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Louis did not love his job. Which was fine. He didn’t have to. A lot of people didn’t. Most of his friends didn’t.
But sometimes, sometimes, he hated his job.
You see Louis worked in a high-end, full service, lingerie store. On one end, this meant that he was unquestionably better compensated than the average retail worker. This was good. Louis liked being better compensated.
However, full service also meant that his job had much more customer interaction than the average retail worker. And if you’ve worked retail for any length of time, it will not come as a shock to you to hear that customers are the worst.
So yes, Louis earned a little more money than someone working in Victoria’s Secret. But he had to talk to customers a lot more than someone working in Victoria’s Secret. And initially, Louis didn’t mind. He liked being able to help people. He thought it was endearing when men who seemed like they’d never been in a lingerie store stepped in to buy something for their partners and was happy to help them figure out the right size. He thought he was helping women feel empowered and sexy, which seemed like a pretty fucking awesome thing to be able to do.
But it didn’t take too long for his illusions to shatter. He could only take so many clueless husbands before he went from mildly endeared to straight up shocked at the number of men who didn’t know their wives bra size after years of marriage – or even looked offended at the implication that they might know.
Louis snorted at a particular memory. A man who was convinced that knowing the bra size of his wife of 15 years was gay. Yes. Such sound logic – knowing about a woman’s tits is gay. Straight men were the worst.
And don’t get him wrong, Louis was an equal opportunity hater. Straight women were also the worst. But he felt more pity for them than anything. So many overheard conversations – hopes that a particularly lacy thong would revive their bedroom, fears that a negligee showed their stretch marks too much, something about hip dips, whatever the fuck that was. Louis felt for his female coworkers. He didn’t even know what half the insecurities he heard women talk about were referring to. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for his coworkers to constantly hear that.
It wasn’t all bad obviously. There were occasional men who came in knowing exactly what they wanted. Louis loved nothing more than hearing a man say ‘no, she won’t like that’ or ‘her size is 36C’. God, it was so bare minimum but Louis would get excited when a man knew his partner’s size or preferences.
Of course, there were also confident, self-assured and secure straight women. Ones who didn’t care about thigh gaps and angel wings and god knows what not. But they presented their own challenges. Louis could not count how many times he’d had to gently turn down a scantily clad woman in a dressing room, and then turn them down again moments later. He shuddered at the thought. And it had been especially bad lately. He could not stop thinking about the nearly 50 year old woman who had all but purred ‘I would love to sit in your lap, Santa’ in his ear and squeezed his bum. Louis had ripped off the Santa hat on his head and thrown it in the trashcan the second the woman left the shop.
So his favorite customers were the lesbians. Whether they came by themselves or with their partners. They usually knew what they wanted, were better about knowing what their partners wanted and never, ever, hit on Louis. It was truly perfect.
Louis would be lying though, if he said he didn’t wistfully hope for a gay, lingerie-loving, pretty-boy to walk through the doors sometimes. But so far, he’d had no luck. And at this point, he’d stopped hoping. Faces blurred together and his only goal was to get people in and out as fast as possible – preferably without being assaulted or propositioned.
“Um, hi,” the voice made Louis look up from where he was sorting through the racks.
“Hello,” he said warmly. “My name is Louis. Have you been helped yet?” he asked as he took in the man’s appearance. His cheeks were flushed and his lip was bitten and bleeding just a little. His big hands were twisting nervously.
“No?” he said, unsure if that was the right answer.
“I’m so sorry about that, sir, I –”
“Harry,” he rushed to correct, surprising Louis a little.
“Harry,” he agreed. “I’ll be happy to assist you, Harry.” He was a little younger than their typical clientele. Luxury meant a lot of old people. Horny old people. Louis shuddered mentally. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, a glass of wine?” he offered, focusing his attention on his customer.
Harry shook his head. Then, “um, actually, some water would be great, if possible.”
Louis nodded. “Absolutely. Why don’t you browse a little bit and I’ll be right back,” he suggested. Harry opened his mouth like he was going to protest but then closed it and nodded, and Louis left to fetch a bottle of water. “Alright, here’s your water,” Louis said and Harry jumped, dropping the fabric in his hands. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said as Harry picked it up and set it down with quiet apologies.
