~*~ Holly ~*~

♥ Oh, do you know you have the face of a genius? :) ♥


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1D Fanfiction - Like This (and Twist) (Harry/Louis)
Bill Nails
hollybennett123

Title: Like This (and Twist)
Rating: NC17
Genre and/or Pairing: PWP - Harry/Louis
Warnings: None
Kinks: Anal, dirty talk, fingerfucking, prostate stimulation
Word Count: 3,395
Notes: What's that? Another fill for the 2015 1D Kink Meme? But of course! This time for the prompt requesting Harry fingerfucking Louis to orgasm, with bonus prostate stimulation/milking (the filthier the better). It's pretty filthy, I hope. At first I struggled a bit to get going with this, but then it took off and I really enjoyed it! My first time writing this pairing and still finding my feet with it I think. I particularly love writing Louis in any context, though, in case you couldn't tell. SO much fun ♥
Summary: That’s not what they’re supposed to be doing though; not what Louis’ been angling for all day, whispering low and dirty into Harry’s ear and trailing lingering touches across the insides of his wrists.

“Fair point,” Louis shrugs idly, pushing up on his elbows briefly for a kiss. It’s just a soft, dry brush of lips, Harry’s eyes dropping closed for a moment at the burr of friction, but it’s charged and electric all the same. “Can I have your fingers then?

(Harry has beautiful hands. Louis makes use of them.)


It’s ridiculous, Louis thinks, settling back against the headboard. Harry’s sat cross-legged on the bed with his back to Louis, headband on and shirt unbuttoned over his skinny jeans as he hums quietly to himself. He’s working each of his rings off with slow, languid twists of his fingers and dropping them one by one into the small ceramic bowl on the bedside table, and the steady clink-clink-clink goes straight to Louis’ cock, already hot and hard and jerking in his trackies like some kind of fucked up Pavlovian response. It’s not like the sound is even sexual in and of itself, it’s just -- yeah. Louis knows what comes after.

Harry drops the last of his rings into the bowl, a pretty, ornate thing that clatters against the ones below it; unfolding his limbs, he stands up next to the bed and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders as Louis watches the flex of muscle across his naked back. Louis’ pulling his own t-shirt off and reaching inside his trackies to give his cock a couple of leisurely pulls before he even thinks about it, but now his hand’s in there it might as well stay there. Harry’s still not even looking at him and is now honest-to-god folding his fucking shirt; it’s not exactly Louis’ fault if he has to take matters into his own hands sometimes.

When Harry finally does turn around, climbing onto the bed on his knees, his eyes drop to the movement of Louis’ hand and he crawls forward, biting his lower lip and kneeling between Louis’ spread legs.

Fuck, Lou,” Harry breathes, his eyes wide and intense when they flick briefly up to Louis’ face and back down again. “You couldn’t wait?”

He asks it like a genuine question; says it like it’s the best fucking thing, like he can’t even handle the fact that Louis’ so eager for Harry’s fingers that he can’t keep his hands off his cock. It’s how it generally goes, though, the inevitable result of Harry’s innate slowness in getting ready and the fact that Louis lacks anything resembling patience even at the best of times. What always gets to Louis, though, is that Harry still sounds as awed as the first time, every time.

Louis simply raises his eyebrows with a small smile, enjoying getting Harry worked up a bit. He spreads his legs wider, bracketing Harry with his knees, and shoves his trackies down at the front to expose the slow drag of his hand up and down the length of his prick. Harry watches intently, getting a hand on each of Louis’ bent knees, warmth of his palms bleeding through the fabric.

“Hey,” Louis says, drawing a leg up and placing his foot slowly and carefully over the bulge of Harry’s cock where it’s half hard in his jeans. Holding Harry’s gaze, Louis applies a gentle pressure and bites back a pleased laugh when Harry’s eyes go hazy and unfocused, lips parting around a gasp. “You keeping these on, love?” Louis asks him, curling his toes into the denim pointedly.

“Mm?” Harry says. He tilts his head and looks at Louis, curls bouncing where they aren’t quite contained by his headband. “Oh. Yeah. Keeping ‘em on.”

It works better like that, usually, Harry keeping his jeans on; less of a distraction for both of them. Louis’ always reckoned it can’t be at all comfortable, prolonging the ache, but then Harry’s always been a bit of a masochist, and says he doesn’t mind. Says he likes it.

“You going to help me get these off, then?” Louis asks him, and Harry hooks his thumbs into Louis’ jogging bottoms obligingly, pulling them down as Louis lifts his hips for him. Harry pauses for a second with them in his hand. “You even think about folding those, and I will actually kick you in the balls,” Louis scowls, snatching them from him and throwing them across the room.

