The White Toymaker

Relatively smutty one-shot. 

Warning for mature content, so please do not continue if you don’t want to read it. 

AN: RPF is so awkward to write sometimes. As you may know, I’ve removed some of the details this chapter had in order to make it into a one-shot, so I’m afraid that the smut-to-logic ratio may have shifted somewhere along the way. This is either too explicit or not very explicit at all, I’m not sure which, but please, if anyone asks, this is for purely educational purposes.

Also, these one-shots are not going to become a habit, and I may still continue this as the full story, so please, please don’t send me any smut/mature requests. I’m spontaneously combusting with embarrassment at the mere thought of it, so really, please don’t. 

—

“… and I’ve only really had the salmon once, but that was with my friend Charlotte and she was actually trying to be a vegan at the time, and she didn’t know that that meant she had to stop eating fish as well.”

“Uh, huh,” Harry mumbled, masochistically gesturing for her to continue with a wave of his hand.

“So instead she had to order this terrible eggplant dish that had vegetables all packed inside and it was dripping with fat and oil just everywhere, it was disgusting.”

Harry didn’t want to seem rude, but he felt fairly certain that this the worst date he had ever been on in his entire life. It also happened to be the first date he had been able to go on in over a month, given their recently hectic schedules, which would perhaps explain how he could have possibly overlooked the fact that the cute, cheerful girl he had met at a club the other night was actually the most boring specimen of the female gender he had ever come across.

In the first fifteen minutes after they arrived at the restaurant, she had spent almost all of them detailing each of the dishes that she had eaten here before as she slowly eliminated each one as a possible choice for tonight’s meal. She had not merely chosen to skip over them and move on, which Harry might have been okay with, but instead she decided to give an in-depth analysis and even include an anecdote to explain why she was not having that dish on this particular date. At first, he had thought it was cute; he had considered the possibility that she was simply talking away her nervousness, so that they could break the ice and move on without awkwardness. However, when she did not let up, and instead continued talking about each individual section an essay-length description, he had come to the horrible realisation that he was trapped with a girl who seemed more interested in the sound of her own voice than in him.

But, not wanting to hurt her feelings, he had asked after her life and what her interests were, and for a time, that had worked. He diverted her attention long enough so that, while she was still talking without taking a single break for air, at least she was talking about the fishing trip she had recently undertaken with her uncle and not the contents of the menu.

Unfortunately, that story had led her back to the seafood section, and Harry was now caught in a daydream in which he elected not to let her choose the restaurant for their date and simply fled at the suggestion that they go out for dinner.

He very nearly kissed the waiter that arrived with their food – despite the fact that he was a man and wearing a gold wedding band on his finger – for the simple reason that it seemed impossible that she could talk at such a high speed while eating at the same time. Inevitably, he was proven wrong and then felt mixed feelings of both disgust and fascination with the way that she continued chatting around her mouthful. He could only be grateful that it made her eat faster, and his eyes strayed to the clock on the far wall as he waited for the whole thing to end.

—

Later, when he finally escaped – narrowly avoiding her subtle invitation to come back to her house for the night – Harry went straight into Louis’ room and flopped face-down on the bed beside his friend. Louis was sitting up in the cushions, the muted TV flickering on in the background while his thumbs flashed over the keyboard of his mobile.

“I take it your date went well, then?” he asked dryly, without looking up from the text he was tapping out.

Harry shook his head as he pulled his head out of the covers, and then rolled himself into the spot beside his housemate, tucking his legs under him. “What gave you that idea? And before you answer, please bear in mind that you’ve been sitting in bed on a Friday night with the telly on while I went on a date.”

“I’ll have you know that I have been texting an attractive, emotionally vulnerable brunette for several hours now,” Louis replied haughtily, lifting both eyebrows.

Harry didn’t miss a beat. “So how isZayn doing?”

In truth, he would have been able to guess who Louis had been texting even without the joking set-up to lead him into it. Their friend had been recently dumped by the girl he had been seeing, before any of the lads had even had a chance to meet her in person, and Zayn had fallen into a very slight depression because of it.