“Thank you,” he murmured, accepting the bottle of water.
“No worries. Now, do we have anything in mind? A particular article you want? A fabric, maybe even a color?” Louis asked.
Harry bit his lip. “I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “Something delicate?” he asked hesitantly, his expression again suggesting like he wanted Louis to affirm if he got it right.
Louis nodded as he mentally rifled through their products. “Delicate, absolutely, we can do that,” he nodded. “How about a color? We have a gorgeous Christmas collection right now,” he prodded.
“Um, I don’t really wanna do red. Think it’s a bit obnoxious personally,” Harry said with a sheepish smile. “No,” he cleared his throat, “no offense to anyone who enjoys it of course,” he amended.
Louis chuckled brightly. “No, that’s alright. I don’t think our Christmas collection has a lot of red anyway. We like to do things a bit differently around here,” he shrugged. “I can show you a variety of stuff – bras, briefs, thongs, babydolls, bodysuits, you name it,” Louis listed.
Harry bit his lip nervously. “No bras,” he said hesitantly. “Um,” he played with the rings on his fingers, glancing around furtively. “No thongs either, I don’t think,” he snorted a little.
“Alright, noted. Would you like me to just grab a few briefs and babydolls or bodysuits and we can go from there?” Louis suggested. He was a little thrown off by the man’s nerves. Usually the men that came in here were awkward and unsure, but not nervous.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Harry nodded, exhaling harshly.
“Alright, be right back,” he paused. “Let me know if you change your mind on a beverage,” Louis offered again. Harry could clearly use a drink. Louis returned with some of their bestsellers. He personally thought that the knickers didn’t really look complete without the bras but he wasn’t paid to share his opinion. “So, these all sell pretty well. And of course, all the knickers come with their matching bras,” it was still his duty to inform.
Harry hummed as he looked through the pieces, his fingers lingering over the mesh thoughtfully. “Um, not these,” he said, pushing aside the babydolls Louis brought. “Um, this one’s nice,” he held up a pair of embroidered mesh panties. “I kind of like this too,” he held up a wine bodysuit with a cutout in the back and butterfly wing-like lace extending from the bra band.
“Those are very popular,” Louis approved. “Do you know what size you want them in?” he asked.
Harry bit his lip and took in a deep breath. “Uh, do you think you can measure me? I don’t know my size…”
Louis tried to not react to Harry’s statement. He might still be completely misunderstanding things but it sounded like Harry was buying lingerie for himself. “Yeah, of course,” he wanted to strangle himself when his voice sounded higher. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can measure you. Would you like to move to a fitting room?” he suggested, smiling at the relieved exhale Harry let out.
Harry chewed on his lip some more and nodded. No wonder it was bleeding when he came in. “Yeah, that would be good. Um, can I try them on?”
Louis wanted to say that that was the whole point of a fitting room but he held in the snark. Harry was clearly nervous. “Absolutely. We do have disposables that all patrons are required to wear when they try on the garments for health and safety purposes,” Louis said as he picked up the pieces that Harry chose and led them to a spacious fitting room. It was warmer than the actual store so patrons changing didn’t get cold and was warmly lit. It also had an armchair and a full length mirror. “Okay, can I take your coat please?” he asked Harry.
Harry nodded, shedding his coat and handing it to Louis who put it up on a garment rack with a hanger. “Should I take off my sweater as well?” Harry asked, already holding onto the hem.
Louis looked over at Harry to assess what he was wearing. “You’ll get your most accurate measurements in your underwear. So undress to whatever degree you feel comfortable. If you’d rather keep everything on, we can figure it out anyway,” Louis assured.
Harry was already undressing by the time Louis was done talking. That was a sharp contrast to the shy lad he’d seen so far. Once finished, Harry stood there with his hands folded in front of his crotch. Louis raised his eyebrows as he took in the sight of all the gorgeous tattoos on his body, his mind reeling with ideas on what articles would best highlight his ink. He blinked slowly, trying to keep his thoughts professional.
