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Summary: Louis has been looking after Tessa since he was sixteen. Harry's a man in a business suit who has loved his daughter's babysitter for three whole years.

Work Text:

“You sure you have everything, love?” Louis asks Tessa, who is firmly clutching her teddy bear up under her chin, curly pigtails done up in bright orange bows, bouncing as she jerkily nods her head.

“One hundred percent sure!” she tells him, trying to look firm but ending up with more of a cute pout.

“Oh really now?” He raises his eyebrows at her. “No left behind toothbrushes like last time?”

“No! I double checked!” Her watermelon Ring Pop ring droops on her finger and she pops it back in between her lips. Louis feels sunshine honey spread through his stomach at how adorable she looks. The effect she has on him rivals that of his sisters. Seven-year-olds truly are the greatest menace known to man, he thinks.

“Well then,” Jessica, the ever perky airline attendant chirps in her American accent. He finds her ironed and crisp airline uniform to be exceptionally irritating. “It looks like we’re all set!”

Louis examines Tessa’s stuffed-full travel bag once again, sighing while coming to the conclusion that he can only do so much. “You’ve got a copy of her ticket, correct?”

“Yep, she’s all good!” Jessica hugs her clipboard closer, black framed glasses reflecting the overly fluorescent lights of the terminal. “Any last goodbyes for you two?”

He looks back down to meet Tessa’s big, spring green eyes again. He wants to scoop her up and run back to his car, buckle her in and drive straight back home where he knows for sure she'll be safe. It sucks though, because he knows he can’t.

“Bye, Lou Lou,” Tessa mumbles into her teddy. He knows that voice all too well.

“Hey now, none of that, you hear?” he tells her, squatting down to her level. She’s got beads of tears starting in her eyes. “Christmas in Seattle is all you’ve been able to chat about for weeks!”

“I know,” she mumbles again, this time huffing a sigh. “Teddy’s just gonna miss you and daddy lots.”

Louis’ stomach flip flops at how overwhelmingly sweet she is. He never expected for her to get this attached, especially to have her put him on the same level as her father. He feels a pricking at the back of his eyes as well, and tugs her close against his chest, kissing her temple. “You’ll be back here before you know it, sweetheart,” he tells her. “And we’ll cause all kinds of trouble, just you wait.”

Tessa sniffles, and Jessica checks her watch.

“Okay,” her tiny voice answers from where it’s now buried deep in her Teddy’s plush fur. “You promise?”

He pulls back and smiles at her fully, bringing two of his fingers up to his lips for a kiss and then making an X with them over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Time to go.” Jessica tries for a gentle voice, he can tell, but it still causes him to give her a steely look. He’s never been all that good at goodbyes.

“I’ll see you soon, buttercup,” he tells her, kissing her forehead this time. “Before you know it.”

“Love you, Lou Bear,” she whispers in his ear as she hugs him tight, little arms circling around his neck. It’s not the first time she’s said it, but that doesn’t mean his toes don’t still go the warmest shade of numb.

“Love you, too, little bug,” he says, quiet in the white noise of the bustling corridor. “Now get a move on; American Airlines waits for no one.”

She nods again and he wipes away the tears that have tracked onto her cheeks with a gentle sweep of his thumb. She places her tiny hand in Jessica’s, and he knows in some buried part of himself that it shouldn’t feel like a part of him is walking away.

He waits until she's out of sight before standing up again anyway. 

 ~*~

He gets back to the Styles house around half ten, and November truly must despise him. It isn’t even snow, honestly. More of freezing rain mixed with whatever demons must be running the show up there decided to throw in, because by the time he has parked his car on the cobblestone of the small circle drive and made it up the front steps, he’s doused.

The house is ivory white as always, front door decorated with pine and holly for the season. He’d helped the house keepers put up the wreaths, and the boot of his little Subaru still greets him with all the force of a Yankee candle for how much tinsel he’d had to haul back from the shop. He shivers as he wipes his feet on the Welcome Home mat, about to pull out his key when he finds the door already unlocked. Strange.

He’s back here to drop off a few of Tessa’s things. He shucks off his rain boots - mentally patting himself on the back for that spot of good planning, for once having not opted for his worn in Vans - by the front door, hanging his wool lined and morbidly damp coat on the hook. There’s a soft hue of rose gold coming from the kitchen doorway. He stops and mentally takes inventory at that.

Two loads of laundry, call Tesco’s to have the grocery’s delivered, help Tessa pack and drop her off for her flight. Check, check and check. Leave a note for Harry to move the dark wash into the dryer when he gets in from Dubai tomorrow. Well, about to be checked off the list, but judging from the sound of Shania Twain playing softly over the sound system, he’s beginning to reconsider.

“Louis? That you?”

Yep, definitely reconsidering.

“Y-yeah, s’me,” he answers Harry’s voice, teeth chattering.

He rounds the corner to find him bent over the kitchen counter, head down in his paper work. Louis’ stomach goes on a roller coaster ride, swooping and dipping, as per usual when he catches the chance to see Harry like this. Or Harry in general, at all, really.

But this kind of Harry is one of his favorites, dressed in sweatpants and his ratty old Rolling Stones t-shirt. His hair looks soft, but all in all, he doesn’t look too tired. Not like after Moscow or New York. No dark rings under his eyes, no heavy bones.

Three years of holding this job, cleaning up and looking after Tessa, and yeah, maybe it’s the fact that he’s still a teenager, but Louis still has the same reaction. It’s not exactly professional of him, it especially wasn’t when he had been sixteen. But Harry’s twenty-seven now, and Louis is nineteen. He reassures himself with the thought that maybe that counts for something.