Harry frowns at him, pouting a little bit because he’s ridiculous, and Louis laughs and pulls him down on top of him so he can press their lips together. Harry holds himself up on his arms so he can lower himself into it as Louis fists one hand in Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on it a bit as he brings his legs up to rest loosely against Harry’s hips, denim scratching softly at his inner thighs.

He feels small like this, and slightly vulnerable, when he’s completely naked and Harry isn’t; looming over him, surrounding him completely. He gets off on it so fucking hard, is the thing. He likes the push-pull of power between them, Harry going from submissive and awestruck to dominant and composed and back again within minutes.

It isn’t long before Harry’s mouth moves from Louis’ lips to his neck, his curls brushing against Louis’ throat as he trails kisses from his ear down to the dip of his collarbones. “Fuckin’ hell, you smell so good, Lou.”

Louis only got out of the shower about fifteen minutes ago, skin still flushed warm and smelling of soap, so he’d bloody well hope so. He makes a little sound of agreement that comes out an octave higher than intended as Harry bites him gently, a flat scrape of teeth below his ear afterwards to make him shiver despite the warmth of the room.

Harry finds his lips and kisses him again, wet and sloppy as he drops down onto one forearm so he can work the other hand into his jeans to adjust himself. It’s stupidly hot. “Shit,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s mouth, wrapping his legs around his waist properly and trying to encourage Harry’s hips forwards so he can grind his cock against him. “Fucking hell, come here.”

Harry goes with it for a moment, panting harshly into Louis’ mouth, but then he’s pulling back and holding himself up so there’s space between them as Louis bucks upwards into nothing with a frustrated sound.

“You’re an idiot, y’know,” Harry tells him, shaking his head. “You spend all day telling me how much you want me to fuck you with my fingers ‘til you come, then you start trying to get me all wound up.”

Louis gives an exasperated sigh and flicks a thumb over one of Harry’s nipples. “Your point?”

“You’re naked underneath me, spreading your fucking legs for me and trying to get me to grind against you while I’ve still got my hand on my cock?” Harry drawls, his voice all sex-rough and deep, sitting back on his heels. “You keep doing that and I’ll end up fingering you for, like, thirty seconds before I unzip my jeans and fuck you right here. Is my point.”

Louis’ cock twitches against his stomach, pleasure spiking low in his belly; it sounds so fucking tempting. Harry could just get his cock out right now, finger Louis open, throw his legs over his shoulders and shag him into the mattress until Louis comes all over himself with Harry’s massive cock still splitting him open. That’s not what they’re supposed to be doing though; not what Louis’ been angling for all day, whispering low and dirty into Harry’s ear and trailing lingering touches across the insides of his wrists.

“Fair point,” Louis shrugs idly, pushing up on his elbows briefly for a kiss. It’s just a soft, dry brush of lips, Harry’s eyes dropping closed for a moment at the burr of friction, but it’s charged and electric all the same. “Can I have your fingers then?”

“Not sure you deserve them,” Harry murmurs, cupping Louis’ cock with his big, warm hand as Louis’ breath hitches, hips starting up a steady rhythm and rocking up against Harry’s palm lazily.

“But you’ll give me ‘em anyway because I’m fucking amazing?” Louis coaxes, dragging his fingernails gently down Harry’s arm and admiring the pretty red lines he makes before they fade.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” Louis smirks, touching the tips of his fingers to Harry’s jaw and disarming him completely. Harry just blinks slowly at him and then smiles, openly and beautifully. Louis loves it – the way he can throw him completely sometimes with a few carefully chosen and entirely truthful words.

“You want to be on your hands and knees for me?” Harry asks him.

Louis nods, murmurs yeah, and Harry sits back to let him turn over onto his stomach and push back on his hands so he’s on all fours. Harry gets his hands on him before he has chance to settle, handling him roughly from behind to position his hips where he wants them; Louis goes with it, all pliant and easy, blood running hotter at being put in his place.

“God, Lou, you look incredible. Your body’s just – really, really perfect,” Harry breathes, hands turning gentle and reverent as they stroke down Louis’ back.

“C’mon,” Louis murmurs, dipping his head and hiding his smile against his bicep rather than counter the compliment, body taut with anticipation now that he’s in this position.

Harry leans over to the bedside table and opens the drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and grabbing a blanket which he unfolds and spreads on the bed under Louis. If it were up to Louis, he’d not bother and then he’d kick off afterwards about wet patches and ruining the duvet and other boring shit which he doesn’t want to think about right now, but luckily he’s got Harry, who brings a much appreciated level of responsibility and foresight to the bedroom. He’s proper organised, is Harry Styles.

