Work Text:
“Can I have a taste, Lou?”
Louis sighs and rolls his eyes, but he also has to fight a smile from breaking across his face. Harry’s nothing if not predictable. And of course Louis’s going to give him a lick of his ice cream.
But Louis is predictable too, especially when it comes to Harry, so of course he’s going to tease him first. “Thought I was making a huge mistake picking mint chip like always? Why would you want any?”
Harry huffs through his pouted lips and Louis tilts his head, feigning exasperation, but he loves it.
“Come on then, love, have a lick.”
Harry's expression morphs from his shy smile, which Louis loves, into pure beaming, which very nearly knocks the breath from Louis' lungs.
Harry's tongue extending and pulling himself towards Louis’ ice cream would have finished him off completely, but then Harry doesn't even get a proper lick in before he's knocked Louis’ scoop of mint chip clear off the cone with that same daft tongue.
It lands with a wet smack on Louis' right foot and he curses.
“Shit, Lou,” Harry looks up, straight into Louis' eyes, a light blush coloring his cheeks.
Louis’ stomach tightens.
“’m so sorry.” Harry whispers the apology and it makes Louis’ decision for him.
“Better clean it up, baby.”
“Right, of course, Lou,” Harry turns on his heel and Louis reaches out to grip his elbow before he can take a step.
“Where do you think you’re going, love?”
Harry turns back around, his brows furrowed. “I was just–”
Louis cocks his eyebrow and has to suppress the smirk tugging at his lips at the way it makes Harry falter.
Harry swallows and his eyes flick down to Louis’ lips before he continues, “um, was just gonna, you know, grab a flannel.”
“Mm,” Louis says, his voice low. He licks his lips, daring Harry to flick his eyes down again. “I'm a bit confused at that. Was it a flannel that dropped my ice cream and dirtied my trainer?”
Harry flushes deeper and Louis can see the precise moment he realizes. It's the way his eyes widen.
It makes Louis' dick pulse.
So does the way Harry's voice cracks as he finally replies, “No, daddy. I'm sorry.”
Louis is always so tempted to give in at the start, when Harry gets all flustered and meek.
But he usually manages to keep it together.
“Well you’re not going to be able to clean it from here are you?”
Luckily for Louis and his will power, Harry doesn’t question that, doesn’t even meet Louis’ eyes before dropping to his knees.
He gets on all fours and crawls the few inches to Louis before he lifts his gaze, his neck surely twinging at the angle. “I’m sorry for dirtying your shoe, Daddy. Gonna make it right.”
“Better get after it, then. I'll believe it when I see it.”
Harry’s tongue is out of his mouth before he's moved his face an inch. It's so typically Harry that Louis almost laughs.
Harry doesn't make it easier when his first few licks do barely more than move the melting scoop around Louis' trainer.
Louis chides him with a sigh and a few clicks of his tongue, worried that Harry might be able to hear the amusement behind any actual words. He doesn't want to break the spell Harry's already under.
Harry is always weak for being chastised, even mildly. He lifts his head just enough to whimper pitifully before ducking back down again to attack his task with more fervor.
He doesn't stop whining as his licks and sucks grow more desperate. Louis's not sure he's not making an even bigger mess in his frantic attempts to disappear the offending ice cream, but he can't pretend he much cares.
Especially since Harry’s sloppy performance gives Louis a reason to continue deriding him.
Eventually, when Louis is satisfied that Harry has licked enough ice cream off his trainer that he'll be able to properly clean it later, he allows Harry to stand back up.
Louis' eyebrow arches at the sight of how hard Harry is. So fucking predictable, this boy.
“What's this then?” he asks, nodding down at Harry's dick.
Harry blushes and averts his eyes.
“Harry?” Louis prods, his voice lowering, “Did you drop Daddy’s ice cream on purpose knowing he'd make you lap it up and get you all hot at the humiliation?”
Harry emphatically denies it, of course he does. But his cock jumps and his threadbare joggers do nothing to hide it.
“You know you can’t lie to me, baby. I can see right through you.”
A delicious whine escapes Harry and he huffs a tiny, frustrated sigh.
Louis tsks him and Harry sucks the breath back in. He looks up at Louis from under his lashes, his brow gently furrowed.
“Go ahead and get your cock out then, if you’re so desperate for it.”
Without bothering to refute it, Harry reaches beneath the waist of his joggers and pulls his dick out, positioning the waistband under his balls. He looks up at Louis and Louis nods, so Harry shuffles towards him.
“That’s close enough, love. Get your hand wrapped around yourself. Show me how riled up you got down there licking my trainer. Show me how desperate you are to come.”
As Harry jerks himself, starting slowly and building to a frenetic pace as Louis talks him off – taunting him about how filthy he is, getting off on licking his daddy’s shoes, whimpering and whining at the taste of his trainers like a bloody dog – Louis slips his shoes off. Harry doesn’t notice, too caught up in stripping his cock faster and faster, moaning at the squelching sounds of his own pre-cum.
God, he gets so wet when he’s like this.
Louis licks his lips and adjusts his own straining cock, granting himself a welcome bit of pressure, trying not to think about how he’ll take care of it when Harry's done. Or have Harry take care of it, more like.
Before the possibilities can begin flickering to life in his head, Harry’s whine turns reedy and he looks up at Louis, locking his shimmering, wild eyes onto Louis’ own. “Please, Daddy, pl–”
“What is it, baby? You need me to tell you that you can come? You want Daddy's permission?”
Harry can barely nod, choking on a thick breath that was probably meant to form another plea.
“Go on then, baby.”
Louis gestures downward and tells Harry to aim well.
Harry gasps when he sees Louis’ bare feet, and when Louis wriggles his toes, it’s over.
With a ragged grunt, Harry spills, pointing his dick down obediently. His release splatters a bit on Louis’ shins but miraculously lands mostly on his feet.
Louis shudders at the warm sticky liquid dripping between his toes and meets Harry's gaze. He's gorgeously flushed and sleepy, his eyes glassy.
Louis extends his right hand and palms Harry's cheek. Harry instinctively nuzzles in and smiles dopily, blinking heavily.
Those daft cow eyes, Louis thinks, not bothering to hide his own soft smile. “Oh, love, look what another mess you’ve made of Daddy’s feet.”
Harry flinches, a startled look flitting across his face. He recovers quickly, the hint of a smirk twitching the right side of his mouth, desperate to show itself. But he tamps it down, Louis’ good boy.
“Get back down there and clean up your mess, baby.”
And Harry’s nothing if not predictable. Louis’ sweet, obliging boy.