“Shit,” he hears a breathy voice and suddenly he’s back in the kitchen instead of somewhere distant. Harry’s standing up and his barstool is scraping back as he rushes over to where Louis is standing. “Shit, Louis, you’re absolutely drenched!”

“I’m okay, r-really.” Damn it. “Just came to drop off the k-keys.”

Louis finally manages to reach into his jeans pocket and get the key out, fingers jumpy and frigid. Harry reaches out and takes what’s being handed to him, but his hands stall. It happens slow and hesitant, the warmth of Harry’s hands taking both of Louis’ smaller ones between his and just holding them, warming him up in the smallest of ways. It’s like the storm battling itself outside the windows, all at once.

"W-what are you doing back?" he manages to croak.

"Found someone else to cover my weekend pitch." Harry rubs a smooth friction over his skin. “God, you’re like ice,” Harry tells him, and his voice is breathy like before.

Louis can’t help looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Think I just have a n-natural cold streak, s’all.” He tries to shrug, but the house is apparently still warming up from the temperature he’d turned it down to when he and Tessa had left. He can’t stop trembling.

“You can’t stay like this.” Harry shakes his head, holding Louis’ fingers a bit more tightly. “I can’t let you stay like this, you have to get warm.”

Louis feels sparklers light low in his stomach, tugs and pulls, because Harry is still holding his hands and they’re closer than before. He’s always been aware that he does this, making out Harry’s kindness to be more than it's face value. The knowledge of it, however, doesn’t have any leverage over the thrum of longing that’s humming through every inch of him.

His voice cracks slightly, trying his best to keep from tripping over his words. “I can’t ask you for anything, you already pay me way too m-much.” No such luck.

Harry just shakes his head again, huffing out a sigh in a way that makes Louis remember a little girl tugging her Barbie carry-on bag behind her. The heavy glow he feels in his chest is completely unwarranted. “I think running you a bath seems perfectly fair, honestly.” Harry’s thumbs are tracing circles over his skin. Circles that Louis knows don’t mean I'm here, but he wishes they did. “Okay?”

Louis meets his eyes and it takes a minute, but he’s able to nod. 

 ~*~

The thing is, this isn’t their first time like this.

He doesn’t know when it started, or if it’s been ever since the beginning – ever since he’d put Tessa to bed for the first time and gone down by the fire to sleep, waking up to Harry gently rubbing over his side, telling him it was okay for him to go home if he’d like. He’d driven home with the ghost of Harry’s touch on his side, half hard in his trousers and half full of the desire to be held.

Their second encounter had been rushed. Harry had been tying his tie and racing down the steps while telling Louis, “Please remember, no straight milk in her cereal, we’re still on the fence with her lactose intolerance!” Louis had disappointedly thought that perhaps Harry was one of those traveling fathers that simply wouldn’t make time for their kids. But it had turned out to be an isolated incident, one caused by a cancelled flight and someone at the office mixing up a batch of files. Harry had come back from that trip two days later, and Louis had woken up with a folded Vorrei che tu fossi qui! t-shirt from Italy tucked into his arms.

In the early months, Harry’s schedule would have him gone Thursdays through Sundays, so Louis would finish at school and go to pick Tessa up from her own classes. He remembers the time Harry brought Tessa back a silk dress from India, all scarlet hues of pink and gold and absolutely gorgeous. She’d squealed and run about in the backyard, pretending to cast fire from her hands like the stories of rogue princesses Louis had read to her. Harry had brushed his palm against Louis’ then, whispered close in his ear a thank you that had sent goosebumps over his skin.

He remembers the night he’d dropped Tessa off at her friend’s house and come back to the house to check the locks, only to find Harry half drunk on the sofa, glass of red wine in hand. He’d been grounded from a trip, a tentative freeze on his company’s sales. He remembers Harry breaking the silence, telling him suddenly that the girl he’d had Tessa with was a mistake.

“It was my first trip with the company.” He’d squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I was still an intern at the time, I thought everything was wonderful.”

Louis had only been seventeen at the time, but Harry had handed him a glass to match his own. He’d refrained from saying how the only thing he’d really wanted to drink was the sound of Harry’s voice, all heavy with memories. He’d wanted to take it all away from him right then and there.

Harry had continued to ramble about how Louis really should know all this, how much he wanted to genuinely tell him. He’d explained how London and Seattle seem like two different worlds, how a businessman and a florist were never be meant to be. There had been phrases tossed around such as partial custody and just happy to have her at all along with, she deserves so much better.

Harry had confessed to him how he carries a guilt with him some days. Not because he regrets Tessa being his in the slightest, but because he feels like he can never love her enough. Louis remembers the ground beneath him giving a bit, because he’d never expected to know so much.

At the time he’d been young and hopeful, wishing for an answer he could cling to. “You didn’t ever love her? The girl?” he’d asked him with wine stained lips. Stupid. He’d been so, so stupid.

Harry had look back at him with bleeding stars in his eyes. “Never liked girls to begin with.” There had been a wet sounding laugh. “So I guess that never worked much in our favor.”

So now, sitting in a bubblebath Harry has made up just for him, Louis feels the ache again. The ache in his fingertips that feels like heavy raindrops and heartbeats out of time. It feels like the ache of tender memories with a man he isn’t supposed to want, let alone love.