“Come on,” Louis mutters under his breath, but Harry ignores him from where he’s kneeling behind him, warming the bottle of lube between his hands for a few moments before uncapping it with a click and slicking up a couple of fingers. It’s still cold when Harry strokes a wet fingertip over Louis’ hole, but not uncomfortably so; just a thrill of sensation that has him gasping and trying to push back against Harry’s hand. Harry doesn’t let him, though, turning his palm sideways and trailing down the cleft of his arse with the flat edge of his little finger. It’s nice, the slow drag of skin against skin and firm pressure, but it’s all on and not in and it’s not enough.

Louis’ about to start begging for it when Harry suddenly lets the tip of one finger dip in and out, gone as quickly as it went in, and it feels amazing, even that little hint of being filled. Harry squeezes more lube out onto his fingers, getting them nice and wet, and as Louis exhales he pushes his index finger all the way in, an easy slide that has Louis’ eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds.

“Fuck, Haz, that’s it,” he breathes as Harry starts up a gentle rhythm with one finger, a second teasing lightly around the rim but not pushing inside yet. It’d go in easy as anything if he tried it, it’s not like Louis needs all that much prep really, but Harry working him slowly until he’s desperate for it is all part of what makes it that much more intense.

When he finally does add the second, he gets both fingers in deep, sliding in sudden and sweet until his knuckles bump up against the rim of him. Louis cries out, cock jerking wetly and bumping up against his stomach, smearing wet over his abs and dripping onto the blanket.

“Jesus, Hazza, get ‘em right in there, why don’t you,” he groans.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Harry says roughly, brushing his fingers lightly and deliberately over Louis’ prostate in contrast. It’s infuriating; nowhere near what he needs and yet an obvious hint at what he could have. “My fingers in your gorgeous arse, deep as I can get them.”

“Yes, Christ,” Louis breathes, arching his back enticingly. “Fuck me, I fucking need it.”

Harry gets his free hand on Louis’ hip, holding him in place, crowding in close behind him on his knees, and then he’s crooking his fingers just right and rubbing, delicious pressure right where Louis needs it most. It gets him so hard so quickly that he’s dizzy with it, come leaking everywhere and making a mess as his hips stutter, Harry milking it out of him sure and effortless.

Harry’s watching him, shoving his fingers in and out roughly a few times to get Louis gasping out loud before turning it more gentle, massaging him from the inside to draw the pleasure out and eyeing the slow, steady drip of come onto the blanket.

“Seems like a waste, y’know?” Harry says from behind him, sounding thoughtful. “Imagine. Like, if I just –” he continues, and sometimes he talks so fucking slowly when he’s like this that Louis wants to slap his face a little. “If like, one day I got you on all fours on top of me. And I just played with your arse like that, fucking the come out of you and into my mouth so I could swallow it all?”

He rubs the pads of his fingers in a little circle, come pearling out of the slit of Louis’ cock; Louis imagines it drooling down into Harry’s willing mouth, spilling down his chin, and shudders.

“Disgusting, Haz. The filthy fucking mouth on you,” Louis says unsteadily, heat prickling along the back of his neck and flushing his neck and chest hot with arousal. Harry gets the tip of his lovely long thumb behind Louis’ balls and massages there as he fucks Louis insistently with his fingers, and the sound Louis makes is embarrassingly close to a sob.

“Is that a no, then?” Harry says, a knowing tilt to his voice. God, he’s fucking mental; the dirtiest fucker Louis’ ever known. It’s not a no, they’ll probably do it tomorrow, and Harry makes an amused little sound like he knows it.

Harry keeps Louis there a while, toying with him, but eventually he’s working a third finger inside him and Louis feels like he’s about to actually fucking cry with how good it feels; pressing his palms into the duvet, he rocks back against Harry’s hand, letting out a tight little groan through gritted teeth.

Harry fucks into him with fast, rough thrusts, blunt jabs at his prostate that have Louis swearing under his breath. He’s fingering him like he’s shagging him from behind now, hand on his waist to haul him back, jean-clad thighs bumping against the back of Louis’ legs. It’s intoxicating.

“Fucking love it when I get to take you like this,” Harry says breathlessly. Louis doesn’t know whether he’s talking about his fingers or his cock, but either way he agrees with the sentiment.

Harry groans softly under his breath when Louis tightens around his fingers, the hand on Louis’ waist gripping tight enough to leave marks; he always manages to hold out only so long, starting off like he’s unaffected by it, teasing Louis ‘til he can barely take any more, but then Harry gets himself all desperate and hard like it’s just too much.

