely hopes he’s not off somewhere getting drinks because he’s seen three different wait-staff who look like they’re itching to serve him, and if they could have been snuggling this entire time, Louis is going to actually start pouting or something. Nothing that requires too much energy, but certainly something.
Something about flights just drains all of Louis’ energy and leaves him feeling vaguely like a zombie when he’s walking through the airport after his flight. Harry would probably say it’s something about the recycled air and lack of fresh greens available in first class, but that’s neither here nor there.
Having Harry with him, even with all his theories about airplanes and the body, is always the best thing for Louis, because sleep always comes quicker and easier when he can press his nose into Harrys neck and listen to him breathe.
It feels so sappy to think things like that but they’ve been together verging on six years, so Louis is a little entitled to the sappy thoughts, he thinks.
Just as he’s about to turn over and take a proper snooze, Harry returns with two drinks balanced in one hand, and a plate of something in the other. He’s got a pretty little bashful smile stretched across his lips and Louis can feel his own mouth curling delightedly in response. He pulls his legs up to his chest and allows Harry to place their food down before settling his legs back over top of his.
“Hey there babycakes,” Louis greets with a grin, leaning up to give Harry a peck, or five, on the lips, “what’d’ya get me?”
Harry passes the drink over with a sly grin and to Louis’ delight it’s some kind of bright, fruity wonderful concoction that explodes with sweetness on his tongue. So it’s basically Harry in drink form.
“It’s a Sex on the Beach,” Harry informs him lasciviously with a waggle of his eyebrows. Then, like all that innuendo was lost on Louis, he continues to explain “y’know. Because we’re going to be having a lot of that.”
Louis has to hide his fond smile behind the decorative piece of pineapple lining the rim of the glass.
Once he’s gotten his wayward face under control, he manages to ask “can we even technically call it sex on the beach? There’s quite a bit of grass before the beach begins so we’ll actually be having more sex near the beach.”
Like this is actually a question that needs consideration, Harry pouts his lips around his straw while he takes a thoughtful drink. Their Malibu home (Christ, they’re rich enough that they have to distinguish between which California home they’ll be going to) is set back a bit from the sandy Pacific coast, a huge swath of green stretching between their home and the ocean. It’s more than they could ever possibly need, but they had fallen in love with the open Spanish style mansion and its acres of lush greenery and view of the ocean, so it became their second home in California.
They’re going to Malibu instead of LA this time because they need to decompress in a way that LA will just never allow you to. They’ve just come from a show in Turkey and have a break for a few weeks. Louis can’t wait to fall into their bed in Malibu and sleep for days before waking up to a gorgeous ocean breeze and no commitments and lots and lots of sex.
Harry’s apparently given his thoughts enough consideration now. “So, like, logistically, if we’re having sex in the house or on the lawn, it’s more like sex at the beach, yeah? Because people consider Malibu the beach,” he pauses to chew his straw, considering. “Yeah…yeah. But if we have sex on our private beach, then it’s definitely sex on the beach and we’re absolutely going to do that, right?”
His damn eyes seem to have crinkled on their own accord when he reaches forward to clink his glass with Harrys. “Absolutely darling,” he assures, “so much sex everywhere.”
Content with Louis’ reassurance (like there was ever any doubt), Harry settles back in his seat, one big hand curled gently around Louis’ ankle, stroking softly at the delicate bone.
Taking another sip, Louis looks around and notices that bright fruity cocktails don’t seem to be the usual fare here. This is more of a Hendricks and Tonic or a Johnnie Walker Blue, neat, sort of a lounge. And here they are, in their ratty travel clothes (Harry has dressed down in an old Burberry sweater, bless ‘im) sipping on fruity cocktails and sprawling all over the gorgeous furniture. It’s glorious. “Darling, were you gone so long because you were sweet talking the bartender into making you these drinks?”
Harry gives him a look from over his glass, like he’s trying to puzzle out what Louis means before his eyes brighten in recognition. “No, actually, no, he was actually really happy to make these! Must get boring making old man drinks all day. But, yeah, I was gone awhile because I was sweet talking people so I could get you something.”