He flicks the drain stopper with his toe and watches as the lukewarm water swirls down, down, down. Bubblegum pink bubbles stick to the white porcelain sides of the tub, but he really doesn’t want to move an inch. He hadn’t told Harry back then, about how it’s never been girls for him either. He wonders sometimes what it would’ve changed if he had.

“Louis?” There’s a voice through the door.

He takes a minute to make sure his voice is sound enough to speak. “Yeah?”

Harry clears his throat. “I was just wondering, um.” Louis is still sitting naked in the bathtub, summer tanned skin contrasting with the soapy white all around him. “How did it go today?”

He leans his head back against the tile of the shower wall, closing his eyes. “Less tears than last time,” he tells him. “She put on a brave smile, but she told me how much she’ll miss you.”

Harry’s quiet for a long moment, and Louis is just starting to become cold again in the lavender light of the bathroom. The storm whistles loudly outside the window.

“Do you ever miss your sisters?”

He remembers Harry asking why he was so determined about this job.

“You’re sixteen, Louis, why give up all your time just for my daughter?” Harry had asked when Louis had first been interviewed.

“Well, first of all, she’s absolutely wonderful.” Louis had shrugged as he’d sat across from him at his study desk all those seasons ago. He'd felt so incredibly inadequate – why would he be chosen when there were probably others applying who were much older? Much more qualified? “And my Mum’s a nurse, she works nights, so if I watched Tessa she would be waking up just as my sisters would get home. Then I could watch them in the mornings. It’d all work out, and well, money’s tight, so.” He hadn’t said just how tight, but Harry had called him the next evening to tell him the job was his, if he still wanted it.

“Yes, of course, thank you so much, Mr. Styles!” he’d gushed, voice flushed and relief washing him from head to toe.

“Harry,” Harry had corrected. “Please call me Harry.”

Now he’s on a gap year, stalling to save money for university. Three years down the line and Harry is, unfortunately, still just Harry to him. His eyes slowly blink open and he stares with blank features up at the ceiling, his eyes follow a watermark where it creases and bends under the light yellow paint. “Some days, yes,” he answers.

Silence lapses between them again, and Louis thinks maybe Harry has walked away, until. “She told me how much she loves you the other day.”

Louis smiles now, something small. He starts getting out of the tub too, feeling a repressed shiver building up. “Well, I might hope she at least likes me a little bit.” Tessa’s told him as much before, just this afternoon no less, but knowing that she talks to Harry about it is something new. He dries off, scrubbing any remaining suds from his hair and then wrapping the towel around his waist. “It has been three years, after all.”

“Yeah,” he hears. “I guess it has been.”

Louis recognizes the drifting sound Harry is hiding in his voice. A spike of concern jumps through him and he opens the door to face him, only realizing what he’s done a second too late.

Harry is leaning against the frame of the door, so they’re already close enough to breath each other’s air once the barrier is taken away. His eyes widen as he takes all of Louis in, slick collarbones, the clean smell of him, his subtly toned stomach. Louis feels hot under Harry’s gaze, feels his heart shift gears in his chest, step on the gas, accelerate. The moment stretches and burns, and Louis feels a thrum of want spike in his veins, feels his body respond to the situation, even against his protests because no. Harry does not want him, of course not. He’s been denying himself even the thought of it since day one.

“Sorry,” he begins to mumble, “I didn’t mean to, I’ll just,” but he’s stopped by a gentle palm sliding up his neck and into his damp hair, a pair of lips folding over his own.  

It’s a gentle thing, just a press of their lips together. It’s what he’s wanted for so long and now here it is, blowing out all his dandelions, magic scattering into the air. The sparklers lit in his stomach earlier are now supernovas, bright and bursting, loud drum beats of brilliance. Harry’s the one to pull back, now with Louis’ hand resting lightly on his chest like a tether. Harry’s eyes are closed when Louis opens his own to look up, his moss-pool greens fluttering open and here they are. The metronome of his heart thuds in his ears.

“I’ve wanted to do that for three years.” The words must be real, because Harry’s eyes flicker with uncertainty, looking nervous and guilty. Completely out of place for how Louis feels, his racetrack heart is still running laps. “I’m so sorry, Louis, I shouldn't have. I’ve gone and fucked everything up now-”

It’s Louis’ turn to cut the apology short. He closes their distance again, another chaste kiss, then another. They’re like reassurances. Harry’s startled only briefly before his hands meet Louis’ waist, the warmth of them seeping through to his barely covered skin.

“You can kiss me for real,” Louis breathes against Harry’s lips, his veins feel electric.

“You,” Harry huffs a breath. “You want me to?”

“So much,” the two words tumble into the air before he has the chance to catch them.

Harry’s hands are playing notes on his hips and they’ve moved to where Louis is positioned against the doorframe now. It may not be as cold in here, but he thinks he might be able to see his breath.

“Don’t be sorry.” Louis feels so very nineteen, getting hard under his towel from only the feeling of Harry pressed against him. “Please, Harry.” Harry’s nose is brushing his and it’s like maybe they’re dancing underwater, movements drugged and whimsical. His lips are so close. “I want you to kiss me.”

So Harry does. Slightly rougher this time, and Louis opens his lips to greet him. He tugs Harry closer and feels the crease of the doorframe dig along his spine, the only reminder of how real this is. His smaller hands fist Harry’s shirt, and he feels the towel slipping around his hips, sliding lower, lower, lower. Then it’s gone, and here he is, all his of lines naked and flush against each of Harry's.

Harry’s just as breathless, it seems, as he spares a glance down to see Louis’ cock standing at attention between them. Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a moan, but it’s also pained.

