Archive of Our Own

It’s still dark when Louis wakes early in the morning, but he can tell by the exhausted tug at his consciousness, that it’s early. It’s cold though he’s tangled in the thick duvet of his childhood bed, and his head pounds in ways he recognises as a hangover.

With a groan, he shoves his face deeper into his pillow, cursing himself for drinking an entire bottle of Vodka last night. But he couldn’t pass up the alcohols liberating haze, especially not at his own welcome home party; it’s been three days, three bloody long days that he’s been home, in Doncaster.

He’d missed Donny, of course, he’d been gone an entire year and was eager to see his girls, Mum, and mates, but most of all, the simple normality of being home. Now, though, that he’s here, the girls are lovely as ever, and Mum is just as stern, but half of him is missing.

Harry is missing. And that was the exact reason for his drunken state last night. Harry fucking Styles. Harry with his deep accent, and loud cackle, his bloody curls, and the dimples, and the…God, Louis thinks with another groan, he’s so whipped. They’ve been away from each other for only three days so far, and it feels like hell.

It stings to know that Harry’s probably at home, smirking, the sexy cheeky smirk at somebody else, pronouncing the ghost of dimples in his—“Where is he?” A frantic shout jolts him from his reverie. What the hell?

Louis knows that voice…Harry?

“I know its early Mrs. Tomlinson, but I kinda need to see him. Now, please.” This time the voice is hushed with barely-withheld frustration.

I must still be drunk…Maybe I’m hearing thi—The door is thrown open, a figure launches forward so fast that the person is a blur—Louis’s horrid vision no help at all. Arms find their way across his middle; pulling him close and he feels somebody’s weight against him, the smell of leather and soap assaulting his senses...Harry.

“Fuck,” that deep voice breathes into his hair. “I missed you.” Instantly, Louis’s brain fogs with want, the blood rushes to his cock, already semi-hard with the smell of Harry clouding his atmosphere. He stifles a groan, fully aware of his mother—who stands in the doorway, a disapproving glower on her face.

“Louis,” Jay says sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s always been difficult with his mother. He’s been out of the closet (at home) since the X-factor, and Mum is okay with that…she’s just not okay with Harry. The rumours of him being a man-whore are everywhere lately, but that’s all they are: rumours. It’s her nature, he supposes, as a Mum, to fret about her son’s possible impending heart-break.

And usually, he would cope with it, and send Harry packing, but this morning…Louis wants—needs him. He’s Harry’s, and God, he needs the reassurance. “Mum, ‘m so tired,” his voice comes hoarse with sleep. “Lemme sleep…please,” he continues to beg, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes.

Mum must be really knackered this morning because her eyes soften. “Alright, Lou. Call me if you need anything…” Then, with a pointed look at Harry, she closes the door softly behind her.

Slowly, Louis tilts his face to Harry’s, the slow grin that’d been playing on his lips faltering at Harry’s hooded, blazing green eyes. “Where’s your phone, Lou?” his voice is deathly-calm, but for some reason, it isn’t comforting at all.

The question stuns Louis into silence, and Harry pinches his chin between his long fingers. “Don’t play coy, Louis. Where. Is. Your. Phone?” He blinks harshly.

“Um…” Damn it, he doesn’t even remember where he left his phone last night. “I-I think it’s in my jeans from last night…?” he mumbles unsurely.

“D’you know how many times I’ve called and texted you? You scared the hell outta me, Louis.” Guilt coils in Louis’s belly at the raw sincerity in Harry’s voice.

Oh, damn. “Haz, ‘m really sorry…I- was a bit plastered last night ‘cause I-I missed you…” he tries, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

“Missed me, hmm?” He lets out a relieved breath, because Harry’s voice has lost its steel, but instead taken on a slow drawl that leaks something hot.

“Yes,” he hums breathily, his filter lost. “So, so much…Thought of you when I fucked myself, so hard.” Harry growls, hands falling lightly to his hips, and he shudders at the feel, waiting for when he’d dig them into his skin—

“Wanna fuck you, Lou. Hard, so hard, right now.” Louis whines, an embarrassing high-pitched noise, his hips jerking involuntarily; fuck, he wants that, so bad, more than he’d thought. He’s aching for it.

