Warnings: rimming, light d/s themes, dirty talk, fingering and anal sex.
Word count: 2,500.
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is the number 1 ranked male tennis player in the world and Harry Tomlinson is his ‘trophy wife’ and after one of Louis’ matches, they fuck in a locker room.
A/N: the Australian open just finished here in Australia and I kind of wrote this at 4am and I have no idea why I did but a sweaty Louis running around in shorts is a hot image, so enjoy?
Louis raises his right arm, wiping away the sweat on his forehead as he sucks in a deep breath. He locks eyes with his opponent; both males have their game faces on and aren’t backing down. It’s championship point, and if Louis can serve an ace, the success is his. Louis bounces the ball, once, twice, three times, before throwing it as high in the air as he can muster and whacking it with utter force with his racket, feet prepared to take off if his serve is returned.
But it isn’t.
Louis grins as he drops his racket, body flailing to the floor, happiness taking over his entire being, heart racing erratically. The cheers of the crowd is deafening, and that only stretches his grin wider. He won. He won the Australia open for the 2nd year in a row… God, he couldn’t believe it.
Louis Tomlinson, world number 1, has won another major.
Louis jumps up onto his feet—shaky legs making their way to the net, shaking hands with his opponent, offering a ‘good job, mate’ and ‘it was a pleasure to play with you’—and proceeds to shake the umpire’s hand, walking the rest of the way to his side of the court. Waving and smiling to the crowd and offering an applause for all their support. It’s then Louis catches his eyes, green eyes gleaming with pride.
Harry, his gorgeous, oh so supportive husband of 2 years, and companion of 4. His husband who travels around the world with him, never leaving his side for a moment. He was the perfect ‘trophy wife’; the day Harry said ‘I do’ and became Harry Tomlinson is Louis’ greatest achievement in life. His husband is his pride and joy. Louis couldn’t wish for anyone better.
Harry is always with Louis out on the courts practicing with him, helping him work on his serve or give him a few pointers. He also takes great care of Louis, whether it be cooking him a lovely dinner or turning on the bath and filling it with bubbles to relax his muscles after a hard day of training. And then, when Louis needs to relieve stress in a more intimate way, Harry will be on the bed stark naked, no questions asked. Legs spread obscenely wide, fingers tucked deep inside himself as he gets himself ready for Louis’ cock, pliant and waiting for Louis to fuck him into the mattress.
Basically, Louis Tomlinson is one lucky bastard.
He throws his husband a wide grin along with a cheeky wink and kiss, chuckling when he sees Harry duck his head shyly and the crowd go ‘aww’.
Louis and Harry Tomlinson are the Posh and Becks of the tennis world. Everyone loved and adored them, gossiped about them, and always had paparazzi on their tails. Louis didn’t mind per say. He was a private person, but as long as no one bad mouthed him or Harry, he had no problem with the attention.
Louis hurriedly packs up his gear, slinging his bag over his shoulder and takes a swig of water, making his way to the center of the court where he waits to be interviewed.
The interview drags on and Louis just itches to leave the court and have his husband in his arms. He receives his trophy and a few words of congratulations and proceeds to make his own speech. He thanks his opponent for a great match, Australia for being such a welcoming and delight of a country to stay in, but last but not least, he thanks his husband for his complete and utter dedication, telling the crowd what a lucky guy he is for having someone so supportive. He keeps his eyes trained on Harry throughout the whole thing, wishing he could get a closer look at his husbands face, knowing a pink tinge would be gracing his cheeks. But just the knowledge of getting Harry so flustered leaves a pleasant fluttering in his stomach. So, Louis smiles to himself anyway.
He watches Harry from across the locker room. Harry looks angsty and he can’t stop fidgeting. Louis stares at him with furrowed eyebrows, eyes shining with concern. Harry catches his gaze and sends him a shaky smile, and Louis smiles hesitantly back.
An hour or so later, interview after interview, Louis finally realizes the amount of people in the room is decreasing. He sighs as he walks over to his bag, fetching his bottle of water and taking a big gulp, jumping slightly when large hands circle his waist. “Hey, superstar,” Harry whispers, kissing underneath Louis’ earlobe, hands rubbing up and down Louis’ chest, “I’m so proud of you.”
Louis relaxes into the embrace, sighing happily as he feels the warmth of his husband seep through his clothing. He drops his bottle of water carelessly, in favour of covering Harry’s hands with his own. “Couldn’t of done it without you, baby,” Louis says, nothing but sincerity in his words.