“Louis I can’t,” Harry’s voice is lower than before. “I can’t keep kissing you when you’re–” He swallows audibly. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to.” Harry’s trying to regulate his breathing, Louis can see him trying to keep control.

“This is what I want,” Louis rushes to tell him, holding Harry’s t-shirt even tighter. His cock his pressed against Harry’s, still clothed in his sweatpants, and he breathes out sharply at the feeling of it. “God, Harry, you have no idea how much I want this, how long I’ve hoped that maybe-”

“That I might want you, too?” Harry’s voice is quiet, still heavy with his breath, but silencing. His eyes are open and searching, and his hold on Louis’ bare hips tightens.

It takes all Louis has in him just to nod. “Do you?” He’s even quieter than Harry when he asks, because he’s still young and stupid. He has to know. “Want me, I mean?”

“Of course," Harry breathes. "I’ve wanted you since I found you asleep on my couch.” Louis hides his face against Harry’s shoulder, feeling heat rise up within himself. “Hey, baby, look at me,” Harry brushes his lips along Louis’ own, their eyelashes flutter in matching rhythms, gentle and sweet. “I’ve wanted you since I saw you hold my daughter’s hand.” Harry kisses him, only to just barely draw back again. Louis’ head is spinning around like snow in a windstorm, frantic static. “I’ve wanted you since you stood on my doorstep with that stupid wanted ad clutched in your hands.” Harry brings their hips together again. “Of course I want you, darling, how couldn't I? Just feel what you do to me.”

Louis leans his head back against the hardwood and closes his eyes, has to catch his breath. Harry's just as hard as he is, and he feels massive. Louis wants to cry just from how much he wants.

“I have to know, though.” He takes a deep breath through his nose. Racetrack heart screaming for a pit stop. “Is it our ages, is this something.” He can’t even figure out his own sentences, but Harry, bless him, lets him finish. “I want so many things with you, just, please save me from all the shit I’ll have to cope with later, is this just a thing for you? Younger boys?”

“What?” Harry’s eyes meet his and Louis knows he’s honest. His voice is soft, he shakes his head. “Louis, no. I mean, no. It’s only you.” His hands soothe over Louis’ sides. “I’ve been to almost every corner of the world and no one else makes me feel the same way you do when I walk back through the front door. Every time I make you smile or laugh, I feel like, I feel like we’re something good, like we could be something amazing.”

Louis feels the world click into place. His breathing picks up again and he’s smiling with full force, feeling like he has the sun within him. “I think we can be,” Louis’ hands card through Harry’s curls, pulling only slightly. “I think we could be everything.”

Harry beams back at him, looking like he can hardly believe it. Louis kisses him on the cheek and giggles at how right this feels.

Harry laughs and nuzzles against Louis' touch. "Wanna know a secret?"

Louis rolls his eyes fondly, because honestly, who's the younger one here again? "Tell me."

“I wanna kiss you for real again,” Harry tells him, pulling them back together again.

“Is that all?” Louis says, delighted and giddy. He thinks he might be able to compare this feeling to the storm again, blinding and wonderful, washing away everything else entirely.

"Oh, shut it," Harry says through smiling lips, his eyes squinting from how big he's beaming.

"Thought you were gonna do that for me?" Louis pokes at one of his dimples, relishing in the fact the he gets to touch and tease now.

Harry’s mouth is on his again, and this time Louis tugs him closer. He presses up against him. Louis’ hands are on Harry’s hips and Harry’s hands are in his hair, which is nearly dry now from how much it’s been tousled around. He rolls his hips up into Harry’s, and the friction of Harry’s sweatpants feels amazing against his dick. He’s rewarded with something caught between a growl and a moan.

“Bed,” Louis pleads in one of the fleeting moments when their lips are apart.

Harry breathes out and into him, and Louis thinks he might be drawing them apart to let him walk, until Harry’s hands are under his arse and he’s being hoisted against the wall.

“Not yet,” he’s told. And it might be one of the hottest things he’s experienced as he’s completely naked and Harry is still agonizingly clothed. He reflexively wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, and his frustration is almost forgotten as Harry reattaches their lips and slides their tongues together, chasing Louis’ again and again. For a few minutes they kiss like that, with Louis’ hands tugging Harry’s hair harder than before. His skin feels hot all over and Harry is absolutely everywhere. His strong arms are holding Louis up and he can feel Harry’s clothed cock working against his arse. His back is arching off the wall little by little and he can’t contain the high, whiny noises that slip past him as he moves his hips to match their new rhythm. The warmth that’s pooling low in his stomach is stirring too fast and he’s already so hard. His hand flies to grab the base of his cock where it’s arched against his hip as he realizes with a start that if Harry wasn’t so frustratingly covered up, they’d be fucking right now.

“Harry, I can’t,” he barely even recognizes his own voice, so high and broken. “If you don’t do something I’m gonna-”

Harry pulls him away from the wall, and it’s both a combination of Harry’s upper body strength and the fact that Louis had been taking his bath in the master bathroom that they don't stumble. They’re already in Harry’s room, so the bed is only three steps away, and Louis has never been more impatient and grateful all in one moment.

“Hands and knees, love,” Harry whispers to him, and he quickly shuffles to obey. His body is humming low and sweet, and he's whimpering slightly. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you.” Harry presses kisses down the arch of his spine, every press of his lips feeling like murmured praise.

Louis buries his face into his own forearms, trying to focus for a brief second on how soft the sheets are. Then he remembers how many times he’s envisioned kissing Harry here, how many times he’s helped make this bed and thought about Harry taking him apart on it. He has to bite into his own skin just to clear his head.

