Work Text:
“Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry greets as he walks past his assistant’s desk, his arm outstretched to grab the coffee waiting on it. He gives Louis no eye contact as per usual, just glides back to his office and slumps down in his seat.
After a few minutes, Louis strides in with a stack of papers and a beaming smile.
“Looking gorgeous as always, Prime Minister Styles,” he purrs, his eyes holding that glint that they always do.
“Be professional, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry chides, but his heart can’t deny that he loved it with all the thumping it’s doing.
Louis giggles. “Sure thing, boss man. So, you’ve got a meeting with Cowell and others at eleven and you’ve ordered that I’ll be there to take notes, and Samuels called to tell me earlier that he’ll be calling you between eleven-thirty to twelve to discuss business matters. Other than that, I’ve got a pretty stack of papers for you to look through.”
He sets the stack down in front of Harry, sure to not knock over his coffee, and walks out of the room with that damn hip-swinging thing he does.
A half hour later, Louis swivels back in and fixes his soft fringe that’s been styled upwards. “Having fun with that big, thick stack of papers, boss?”
Harry clears his throat and squirms in his seat. His suit is uncomfortable, okay? “What are you doing interrupting me?”
“In case you’re planning on skipping the meeting, I’ve come to inform you that it’s starting in five.”
Harry curses under his breath, placing his pen down and scrubbing at the side of his palm that has ink smudged along it.
“Do you know where it is?”
Once he’s standing beside Louis, his assistant nods and places his hand on Harry’s lower back to guide him. As unprofessional as it is, Harry doesn’t stop him. But when he feels Louis’ hand slipping down further and resting right on his bum, he chokes and hisses, “Hand upwards, Tomlinson.”
Louis titters and squeezes his arse before lifting his tiny golden hand back up to a respectable spot. Harry doesn’t know why he hasn’t fired him yet.
People have just started shuffling into the big, three-cornered room by the time Harry and his assistant arrive. Everyone gives him proper nods and “good morning, Prime Minister“‘s. Harry smiles back.
Cowell begins the entire event with the usual; a kind welcome and a clap of his hands. But then, he tells everyone to direct their attention to Harry because apparently he’s got to give a speech. Harry hasn’t got one.
He nearly passes out. He’s about to run out of the room screaming when Louis slyly slides a paper over to him with the title: “Harry’s Big, Sexy Speech.”
So Harry gives the somewhat impromptu speech, knowing he owes Louis his entire life and more, and it turned out to be an incredible piece of writing and everyone stood up to clap at the end. Harry almost teared up at how thankful he was to have Louis under his belt. Well, not literally, but.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he breathes once they return to his office and of course, Louis is wearing his signature smirk.
“You owe me,” is all he says, and he cat-walks back to his seat. Harry outwardly laughs at him this time.
Samuel calls just as he said he would, and they talk for an entire hour. At the half-hour mark, (when it hits twelve o’clock), Louis tip-toes into the room with a brown bag of food and he gracefully walks backwards out with his finger placed in front of his shiny, pink lips in a ‘shh’ motion. Harry smiles fondly at him.
When he finally gets off the phone, there’s a pack of condoms and a BLT in the brown bag. Before he shouts at Louis to come in and retrieve the condoms, he rips one open and blows it up, tying the end off so it’s a sticky, yellowy balloon.
“Louis!” He yells, walking around to the front of his desk with the blown-up condom dangling in his hands behind his desk.
Louis ambles in with his eyes filled up to the brim with mirth and he says, “Yes, Mr. Styles?” with this sweet tone.
It makes Harry want to bend him over the desk and fuck the sweet out of him, but. He just whips his arm out from behind his back and throws the condom at Louis’ button nose.
“Always nice exchanging pleasantries with you,” Louis laughs, rubbing his nose to get the small bit of lube off and bending over to pick the condom back up.
The urge to fuck him intensifies by about a thousand, but he just tells Louis to get back to work and hands him the box of condoms and sends him off.
At least Louis makes work interesting.