Louis took the measuring tape out of his pocket. “Would you spread your arms for me?” he asked and Harry complied easily. “Perfect,” he praised. “I know you said you don’t want bras but I’m going to measure your chest anyway because our dress sizes are based on chest, waist and hips,” Louis explained and Harry nodded. He wasn’t very talkative. “Unless you already know your dress size?” Harry shook his head, a light flush on his cheeks.
Louis stepped closer, leaning in to wrap the measure under Harry’s armpits around his chest. He could feel Harry’s eyes on him and the warmth emanating off his chest. He made sure that the tape was positioned properly, adjusting it so it lay over Harry’s nipples, a sharp intake of breath coming from the man when Louis’ fingers accidentally brushed the sensitive bud. “Sorry, are my hands too cold?” Louis asked with a sheepish smile.
Harry let out a nervous chuckle, one that Louis could feel through the tape. “No, just,” he bit his lip yet again, “just really sensitive.”
Louis felt a shiver go up his spine at that but he resisted reacting. Harry’s voice was wonderfully deep and warm. It seemed to settle in his bones when he was this close. He made mental note of Harry’s measurement, his hands now slipping around the man’s slender waist. “Butterfly on your stomach, eh?” he couldn’t hold back his comment apparently.
Harry let out a delighted giggle at that and nodded. “It’s technically a moth, but yes. Do you,” he paused, and Louis didn’t look up but he had a feeling Harry was biting his lip. “Do you like it?”
The hair on the back of Louis’ neck stood up at how breathy Harry’s voice was on the question. He straightened back up, his hands adjusting the tape around Harry’s waist. “It’s beautiful, yeah,” Louis agreed, watching in fascination as Harry’s stomach caved in as he fixed the tape. “Don’t suck in,” he reprimanded quietly.
“Sorry, I’m just really sensitive,” Harry offered again. Louis was cursing and thanking his stars at the same time for putting whatever Harry was in front of him.
“Just your hips now,” Louis said, withdrawing the tape from Harry’s waist.
“Can we skip that?” Harry asked in a panicked voice.
“Love, we need – oh!” Louis’ eyes flit down to Harry’s hips, widening when he noticed Harry was sporting a semi.
“I’m sorry,” Harry pleaded softly. “I don’t, I’m not–”
Harry looked so torn up over it that it tugged at Louis’ heartstrings. “It’s alright, Harry. It happens,” he assured. It didn’t. He had not measured a single guy in his three years at the store, so it definitely didn’t just happen. “I don’t mind measuring you still as long as you’re comfortable. If you’d rather, I can just bring you a few different sizes of knickers and you can figure out for yourself?” Louis didn’t want to make Harry uncomfortable.
Harry bit his lip. “You can measure,” he allowed.
Louis nodded, squatting down to wrap the tape around Harry’s hips and carefully adjusting it, biting his lip when the back of his hand brushed against Harry’s crotch and he felt it twitch, Harry letting out an embarrassed whimper. Louis chanced a glance up to see Harry’s eyes scrunched close, his hands wringing each other nervously and his lower lip being assaulted by his teeth as usual. Louis felt the overwhelming urge to command Harry to stop biting his lips. He quickly finished measuring Harry and stepped back, smirking a little at the relieved breath the man took.
Then, focusing back on his damn job, Louis played with the numbers in his head, his brows knitting together as he tried to work out what size Harry might be. He hummed thoughtfully.
“What is it?” Harry asked, his lip biting getting increasingly frantic with each moment of silence.
“I’m going to bring you both our small and our medium. I think you’ll fit a medium better, but just to be safe,” Louis decided. “We also do made to measure if you choose to go that route.” Given that their lingerie was designed for women, Harry’s waist put him in a medium but his chest and hips put him in a small. Louis grabbed a dressing gown and offered it to Harry. “Would you like something while I’m getting those for you?”
Harry gratefully accepted the dressing gown and covered himself up. “I’m good,” he said, not meeting Louis’ eyes. And once again Louis felt the strong desire to command Harry to look at him. He needed to get a damn grip.