Harry’s hands roam up his sides, down his back and up again. It feels like he’s testing the waters, and Louis wants to scream for him just to dive in already. He feels the ghost of Harry’s breath travel up his neck until it’s against his ear. “Gonna eat you out now, okay, angel?”

Louis’ only available response is, “yes.”

Harry leans forward enough to cup his jaw lightly, and he kisses Louis long and slow, almost teasing. Then his lips are gone, trailing down his spine and leaving bright sparks along his skin. Louis feels himself clench as Harry’s warm breath meets the top of his hole.

“So pretty, baby, look at you.” Harry’s hands are moving up the backs of his straining thighs, coming to cup his cheeks and knead them. Louis feels desperate and exposed in the best possible way.

“So gorgeous,” Harry’s voice tickles his skin.

He’s panting into the sheets now and it’s beginning to fog his eyes. If all his senses weren’t so encompassed by Harry, it might remind him of those long car rides his family used to take in February. The ones where he’d draw Valentine cards on their car’s windows and daydream about when he’d find someone with a heart to match his own.  

“Harry, I need to come, hurts so bad.” His voice is muffled and he's just barely able to get the words out before Harry is licking a broad stripe over his hole. “Oh god.” His voice is still high as he moans.

Harry’s tongue is giving kitten licks, small, fluttering tastes that are driving him mad. Louis fists the sheets, and he feels Harry circle around the grip, then point is tongue, deftly testing how tight he is. Louis’ been holding his eyes closed so tightly he can barely tell that he’s started crying until he feels a tear slide down his nose. He rocks back onto Harry’s tongue and feels a broken sob escape. Harry’s hands grip his cheeks and he matches Louis’ movements, meeting him with every stutter of his hips.

“Almost there, baby?” Harry murmurs to him before redoubling his efforts. He swirls his tongue over Louis’ hole and it feels wet and so, so wonderful. Harry's letting out soft noises from behind him, and they send Louis into a tailspin. He feels Harry's index finger slowly join his tongue and he's spiraling into thin air.

“Oh, god,” he whimpers, and Harry moves his tongue perfectly as a second finger joins the first. He remembers Harry's question then. "Yes, I'm gonna come, oh, Daddy." The name slips past his lips before he stop it. He fucks himself back onto Harry’s tongue and fingers, clenches twice and he’s coming. It's like the crash of a waterfall, all he can hear is the roar of his heart in his ears, and he’s pulsing through it, streaking white all over his lower belly, dripping down onto the sheets.

Harry's hands soothe over him again and again as he shakes through it, he kisses over Louis' hole with a light peck before drawing back, coming up to draw Louis into him. Harry circles his arms around him as Louis curls into his chest, teaching himself how to breathe all over again, boneless and shaky.

Harry coo's and shushes him, kissing his temple and murmuring sweet things into his ear. Louis can feel how hard Harry still is, feels it digging into his lower back. Louis' cock gives a feeble jump at that.

"How was that?" Harry's quiet in his ear, just a whisper of warmth. He sounds unsure but hopeful, and Louis feels a rush of contentedness flush through him.

"So good." Louis noses against his collarbone, smiling. "The best."

Harry’s hands are warm over his skin. “The best?”

Louis nods, still a little drugged as his breathing evens. He feels safe and slow, like he’s back in the bathtub and he’s watching as bubbles from the foam float up and away, light and free. He feels Harry smile against the skin of his neck and the air between them is comfortably silent.

They stay there, and Louis feels Harry's batted puffs of breath fall back into an even stride. It's a long moment, in which they listen to the storm whistle over the roof and patter against the window. It's more wind than anything now, and Louis thinks that's quite alright.

“So, daddy, huh?”

He feels himself instantly freeze up at the curious tilt in Harry’s voice, it isn’t mocking in the slightest, but even so he feels his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Hey.” Harry holds him tighter. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m just interested is all, yeah?”

He feels the heat rise in his cheeks. “You don’t think it’s… sick, or something?” Louis hides himself in Harry’s embrace, mortified of the possible answer.

“Oh, angel, of course not.” Harry gently pulls them apart so he can look Louis in the eyes, and he’s shaking his head, looking like he’s trying very hard to prove his point. Louis wants to kiss the crease between his eyebrows away. “It’s you, and I’ve wanted to have everything with you for so long now, which is scarier than anything else, probably. But the thing is, I never even thought that you could want me the same way.” Louis feels his stomach flip, Harry had been just as unsure as he had been. “Which isn’t to say I’m just putting up with it, either. Because I actually thought it was pretty fucking hot, to be honest. So please don’t feel like you have to hide from me.”

Louis looks down at his lap, where their legs are tangled and the midnight blue glow of the room has made them shine like constellations. He traces over the strong lines of Harry’s forearm with his fingertips. He represses a small giggle as he asks, “You thought it was hot?”

Harry noses along the line of his jaw, placing kisses as he goes. He nods and Louis feels the soft brush of his curls tickle his skin. “I had to bite my tongue to keep from coming, baby.”

He feels all of his breath leave his lungs in one foul swoop, a new pool of heat rising up from somewhere low. He somehow remembers to ask his second question. “You didn’t think I wanted you?”

Harry sits back to look at him, leaving one last kiss by Louis’ ear. He sighs like it’s his trademark, and Louis thinks maybe it’s a nervous habit. He grins a little at how stupidly endearing the thought is.