Louis doesn’t even know what it is yet and his heart is singing and he’s probably turned into a pile of goop. But he sits still with wide, expectant eyes trying to peer over to the table beside Harry from his prone position.
With a flourish, Harry draws the plate over the side of the loveseat and sets in on Louis’ tummy with a pleased hum. Drawing his eyes away from Harry’s adorably smug face, Louis is surprised with “nachos! Sick babe, thanks, love you!”
Harry just grins, pressing two of his fingers to his lips before pressing them to Louis’ own. “What was that for?” Louis queries with a soft grin on his face.
“Wanted to kiss you but didn’t wanna smush the nachos.”
Holding the nachos out to his side with one hand, Louis pulls Harrys neck down with the other, pressing a languid kiss to his lips. Pulling away a fraction, he finds Harrys pretty green eyes already locked onto his. “Really do love you, y’know that Lou?”
“Course, love,” he responds, pressing one last lingering kiss to Harrys lips, “I adore you.”
“I’m besotted with you,” Harry fires back, a cheeky glint in his eye.
“I’m infatuated with you.”
“I worship you.”
“I am….smitten…with you,” Louis manages to giggle out. Smitten.
“I’m enamored with you,” Harry replies, looking like he means every words and.
God, Louis really, really loves him. “Here cutie, have a nacho.”
Harry’s eyes light up and he sticks his tongue out in preparation for Louis to feed him, like putting your tongue out first is how anyone in the world eats. Louis picks the nacho with the best toppings before shoving the whole thing in Harry’s mouth. Before he can get his hand fully away, Harry is somehow wrapping his lips around the cheesy pads of Louis’ fingers with an entire nacho in his mouth.
Though, to be fair it is a…wonderfully large mouth. Anything is possible with that lovely, lovely mouth and Louis has experienced it all.
“Oi, you cheeky lil’ bugger,” Louis giggles as he extracts his now clean fingers from between Harrys plump lips.
Harry chews the nacho for a moment before sending Louis a disgusting cheesy smile. For his part, Louis just rolls his eyes fondly because his fiancé is a five year old. This is Louis’ burden.
It continues like that for a bit, sharing the plate of nachos by occasionally shoving them into each other’s mouths. The lounge they’re in is quiet and cool, isolated away from the hustle and bustle of the airport. Though, considering that it’s just gone 10 pm, the hustle and bustle is likely to have calmed significantly. They had chosen a later connecting flight because the later time means it’s more likely to knock Louis out after a complimentary glass of wine or four. That way, they can try and wake up relatively refreshed when they land at LAX sometime in the morning. He’s still going to pass out for a day when they finally reach their home and his exhaustion catches up with him, but sleeping the majority of the eleven hour flight certainly sounds more appealing than amusing himself while Harry snores.
They’ve just finished their nachos and Louis is maneuvering Harry into the best position for him to catch a quick cat nap on when Louis spots her, hovering by the entrance and looking unsure if she should approach them or not. He’s seen this look on people’s faces a million times before; the hesitation and the trepidation of whether or not they’re going to be accepting of an interruption. Though he’s tired, Louis isn’t totally heartless, so he sends her a brief smile before going back to shoving Harry around into prime sleeping position.
She must have gotten up the will to come over to them because just as he’s about to snuggle into Harrys warm chest and soft jumper, he hears a prim throat clear behind him. Turning slowly, he regards the woman with an expectant look.
How did he not notice her clothing designating her as an airline representative? The smile that he had been preparing drops off his face. Perhaps they had broken some kind of nacho ordinance? Maybe they can’t have pineapple juice before a flight? All manner of inane offenses fly through Louis’ head because he simply can’t puzzle out what the issue would be.
“Sirs,” she begins, adjusting her suit jacket efficiently, “are you a Mr. L. Tomlinson and a Mr. H. Styles?”
That’s an awfully formal way to address two boys attempting to snuggle on the couch in skuzzy travel clothes. Louis is still straddling Harry’s hips when he replies, “Indeed.”