“Please.” Before he knows it, Harry’s pinning him to the mattress using only his hips, the pressure is relieving enough that Louis sighs, his hands reaching for Harry’s messy curls, only to find that he’s got both his hands in one of his, in a vice-like grip, above his head, leaving him completely restrained. The other hand fists his hair, and yanks down harshly, bringing Louis’s face up so their lips meet.

The same electrifying pleasure shoots through him, except this time, it’s so much more intense, and Louis can’t help but moan eagerly, giving his tongue an opening. The kiss is filthy, Harry’s tongue dominates his, tasting of his minty toothpaste and he doesn’t ever want to stop kissing him, except he wants so much more and God, he can’t think— Unconsciously, he tries to roll his hips, searching for friction, but the grip on his hands tightens, fingers digging into his skin. Pain begins to tingle but never enough that it travels but enough that he ‘mmm’s a plea, and gives up, letting Harry have his way because, in all honesty, he loves it when Harry treats him like Louis belongs to him.

His cock is so hard it has a heartbeat from where it’s constricted against the fabric of his trackies. And he wishes he could just palm himself, especially when Harry’s teeth tug at his bottom lip. Louis’s heart leaps in his chest, the pain newfound, sweet, sharp, and Christ, so fucking hot.

More, more, more, he begs Harry inwardly, but he doesn’t listen, and instead, pulls away. The breath leaves Louis in a whoosh as he’s flipped over and being pulled into a sitting position. His back meets the hard wall of Harry’s chest, but his hands are now sandwiched between them, leaving him floundering, the pressure on his cock—which jerks in his pants, precome beading at the slit—gone.

“H-Haz,” he breathes, clenching his teeth to keep from begging. Harry leans forward, his mouth connecting to his leaping pulse, hot and wet as he sucks with the intent of leaving a mark. Louis can’t move, partially because Harry’s hand is still tangled in his hair, baring his neck fully to the attack, the other because pleasure crawls over his skin, blurring his mind away from any worries or coherent thoughts.

Slowly, Harry makes a path down his neck, nipping sucking, teasing cruelly as he goes, until he meets the sweet spot Louis has, where his neck meets his shoulder, teeth locking on the skin.

“Oh-,” he keens high, pleasure mingling with pain as he arches, hips bucking. When Harry’s mouth detaches, Louis can still feel the sting of blood rising to the surface, and knows that Harry has left a dark bruise in his wake

Unexpectedly, a heavy hand clamps over his mouth, hot breath fanning  over his ear. “Quiet, Louis. We can’t do this otherwise. You are going to stay quiet, yeah?” Stop? The option has Louis nodding madly, breathing hard, but needing to convince Harry that he’ll stay quiet.

It works, and the hand is removed, only to grab the collar of his tee, ripping the thin material open, so that the wide of his hands splay over his torso. Long fingers crawl up to his nipple, pinching the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger, and Louis just barely keeps back a whine at the satisfying sting. Harry continues to toy with him until Louis feels like screaming with frustration.

Only when his nipples are puffy and sore, Harry finally gives, his hands traveling down Louis’s chest, blunt fingernails scraping lightly over his tummy, where they glide tauntingly at the waistband of his trackies.

“Fuck – I –, Harry please,” he caves, his cock swelling to the point of pain. This time, Harry shows mercy, his hand slipping into Louis’s trackies and wrapping tightly around his cock over his pants. “Fuuuuckk,” he moans breathily, throwing his head back to Harry’s shoulder at the white-hot pleasure.

“So pretty like this, Lou,” Harry pants gruffly. “All mines…So fucking pretty.”  And his hands are gone, tugging him out of his trackies and pants in one fluid motion, baring his cock to the cool air and Harry’s smoldering gaze.

He can feel his gaze on him, causing another eruption of precome to dribble onto his tummy where his cock lays, bitten raw and begging to come. To his disappointment, Harry urges him back into the mattress, having his face pressed to the pillow, but grabbing a hold of his hip and hauling them so that his arse is in the air, knees nearly folded.  

Anticipation floods him, and he wiggles, craning his neck to see Harry’s hungry gaze on his bare bum. “Please, Harry, hurry u –,” He’s cut short by the sharp sting at his bum, where Harry’s hand now lays. Tears prick his eyes, the pain laced with a thrill that confuses him.