“He’s trying to convince me to go buy him another tub of ice-cream,” Louis replied casually, and then pressed the send button with a small flourish before tossing his mobile into Harry’s lap, the files already open and waiting to be read. “As far as I can tell, he’s been moping around the house and debating whether or not he should actually delete her number from his phone or wait until he’s absolutely sure that they are never getting back together.”

“This is the girl we never actually got to meet, right?”

“That’s the one.” For the first time, Louis blinked and then turned to meet Harry’s gaze with a sympathetic expression. “Sorry your date went badly, by the way. I had been hoping that you’d actually be out for the rest of the night, and no offense, but you really needed that one, mate.”

The younger boy had already lifted the phone to glance over the text, but at Louis’ last words, his head shot up so he could stare at him. “How could possibly know that?” he demanded indignantly.

Lou just laughed at him. “Because I know you, Harry. That and you’ve been having twenty-minute-long showers for the past week, and I saw how you were wriggling the other day when you had to put on those tight trousers. We’ve been living together for a fair while now; I do notice these things, unfortunately.” Sighing, Harry neither accepted nor denied those claims, and the older boy smiled briefly at that. “Believe me - If I could remain blissfully unaware of your libido, I would, but it seems that’s not on the cards for either of us.”

Harry waited several seconds before he said, “Remind me to start showering while you’re nowhere near the house.”

Louis laughed. “Gladly. Although…” he said suddenly, pausing for a few brief seconds. Then, he tipped his head over to meet Harry’s gaze with a tiny shrug of his shoulder. “You know I could always take care of it for you, if you’d like me to.”

Snorting under his breath, Harry began, “You’re just going to take care of my –” Then, he blinked and stopped short mid-sentence as the real meaning set in. Surprise widened his eyes, his lips parted slightly in shock. “Oh. You mean… You’d actually do that?” he asked incredulously, and his tone was almost impressed.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it,” Louis clarified. “It’s not exactly something I think about a lot, but as a one-off for a friend? Sure. I’d do it. Why the hell not?”

“You wouldn’t feel weird at all?”

Louis’ expression barely shifted as he thought about it. “I don’t think so, no.”

Harry stared at his closest friend in abject disbelief, wondering how much he had kept hidden behind that easy-going expression, while Louis just smiled serenely in return, no hint of embarrassment in his face. Only the younger boy jumped when the phone went off in his hands, and Louis leant over his shoulder to read the new message before he leant back again.

“Ugh, you can answer that one,” he said wearily as he dropped down to one elbow and returned his attention to the telly.

At first, Harry began typing out a placating reply to his dejected band-mate, but then, slowly, his fingers stilled on the keypad. His eyes flickered from the screen to Louis’ face. “Would you really have done it if I’d said yes?” he asked aloud, his voice low and curious.

Louis was unperturbed. “Yeah, ‘course,” he said, sounding almost affronted by the suggestion that he would have changed his mind. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I could do it.”

Harry paused, read a couple more lines of Zayn’s sad texts, and then burst out with, “Really?”

“Yes,” Louis replied in the same tone, grinning briefly even though he was beginning to look impatient with Harry’s refusal to believe him. “Frankly, it’s not that big of a deal to me. Fact is, I have had enough experience with your willy that I’m now completely immune to any social awkwardness that it could possibly cause for me.” As if to support his own claim, he reached over to pat Harry’s crotch in a nonchalant manner, temporarily forgetting the sensitivity that made the younger boy jerk in surprise as the unexpected contact, a quiet yelp strangling in his throat. Louis withdrew his hand quickly, wincing in sympathy. “Sorry, mate.”

“It’s all good,” Harry said stiffly, waving away his apology as he re-adjusted his position slightly, shifting further up on the bed. They were quiet for a few minutes longer, but then he spoke again. “So you really wouldn’t feel weird…?”