“I’m H. Styles and he’s L. Tomlinson, if that makes a difference,” Harry adds helpfully, holding out his hand to shake hers. Louis follows suit, though he makes no move to dethrone himself off of Harry.
“Sirs, I apologize, but I have some bad news,” she begins and Louis braces for the worst, like their 24 karat gold butt plug being confiscated. “Due to the inclement weather, your flight has been delayed for approximately 3 hours, though that could change depending upon the weather patterns.”
“What inclement weather?” Louis is quick to ask, before realizing the lounge they’re in doesn’t have any windows leading to the outside.
“Sir, we’re currently in the midst a very large thunderstorm with lightning that’s very close to the airport. All flights have been grounded for the time being until cleared for takeoff.” She looks apologetic and like she would have rather been doing anything else than telling them this, so Louis attempts to smile at her to reassure her.
“Cheers, love. Thanks for coming and finding us. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something to do in here.” Three hours? Fuck, their flight was supposed to depart at 11 so they’re stuck here for four more hours until 1? Fuckkkkkkk.
“Also, sirs, I’m obliged to inform you that this lounge will unfortunately be closing for the night at 23:00.”
Louis can feel something snarky bubbling up in his throat, a combination of overtired-overworked, and surprised at the news, but Harry puts a firm hand on his thigh and squeezes and the words die in his throat.
“Thank you so much for letting us know,” Harry begins, though Louis can detect a hint of saccharine sweetness in the undertone showing Harry is just as put out as he is, “and thank you for taking the time to find us. How will we know when our flight is no longer delayed if we can’t stay in here?”
“We’ll be updating the flight boards and making announcements periodically as we know more information. Thank you for your understanding,” she enthuses, a relieved smile gracing her face, probably at not having to deal with whatever was clearly about to come out of Louis’ mouth.
Objectively, her job sucks and Louis is grateful that they had someone come and tell them personally that their flight was delayed. Subjectively, Louis hates her and everything she stands for and the news she has delivered unto him. A pox upon her. Either way, they’re shaking her hand once more and she’s walking away and now suddenly they’ve got loads of time to kill and limited time in this private safe haven where Louis was going to nap to his hearts content.
Louis isn’t even aware that his mouth has drooped into a full pout until Harry’s hand comes up to hold his jaw and tease at his lower lip. “Baby,” he coos, “we can just head home and fly out tomorrow if that’s what you want? Sleep in our bed.”
He brings his hands up to hold Harry's hand to his jaw with a beleaguered sigh. “No, that’s not…no we shouldn’t do that, if it’s bad enough that planes won’t fly imagine driving in it. Plus, I jus’ wanna be in Malibu, yeah? Sex on the beach?” He shoots Harry a tired smile before leaning down and giving him a kiss. He settles down fully across Harry, burying his face into Harry’s neck.
“Course, love,” Harry assures him, hands coming to rest on Louis’ lower back, soothingly rubbing out the knots along his spine. “Nap until 11?”
“Please,” Louis snuffles, Harrys smell and steady heartbeat already luring him to sleep. The last thing he feels as his eyes drift shut is Harry nosing into his hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
***
Harry awakens with a jolt to his alarm, and so Louis awakens with a jolt as well. He’s fuzzy and disoriented from his nap though it was only about 20 minutes all told and it takes him a moment to place where he is.
“Oops,” Harry rasps when he sees Louis has awoken as well, “was gonna wake you up a lot softer than that.
Louis shoots him a sleepy smile, snuggling back down into his neck for a moment, a whispered “hi,” pressed behind his ear with a kiss.
“No, no,” Harry begs, “don’t be all cute and sleepy or I’ll never be able to get you outta here.”
“’m always cute n’ sleepy,” Louis argues with a bite to Harrys neck.
“Yes, dear,” Harry agrees, attempts to sit up fully hindered by Louis going limp atop him. “What’d’ya wanna do for three-maybe-more hours?”
“Sleep."
“Well, no,” Harry asserts, “can’t sleep more or you won’t sleep on the plane.”
Logical yes, but Louis is tired now. “You could do something to keep me awake,” he offers with a lick of his lips.
