#smrwine

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “‘m just nervous.”

“I know, baby,” Harry tells him, face softening in empathy. “But you have nothing to apologise for… . In a good way, though. Right?”

Louis trails his gaze up to meet Harry’s, whose kneeling on all fours in front of Louis, entirely bare and cock fully hard from where it curves upwards. He’s intimidating; his size is something Louis’s thought about, knew about, and Harry’s sent him photos of gripping it in his sweatpants whenever they’ve teased each other with dirty messages, but, Lord, it’s a whole other thing in reality. He wants this; there’s never been doubt about this. But it’s a fucking lot for his first time, and that’s what makes him nervous.

But he wants this.

“Of course,” he answers honestly. “I am. But, also, you’re just—”

He doesn’t finish.

“I know,” Harry repeats, gentler.

He stares at Louis with a soft shine reflecting lovingly in his eyes, making the green deceptively brighter, that it makes Louis want to nearly look away, because of the way his vulnerability pierces right through his breast bone. As Harry leans in, he cups Louis’s jaw in both hands, and then captures his mouth in a kiss so mind numbingly soft a comforting pool in his stomach begins to overflow his entire body, numbing not only his mind but his limbs, heart beating wildly.

Harry pulls away.

Louis blinks his eyes open.

“Remember what I told you,” he continues, “about just concentrating on relaxing your body? Do that, baby. Okay? Lie down, breathe, and trust me. We’ve talked about this.”

Louis nods, inhaling soft air.

He does as Harry says, lying his head against a pillow and moving his legs back, spreading them and bending his knees in the air.

Harry leans back.

He watches Louis make himself comfortable, then he leans down to give him a quick kiss before uncapping the lube, coating his fingers. Using his clean fingers, Harry grips his bum cheeks, touch tender and careful, and spreads him apart. It feels weird, for Louis, to be stretched so much, but he keeps his eyes on Harry, on his finger teasing the air around his hole.

A coolness disrupts his heat below, and Louis instinctively jerks, collapsing his knees together at the intrusion.

Harry looks up with concerned eyes.

“Baby?”

“It’s all right,” he says, swallowing, and spreads his knees again. “Sorry. It’s fine. It just felt—unexpected. I didn’t mean to.”

Harry kisses him on his inner thigh.

“It’s okay, angel,” he soothes Louis, “it will. Like I’ve said, if it’s too much, or you’re not feeling it, just say the word, and I’ll stop, no questions asked.”

He kisses along Louis’s thighs more, and Louis lets it confort him, ease his nerves and the anticipation that’s crawling along his veins like sandpaper. Harry spreads his bum, this time, far more slowly, and rubs his thumb and fingers against his skin, as if a way to sort of prepare him, again, and relax him simultaneously.

He’s had his own fingers up his arse, but, fuck, it’s a one-eighty difference and overwhelming sensation to have someone else’s fingers like this.

Louis fights hard not to jerk as Harry touches the outer skin.

It feels fucking weird.

But he keeps breathing in and out, concentrating hard as Harry tenderly rubs his hole and, now, kisses his bum sweetly.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks.

Louis breathes in. One, two, three. Breathes out. “Fine,” he answers honestly.

Harry gives him another kiss.

“I’m gonna stick my finger in, now, okay?” he warns softly. “Just the tip. Then I’ll give you more whenever you tell me.”

Louis can only nod.

He feels Harry’s tip nudge in carefully, and though it isn’t bad, he can’t help making a face. But it, also, doesn’t feel like enough, and he has to work himself and his vocal chords up enough to speak. It takes several moments.

“More, please,” he says quietly.

Harry meets his eye, and he feels flushed in his neck and has to look away.

“You don’t have to be shy,” Harry tells him kindly. “You can ask me anything, and I’ll give it to you.”

That makes Louis flush more.

Harry moves his finger farther, an inch, then stops. But it’s still not enough, and Louis tells him again, receiving another inch. He feels fuller, now, and better, and he nods at Harry, giving him a small smile and a that’s good that makes Harry smile in return. Any more, and he knows his walls would start tugging and being stubborn, refusing.

“You can, um … move,” he adds. “Around.”

He says it slightly stilted, shy, and he’s trying not to think so much about his words as Harry moves his finger.

Harry uses his other hand to pull at the outer skin of hole, and he shifts his finger side to side, circling his walls and gently pulling away to push in. As time passes, it feels better, and Louis doesn’t have to focus on breathing so much, his walls loosening with each tender brush of Harry’s finger.

“Feel good yet, darling?” Harry asks. “You’re being so good, and taking all of this so well, and behaving so nicely and being completely honest with me. I appreciate it wholeheartedly, and I hope you know I’m enjoying this, too.”

He feels fucking ridiculous for feeling like he could tear up at Harry’s soft, loving voice praising him.

“Are you?” Louis can’t help ask.

Harry kisses somewhere near his stuffed hole, and he whines.

“Of course, baby,” he answers. He sounds so sincere, it softens Louis’s core and has his cheeks flushing. “I’m having the time of my life making sure you’re okay and that you’re enjoying yourself. My pleasure lies in pleasuring you.”