At that, Louis’ eyes rolled up to stare at the ceiling, and he shook his head back and forth incredulously. “Oh, my God,” he sighed melodramatically, and then, without warning, he drew himself up onto his knees so that he could shuffle was his way over to the foot of the bed. He seized Harry’s legs on the way past, pulling them out from where they were tucked under his body and straightening them out on the covers in a strangely matter-of-fact manner. At the quick tug on his ankles, Harry’s head slid onto the pillow so he was lying flat on his back.

“You should really learn to trust me one of these days,” Louis continued casually, as his hands moved to the front of his trousers and deftly began to undo the clasps as if it were an everyday occurrence. “When have I ever broken a promise to you? If I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it. You just need to speak up.”

Harry’s stomach swooped as Louis’ fingers brushed against the skin above his waistband, but he covered the reaction and mimicked the other boy’s eye-roll. “Please, Lou,” he drawled sarcastically, “would you be a dear and get me off just because I can’t get a date? Thanks.”

“No problem. All you had to do was ask.”

All of a sudden, Louis pinched the fabric of Harry’s jeans between his fingers and gave a swift pull, yanking them down past his thighs. Harry lurched in surprise, not having expected Louis to have stripped him quite so quickly, and then looked down the line of his body to find that his friend was perching himself on top of his legs, sitting atop the trousers which had gathered around Harry’s knees. While the younger boy felt his eyes bug out of his face, Louis’ expression was utterly relaxed as his fingers hooked around the waistband on Harry’s boxers.

Instantly, Harry threw out his hands to catch Louis’ and held them fast, preventing him from going any further. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, alarmed, and then lifted the rest of his torso up so he could look his friend in the eye. “You don’t actually have to do it, Lou.”

“Do you really think you could make me if I didn’t want to?” Louis demanded in an amused voice, but he withdrew his hands from Harry’s waist in a show of compliance. However, he did not remove himself from where he sat atop him. “Look, Harry, you’ve got two choices now. I am honestly not going to treat you any differently either way, so don’t even worry about that. I won’t care no matter what you choose. Now, you can go on and steal all the hot water from my shower – yet again – or you can stay there and let me do us both a favour, because honestly, I’m getting tired just looking at you squirm around. But it’s up to you.”

Harry actually paused to consider it, surprising himself. Oddly enough, the complete nonchalance with which Louis was treating the whole idea was actually beginning to spread to him, and suddenly it did not seem like such a big deal. It was just a physical act, nothing with any deeper meaning, and when he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine that their friendship could be ruined by something so trivial.

More importantly, in a way that could have been completely accidental, Louis’ hands had fallen to rest on Harry’s legs as he waited patiently for an answer, and his thumbs were pressing lightly against the insides of his thighs.

Taking a single breath, Harry began, “You really -”

“Christ, just lie back before I change my mind, you idiot.” An impatient noise escaped Louis’ lips as he cut the younger boy off, but his eyes were filled with laughter as he pushed gently on Harry’s chest to ease him back on the mattress. Harry’s pulse sped up with a nervous sort of excitement the moment his eyes found the ceiling above his head, and he had to take a slow breath to make sure that he really was awake.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked again, but Louis didn’t even dignify the question with a real answer.

“Just lift your arm up over your eyes,” he instructed, “think happy thoughts, and don’t you ever tell me I’m not the best friend you’ve ever had.”

That latter made Harry laugh despite the giddy apprehension he felt, but the sound stopped short of his lips as his boxers were suddenly whisked off, as well. He hurried to bury his face in the crook of his elbow as per Louis’ advice, but no matter how he tried to mentally prepare himself or attempted to focus on nothing but the blackness on the inside of his eyelids, he still jumped when he felt Louis’ touch.

Of course, it was just Louis’ hands on his legs again as he pushed the boxers out of the way, but it startled him nonetheless.

“Relax, Harry,” Louis murmured. “Happy thoughts.”