“We’re in an airport, Louis!” Harry sounds completely scandalized for some reason, like an airport is the line he draws for public sex. Which is stupid they did it in a park once…or twice.
“Thanks Sherlock, and?”
“How about we…play,” he begins, but when Louis’ eyebrows begin to creep toward his hairline he quickly amends “a game! A game, I meant a game of the completely innocent nature.”
“And what sort of game would we be playing?”
“Honeyyyyyyy,” Harry whines, thunking his head back onto the sofa, “I can’t be in charge of thinking of everything here.”
Pausing to think for a moment, Louis comes up with an idea. “Okay, hide and seek, yeah? It’s easy and we have a ton of ground to cover.”
“Absolutely not,” is Harrys immediate response, “you’ll cheat, I know you will.”
Louis attempts to look offended but the fact of the matter is that he has cheated and would absolutely cheat again in hide and seek if necessary. Winning is a matter of pride and Louis takes great delight in beating Harry at trivial things.
“Fine, if you’re so against my idea, what’s yours?”
“Let’s just take a walk for a minute,” Harry suggests, standing and stretching before helping Louis to his feet, “maybe inspiration will strike.”
***
They’ve been strolling hand in hand through the airport for a few minutes when they happen upon the duty free shop. Louis is about to keep walking but Harry tugs him to a stop.
“We should go in here and see who can find the most absurd item.”
“Not a bad idea, Styles. You’re on.”
“Something ludicrous, Lou!” he calls out over his shoulder, long legs carrying him quickly into the expansive store.
“Ludicrous, right,” Louis scoffs, wondering what he could even find in a duty free shop that would be classed as absurd. Or rather more absurd than what Harry finds. He can see Harry trotting around the personal care section, so he beelines for the candies and souvenirs, relatively certain that there’s got to be something oversized or stamped with a Royal on it that will beat whatever it is Harry seems to be searching for.
Apparently, aside from all the cool electronics and alcohol in duty free stores, there is some weird shit as well. He’s subtly grabbed Harry an Apple Watch for when he goes running because he knows that Harrys been considering buying one so he doesn’t have to carry his phone. Louis is so far-gone for that boy that it’s borderline absurd. It would be pretty terrible if Harry wasn’t the exact same way though. So Louis has an Apple watch and nothing else of frivolity.
Oh wait, there. Yes. A giant Kinder egg shaped like Queen Elizabeth filled with smaller Kinder eggs. Incredible, Louis wins.
He makes his purchases and steps out of the duty free shop to find Harry already standing outside of it, cradling something gigantic in his arms and looking like the cat the got the cream.
Louis look his contacts out to soothe his aching eyes, so he can’t really make out what Harrys cradling in his arms from this far away, so he cautiously walks closer lest Harry unexpectedly throw it at him or something. Harrys still cradling it like an infant, a serene smile on his face and as Louis approaches he holds it out in offering.
The sight of it stops Louis in his tracks and he can’t help but gape and admit defeat. “You got lube.”
A pleased Cheshire cat grin spreads over Harrys face. “No,” he corrects slowly, “I got a gallon of lube.”
“You got a gallon of lube,” Louis parrots back, still staring at the monstrous bottle in Harrys hands.
“I did.”
“You do realize that everything that you buy at a duty free shop has to be declared to customs when you go to another country, right? You’re going to have to tell Homeland Security that you purchased a whole gallon of lube.”
“Well you’re going to have to tell them you purchased a Queen Elizabeth Kinder egg filled with smaller Kinder eggs and an Apple Watch,” is Harry’s smug reply.
“Like those are even comparable...wait...were you…stalking me, Harold.”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘stalking’ per-say, that’s such a harsh word. I was definitely scoping out my competition though.”
“You accused me of cheating in hide and seek earlier! Unfair.”
“Just admit that I win.”
“Fine,” Louis concedes, “you can win. But you have to explain to customs why we have a whole gallon of lube.
“I’m gonna say because we have a very healthy sexual appetite for each other and you got me an Apple Watch because you’re too good to me so we’re gonna have a tantric sex session when we get to our house.”
