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Summary
He was still laying here, all of his long-limbs stretched out, his own come still splattered over his stomach and her own wetness still on his mouth and chin, eyes closed and hair all mussed up from his own hands pulling on it as she fucked him.
Louis thinks he looks beautiuful like this and wants to save this imagine forever, wants it ingrained into her mind. She was pretty sure Niall had said that Zayn was an artist... maybe next time they did this, she'd take a picture and ask for a favor.