“I didn’t ask you to talk, Lou,” Harry says, voice so deep and low, that Louis glares a little.

“I wasn’t being lo – ergh!” The hand swats his cheek again, heating his skin—which must be turning pink but fuck he didn’t know anything could hurt so good. His eyes shut and he gives a little whimper, starting to drop his hips as to grind into the mattress but the hand keeps him up.

Harry shifts away, and God he wants to cry with happiness when he hears the familiar cap of the lub he keeps at his bedside table pop. Then a cool, slick finger drags down the crack of his bum and he pushes back, ready to take whatever –a long finger shoves inside him and Louis cries out loudly.

“Missed this –you,” Harry groans, crooking his finger until he finds Louis’s prostate, making the smaller lad jerk, and melt into his touch. More, Louis almost moans, about to touch himself when Harry pushes in another finger, having his arms go limp with a dangerous “Stop”.  He wants to cry, because it isn’t enough, it won’t be until Harry’s stretching him full.

He wants it. Oh God, he does. A third finger joins the torture and Louis’s head spins a bit as they spread, scissoring him. “Yes,” he moans, unable to keep the babble of words from falling out of his mouth anymore. “More, Harry, more.”

“Mmm, greedy,” he observes, a grin in his voice as he draws his fingers out. Louis knows what’s coming as Harry shoves his trousers down, rubbing the lub on himself before positioning his hard, huge cock at Louis’s entrance. “You drive me mad, Louis, bloody –,” his hips slam forward, driving in with one slick glide, bottoming out.

A hand snakes over his mouth just as he cries into it, a rush of burning pain and pleasure, and fuck¸ he doesn’t understand what is rushing through his system. His lungs burn, his cock giving a sore throb, and suddenly he’s torn between wanting to frantically swivel his hips, or stop the pain–

“Fuck,” Harry swears, staying still—apparently knowing what to do when Louis doesn’t. Just like he knew he would, Louis feel’s so full, a feeling so intense he would’ve collapsed if Harry’s hand didn’t ensure that his ass stay up in the air for his taking.

Louis’s whole body tightens when Harry starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before shoving back inside. Fuck, he’s not ready, but he needs this. Harry pulls away again, shifting so Louis’s hips are angled a little to the side, then he immediately thrusts, hitting Louis’s prostate head-on. “Oh –Harry,” he gasps into the other’s hand.

“Drives me mad – when you ignore me,” Harry snarls, and Louis cries out, his whole body seizing up as he comes completely untouched, his hole fluttering around Harry’s thick cock as he streaks up his chest and belly.

Spent, Louis goes to fall, but Harry bends, one hand moving to Louis’s sensitive cock, which is rapidly hardening again, then lets his head fall to that sweet spot at Louis’s shoulder. “Gonna come for me again, Lou. Show me how much you missed me.” Then his lips are open, lapping at him, and actual tears slip passed his eyes because –

“I can’t again, Haz! Too – sensitive…” he tries, but Harry only chuckles, his pace now a painfully slow rhythm whilst his lips move over his cheekbones. Louis thinks his body has caught fire; his skin is practically alight, his fringe matted with sweat. Harry has never been this way with him, but damn him, it’s heart-breakingly perfect. 

“Mine,” Harry whispers hotly, accentuating the assertion with a harder thrust. Louis whimpers, swiveling his hips back with a fierce purpose, all his pent-up sexual frustration surfacing just as Harry moves his hand to snatch a tuff of his hair. “Fuck you,” he sputters, rocking back. “I –fuck, Harry, please, please lemme come.”

“Who d’you belong to, Louis?” Harry growls. Then he directs Louis so that he’s facing him, then Harry licks over his swollen, parted lips.

Louis gives up any resistance. “You!” he gasps. “Only you!”

“Thought so,” Harry triumphs breathlessly. Then he’s thrusting frantically, hitting that spot inside Louis so fucking hard every time and God – “’m gonna come,” Louis sobs desperately, cock tingling as Harry strokes in time with his thrusts.