By the end of his explanation, Louis can feel the blood drain from his face at the idea of Harry talking about their sex life to an innocent airport employee. To be honest, though, part of it’s rushed to his cock at the thought of a tantric sex session with Harry. He’s so easy, Christ.
Even though Louis knows his looks more absurd in a cute way, Harry wins for the simple fact that it’s a gallon of lube with a pump nozzle. He can just envision reaching over in the middle of foreplay to pump lube out of this fucking gallon bottle. Like, they’re absolutely going to use it and Louis is absolutely going to die a little inside every time.
“If you explain it like that, I won’t share my Kinder Queens.” Louis is very threatening. He has great threats.
With a roll of his eyes, Harry thrusts the lube into Louis’ arms so he’s effectively cradling a gigantic egg shaped Queen Elizabeth and a gallon of lube. This has to be high treason somehow. “I’ll just loudly declare it then,” Harry decides, patting Louis down efficiently.
“May I help you?”
At his question Harrys head peeks up from around the lube, a sweet blush dotting his cheeks. “Jus’ lookin’ for my gift?”
“’s in Queen Elizabeth, if you must,” Louis responds with a roll of his eyes, cackling as Harry dives in Queen Elizabeth with a triumphant yell.
***
So they’ve been shopping, they’ve wheel chair raced, they’ve people watched, they’ve eaten all the kinder eggs and assembled all the toys, they’ve set up Harrys Apple Watch and played around with it and there’s still a fucking hour, maybe more, to kill.
They’ve somehow found a relatively secluded corner and Harrys got his head in Louis’ lap, all but purring as Louis cards his fingers through his soft curls. He’s just going to put it back up in a bun when Louis is done, so Louis isn’t worried about his gorgeous curls falling flat so he plays with them to his hearts content.
Harry heaves an almighty sigh and buries his face in Louis’ lap, biting at his thigh through his worn sweatpants, his canines stinging the thin skin. It sends a sudden jolt of arousal zipping up his spine, especially with the proximity of Harrys face to his cock.
Harry’s just sort of, down there, really. Nuzzling Louis’ thigh contentedly and rumbling with pleasure as Louis continues to stroke his hair. Louis gives his hair a sharp tug up. Through clenched teeth he manages to hiss out “We’re in an airport, Harold.”
“Don’t care. Bored. Want you."
Oh, now isn’t that convincing. “Can’t believe I ever said you were on a whole new level of charming. Bored so you want sex. You sure know how to make a gal feel special, Prince Charming.”
“Louuuuuu,” he whines, “we always have sex when we’re bored. Stop acting like this is new and let me suck you off in the bathroom.”
Louis had already been clambering to his feet while Harry was whining at him and starts making his way toward the private lounge they had vacated earlier.
“Babe, stop whinging and grab the lube.”
He can hear Harry scrabbling to his feet behind him and hopes he has enough presence of mind to grab their bags and not just the lube.
Harry catches up to him as he’s rounding the corner to the lounge, bags in one hand and lube held proudly in the other, just so that the innocent airport patrons that are scattered around will make no mistake as to what they’re about to do.
“So, what’s up?”
“Harry, honey, we’re literally going to have sex.”
“No, no, like, where are we going?”
“That lounge is absolutely deserted and I don’t think they actually lock the doors. They have secluded rooms in there.”
“Um, what if we, maybe didn’t?”
Louis skids to a stop, rounding on Harry with a scowl. “Didn’t what? You don’t get to bite my thigh for us to not have sex, Harold.”
“Like,” he pauses, hemming and hawing, “what if we went in a public restroom instead?”
And that gives Louis pause. “Darling,” he coos, pushing Harrys hair out of his face and cupping his cheek, “you’re such a kinky little minx aren’t you? Want me to finger you in public 'til you’re crying, don’t you?”
With a gulp, Harry nods shakily, exhaling rapidly through his nose. The apples of his cheeks are already flushed and he’s all Louis’ to wreck.
“Right.” Louis changes course abruptly, heading back toward the restrooms he had just passed, Harry hurrying along behind him.