Harry’s noses the back of Louis neck, and Louis can feel a grin against his skin that brings a smile to his own face. “Always the charmer, aren’t you, love?” Harry giggles.
"Only for you, my darling," Louis teases back, twisting his body in Harry’s embrace, making the two boys chest to chest. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and entwines his fingers behind Louis’ lower back. Louis mirrors the action around Harry’s neck.
Louis leans up slightly, pecking Harry on the lips lovingly. “Hi,” he giggles.
Harry just smiles and captures Louis’ lips with his own, whispering against them stupidly. “Hi yourself.”
They stand in silence, eyes staring into one and other, smiling dumbly. Harry breaks their gaze in favour of ducking down and leaving kisses up and down Louis’ neck. “I want you to fuck me, Lou.” He whines, hips thrusting forwards gently and grinding his—what Louis can feel—hard on into his thigh.
Louis smirks. It’s not the first time Harry’s demanded Louis to fuck him right after a match. Harry gets extremely riled up watching Louis out on the court, biceps contracting as he swings his racket; lean, thick thighs running and ass wiggling in his shorts.
Louis’ known for wearing the shortest shorts a male tennis player can wear. His ass and thighs were made to show off and he knows Harry loves it.
"Right here, baby?" Louis purrs, gripping Harry’s hair and pulling his face away from his neck, causing Harry to whimper. He looks into Harry’s eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. "You’re such a little slut. You’re practically gagging for it.”
Harry nods, confirming Louis’ words. “Yeah, yeah, a slut. Your slut, want you to fuck me, please.”
Louis looks around the locker room, smirk widening when he realizes they’re all alone. “Get your kit off, babe,” he demands.
And Harry does just that. Detaching himself from Louis’ body, he practically rips his top and jeans right off his body, excitement bubbling in his veins.
Now standing stark naked in front of Louis, the older boy rakes his eyes over pale skin, wanting to touch and mark every inch of it. He smirks evilly when he takes in the sight of Harry’s cock, hard and leaking, raised away from his body. He can’t decide if he wants to take Harry right now, or make him wait until he’s an incoherent, begging, slutty mess. In the end, he chooses the latter.
Louis brushes a curl from Harry’s eyes, smiling when Harry’s eyes fall closed, and commands: “I want you to bend over on the chair, ass in the air just how I like it.”
Harry nods and gets into position, never one to defy Louis. He’ll do anything for the boy with blue eyes, having complete trust in knowing he would never do anything to hurt or upset him.
Louis takes in Harry’s stance. Large hands gripping the chair tightly, back hunching forward, legs spread wide as his ass is on show. Louis has to bite back a groan. This is his favourite position to have Harry in. It makes his dick harder in his shorts.
Walking away from his husband, Louis locks the locker room door, making sure no one catches them. A sex scandal isn’t something Louis has ever aimed for.
"Okay, baby," he says, rubbing his hands down Harry’s back, skin quivering under his touch, "I’m gonna go have a quick shower and you’re gonna stay right here, aren’t you?”
Harry whimpers at Louis’ words. His cock hurts so bad and it needs some attention, but he’ll do as Louis says. He always does. “Yeah, I promise,” he croaks.
"That’s my good boy," Louis praises, "But I want you to do something for me while I’m gone. Can you do something for me, sweetheart?"
Harry nods erratically, curls bouncing when he does so.
"I want you to take your pretty fingers and get yourself ready for me. Make sure you’re nice and stretched for when I’m ready to fuck you like a proper whore."
"Okay," Harry whimpers.
Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s back, fetching the bottle of lube from his bag and placing it next to Harry. He then grabs his clothes and jumps into the shower.
He takes his time in washing himself, careful to avoid his erect cock, and stays in the shower for a good 5 minutes. He wants Harry gagging for it and that’s exactly what he gets when he exits the shower.
Harry’s still in the same position he was when Louis left him, but now he’s got four fingers in his pretty little hole, thrusting and scissoring them to make sure he’s well prepared for Louis.
Harry catches Louis watching him and moans. “Lou, Lou, Lou. Please. I need you so bad. P-Please baby, please.”
Louis walks over to stand behind the quivering boy, watching him prepare himself.
Harry looks so good like this, head thrown back, curls slick to his sweaty forehead and back arching to help his fingers get a better angle. He watches Harry’s hole, slick with lube, pretty and pink and stretched around where Harry’s fingers are working in and out.
