The party takes place a couple weeks later, and after much internal debate about what he should wear, Harry shows up in his tightest black jeans – his stylist has dubbed them "jeggings" but Harry doesn't think that matters – and a sheer button-up dress shirt the color of wine. In an effort to not be too terribly slutty, Harry only leaves the first four buttons undone. He briefly considered showing up shirtless, but he doesn't want to scandalize the masses, even if the masses are comprised of fellow porn stars.
Harry mingles with the crowd, saying hi to old co-stars and catching up with friends. It's halfway through the evening when he finally spots Louis. He's standing across the room, talking to Cal and wearing quite possibly the tightest trousers Harry's ever seen on someone other than himself. It's truly a sight to behold. Harry grabs a glass of wine from a nearby server and stalks over. Cal notices him approaching and breaks his conversation with Louis to call out to Harry.
"Harry! Glad you could make it, man," he remarks, pulling Harry into a loose hug. Louis eyes him curiously from behind as they break apart. "Harry, have you met Louis? You two tend to travel in different circles, I think."
Harry shakes his head and turns to face the shorter man. He tries to remind himself that he's actually quite charming most of the time, so turning into a blubbering mess in front of Louis would just not be acceptable.
"I haven't met him actually. Pleasure, Louis, I'm a big fan of your work," Harry offers as he extends a hand.
Louis lifts a brow in his direction and shakes Harry's hand. "You've seen some of my movies? Didn't think you were into my kind of films, mate."
Harry squeezes Louis' hand once before he lets go and lifts a shoulder. "Should've clarified that, I guess. I'm a big fan of you, actually. Nice cock."
Louis sputters out a surprised laugh, slapping a hand against his stomach. "Cheeky, Harry!"
Harry smirks and shrugs. "I'm nothing if not straightforward," he quips. He glances to his side and notices that Cal has left to mix with his other guests. He has Louis all alone.
"So, Louis, I'm guessing you haven't seen any of my work?" Harry questions.
Louis chuckles and shakes his head. "Can't say I have, mate, sorry. I've heard some things though," he replies.
"What things?" Harry asks. "Hopefully nothing too bad."
"Well, I believe I read an article that called you the 'noisiest bottom to ever bottom' and then said you were 'the Michelangelo of anal sex.' Not sure what that last bit meant, actually. The journo seemed rather infatuated, to be honest."
Harry tuts and nods his head. "Think I remember that one. The interviewer kept looking at me like he wanted to eat me. Bit scary, actually." Harry pays no mind to the fact that he's looking at Louis much the same way. "Shame you haven't seen my work, though, Louis. I'm quite a force to be reckoned with, I think. Deep throat like a champ," he brags.
Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you do. No need to be humble about it."
"Heyyy," Harry protests. "There's no shame in admiring one's own accomplishments. I've sucked a lot of dick. I deserve to brag about my skills," he argues. "So, Louis, while we're discussing dick-sucking, I suppose you're not ever considering a switch to my side of porn? You'd be great at it, I think," he teases.
"Never really thought about it, to be honest. I'll admit I'm a bit intrigued."
Harry gapes and stammers in response, "Are you—are you fucking me?" (Harry wishes.)
Louis pulls a face and drawls, "Don't think so. We're both a bit too clothed for that." Harry rolls his eyes.
"You know what I mean, twat. I thought you were like, straight. Strictly V and never the D," he whispers.
Louis snorts. "I got into porn when I had just turned 18, Harry. Hadn't really explored my sexuality all that much. Maybe I could expand my horizons. See what all the fuss is about."
Harry considers Louis for a moment before grinning. "This is the best news I've heard all day. I'd love to do a scene with you."
"Who says I would want my hypothetical first scene to be with you, Harry Styles?" Louis asks, quirking one perfectly arched eyebrow. Harry wants to lick it. Why. "Zayn Malik's quite sexy, isn't he? Cheekbones for days. Nice lips too."
Harry narrows his eyes as he glares at Louis' amused face. Harry will be damned if Zayn FuckingMalik, good friend of Harry's or not, gets to feel Louis' perfect dick in his arse before Harry does. It would be cosmically unfair and Harry simply won't allow it. Just being in Louis' presence has Harry twitching in his pants; he's wanted him for years. He can't let Louis potentially toss him aside for someone else.
Harry steps forward and stoops down to press his lips against Louis' ear, ignoring the other man's slight intake of breath. Harry has to fight the urge to breathe in Louis' scent before speaking; he wouldn't want to come off as creepy or summat.
"Well, Louis Tomlinson, I think you might want to revise that statement," he begins, letting his breath tickle Louis' ear. Louis jerks his face away, but Harry moves his hand up to tug him back in. "Zayn's great, but he's not me. He won't suck you down until his nose is pressed against the hairs on your skin. He doesn't scream the way I do when you flip me over and fuck me from behind. His skin doesn't get as flushed as mine does when you slap my arse and bruise my hips with your fingers. He won't ride you fast until you can't breathe or so slowly that you're itching to throw me down and punish me. He won't moan your name into your ear and he certainly won't let you take control the way I know you like. The way you need. He's not like me Louis. And I think you want me. You want the best."
Harry steps away and drains his drink, placing it in Louis' lax hands. He winks and walks away, leaving Louis red-faced and open-mouthed in his wake.
He's hooked him.