He quickly checks the stalls to make sure they’re alone before hurrying into the furthest from the entrance, dragging Harry in behind him by his collar. Very graciously he allows Harry to place the lube on the back of the toilet before he pushes him against the wall to kiss them.
Harry, predictably, turns it filthy rather quickly, shoving a thick thigh between Louis’ legs for Louis to grind down onto while he bites at Harrys lips. They’ve been doing this together for so long that they know every button to push to get to each other. Harry clutches at the meat of his ass to draw them closer to each other and to guide Louis’ hips as they work down on him in a fluid motion. Louis works his hands between them to get them under Harry’s sweater and to his nipples that he can feel already filling with blood, becoming hard with his arousal.
Harry pulls back slightly and Louis takes it as an invitation to start sucking dark bruises into the graceful column of his neck, forcing Harry to drop his head against the stall with a drawn out groan. Louis is still teasing at his nipples when Harry rasps “god please, lemme suck you, wanna get my mouth on you."
Intent on making a lovely collar of bruises around his neck, Louis doesn’t let up on him, but does begin to work his sweatpants down as much as he can without actually moving.
With a grace he only possess during sex, Harry drops to his knees in a fluid motion, working Louis’ pants down to his knees, smiling at Louis’ cock like he’s happy it exists. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the leaking slit before leaning back again to stare at Louis’ cock some more.
“You actually plannin’ on suckin’ it, or you just wanna stare?” Louis teases, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair to press his head toward his dick. Blowjob etiquette doesn’t matter when you’re soul mates, probably. Anyway, Harry likes choking on his cock so it’s not like he’ll be offended when Louis bumps it against its lips.
“Would have a starin’ contest if I could, but he’s only got one eye,” Harry quips before swallowing him down, cutting Louis’ cackle off as he moans appreciatively.
“God, fuck, baby, your mouth, your fucking mouth, god, baby,” Louis whines, pushing Harry down further, whimpering as he feels Harrys pleased hum pulse through him, throat fluttering as it adjusts to Louis. He’s got heady sparks of arousal zipping up and down his spine as Harry forces himself to stay still around Louis’ cock, working his tongue along the base.
When he pulls back to breathe, he draws the tip of his tongue lightly up the underside of Louis’ penis, pausing to tease with feather light touches under the crown. It’s the purest, most beautiful form of torture, and Louis has to keep running his hands through Harrys hair to attempt to anchor himself so he doesn’t immediately come from the picture Harry paints below him.
Harrys suddenly sinking down again and it’s like a punch to the solar plexus, it just feels so incredible that Louis can hardly breathe with it; breaths coming out in little punchy gasps, hands reflexively tightening in Harrys hair. When Harry reaches to run a thumb down to tease along behind his balls and press against his hole, Louis keens high in his throat, biting at his own arm to keep from wailing at how wonderful it feels.
The thrill that at any moment someone could walk in on them only serves to heighten this blowjob into something otherworldly and Louis is probably absolutely going to pass out with how amazing he feels. “Baby,” he warns as he feels the heat of an orgasm fizzling through his veins and pooling in his stomach.
Serenely, Harry just pulls off and with a lick at the tip of his dick rasps “come on my face,” which Louis complies with near instantaneously, coating Harrys swollen, cherry red lips with his release. When his muscles finally give in to relaxation, he collapses back against the stall, boneless and orgasm hazy, sliding to meet Harry on the floor.
Apparently at some point Harry had gotten his dick out and had been steadily working himself to dripping while sucking Louis off. Now he sits before Louis, covered in his come and still jerking himself calmly, eyes closed in concentration. Louis reaches behind him to grab some toilet paper to wipe the majority of his face, but settles for kissing it off his lips, tasting himself on Harry.
“Ya need more fruit, babe,” Harry grunts, brows still furrowed and eyes closed as he waits for Louis to regain full function of his limbs.
“Fuck you,” he wheezes back, kissing Harry one last time before settling on the toilet.
“Ya could,” Harry offers cheekily, tongue darting out to chase any lingering taste of Louis on his lips.
