Work Text:
Sweat pools in the dimples at the base of Louis’ spine. Harry licks his lips, looks away, is thankful for his dark sunglasses when he’s drawn back, again.
Despite the sun’s relentless heat, Harry longs to touch. His fingers twitch.
“Lou?”
Louis turns, squints at Harry from the neighboring chaise.
“Want me to do your back?”
A slow, relaxed smile. “Sure.”
He smears the sticky lotion across Louis’ golden shoulders; his heart thumps heavy. He feels the bumps of Louis’ ribs, slides his hands to Louis’ lower back, pointedly doesn’t think about leaving possessive bruises or how he wants more.