He returned with the two pieces in Harry’s size. “Alright. Here you go,” he said, placing the hangers on the rack. “I’ll be right outside if you need help with anything. The disposables are in the tissue box.” Once Harry gave him a nod, Louis left and mentally browsed through their collection, thinking of what else Harry might like.
“Louis?” he heard Harry call tentatively.
“I’m right here, do you need me to come in?” Louis called back.
“Yes, please.”
Louis slipped back into the dressing room and his eyes widened at the sight before him. Harry’s back was to him but he could see his front in the mirror. The wine bodysuit hugged him beautifully, the lace extension highlighting his moth. And his back. Louis might have a damn aneurysm. “Hey,” he said, his voice cracking.
Harry looked over his shoulder. “I can’t get the hooks, will you help me, please?” he asked with big eyes and pouty lips.
Louis nodded, stepping forward till he was within touching distance of Harry’s back. He was struggling to think coherently given the absolutely sinful sight in front of him. His hands came up to grasp the band and pull it together, fingers slipping on the hooks, making Harry giggle nervously. He managed to get the hooks closed on the second try. “There we go,” he stepped back.
Harry thanked him quietly and observed himself in the mirror, his hands coming up to grope his own chest. Louis let out a surprised gasp at the bordering on obscene act. “What do you think?” Harry asked quietly.
“It’s a beautiful piece,” Louis said, channelling as much professionalism as his extremely gay ass could manage when faced with a beautiful man wearing lingerie.
Harry tsked his disapproval. “It is, that’s why I picked it. But what do you think of it on me?” he asked insistently.
Louis cursed whatever deity it was that was testing his resolve. “I think that’s for you to decide, Harry. What do you think of it?”
Harry turned around and fixed Louis with a sharp look. Louis didn’t know where the sudden change in character was coming from but he was going to be in trouble if the stirring in his stomach was anything to go by. “I don’t think I like it.” Harry said matter of factly.
“No? What don’t you like?” Louis asked.
“I don’t like the bra. I don’t fill it out and it makes it look all funny,” Harry tugged at the empty fabric of the cup. “Tell me your thoughts, Louis,” Harry requested again, taking a step closer to Louis.
“I think it’s –” he swallowed nervously, his eyes drawn to the moth again. “It accentuates your tattoos nicely,” he finished, his gaze slipping even lower to the very suggestive ferns that were peeking out partly.
“You’re gay right?” Harry asked bluntly.
Louis let out a squawk of surprise. “Y-yeah?”
“Well then tell me what you see as a gay man,” he demanded, putting his hands on his hips.
What Louis saw was a suddenly mouthy brat that he wanted to pull over his knees and put in his place. “I– I like it,” he finally confessed and if Harry’s reaction was anything to go by, he was satisfied by that.
“What do you like about it?” he asked. Or maybe not.
Louis took in a shaky breath. “I like the way it frames your moth. And the way it kind of bites into the ferns suggestively.”
Harry smirked a little. “I like it when they bite into the ferns,” he said and Louis knew he wasn’t talking about clothes. Lord save him. This was how he was going to die. Harry turned his attention back to the mirror and ran his palms down his body and nope, this was how Louis was going to die. “I don’t like it. Or the panties. They’re just, they’re not it, you know?” he looked over at Louis. “I want something irresistible.”
Louis’ throat had never been drier. He thought Harry looked pretty fucking irresistible given that he was seconds away from dropping to his knees and panting for the man. “I think I know just the thing,” he said and slipped away before Harry could protest. He rifled through the racks before he found what he was looking for. He returned with the hanger in his hand and thrust it at Harry.
“Oh,” Harry said with wide eyes. “This is…” he took in the green fabric embroidered with ferns all over. “Um, I'm not sure how to put it on?” he confessed, cheeks pink.
“It’s a two piece set, the harness goes around your back with the strap like a halter neck and hooks into the knickers. I think it’ll frame your chest well.”
Harry grinned warmly. “Finally some real feedback!” he teased. “Now shoo! Let me try it on,” he demanded. Louis hadn’t been gone for two minutes when Harry called him back in. “Will you hook these for me?” he asked with a small smirk on his lips.