“Yeah, babe…yeah.” Harry pants with another thrust.  On command, fireworks erupt from behind Louis’s eyelids, his body shaking with weeps as the most intense orgasm of his life crashes into him, his cock jerking as he spills over his tummy. Harry doesn’t last any longer, the clenching of Louis’s insides enough to drive him wild, thrusts erratic as he comes into Louis, spurts hot and thick.

Without the support, Louis’s limbs give out, and he collapses onto his sticky stomach, worn, knackered, and thoroughly claimed. “Alright, love?” Harry’s voice sounds muted.

Fucking incredible, Louis wants to tell him, but all that comes is a gurgled, “Mmm…” His skin tingles as a feather light hand sweeps over his side, followed by a chuckle. Then Louis feels him leave his puckered hole and he winces, over-sensitized.

“Sleep love. I’ll clean up before…” Everything fades into a void of nothingness.

×××

By the time they reach their flat in London, a week later, Louis can’t walk. The first show of dominance from Harry shifted something between the two, and Louis isn’t sure what exactly. But, when it comes to sex, gone was the gentle-touches, and in came the begging, clawing, desperate fucks. And Louis absolutely loves it (how could he not?), but right now, he is irritable for two reasons: the lack of sleep filled nights, but mostly because his entire body hurts in some sort of maddening way.

His lips are bitten raw from trying to stay quiet at night, his throat is littered with love-bites –which pang uneasily with even the lightest of touches, and Harry’s touch’s are certainly not light –, his back has knots, his bum cheeks sting –still swollen red from mouthing Harry (Louis cannot keep the sass from coming out sometimes, okay?), and fuck him, his arse stings inside with every ruddy shift.

He’s so damn moody about it all. And Harry’s pointless guilt isn’t making anything better.  All Louis wants to do is forget all about the aches and sleep, but Harry simply won’t let up. “Its fine, Harry. I’m fine,” Louis assures for what he thinks is the millionth time since they started the stairwell (due to the bloody elevator taking forever), Louis’s wrapped around Harry, who carries him bridal-style because Louis can’t even walk right without wincing and waddling.

As they reach the last flight, Louis wishes he were anywhere but when a couple passes with a knowing smile from the girl. Now he’s bloody embarrassed too.

When they disappear, Harry clenches his jaw. “You can’t even walk, Lou. That is not fine,” Gee, thanks for the reminder. Louis’s frustration spikes. “You should’ve just told me I was being too rough. It’s self-preservation. I should throw you over my knee and make you sorry you didn’t.”

Louis goes tense all over, the words like a sharp dagger to his now tattered pride. “What…?” he mutters incredulously into Harry’s throat, where he’d burrowed his head. The atmosphere freezes over. “Lemme go.”

Eyes wide, Harry realises exactly where he went wrong, but it’s too late, Louis’s anger has skyrocketed. “Now, Harry.” Reluctantly, the curly-headed lad obliges and as Louis slips to his feet, he manages to bite back a wince (but, hell does the pain work to fuel his fury).

“Lou,” Harry starts. “I honestly didn’t mean –,” Louis’s grimaces, hurt and upset and just emotional.

“Fuck you,” he spits, watching the remorse stress his eyebrows. Abruptly, as to get the expression out of sight, Louis turns, starting to stomp (rather limply at that) up a few steps. More pain and he sways into the railing, wishing he could sink into the ground because he can’t even escape Harry: he’s torn him up, both emotionally and physically.

A hand locks around his wrist, and tears spring to Louis eyes as he attempts to wrench away to no use, Harry isn’t giving up. “Harry, just let me go,” he whispers, really meaning, let me save what’s left of my pride.

The taller-lad’s breath hitches audibly. “Please, Lou, just –fuck, let me at least carry you to the flat. You’re hurting and…just let me help you.”

It takes all his willpower to not scream “I don’t need your fucking help! You did this to me!”, but he knows how childlike that’d be, and Harry is right (the bastard), the pain’s nearly unbearable. So, closing his eyes away from the traitor tears, he nods, allowing Harry to swoop his arms underneath his thighs, holding him closer than necessary, to his chest. He just barely keeps from crying the last few steps, Harry’s silence rubbing the betrayal in.

Just apologise for fuck’s sakes, he wills, discretely inhaling his intoxicating scent.