"How do you feel love? You ready for my cock yet? Are you gonna be nice and warm around me?” Louis questions against Harry’s shoulder.
"Yeah, warm," Harry croaks embarrassingly, "and I’m tight. Really tight, but ready. I’m ready. Please, Lou.”
"Yeah, always so tight and warm, darling," Louis agrees, hands circling Harry’s chest and rubbing his hands over his ribs. "Take your fingers out now, please."
Harry, reluctant, does it anyway, whimpering at the loss of being filled up. That has Louis cooing, “It’s okay, love. I’m gonna give you something better real soon.”
Louis kisses down Harry’s back, kneeling and spreading Harry’s ass cheeks as far apart as they go, kissing over the stretched hole. Harry tenses and whines when Louis licks at his slick entrance; dipping his tongue inside the wet warmth, feeling Harry clench around him as he hears him moan from above. “Please Louis. Oh fuck, please. Need you.”
"Yeah baby, beg for me. Such a good slut for me,” Louis growls, sliding in a finger along with his tongue and thrusting it in and out ‘til Harry’s rocking back on his face, begging Louis to fuck him.
"I-I’ll do anything for your cock, Louis. Oh fuck, please,” he begs, tears leaking from his eyes out of frustration.
Louis removes his tongue and finger from Harry’s hole, getting back up on his feet to running his hands down Harry’s sides. He kisses every bit of his back he can reach. “Okay. Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you. You’re okay,” he soothes.
Louis grabs the lube from where it’s thrown on the floor, slicking up his neglected cock and groaning at the contact.
He lines his cock against Harry’s hole, slowly prodding into the tight heat. “Fuck,” he moans, as he pushes in further until he’s buried balls deep inside of Harry.
"Fuck yes,” Harry whines, ass moving in little circles, begging for Louis to take him and wreck him.
Louis traces the rim of Harry’s hole, feeling how stretched he is around Louis’ girth. Harry twitches, whines, squeezes his eyes shut. Harry’s thighs are trembling and he needs Louis to fuck him so bad. He whines out, “Please fuck me like a good little slut.”
That has Louis smirking and drawing his cock out halfway, easing back in, repeating the motion until Harry starts mewling and moving his hips in counterpoint to his thrusts. Louis leans back to admire the view of his hard cock, watching it disappear over and over again between Harry’s pert asscheeks, the change in angle making Harry cry out.
"That feel good, baby?" he purrs, thrusting harder and faster, fingers tightly clasped on Harry’s hips and aiming for that spot that makes Harry’s hips jerk.
Harry keens, high pitched and needy, “Yeah, god, yes. Louis, fuck me harder, please –”
"So good for me, Harry. So sexy,” Louis whispers into the skin of Harry’s neck, biting roughly and making Harry nearly scream.
Louis growls out as his hips thrust faster, pushing his cock in and out at an animalistic pace. Harry just closes his eyes and moans over and over, letting his body become completely pliant.
"Ah – Louis!" Harry squeaks as Louis hit his prostate repetitively. “Lou- oh, god, yes, yes yes,” he chants.
"Are you close, darling? Gonna come all over yourself for me?" Louis tightens his hold on one of Harry’s pale hips and releases his other to snake its way to Harry’s cock, fisting it tortuously. He barely gets two strokes in before Harry’s nodding and crying out, spurting into his hand as hot come dribbles through his fingers.
It’s not long before Louis feels his orgasm rip through him out of nowhere, Harry clenching around him. He has to bite down hard on Harry’s shoulder to muffle his cry of release.
Both males’ heavy breathing fills the room, highs ending and hearts slowing down.
Harry whimpers when Louis removes his cock from his fucked out hole. Louis pulls Harry into a standing position, wincing when he hears Harry groan in agony, limbs popping. He holds his husband in his arms, rubbing all over his chest as Harry nuzzles into his neck.
He turns his head and catches Harry’s lips with his own, mumbling between kisses, “You were so perfect,” “So beautiful,” “Always so good for me”.
Harry smiles dazed and happily, limbs aching but his entire being content. “Well done again, superstar,” Harry says when they pull apart.
"As I said, I couldn’t of done it without you, angel.”
They kiss again, and Louis leads Harry into the showers, rubbing over his body, getting him nice and clean. He places kisses all over Harry’s face, and Harry giggles. They whisper to each other words of love, and Louis thinks again, that yeah, he’s one lucky bastard.