Then, he really began to touch him. First, he just trailed his fingers across Harry’s lower stomach, his thumb brushing a feather-light line from one hipbone to the other before travelling back the same way, dipping south down the V of his groin only once before reached the other side again. Harry fought the urge to squirm at how his skin tingled, especially as Louis’ fingers – the fingers, he amended – did not cease caressing his skin. He was so distracted by those fingers, nervously following each delicate movement in his mind’s eye, that he nearly forgot that Louis had two hands, and he startled all over again as the older boy was suddenly very much using both. In an oddly purposeful way, Louis brought his thumb and index finger together in a ring at the base of Harry’s shaft and then slowly pulled, dragging rippling warmth along with the touch. He repeated the action once, fluttering his fingers so lightly it almost tickled. Louis was blessedly silent in the moments that followed, though, not making any comment as Harry’s body flushed with heat and his blood began to shift its priorities, and he was incredibly grateful for that.

The sound of brushing material seemed deafening in the quiet as Louis shifted a bit further back, but then Harry felt the warm wetness of a tongue gliding along the length of his hard-on, dancing along the rapidly tautening skin, and suddenly, he could hear nothing over the incredible noise that was his own pulse pounding in his ears.

Desperately, he scrambled within his mind to find some sort of thought to distract himself; a fantasy or a memory or simply anything else besides the last image he had of Lou leaning over him, so he might actually be able to look at his friend again once this was finished - without blushing to the roots of his curls. His mind had gone blank, though, and Louis’ tongue was still twisting around his hardened length, swirling around the head with an agonizing ease that made Harry’s entire body clench with desire, fingernails digging into his palm and toes curling as he waited for the sensation to release him. There was no possible way that he could pretend it was anyone else while the faint scent of Louis’ aftershave still lingered in the air, and Harry had just barely felt the brush of stubble against the sensitive skin of his pelvis only a few moments ago as Louis dipped a little to the side. Even the sound of those soft, even breaths was familiar to him.

The sad fact of the matter was; Harry had already seen Louis’ face from nearly every conceivable angle over the past year, and he had no difficulty in being able to picture just how it would look now. He was only too acutely aware of what he had just stumbled into doing with his best friend – with his recent dry spell acting as the hand that shoved him into the act – and so there was little point in trying to fool himself into thinking he didn’t know exactly where he was and what was happening.

That in mind, he was left with no choice other than to stop pretending that it was someone else and, strangely enough, it was only then that he finally relaxed. This was Louis, he realised, the guy who he had slept with, showered with and with whom he had acted as openly as he could possibly manage with another person in his life. Harry loved him, and Louis was no one to be afraid of - even if, in that moment, he had sensed Harry’s sudden easing and finally closed his lips around him, causing such an sudden, intense jolt of heat in the younger boy’s abdomen that his hips jerked up in surprise and Lou had to press a hand to his waist to keep him steady.

Absurdly, Harry began to laugh into his sleeve. There was sweat beading on his brow from the effort of not writhing against the covers, his heart was hammering and he was losing all coherency of thought with each long draw from Louis’ heated mouth, but he still laughed, because his best friend was sucking him off and he was really, really good at it. Soon, Harry had to bite down on the back of his free hand, lifting it from where it was clenched around the sheets to stuff it between his teeth as Louis sucked harder, the flat of his tongue curling inward to mould itself around Harry’s unyielding flesh. His insides had begun to throb with need, pleasure shooting through his veins with each passing second, yet he still fought back breathless little giggles; even as Louis’ lips began to move, and Harry’s laughter started giving way to helpless moans that died in his throat.  

“This is – so ridiculous,” he groaned out loud, voice startlingly loud to his own ears. He laughed once, a hard sound. “You’re actually – ah…” His breath hitched, and he couldn’t finish as Louis suddenly pushed even further, working his mouth too quickly and too wonderfully to allow for anything in Harry’s mind besides absolute thoughtlessness. He pressed both hands flat against his face to smother whatever noise was threatening to claw up from the pit of his stomach and watched as bright sparks burst on the insides of his closed eyelids. Goose bumps rose on the back of his neck before shivering down his spine. All the while, Louis just continued to tighten his hold, pulling him so far into his mouth that Harry could feel the silent laughter trembling in Louis’ throat as the vibrations buzzed against his tip, and that feeling alone brought another desperate burst of laughter to Harry’s lips, making him gasp for air. His breath was so shallow.