The last line walks out of his mouth in all red, heels and silk, voice low and seductive, and goosebumps trail his arms and legs.

Tip throbbing, Louis whines, again.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Harry murmurs, lifting his head, eyes dark, heavy.

Louis feels his walls loosen further as Harry fingers him at different slow pacings, this one on the faster side. He teases by dipping a little farther, pulling away until its just the pad of his finger, and pushing his entire finger back in. The breath in Louis’s throat catches when he crooks his finger, whine higher pitched, and a smirk comes alive on Harry’s face.

“Try a second finger,” Louis tells him.

Harry’s eyebrows rise.

“You sure, baby?”

“Positive,” he says on an exhale.

Harry watches him, a small moment, then pauses his fingering to gently ease a second finger in under the first one.

It burns. Louis’s mouth drops open. But it’s bearable; it’s a weird sort of hurt. He’s so much fuller, and he likes that, but it’s more overwhelming than just a single finger. He breathes in, spreading his legs farther without thinking about it, and shifts both hands towards under his thighs to grip them; and he pulls at the meat of his bum, trying to take more.

Harry appears to have noticed, his lips pressing against the knuckles of one of Louis’s hands in a kiss. “What are you doing, love?” he asks.

“D’know,” Louis mumbles.

“Yes, you do,” Harry calls him out, “tell me.”

Louis bites his bottom lip.

“Trying to take more,” he confesses belatedly, looking at the ceiling.

There’s not a reply right away, and Harry’s fingers begin to shift inside, Louis’s walls and hole fighting to adjust to two fingers. “Are you?” Harry asks when Louis’s beginning to think he did something wrong. “How well are you handling it?”

It could be a genuine question, but there’s something in Harry’s tone that’s making him rethink it.

Harry doesn’t give him time.

“You seem like you’re struggling, baby. What’s gonna happen when you get my cock, then? Gonna do everything you can to get all of it, because you’re selfish, then whine and complain when you can’t?”

Jesus, fuck.

Louis’s hard cock twitches, lips parting.

He tries too late to mute the sound in his throat. They’ve discussed in full depth kinks, and Louis did sheepishly admit dirty talk was one he liked and wanted to explore more of, but he hadn’t thought about it during his first time; it tingles his nerves, exciting the hair on his biceps and the backs of his legs.

“I can take it,” he promises.

“Can you?”

Louis nods. “Yes,” he says confidently.

“Okay, angel,” Harry says.

Louis lies there, whining and moaning occasionally whenever Harry goes too deep, and lets Harry finish opening him up. It takes time, but he’s content to let Harry touch him all over and kiss his thighs and bum all he wants, so long as he never goes away. He asks Louis questions on how he’s doing consistently, making sure he’s all right, but that’s it.

“Harry,” he whimpers at one point, when his dick is hurting from being hard for so long.

Harry eases his fingers out.

“What? You want my cock already, baby? Tired of my fingers?”

Fuck.

He loves Harry’s hands, his thick fingers, the rings he always wears, but he really fucking needs his cock inside his ass.

Fingers aren’t adequate anymore.

“Please,” he begs, voice cracking.

He looks at Harry with eyes he knows are growing wet, a desperation distorting his features, and Harry gazes back at him, lips parted and green eyes shining in their own liquid and the dim lighting of the bedroom, awe blending into the heavy lust that hazes his vision. He moves to hover over Louis, now, not caring where he places his dirty fingers, and leans down to kiss Louis.

Movements deep, emotion drugged into each drag of their mouths, it’s a long kiss. Harry’s got control over it, gripping Louis’s chin firmly with his fingers and silently commanding him to kiss back the same, getting lost in all the ways Harry’s telling him how he adores him with his tongue.

Then Harry pulls back.

He quite literally drags his lips down and away to sit back on his knees, staring down at Louis as he lazily runs a hand through his short curls, his tongue over his lower lip.

Louis nearly whimpers.

He watches Harry open a condom and pull it over himself, and then lubricate himself.

His fear from earlier returns, though far less where he’s not trembling with nerves anymore. But he can’t stop staring. Harry’s cock is so stiff and red, and Louis notices a bluish vein underneath stretching from right to the base to almost his head that strains against his pale skin. It makes him nervous all over again, to want to crawl out of his skin, but he, also, wants to be forcefully moved by Harry onto his stomach and have his legs spread as far as they can go, so, that he can devour every fucking inch Harry has and be fucked so hard that he cries.

“You all right baby?” Harry asks.

His voice and eyes are tender, as he smoothes some of Louis’s hair back.

Louis swallows.

“Nervous, but,” he says, low, “I want this.”

The sweetest softness melts so clearly into the smile he’s giving Louis, now.

“Just remember—”

“Just say the word,” he echoes Harry’s words.

Harry chuckles.

“Exactly, honey,” he agrees.

He kisses Louis a last time before he lines himself up. The head entering him is different to Harry’s fingers, but it doesn’t burn quite yet. Harry did a really good job opening him that it’s all right so far; but he has to stop himself from pushing back to get more because of the anticipation boiling in him, the eagerness to just have it all at once. It’s fucking difficult to not just curve his back and bum up into the air, either, in response to what little he’s receiving.