Harry’s eyes fly open as Louis pumps lube out of the ridiculous bottle and onto his fingers. Without letting go of his cock, Harry scrambles to his feet excitedly, big hand on his big cock, towering over Louis where he sits.
“Turn,” Louis demands, “hands off the cock and on the door. Arse out.”
Harry rushes to comply, waggling his arse enticingly in front of Louis, who gives it a hard smack in retaliation, reveling in the way it makes Harry shiver as redness blooms over the pale cheeks.
“God, what if I could get my mouth on you right now,” Louis wonders, circling a finger lightly around his puckered hole. He begins working his finger in while he bites at the meat of Harrys bum, right over where he had spanked him earlier.
With a shuddery breath, Harry begins to slowly grind his way back onto Louis’ fingers, but Louis grabs his soft hips and holds them roughly, preventing him from getting Louis’ finger any further inside him than Louis wants it to be. “Could do,” Harry gasps, “could eat me out right now. I'd probably cry.”
“Darling, we both know I can make you cry with just my fingers and my voice.”
Louis continues to slowly work his finger in and out of Harry, crooking it in teasing brushes against his prostate at a maddeningly slow pace.
“Do wish I could get my mouth on you though, yeah? Get my tongue all up in your tight little hole; get you all loose and open and wet for me. Get my face all messy with it, know you love how wet it gets. We’ve never done that in public have we? Got you all whiny while I ate your ass where anyone could walk in, anyone could hear. Find you bent over with my tongue in your arse while you cry."
Harrys whining in earnest now, attempting to wriggle back out of Louis’ tight grip to get more pressure on his prostate. Louis takes pity upon him and adds another finger, aiming for his prostate with intent, but never staying on it for long.
His voice drops even lower, a sultry whisper under Harrys whimpers. “Bet you’d love it, my beard rubbing all between your thighs and your arse, soft skin all marked up and red from how good I was eating you. Feel me for days whenever you would walk.”
He pauses then to lean down and lick at Harrys rim where it’s stretched around his fingers and Harrys back bows so quickly that Louis can hear it crack, breathless gasps spilling from his lips.
“You’re imagining it, aren’t you?” Louis rubs his stubble along the smooth insides of Harry’s thighs, grinning wickedly as Harry starts to whimper. “No one could ever eat you as good as I do. No one else has ever eaten you, have they, love?”
“No, no, no,” Harry wails, “just you, only ever you.”
“That’s right sweetheart, I know, I know.” Louis adds a third finger and fights a triumphant smirk when he can see Harrys shoulders begin to shake slightly. “It’s only ever me who’s been all up in your sweet arse, only ever me that can take care of you right. And it’ll only be me for the rest of our lives.”
Harry can’t even respond, breath catching on hiccupped cries while Louis presses directly on his prostate and rubs his beard all along the silken backs of Harrys thighs. It’s when finally leans down and runs his tongue along Harrys perineum that Harry comes with a sob, elbows collapsing down against the door with the force of it.
“Baby, shhh, I love you, shhhhh,” Louis soothes, easing his fingers out of Harry and pulling him to his lap, letting him hide his face in Louis’ neck whilst he attempts to get his breath back. He runs his hand up and down Harry’s spine reassuringly, and wipes at the tear tracks dotting his flushed cheeks.
It’s as he’s pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s mouth that he hears it above Harry’s snuffles and the blood that’s still rushing through his ears. He sits up straighter to attempt to pick up the sound and when he does a note of panic shoots through him. With a soft curse, he shifts below Harry, attempting to tuck him back into his pants.
“Lou,” Harry questions, raising his head from where it’s resting on Louis’ shoulder, eyes rimmed red and lips beyond swollen, “wassit?”
“Our flights fucking boarding.”
So much for post orgasmic bliss as Louis tucks himself and Harry back in their pants and manages to grab Harry, the bags, and the fucking gallon of lube as he beelines it toward their gate.
It’s not a total loss though. He’s had an incredible orgasm and he’s got a sweet, sleepy boy on his hands and king size bed waiting for him across the Atlantic. Life could be worse.