As a familiar pressure slowly built up inside him, beating hard in his abdomen with a roiling heat, Harry couldn’t help it; he peeked out from beneath the shield of his arms. He caught only one swift glance at hollowed cheeks and feathery strands of hair before he threw his head back again and buried his face into the palms of his cupped hands, his overly tight skin flashing all over with rapid sparks that he could not control. A low shudder rolled through his body, culminating in a spasm that made his back arch as Harry came, one final, irrepressible groan quivering in his lungs with his release. Louis’ lips stayed perfectly sealed as the dizzying heat slowly pulsed out of him, and there was no uncertainty in the way that his fingers held the younger boy fast or in the smooth rhythm of his throat muscles as he swallowed.

Once it was done, Harry’s eyelids stayed closed for a short time as he gradually came down off of his high. When he opened them again he found that his trousers were back around his waist, and that Louis was still sitting lightly on his legs, phone in hand. His tongue was running over his teeth as his eyes moved over the small screen, and his Adam’s apple bobbed once in his throat. Harry didn’t even remember hearing the phone buzz.

Then, a soft sigh fell from Louis’ lips. “Zayn’s going to call her again,” he said woefully, continuing their conversation from before as if nothing had happened. “I’m gonna head over there before he can do anything else to make things worse.” He shifted slightly as if about to swing himself off of Harry’s lap, but then paused and glanced down into the younger boy’s face with a smile. “Feeling better?” he asked brightly.

“Actually… yeah,” Harry admitted, and he found himself returning the smile with ease. Apart from the peaceful, ecstatic feeling that was still lingering in his veins, there was absolutely no trace of what had just happened between them and hence no awkwardness in the way that he grinned up at his friend. “A lot better, thanks.”

Louis’ lips twisted into a smug smirk. “I told you so,” he gloated as he stood up, patting Harry’s ankle once on his way to the small ensuite that connected to his bedroom. He disappeared for only a brief second before he returned to stand in the doorway, toothbrush already sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he tapped away at his phone.

“Have you done that before?” Harry asked curiously, the question bubbling to his lips before he could stop it. “Not with me, obviously, but have you ever done it for anyone else?” For a moment, Louis glanced up at him in confusion, apparently having forgotten what had occurred less than five minutes ago, but then sudden comprehension lit in his eyes.

The older boy paused thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side. He then fixed Harry with a levelled look that absolutely gave nothing away, yet still seemed to look completely open and honest. “Would it really make a difference to you either way?” he asked, and absently resumed brushing his teeth as he waited for Harry’s reply. His bright blue eyes were alight with curiosity.

“I suppose not,” Harry said after a moment’s consideration. He shrugged one shoulder. “I was just wondering.”

This time, he heard it clearly as Louis’ mobile went off in the other boy’s hand. “Alright, alright,” Lou mumbled under his breath before disappearing into the bathroom again. Harry heard the clatter of plastic against marble, the sound of the tap gushing water too quickly and a familiar, muttered curse that brought a wide grin to his face as he waited for Louis to come stomping back through the doorway.

“Our lovely Zayn wants to go apologise to her in person, so I might have to strap him down to a chair with duct tape,” Louis announced casually. “If you hear any screams, don’t be alarmed and make sure that no one calls the police on us in the meantime. I’ll let you know how it goes.” With raised eyebrows and an exaggerated look of menace crossing his face, Louis quickly skipped over to the door.

“Hey, Lou?” The older boy paused with his hand on the doorknob, swinging around expectantly. Harry’s green eyes were hazy with contentment, but his cheeky grin was blinding. “You really are the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Louis snorted. “Of course I am,” he agreed, in a tone that implied it was obvious, and then he was gone.