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    Summary

    Louis: tall is nice, it usually comes with… other proportional assets

    Harry’s cock gave a traitorous twitch against his thigh. The bluntness of it, the clinical yet deeply suggestive phrasing, sent a flush of heat across his skin. He swallowed heavily, his mouth dry.

    Harry: I’ve never had any complaints about the proportions.

    The typing bubble appeared and vanished several times, as if Louis was savoring the response, crafting his reply with deliberate care.

    Louis: When you’re hard, where does the tip hit? Your navel? Higher?

    Harry’s eyes dropped from the screen to his own body. Tentatively, he brought his hand to his waist, his fingers brushing his navel, then tracing an imaginary line upward. The mental image, combined with Louis’s cold, technical phrasing, was devastatingly arousing.

    You: Higher.

    He sent the single word, feeling exposed.

    Louis: That’s nice, babe. Lots for me to play with then? D’you think it will fit?

    Language:
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