Louis drops down onto his elbows, steep curve to his spine, and Harry groans behind him, rubbing the bulge of his cock against Louis’ arse cheek and probably getting himself covered in lube in the process. Harry’s a fucking idiot; he can’t handle it. He never can. It’s hot as hell, though, the desperation Louis can feel coming off him.

“God, I need to come, Haz, make me come,” Louis grits out. “Fuck, get your hand on my cock, please.”

He could come just from Harry’s fingers, if he wanted, but he hasn’t got the patience today, too far fucking gone. Harry draws his palm down over Louis’ arse and Louis realises what he’s about to do a fraction of a second before he actually does it, bringing his hand down and giving Louis a short, hard slap that has him shuddering and gasping Harry’s name.

He’s so close, so ridiculously close, Harry’s fingers still relentlessly working his arse, and it only takes a couple of strokes with Harry’s hand wrapped around his cock before he’s coming, biting down on his wrist with a muffled groan and adding to the puddle of come beneath him. He’s seeing fucking stars behind his eyelids, the pleasure white-hot and endless, and it takes him a minute to come back down from it, chest heaving and body trembling. He’s distantly aware of Harry moving the blanket from underneath him and wiping his hands off before coming to kneel next to Louis.

Louis rolls over onto his back, looking up at Harry, who looks almost as wrecked as Louis feels right now. He feels strung out, simultaneously buzzing and exhausted; it’s wild.

Harry straddles Louis’ thighs carefully, settling his weight against them, and Louis’ momentarily distracted by the mouth-wateringly obvious outline of his cock in his jeans.

“You’re shaking,” Harry says quietly. “Are you, like -- do you need me to do anything?” He fits the fingers of one hand against Louis’ ribs, his knuckles vibrating slightly with the tremors of Louis’ body.

“I’m fine, Haz,” Louis tells him. It’s not exactly the first time he’s ended up like this, and besides, he feels fucking amazing. “It’ll go in a minute - it were just a bit intense. Wouldn’t say no to you snogging my face off right now, though.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, blanketing Louis’ body with his own and kissing him thoroughly. He’s got one hand in Louis’ hair, grounding him, and the other finds Louis’ wrist, pressing it to the bed behind Louis’ head and pinning him in place. Now that Louis’ come, it’s sexy without being overwhelming, helping him clear his head a bit. His body feels relaxed and warm all over, the shaking subsiding. Arousal pools low in his belly, but it doesn’t feel like it needs to go anywhere; just a lovely, enjoyable thrum of pleasure.

Harry, on the other hand, is clearly holding back, and Louis can feel the hard pressure of his cock throbbing against him; he’s tense and jumpy, and he feels like he’s losing control of himself. Louis smiles against Harry’s mouth, pulling back a fraction so they’re breathing together, hot and humid and close.

“D’you want to fuck my mouth, sweetheart?” Louis asks him, all casual-like. “Seems like the sort of thing you’d like, all desperate and hard for me like that.”

Harry actually whimpers against his mouth, shoving the hot line of his cock down against Louis’ leg hard and nasty. Louis’ cruel like that, pulling at threads to unravel what little self-control Harry still has. He can’t help himself.

Harry scrambles up onto his knees, still straddling Louis’ thighs, and unbuttons his jeans with unsteady hands as he takes quiet, shuddering breaths. Louis licks his lips, wet and shiny and inviting as he looks at Harry’s cock, pulsing fat and hot in the grip of Harry’s hand. Harry’s just sitting there, eyes dark and glazed with want, waiting for Louis to give him explicit permission to use his mouth.

“God, look at you,” Louis says, smooth as silk, voice gone all low and teasing because he’s got the upper hand. “You’re just gagging for it, aren’t you, love?” Harry makes a tiny little noise in his throat at the word ‘gagging’, squeezing the base of his dick between forefinger and thumb as his breath comes a little harsher and come on; Louis wasn’t even trying with that one.

Harry looks about ten seconds from accidentally nutting off into his own hand and Louis wants to laugh at him for even getting himself in such a state. Then again, given Louis was begging to come mere minutes ago it’d maybe be a tad hypocritical. He doubts Harry would even notice if he laughed at him right now anyway, and that’s no fun.

Louis shifts back up against the pillows to get comfortable, grabbing an extra one to prop him up at just the right height for Harry when he’s kneeling. Settling back, he lets his tongue push fleetingly into his cheek like a filthy promise as Harry’s eyes track the movement, getting his hands on Harry’s legs to encourage him forward.

“Come on, then. Have at it, sweetheart.”



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