Don’t be selfish, baby, he hears Harry say in his head. He almost wants to give him a reason to say it.

When Harry starts to give him more, that’s when Louis starts to burn. His cock is wider and harder than his fingers, and it fills him in a way they never could, and he finds himself crying out.

Harry pauses.

“Too much?” Harry says right away, looking at him. “Want me to pull out a little, baby? What do you need?”

Louis’s shaking his head.

“Just—stay put,” he answers.

Harry understands.

He comes back to hover over Louis in the mean time to give him sweet, little kisses all over his jaw, neck, and face, whispering praise against Louis’s skin as he adjusts to Harry. He, slowly and with caution, pushes in a little more when Louis tells him it’s all right — and it takes several minutes for it to be all in, pausing every other move for Louis to get used to it.

“Fuck,” Louis curses under his breath.

He’s so fucking stuffed.

Harry’s knuckle brushes his cheekbone. “What is it, baby?”

“Nothing,” Louis says, licking his bottom lip, “I just feel like a stuffed turkey on Christmas.”

A grin breaks across Harry’s face, and his soft puffs of amusement turn into silent laughter shaking his shoulders.

“God,” he finally breathes, “that’s a fucking image to have.”

Louis shrugs.

“Well, it’s true,” he says.

He’s struggling not to smile, himself, but it’s hard when Harry’s still smiling, shaking his head at Louis.

“Move.”

“You sure?” Harry asks.

But he starts moving, anyway, and Louis ignores his question. He pulls back and pushes in, slow as a snail, and Louis breathes in and out in steady, silent breaths, just as he did earlier. It’s a weird mixture of sore and uncomfortable, but it’s not bad. It gets better the longer as it goes on, and as he keeps a steady breathing pace, and the pain of the stretch eventually eases.

“Go a little faster,” Louis murmurs, lifting a hand to grip Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hums.

His breath hitches as Harry picks up, a little less than shallow, and Harry’s head perks up, hearing it.

“That feel good, baby?” he says, voice husky.

Louis moans, small and light.

The way Harry feels inside is nothing a dildo could compare to; it’s fucking weak in comparison. The slide of him is smooth, hot, wet, and it’s real; Jesus, it’s probably even better without a condom blocking the direct contact, but this is already indescribable. He just wants it hard, but feeling the slow drag of him completely  against every nerve is a hot sensation.

Any power dissolves in the acid of his stomach, falling from his spine and chest, and he feels himself open farther up to Harry’s cock, instinctively allowing him to take it from Louis and do as he pleases.

“Please,” Louis pleads quietly.

But he can’t say it; there are no words to express what he’s feeling.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Harry kindly instructs. “I’m not a mind reader. Which is unfortunate, actually — or maybe not, because I feel like you’d hate that.”

“I would,” Louis agrees, then moans as a sensitive spot is brushed when Harry thrusts in. “Please, be harder, but stay at this pace, okay? Slow. But deep and hard.”

Harry nods.

“You got it, baby,” he says.

Louis’s mouth falls open, instantly, at the rough thrust he’s hit with. It stings from how deep Harry goes, but, God, a part of him fucking loves it. Jesus, he’s questioning how he was fucking nervous before this when all it does is make him cry and ache in the best fucking way now that his body’s opened up to it and wanting to take as much of Harry as he can, like an instinct to submit to him.

Harry seems to notice, too, judging by the way he’s staring down at Louis.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, baby?” he coos. “Huh? You like it sweet and slow, but with an edge?”

Harry keeps brushing against such a fucking sensitive spot that Louis makes cry out, his cock spurting precome, and the knots of heat in his pelvis keep being tugged at, growing closer to his groin with each thrust.

He’s not gonna last.

“Harry,” he pants, “‘m close.”

All that does is make Harry fuck into him harder, deeper, and, Jesus, that ache deep inside soaks sweetness into him every time.

“Come, baby,” Harry provokes sweetly, leaning down to kiss all over him. “You can do it, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good boy for me; you’ve been doing so amazing, Christ, I don’t know how I got to deserve you. But I’m so lucky. I love you.”

Louis comes undone.

He comes all over himself and Harry’s chest, his back arching, as Harry fucks him through it.

Harry’s careful in pulling out, but Louis still winces, left feeling uncomfortable and empty and fucking sore. He watches Harry pull the rubber off and wank until he’s coming all over Louis’s stomach, mouth open and eyes fluttering shut.

If Louis hadn’t just came, he would’ve now.

“Did you really just tell me you love me?” he asks, barely giving them a second of silence.

Harry’s flush deepens.

“I don’t exactly have a tape recorder to play it back for you,” he speaks airily, “but I’m pretty sure I said that, yeah.”

“As you take my virginity?”

“Virginity is a fucked up concept I don’t believe in,” Harry counters.

He then takes Louis by surprise by cupping his face, capturing his mouth in a kiss. It’s reminiscent of the one he’d given him before putting a condom on, though this is softer, Harry’s mouth tender with his affection and melting Louis’s core and subsequently the rest of his bones.

Parting, Louis blinks his eyes.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, looking up to meet Harry’s gaze.