“I hoped?” Harry says. “I thought, maybe? But then I’d pull back and it was the whole, y’know, why would he want someone who’s closer to thirty than they are to twenty? Especially when you could have anyone you want,” Harry finishes lamely, but he’s still holding Louis’ gaze and that says something. The honesty is written like daybreak all across Harry’s features, not a new sight, but still striking and beautiful.

Louis doesn’t know what he’s on about him being able to have anyone. But then again, he hasn’t really even tried with anyone since he was seventeen, and even then it’d been meaningless. He shakes his head and his hand meets Harry’s wrist, circles around until he’s lacing their fingers together.

“It’s always been you, for me,” he tells him, and the statement whiplashes and sort of knocks the breath from his lungs, but he keeps going. “You’ve always been someone I feel my best around, and that’s how it’s supposed to feel, right?” Harry squeezes his hand in response, eyes glittering warm as they take all of Louis in. This conversation seems too serious for the state he’s in, bare from head to toe, but he also wonders if maybe it’s a testament that that isn’t even on Harry’s radar at the moment. He keeps going, encouraged. “And even with the limited bits of time we’ve had over the years to overlap, I have so many good memories with you, and with you and Tessa. I’d like, well, I’d like to have more. I’d like to have it mean more.”

Harry's smile is soft and open. “Yeah,” he says, "I want that, too, more than anything."

Louis smiles back at him and they hold each other there like that for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes. They're sappy as shit, but he loves it.

Louis sits up a bit so that he’s kneeling over him, knees bent and bracketing Harry's thighs. He slides his hands into Harry's hair and swirls it between his fingertips. Harry's hands meet his hips again, looking up at him with even more light than before. Louis preens as Harry’s eyes rake over his body, he feels little shocks of sparks dance along his skin at just how trusting they’ve already become. Slowly Harry pulls him in again until their lips meet, and Louis feels something tie between them, something mutual and solid and real.

They kiss in the dim light, and Louis feels Harry’s hands track lightning strikes over his sides, bare skin shivering. He sneaks his hands under the hem of Harry’s shirt and feels the hard muscles of his stomach tighten as he pulls Louis closer so that his legs wrap around Harry’s hips, close as can be. They slot together like that, in slow movements and heartbeats like hurricane winds, low and looming at a distance.

“Off,” Louis whines, twisting the soft cotton in loose fists as he wiggles and squirms.

Harry smiles into their kiss. “So demanding.”

“Better get used to it,” he chides, and it feels like they’re following a tsunami, shallow and clear, closer to the sky than ever before.

Harry leans back to drag the material over his head, and Louis openly stares. He’s seen slivers of this before, but now his eyes drag over every inch of him. Harry spends time at the gym when he’s home, keeping fit to ward off the effects of the copious levels of jet lag he has to tango with on a weekly basis. He wants to mouth over every line of him.

Harry’s fattening up again underneath him and he whines at the feeling of it. He’s becoming impatient again and the idea that Harry’s just as caught up in this as he is is all he needs.

“Do you still wanna know?” he asks as Harry comes back in, now bare from the waist up, leaning in and kissing up Louis' neck. Louis dips his head back at the feeling off it all. “Why I called you that?”

“Only if you wanna tell me.” Harry brings his lips back to Louis’ again. Louis wiggles more insistently in his lap, liking the way his bare bum teases him. “You already know how much I love it, but only tell me if you feel comfortable, okay?”

He nods, understanding. Harry’s doing it right now and he doesn’t even realise it. “Mostly it’s just–” He inhales more sharply than what’s probably warranted as Harry places a reassuring hand on his lower back. “You taking care of me.”

“You like that?” Harry asks, and he's rubbing soothing circles in the soft skin of Louis’ hip. “Being taken care of?”

“Not used to it,” he swallows. He can feel himself getting hard again and he knows Harry must notice it too, as he’s naked and on display just for him, cock trapped between their two stomachs. The friction there is almost enough. “I’ve never called anyone else that before, ever really," he explains. "And you kept calling me baby and I really just, I loved it.”

“God, Louis,” Harry groans, and both of his hands are Louis’ waist now, holding him tightly. It seems as though it's their favorite place to rest. Louis couldn’t be more excited by the idea of that if he tried. “I can give that to you, baby. I wanna do that for you, always.”

"Yeah?" Louis answers, and his voice is higher like before, knowing where this is heading. The feeling of Harry fully hard under him is overloading his senses. "I want you to, please."

"Yeah," Harry kisses him, long and heated, hands holding with enough pressure that there might be hope for a few bruises. "Sit back just a minute, let me just."

Louis shuffles backwards, tripping over the sheets a little in his haste. Harry bends his knees up and hustles to pull his sweatpants off, but they get caught on his ankles in a tangle of fabric. Louis is laughing before he even realises it.

Harry huffs a frustrated sigh and Louis is still giggling. "A little help, please?" 

"Sorry, sorry," Louis manages, breathless and giddy. He feels warm all over and it feels so bright and happy, like spring rain pouring over them both. He gets his hands around the material at Harry's ankles and tugs it off, flopping back onto the mattress with the momentum of it.

Now Harry's laughing, swinging an arm over his eyes and losing it. His cackles fill the room and bounce back at them, and Louis' giggles join in again. Their own chorus of bliss.

"C'mere," Harry calls to him, his mouth turned up in a splitting grin. He still has his eyes covered but with his free hand he reaches out blindly for Louis. "I miss you already, come back to me."