They reach their door, Harry fumbling with the key until at last, he shuffles them into the cool domain of their apartment. Louis wants space, but Harry doesn’t release him, just stands there, eyes screwed shut. “You can let me down now…”

Without a word, eyes left unopened, Harry complies, arms falling limply to his side as Louis lands on the heels of his feet. The spacey flat has three bedrooms: Harry’s, Louis’s (which has never been used for its actual purpose), and the guest bed…Louis heads straight for his room, passing the lounge, in the hallway next, then hauling his door open, tears sticky on his heated face.

He slams the door shut behind him, determined to make sure Harry feels his pain one way or another. Stripping down to just his pants, he plops into the –his bed, ignoring the hollow pain at his bum and instead, stuffing a heavy pillow over his head to muffle his snivels, completely missing the sad whisper from directly outside his door.

“I didn’t mean it, Lou…”

×××

That night, Harry doesn’t get a wink of sleep. The darkness works as a projector, holding him transfixed by the images of his beautiful boyfriend, a messy heap in the covers, blue eyes sparkling with warmth. A warmth that seeps into Harry’s very being. A warmth that is presently missing.

He honestly wants to feel disgusted by himself for being so…forceful, but he simply can’t. In his mind, the blue-eyed boy with a brazen mouth and infectious laugh belongs to him. The notion shoots a needy fire throughout his body, a fire that lives to make sure Harry is the only person on Louis’s mind.

To say the first taste has left him wanting more, is sort of an understatement.

Though Harry’s better half is painfully aware of how lucky he really is to be fancied by someone so bright, because that’s all Louis ever has been: Harry’s warmth, his happiness, his –

The familiar creek of his door opening reaches past his thoughts. With a harsh blink, he finds that sunlight is peeking through the heavy curtains, then goes on to catch Louis standing in his doorway.

He looks so small and fragile, tucked away in Harry’s old Jack Wills jumper, which has always been a bit too big for him, so much that his hands are covered to the fingers by the sleeves. His chestnut hair is mussed from sleep, falling over his forehead, and his cheeks are a bit flushed, a sleepy smile playing on his lips, blue eyes weary.

Harry smiles tentatively, sitting up and opening his arms for a hug. Louis bites his lip unsurely, but Harry notes he doesn’t look miffed out anymore. “Come here Lou, I’m cold and you’ve stolen my jumper!” The first part, unlike the second isn’t far from the truth; Harry is cold without Louis.

“Stolen,” Louis scoffs. “I do recall a certain curly-haired Mum of mine practically forcing it over my head, fretting ‘bout the cold and what not.” Harry rolls his eyes. It was a very cold winter last, and Harry couldn’t just risk Louis catching a cold, Liam would skin him.

“Well, why don’t you return the favour then, and come ‘ere before I freeze to death?” He smiles sweetly.

With a humph, Louis comes forward, perching in Harry’s lap. Harry pulls him in closer, sighing contentedly as the Louis-affect settles in, the smell of apples in his atmosphere and the warmth bleeding into his chest. It has him closing his eyes and nuzzling his boyfriend’s marked neck with a deep breath.

“’m sorry for what I said Boo. Was my fault for being so…well, I dunno exactly what that was, but…” deep breath, Styles. “I promise not to be that rough again,” he finishes tightly, arms tightening around the smaller lad’s waist.

“Don’t worry babe,” Louis leans back with a wicked grin. “You won’t even have the chance to be rough for some time more anyway,” he assures him casually.

Confused, Harry arches an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

Louis proceeds to shuffle out of his hold, facing away from him so that his bum is right there. Right in front of Harry’s face. Inches apart. “Meaning love, you’re not getting any of this,” he wiggles his hips a little closer, his hand actually smacking his arse. “For a long time.”  Harry gapes, eyes wide and locked on the round, plump ass, just barely covered by tight little black pants.

He thinks he might die. Really, he can’t remember how to breathe. What the serious fuck just happened? 

A part of him feels cheated, and he reaches to grab Louis, but he’s already started towards the door, those damn hips swaying with each movement. Jesus.

Harry cannot believe – No, he doesn’t even want to believe that he won’t –Fuck, he really, really regrets being such an arrogant twat.

