They call us Larry Stylinson (Larry One Shots - book 2)

let me teach you

From: http://archiveofourown.org/works/853378

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Rating: Explicit

Warnings: teacher/student relationship, highschool!au, anal sex, prostitute!harry, teacher!louis

Word count: 4255

Summary: “Last night was a mistake, Harry,” Louis says once he has control of his voice. “Are you even /legal/?” He splutters out, paling at the thought of having hot sex with a /minor/.

Harry laughs without humour and leans in to brush his lips against Louis’ ear. “Old enough, sweetheart.” The older man fights a shiver. “Besides, it was the best mistake of your life, baby,” he whispers hotly and it’s temptation, innocence and sex all in one tone.

// Basically, Louis sleeps with Prostitute!Harry and goes to work the next day with an aching back and a pounding headache to find a certain curly haired boy in his class yay.

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Louis Tomlinson.

Go. Home.

GO.

HOME.

Go home, Lou.

Lou.

I swear to God, Louis William Tomlinson.

You’re drunk, stop driving and go the fuck home you asshole.

Less tequila and patron shots and maybe I would be okay with this but unfortunately, due to the circumstances of the amount you drank (too much, as always) I highly recommend you drive home or at least pull. over.

I know you’re driving!!! I know you see this!!! I know you’re drunk!!!

Why the fuck do you drive whilst drunk and then read your fucking text messages you bellend???????

Louis winces slightly as his inebriated mind scans the words into a small filing cupboard at the back of his brain labelled painful-and-very-annoying-mother-hen-antics-of-Zayn-Malik. His best friend means well, of course he does. He’s a Physics teacher with the principles of a fucking saint due to influence of his son’s best friend’s father who Zayn most definitely feels no attraction thank you very much. Which roughly translates to Zayn prefers to just having a sneaky wank over the Golden Angel From Above, Liam Payne.

Zayn knows him well. He should, after all. They’ve been friends for several years, when Louis was just the silly, loud bastard with an optimistic view to the world. So, of course, by some cruel feat organised wonderfully by the whores of Satan and other officials of the damned, Zayn is right.

He is drunk. He is driving through the wet, September streets of Newcastle. And he is reading the many incoming text messages on his phone, which he knows he shouldn’t be. But he can be careless sometimes right? As long as the bright yet slightly impatient university students he teaches from Monday to Friday don’t catch wind of how rad he is, then it’s perfectly fine.

Right?

Right. His reckless side agrees and Louis is momentarily happy with his state of mind.

The majority of streetlights are winking playfully at him as he drives slightly erratically down the long winding roads near the Tyne and he finds himself singing obnoxiously loud as well. Paramore’s Still Into You wraps around him and he’s giggling before coming to a sound halt, mouth dropping open.

He’s been here before. Many times, in fact, especially on silly nights like this where he’s got intoxicated and decided to partake himself in a long voyage through the huge city under the blanket of darkness.