Louis rolls his eyes at what a fool he's got on his hands, feeling his cheeks begin to ache from smiling. He crawls over him, but decides to take his time with it. He traces his fingers up the insides of Harry's calves, painting the strong definition of them like a canvas. He circles his knee caps, biting his lip as he saves the main view for a moment longer.

Harry's gone much more still under him, and Louis slows down even more at the idea of working him up further. He skirts his touch over the soft hair of Harry's thighs, dipping down to the inner muscle and feeling him jump ever so slightly. Harry's body is strong and built but so, so beautiful.

"You're beautiful." And well, you can't really blame a guy for stating the facts, can you? "I've always known that, but fuck, Harry."

"Lou," he hears, quiet and strained. It doesn't deter him though, and he finally sets his eyes on Harry's cock. He feels his stomach flush and something stronger than longing creep up and wrap around his bones. Harry's cock is laying against his hip, leaking and hard. He's been hard so many times tonight with no release and just the thought of it sends electricity up his spine.

"Wanna ride you," he breathes, still stating the facts.

Harry lets out a deep, throaty sound, and Louis sees the hard line of his jaw clench as he bites down into the flesh of his own bicep. Louis crawls up to where he can sit on Harry's lap again, circling his hips in small motions and digging his fingernails in at how big Harry feels under him, how much he wants it. He tells Harry as much and earns Harry's hands on his hips again as a response.

"God, baby, wanna fuck you.” Harry's words are like an untended fire on an August night, wild and careless, burning hot enough to match the stars. "Wanna make you feel amazing."

"Please," is all Louis can manage, shifting back and forth so that Harry's cock drags between his cheeks, Harry’s precome making the slide easy. Harry somehow manages to flip the switch within him like this, he's never been one to beg until now. "Please fuck me."

"Shit, let me just," Harry reaches over quickly and fumbles with something by the nightstand, a drawer maybe. He comes back and massages the skin of Louis' hips, and then his arse. He can feel the cold touch of the small foil packet and bottle against his skin. "Can you lift yourself up for me?"

Louis nods a bit frantically and draws himself up as Harry makes quick work of rolling the condom on.

"Are you open enough?" Harry meets his eyes where he's hovering, somehow looking earnest even as his eyes are blown with lust. It only serves to cause the warmth curling in Louis' stomach to grow. "Do you feel ready?"

"Yes, yeah," he responds as Harry squeezes lube over his length. "Please, c'mon."

Harry gives himself a few frantic pulls on his cock and nods up at him, giving him the go ahead. Louis positions himself and sinks down, and he thinks fleetingly that the feeling of it is like an ocean current, sweeping you away and stealing the breath from your chest. He can feel Harry tracing up and down his own cock where it’s now sliding into Louis’ hole and it’s all so much, but it’s fucking amazing.

Louis leans down and kisses him, two long drags of their lips before he has to pull back. Harry tenses below him and Louis watches as he bites his lip, loose curls covering his eyes as he breathes in and out jaggedly.  Harry's big though, is the thing, so as much as he'd love to have a good, long view of the man below him falling apart, he's a bit distracted.

"Uhh," he lets out as he sinks down fully. It's breathy and whiny, but in all honesty he kind of loves the way Harry can pull that out of him in a way no one else has ever been able to.

Once he’s fully seated he tucks his legs closer to Harry’s thighs and Harry’s hands rest on the back of his calves like a reassurance. Harry is leaned back into the pillows, and with a small noise and pouted lips, he beckons Louis to kiss him again. He feels himself fully accommodate to Harry’s size finally, so as he leans in and catches Harry’s lips again he rocks his hips back.

“Oh,” Harry breathes into his mouth.

Louis keeps rocking back because Harry’s stretching him perfectly and three years was absolutely, inconceivably too long to have to go without this. He presses his lips to Harry’s briefly once more before sitting back up.

“Christ,” he can barely hear himself as he grits it out. “You’re so big.”

He feels Harry’s reaction as the muscles of his abdomen jump beneath Louis’ fingers. He lifts himself up slightly so that he can come back down, and then again. One of Harry’s hands soothes over his side, comforting and sure in a way he must be coming to know that Louis loves. His other hand goes back to his own cock, running a friction over the base of it with a few of his fingers. And that does something for Louis that he doesn’t expect, because Harry is savoring the exact place where they’re joined.

“Baby, you’re perfect.” He meets Harry’s eyes again. “You’re doing so well, making me feel so good.”

Louis feels the praise go straight through him and settle in his stomach, making his skin flush with a new wave of heat. He holds himself up, keeping Harry in with just enough so that he doesn’t slip out, but he wants Harry to be able to give himself more. He hears him inhale sharply and work his fingers faster, brushing Louis’ hole on the upstroke. Harry grips himself steady and Louis sinks back down, feeling like a tidal pool, drowning and surfacing.

Then Harry’s hands are roaming over his arse, and Louis has to hold onto the hardwood of the headboard. A wire snaps inside of him as Harry grips his cheeks in both hands and that does it. He begins to work himself up and down on Harry’s cock, and the stretch of it is fantastic. The glide becomes easier with every canter of his hips, and he hears the bed shift beneath them from their increase in pace.

“Uh, yeah,” he hears, but his eyes are closed slightly now, his skin burning as he fucks himself down harder. He can feel Harry though, can feel his hands begin to roam again, making beautiful patterns as they smooth over Louis’ back and sides, again and again. He uses the headboard as leverage to rock himself back further, swiveling his hips subtly. “Yeah, angel, just like that.”