~~
The next day at work Harry actually looks at Louis instead of just walking by and grabbing his coffee and he really wishes he hadn’t.
He’s wearing this white v-neck that shows off his stupid tan and also showcases the sparse hair that runs down his chest and God, Harry could honestly jump over the desk and just litter his skin with marks.
But he just says, “Mr. T-Tomlinson,” with a nod and keeps on trekking to his office. He hears Louis laughing behind him and pretends to have no idea why.
“Excited to hear your agenda for the day?” Louis asks, toddling into the room and twisting the short hairs by his ear.
“Definitely. Lay it on me.”
“I’d love to lay on you,” Louis mumbles just loud enough for Harry to hear, and he gives an innocent smile. “Meeting with Cowell again from ten until eleven, pretty long, Aurora is calling at one; Max at two. Little bit of papers.”
Harry scrubs his hand down his face with a nod. He’s not frustrated up about the work; rather Louis and the stupid things he mumbles to mess with Harry. If Louis hadn’t come in for his interview and said “I’m gay,” flat out, he would think that he was just joking. Okay, maybe not, but. One doesn’t just act the way Louis does without being Louis.
“Come get me when it’s time for our meeting.”
“Yes, sir.”
See- and that too. The way Louis can say something so simple and innocent and make it sound like they’re in a cheap porno or something. It’s despicable and Harry loves it.
When it’s time for the meeting, Louis comes in wearing his tight black pants and that damned shirt, his notebook hanging from his little hand and his glasses placed on the bridge of his nose.
“Come with me,” he says, looking up at Harry under his eyelashes that seem to have mascara on them, but he knows they don’t.
Harry tries to keep his eyes on Louis’ but it’s just really, truly impossible so he ogles Louis’ collarbones and chest and stands to let Louis guide him again.
“Be professional, Mr. Styles,” Louis mumbles with a grin on his face, bringing Harry to a room that’s exactly like the one from yesterday.
They’re sat at the back of the room while Cowell speaks about the issue of lowering or raising taxes, and Harry’s incredibly glad for Louis taking notes because he’s honestly just not feeling it today. Despite the fact that he’s the Prime Minister, no one seems to be staring at him for input and are just lobbing ideas out into the open while Louis scrambles to jot everything down.
In an instance of pity, Harry places his hand on Louis’ thigh. And it’s just for comfort, alright?
Louis makes it a full half-second before his pencil breaks against the paper and his head whips over so he can stare Harry right in the eye. No one notices the exchange; their mouths still running and hands flailing, but to Harry, everyone is nonexistent except for him and Louis.
He searches Louis’ face for any sign of discomfort and moves his hand further up his thigh, his actions hidden under the mahogany table. Louis’ expression remains in somewhat of a shocked state, but it quickly turns into a smirk and his eyes turn into this dark blue that could lock someone in.
“More,” Louis mouths, and who is Harry to refuse?
He moves his hand so it’s cupping Louis’ crotch. Harry’s heart is pounding so loud and he can feel lust take over his body and cause red to stain his cheeks and make his toes curl in his Armani shoes. Just so he can ease his mind, he shoots a glance around the room and when he sees that no one is looking at him, his hand squeezes Louis a little more.
Louis is letting out fast and sharp bursts of air, his toned chest rising and falling quickly and if there weren’t a load of people in the room he’d move his palm down harder and bring Louis off completely.
Things are fine; the meeting goes on, Louis continues to take notes with his shaking right hand, and Harry keeps a somewhat poker face settled on his features. Things are fine, until Louis starts to just barely move his hips up to get more friction.
Harry lets out a whimper that’s only loud enough for Louis to hear, or so he thought. Louis’ smirk grows wider and suddenly all the eyes in the room are on him.
“Are you alright, Mr. Styles?” Maureen asks, her tall bun trembling on the top of her head.
“Yeah, Minister Styles, are you okay?” Louis parrots, his eyelashes fluttering and his hips jerking forward one more quick time.