Louis’ breath caught in his throat. Harry was an absolute vision. The green made his eyes so much brighter and intense and the swoop of the harness accentuated his pecs just how Louis thought it might. “People don’t usually struggle with the hooks on these,” Louis said, stepping closer to Harry. It was a straightforward S-hook that went into the briefs on either side. Louis slipped a finger into Harry’s waistband to pull to the extra loop of fabric for the hook to slide into. He didn’t fail to notice how Harry’s breath hitched, his hands hanging between them awkwardly.
“This feels nice,” Harry breathed out quietly, searching Louis’ eyes.
Louis raised his brows, letting his fingers trail up Harry’s side, definitely more touch than strictly necessary. “This?” he asked, testing the waters. He wasn’t oblivious to Harry’s flirtations but he very much didn’t want to lose his job. He wondered if it was the lingerie that was giving Harry this sudden burst of confidence.
Harry’s eyes fluttered shut at the feather light touch. “Well, I meant the fabric,” he chuckled breathily. “But that too, yes,” he agreed, his voice cracking on the last word as Louis' finger slipped into the waistband on the other side. “I usually expect to be taken to dinner before I let pretty boys slip their hands into my pants, you know?” he teased.
Louis smirked a little, connecting the hook to the loop but not putting any distance between them. “And yet, you asked for this,” he said with a smirk.
“Figured you’d be too polite to do either,” Harry shrugged, turning around but staying close to Louis – close enough that his hair brushed over Louis’ face when he turned. “The disposables make it look kind of ridiculous,” he pouted. The poofy translucent plastic did kind of ruin the allure of the cheeky cut. Louis was grateful for them though. Both in his everyday life – preventing him from seeing hundreds of women in their full glory every day – and today – doing at least something to make the gorgeous man less mouth watering. Harry ran his fingers along the v of the harness that started at his sternum and went down and across his body to his hips. Louis shivered. Harry smirked. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice even lower.
Louis bit his lip. He was going to wank to this sight for the rest of his life. “I think this serves your purpose,” he said quietly. When Harry quirked his brows, Louis continued, “it’s irresistible.”
A wide grin graced Harry’s features. “I agree,” he said, taking the smallest step back so his bum was just barely brushing Louis’ front. Louis’ eyes fluttered shut as he begged his body to behave. “But I don’t think we can really assess it with the disposables,” he said, feigning innocence.
Louis’ breath caught in his throat. “Unfortunately, we don’t allow patrons to try on the lingerie without disposables,” he parroted.
Harry smirked a little. “Oh no, I’m definitely buying it,” he assured. “I just figured, maybe you guys do home visits for,” he licked his lips a little, “customer satisfaction?”
Louis’ eyes widened. Harry’s switch from shy and nervously cannibalizing his lip to propositioning him was giving him whiplash. Emboldened by Harry’s shameless words, Louis placed a hand on Harry’s hip, the contact less charged thanks to the stupid fucking disposables. Harry took another small step back, his arse now pressed to Louis’ crotch. “Home visits aren’t in company policy,” Louis said slowly, his entire focus on not grinding against Harry’s arse. “But, I’m sure corporate wouldn’t mind me going the extra mile to please.” His hand on Harry’s hip squeezed a little and Harry’s eyes fluttered shut.
“I’m glad,” Harry murmured, relaxing his head back on Louis’ shoulder. “Would corporate mind me going the extra mile for a thank you?” he asked, his lips dangerously close to Louis’.
Louis’ chest was heaving. “I wouldn’t. I like pretty boys with good manners,” he smirked a little, his hand sliding along Harry’s waistband till it was spanning over his tummy, his pinky just barely dipping under the waistband. He hummed his approval when Harry let out the quietest whimper, his hips rocking up ever so slightly.
“Louis…” Harry breathed out, his hand holding Louis’ wrist in place.
Louis grinned. “Get changed and I’ll ring this gorgeous thing up for you,” he said, stepping back, relishing in Harry’s displeased whine.
“Do you think I should get the bra?” Harry asked as Louis was backing away.
“I personally quite like your tits out,” he said and left the room, catching Harry’s surprised gasp on his way out.