“Oh my god,” he bites back as Harry’s fingers tease over his hole again. He rolls his hips fully and clenches.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Harry manages on a broken note. One hand has come up to fist Louis’ hair now and he can’t take it any longer.

He sits back and lifts his legs forward so that his feet are placed soundly on the mattress. Harry’s hand is still cupping the back of his neck, trailing down his spine lightly. It’s certainly a contrast to where things are about to head. He reaches back blindly and grips the back of Harry’s thigh.

“Up, c’mon,” he pants.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Harry bends both his knees up so that he has some leverage. Louis leans forward again so that he’s shadowing over Harry now, biceps straining as he gets a firm hold on the headboard again.

His body is practically humming with it now, every touch a live wire, every sound a raging wind. “Fuck me, Daddy.”

(x) (x)

Harry breathes out on a lost breath, and Louis is washed over from head to toe with how striking he is like this. Hair sweat damp, cheeks a new shade of winter pink, and pale skin and muscle encompassing Louis at every corner.

Harry breaks loose now, wires snapping and cables flying free. He fucks up into Louis and the force of it beats the headboard against the wall, and it’s all he can do to hold on. It’s like he’s being taken apart bit by bit, and then Harry’s cock finds his prostate and this is it. This is everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“So good, Daddy, fuck.” He can’t keep it in, and he knows now how much Harry loves this, so there’s no way he can keep it bottled up inside. “Oh my god, oh god.”

“God, baby, you’re gorgeous, Louis, you’re so tight.”

Louis has to bow his head and he’s breathing fast now. “Y-yeah?” The headboard bangs loud and clear and he loves the sound of it.

“Yeah, so good, love, so good on Daddy’s cock.”

“Fuck,” his voice comes across high and jagged. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

But then Harry slows his thrusts and it’s like the morning sun cutting through the clouds. He hates it. His body responds with Harry’s all on it’s own, though. As Harry’s hips slow, his own descend again and he feels his hole clench greedily. He still has his hold on the headboard, so he rolls his hips and rises up again to sink back down, rise up, and descend again and again. Harry’s fingernails drag lightly in circles over his back, sending a rise of goosebumps over his skin. He fucks himself down onto Harry’s length and with every rise and fall he feels him go deeper and deeper.

He raises himself up higher than before, and he’s so distracted with the thought of slamming down hard onto him, that he goes too far. Harry’s cock slides out and they both exhale on a heavy breath. The loss of the feeling of having Harry inside of him seems to break something within him, some dam or floodgate.

“Please, I can’t,” he’s whimpering. “I need it.”

“You wanna come, angel?” Harry asks, voice lower as he slides his cock back inside.

“Yes,” he breathes, feeling filled up and full again.

“Yes who?”

Louis breathes out all shuddery and gone, gone, gone. “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry grips his hips this time, no more trailing touches or secret light kisses to the inside of Louis’ wrist. “Good boy.”

And then he’s giving Louis exactly what he needs. Harry fucks up into him, this time with a quicker snap in his stride and it’s deeper, so much deeper than before. Harry’s back is arching of the bed down and his breaths are coming quick, in time to the beat of the slap of their skin on skin. Harry finds his prostate again and he’s right there, teetering on the edge. His cock has been hard against his hip, dribbling precome down his thigh for what feels like ages.

“Yes, yes,” Louis’s chanting.

“Come for me, baby,” Harry grits out. “Wanna see you come apart.”

That does it, his hips break into something frantic and he fucks himself down onto Harry’s cock hard, tilting his head back and just feeling it, meeting Harry’s thrusts three more times before he’s coming. He feels it spurt up onto his belly and chest, his cock pulsing through it as he rocks his hips like a landslide.

“God, fuck,” Harry moans, and he fucks into Louis even faster as Louis’ hole clenches and unclenches to the spastic beat of his heart. With a cry of Louis’ name he’s tensing and coming, fucking himself through it, and Louis breathes out something broken at how good it all feels. How good they are together.

Louis’ arms shake and his breath is out of time, staccato in and out puffs as he comes down slowly from his high. He feels the aftershocks like burning out Christmas lights, tiny shocks of electricity contained within a transparent glass, flashes of white light fading into a peaceful silence. Below him, Harry's chest is rising and falling like the tide. His eyes are wide open and when Louis finally opens his own to peer down at him, he's met with a dopey smile. He feels a slow grin break over his own features, seeing the shine in Harry’s eyes.

He pries his grip from the headboard, sliding his slightly trembling fingers into Harry’s hair. He leans down and kisses Harry’s forehead, his nose, his cheeks, just light little things. Harry’s hand tugs at the hair at the base of his neck, and he joins their lips together. They kiss until Louis has to pull off of Harry’s cock, the drag of him becoming uncomfortable. Harry ties off the condom and tosses it into the trash, pulling Louis into his side.

“You’re amazing,” Harry kisses into the back of his neck.

“Can I stay?” Louis asks, quiet against Harry’s collarbone. He thinks maybe they’re twin tornadoes, their violent love silent until now.

Harry tugs him in tighter, tangling their legs together and draping an arm over Louis’ side as he pulls the duvet over them both. Louis snuggles back into him, warm, safe and sleepy. Harry’s breath is in his ear, and it feels like this is everything. This is home.

“Always,” Harry tells him.

Harry will be home now until the end of January, the longest he’s been grounded in over a year. Louis knows that they’ve got plenty of things to work out and sort through, but he isn’t worried. Somehow, with the winds dying in the frigid air outside, he knows that there will never be any wildfire that can burn as brightly as them.