“Perfectly fine. Just not feeling extremely well today.”
“Perhaps we ought to reschedule? We’ve discussed an awful lot today and I’m sure-“
Louis jumps in his seat -another attempt to be touched- and says, “Great idea! I’ll take care of him, get him pills and whatnot. You all go on.”
The people shuffle out of the room after a few more words of encouragement and Harry pulls his hand back so they don’t see as they pass by, and once they’re alone Louis turns to him.
“I’m going to need you to fuck me into next week,” Louis says, and just- that’s kind of the hottest thing Harry’s ever heard.
It takes all he has not to just fuck him on the spot, and he knows he has to put a stop to this.
“Louis, I- no. Do you know how unprofessional that is? We’re, you’re my assistant.”
“Then let me assist you to an orgasm,” Louis grins, and that’s enough.
Harry stands and pulls Louis up to stand with him, his hands latched onto his hips and his thumbs probably bruising his skin.
“Bend over the table and get your whoreish kit off,” he growls, pushing Louis away.
Louis yelps but does as he’s told, struggling with his tight jeans but Harry certainly will not help him; he’s done this to himself after all.
“Is this what you wanted?” Harry asks, leaning over Louis’ naked, trembling body, his lips brushing over the small hairs on the back of his neck, “To be fucked by the Prime Minister of England?”
“I’d wank off to your photos in the newspapers,” Louis retorts breathlessly, pushing his bum up and bracing his hands on the table.
Harry whines. He literally whines onto Louis’ hair and pinches the skin by his hips, saying, “Fuck. Fuck, Louis.”
“I’d bring the picture up to my room and pump my cock fast, grunting and moaning your name,” -he pauses to give an example- “And I’d come all over myself. I’d come so hard for you, Harry.”
Harry whimpers and knocks his head back at the image of that, but then his sensibility kicks in and he thinks about the door. “I- Louis, has this room got a lock?”
“I’m talking about coming over you and you’re thinking about fucking doors?” Louis scoffs, but there’s no anger in his tone. “Yeah, there’s a lock. Thought you liked the whole exhibition thing we had going there though.”
Harry chuckles and pats Louis on the side before dashing to the door and locking it. He’s just spun around to come back when he sees what Louis is doing.
He’s got his hands on his ass, holding himself open and prodding the tip of his finger inside himself.
“Fucking hell, you’re filthy,” Harry mutters and closes the distance between them, moving Louis’ hands away and kneading his bum hard instead.
“Lube- Louis, we need lube,” Harry mumbles and leans his hands on Louis’ arched back.
“My pocket,” Louis breathes, pointing frantically at his discarded jeans.
“You fucking slut.”
Harry clasps a hand over his mouth. Did he really just say that? “Louis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t m-“
“God yeah, I’m your fucking slut,” Louis moans, cutting Harry off and rutting himself on the smooth surface of the table. “Fuck me hard.”
And of course Louis would be into that.
“Right, yeah,” Harry mumbles, pulling away to grab the lube packet from Louis’ pocket and ignoring the urge to ask just why he even had lube in his pocket.
“Hurry, get your fingers in me,” Louis begs, and he really sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, so Harry fumbles to open the packet and dribbles some liquid on his two fingers.
“I- I bet you’re so fucking used to getting fucked,” Harry says hesitantly at first, but his confidence builds with each word, “that I can use two fingers.”
Louis’ makes this distorted, pleading sound and Harry takes that as a ‘yes’, leaning his dry hand on the table where Louis bends, and the other moving down to Louis’ dry, tight hole.
When his fingers slide in without resistance, he’s still tighter than anything Harry’s ever felt. “Fuck, Louis, how are you so tight? You’re a whore.”
“Uh huh, such a whore for you, Mr. Styles. Give it to me,” Louis groans, pushing himself back so Harry’s fingers move inside him deeper.
Harry complies and drags his fingers in and out slowly at first, but then he’s fucking his fingers into Louis’ small body so fast that all Louis can do is pant and let out high little keens that have Harry throbbing in his jeans.