×××

To say Louis is extremely pleased with the weeks progress is an understatement. He’s ecstatic. In all honesty, he’d only been out to teach Harry a lesson, but now…now he’s quite enjoying his boyfriend’s moodiness and pouty lip. And he does everything in his power to cause them, mostly, all he’s got to do is tease him for a bit…Or all the time. But, who’s keeping track?

With a satisfied smile, Louis pads out of his bedroom (there’s simply no way to be in bed with his boyfriend and not touch him) shirtless, letting his tattered joggers hang at his hips.

It’s quite late in the afternoon, and he’d purposely waited to leave his room, knowing Harry’s sleeping habits –which consist of waking up after ten. So, he isn’t surprised to find Harry in the lounge, on the sofa, with his Converses’ propped on the coffee table as he watches a (very) dramatic run-away scene on the telly.

Louis stands completely still, openly drinking in the sight before he has to act all unaffected.  Today, his long legs are covered by tightly fit trousers, the white slope of his v-neck giving a proper show of his tattoos, and Louis wishes he had some control over his hormones because fuck him, he’s getting hard just looking.

A woman screams from the telly, but he doesn’t look to watch her (bound to happen) death, he simply stares, ready to –“Lou?”  Startled, he nearly jumps out of his skin with a yelp.

“Hi!” He blurts. Of bloody course.

Harry’s lips stretch into a Cheshire-Cat grin –which is freakish, seeing that Harry’s from Cheshire, and he’s fond of cats, and he grins like the Cheshire-Cat, and now Louis is going mental. “Alright there, love? Look a little flustered?”

Well, he’s not a bloody saint, but if he were, Harry’d surely be the devil. “Um, wattayawatchin!?” Louis implores, forcing a pained smile.

“You,” Harry quips.

“’m I any good then?” Louis squeaks, rooted in spot, entirely too aware of Harry’s gaze raking over him.

“Better, actually.”  Well then.  Harry doesn’t waste any time, obviously sensing Louis’ sudden weakness. With that same grin, he stretches, then prowls, actually fucking prowls, forward, green orbs full of sexual promises and Louis is paralysed.

He makes it easy for Harry to crowd him, hands flattened on either side of the wall. The scent Louis feels like he hasn’t smelt in forever evades from him now, as he leans down, pupils blown so wide, the green of his eyes are just rings, hot breath over Louis mouth.

“Hello there,” the taller-lad purrs –catlike, he kids you not.

Louis’ eyes flutter closed, a part of him screaming kisshimkisshimkisshim, but the other is bursting with what-if’s because what-if –

Louis lunges forward, hands tangling in Harry curls, and his mouth fervently attaches to his boyfriend’s surprised ones.  He gives a harsh tug on his curls and that’s all it takes for Harry to respond, and God does his mouth feel delicious. Louis puts up a fight for dominance, though (as always) he doesn’t win, instead, he finds his bottom lips being sucked on, and a very, very turned on Harry reaching to pull his joggers down but.

Before Harry can make the purchase, Louis shoves at his shoulders, making the curly-headed bloke stumble back in shock, but giving Louis the space he needs to clear his head. They both pant for breath. “Oops,” Louis eyes the bulge in Harry’s trousers, then smiles saucily. “Almost forgot, your hands are that big for a reason.”

Then he scurries away, into his bedroom where he locks the door behind him, and laughs carelessly as his phone buzzes in his pocket. The text is from Harry, of course, and it reads: ‘Such a tease Tommo :(’

Louis only laughs harder.

×××

Later, after a rather dry, boring wank, Harry needs a distraction – he finds it in the studio. There, Harry loses himself to the lyrics. He sings through every emotion brimming at the edge of his control. And when he does, he’s lost to everything.

Harry sings for Louis, because well. Louis is everything. He just closes his eyes and feels, pouring his heart into their songs.

The lyrics are rushing now, and Harry rocks to his band-mates voices, impatiently awaiting his turn –which is suddenly there. “It’s in your lips,” he starts low, locked on Louis, who’s blue eyes are glazed with…warmth. So beautiful. “And in your kiss. It’s in your touch…And your fingertips. And it’s in all the things and other things that make you who you are…and your eeeyyyeee’s irresistible.”