“Plea- please fuck me. Fuck me now,” Louis whines, his voice more rough and raspy than Harry’s ever heard.
Harry nods even though Louis can’t see and pulls his fingers out gently, heart pounding harder at the little cry Louis makes, and pulls his dark suit off as fast as he can. His zipper scratches his thigh and his undershirt comes off with a struggle but in the end he’s completely naked, his cock straining deep pink with precome bubbling out of the slit. He’s never been this hard in his life.
“You’ve wanted to fuck me for ages,” Harry states as he pours the rest of the lube onto his dick, lining himself up.
“Of fucking course I have, you fucking- oh.”
Harry pushes himself in fast and smoothly, effectively shutting Louis up and nearly passing out at how amazing it feels to have Louis’ ass pressed snug against his hips. “Jesus,” he groans lowly, and he lets his hips move slowly and tauntingly so he’s dragging in and out of Louis as a horrifyingly slow pace.
“I need it harder, I need your huge cock fucking me harder,” Louis sobs, covering his face with his forearm and pathetically moving his hips back.
Harry grins and holds Louis’ hips still before moving his own faster, faster until he can hear the way Louis’ big ass is getting slammed and the way his cock moving inside him.
Louis moans something so quiet that Harry can’t quiet hear it, so he slows down and says, “What was that, Lou?”
“Move faster and you’ll hear it,” Louis orders, so Harry does.
He moves until Louis can barely speak again but that’s when he hears what Louis’d said before. “Daddy!” He cries, weakly moving his hand down to work at his cock. “Oh, fuck me daddy. Fuckmefuckmefuckme.”
“Oh my fucking god,” Harry moans, because holy fucking shit that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Say- say it again. Call me your daddy.”
“Please, daddy,” Louis obeys, his voice turning all desperate, “God, I’m going to come all over myself, daddy. ‘m I filthy?”
“Shit yeah,” Harry says, lifting his palm to spank Louis hard on his right cheek, “You’re a filthy little slut.”
“Oh, oh God,” Louis says suddenly in a delirious tone, “Harder. Spank me harder.”
“Are you fucking me?” Harry groans, lifting his palm to hit Louis again.
Louis groans and wiggles his ass and says, “no, you’re fucking me.”
For that, Harry hits him as hard as he can, the smacking sound just as loud as the skin against skin, and he feels Louis’ freeze under him.
He’s afraid for a moment that he’s hurt him, but Louis clenches tight around his cock and just about screams, panting, “Daddydaddydaddy, oh fuck, I’m coming for you, shit.”
The pressure around Harry’s cock is so much more than he can handle and he leaves his hand on Louis’ bum so he can squeeze it and dig his nails into it while he comes, spurting out wet, hot come and nearly collapsing with the force of it.
“Bloody fucking- Louis, fuck,” Harry says, but in the middle of his sentence a knock comes at the door and they both halt their breathing.
“Get out of me!” Louis whisper-yells, and Harry finds it funny because he was just begging him to fuck him harder.
Harry pulls out gently as to not hurt him and throws Louis his pants while he drags on his own boxers.
“Coming!” Harry yells to the unidentified person behind the door, and Louis shoves him and winks. “Now’s not the time for games, Louis.”
“Now you call me Louis,” he teases, “If I’d known that all it took for you to call me that was to seduce you, I would’ve done it earlier.”
“Says you who was calling me daddy-“
“Says you who liked it!”
“Are things alright in there?” The third voice says, and Harry fixes his tie and runs over to the door. Louis’ finally got his clothes on, albeit very messily, and he turns the handle to reveal a doe-eyed Liam Payne; Cowell’s assistant.
“H-Hello Mr. Prime Minister,” he stutters, looking back and forth between him and Louis, an expression of confusion and realization both apparent on his face.
Louis grabs his notebook and pencil, skipping past Harry and whispering, “See you in your office, boss man,” and then he’s out the door and leaving.
Harry makes a point to remember to spank him extra hard when he gets back.