They all chorus, though all Harry hears is Louis’s background, “Your fingertips, so touchable…”

Zayn hits his high-note incredibly, his own eyes on Liam, who looks foolishly in love. “And your eyes, your eyes, your eeeyyyeee’s …Irresistible.” Harry sings along in his head, drowning in blue forget-me-not’s: his eyes, his eyes, his eeeyyyee’s, are irresistible.

The notes fall silent, a hush taken over the room, hard breaths excluded. Louis stares back with that same openly curious look, as if he can feel exactly how much Harry’s fallen for him, how much he longs to hold that special place in his heart –. Niall breaks the moment and Harry kinda wants to cuff him.

“You lot are sickening!” The three, Liam, Zayn, and Louis jump, looking startled as their faces turn shades of pink. Louis’s, Harry thinks fondly, is prettiest.

“Good job, lads! You can come out now,” Paul’s voice floods the box from where he stands behind the glass with a cheery thumbs-up. They’re all given water-bottles by nameless crew members, drinking generously, but Zayn drinks a bit too quickly, and pulls away, sputtering for breath.

Liam is immediately at his side, rubbing gentle circles in his back. “Slowly, babe. Slowly,” he coo’s and Harry feels Niall’s pain for once.

When Zayn’s breathing is even, and proper, Liam sits, pulling the smaller lad down into his lap, where Zayn happily curls up, practically purring. “That was breathtaking, Z. Hit that high-note so perfectly.” Niall makes gagging noises and Harry crosses his arms, glaring with irritation.

Louis should be in his lap, so that Harry can praise him, but noooo, Louis doesn’t even want to touch him. “Niall’s right, you guys are disgusting in your lovestruck phase,” he grumbles sourly, plopping three seats away from them.

Liam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What’s with him?” he asks someone, probably Louis.

Harry shuts his eyes, bottom lip jutting in a pout. Louis won’t tell the boys about his whole ‘no-sex law of celibacy or whatever’, he’s sure since – “It’s ‘cause Lou’s on strike!” Niall pipes suddenly, –he begged him not too.

“Niall!” Louis shrieks. Harry narrows his eyes, fighting off a blush because –obviously, Louis told Niall, who has now told everyone and he sorta, kinda wants to just sink into the ground.

“What?” Niall barks, holding back a laugh.

“You weren’t supposed to say anything,” Louis hisses. Yeah, Louis definitely let Niall know –which means the entire United Kingdom should know by tomorrow.

“Oh well,” Niall shrugs, as if he hasn’t just announced to the entire studio that –

“Harry’s not gettin’ any?” Zayn questions with a look of disbelief. A week ago, Harry would’ve had that same look.

“Yep,” Niall pops before Louis can say anything.

He feels awkward, knowing what’s to come before Liam even speaks. “Awe, Haz! What’d you do?”  Harry catches the apologetic look Louis shoots him and well. At least he doesn’t have to tell, though as Louis speaks, he can’t control his blush, frustrated and embarrassed and just randy.

“Harry wrecked me for an entire week straight, going a bit mental with all the…yeah, and then thought to blame me for my own bloody pain, and to complete that, is a cheeky, now very horny, twat,” Louis finishes. Only then does Harry come off it and realise: he’s an idiot, an idiot who really hurt the love of his life and really, really messed up.  It’s been a lovely day.

“Ah, Young Harold,” Liam starts. “You’re in luck, I –,” Paul’s approaching figure shuts him up.

“Alright Lou, Niall, you’re up for the paired half-time interview with All Stars Latest. We should be heading out now…”

If it were anyone else, Harry’d have objected or questioned, but he trusts Paul, so he keeps quiet. As the three start to shuffle away, he remembers something. “Wait!” he calls. They stop, looking back with eyebrows raised. “We’ll be joining half-time right?”

“Right. For now though, you’re free. Just be here when the van arrives.”

“Okay…” They start ahead again.

“Wait!” He repeats, this time with a shit-faced grin. They halt again, Paul looking mildly irritated. “Yes?” Louis chirps, ever-so-patiently.

I love you, I love you, I love you, Harry wants to shout, but…it isn’t the time. Not here. Not now. So instead, he murmurs, “I’ll miss you…” Louis smiles softly, his gaze falling to his feet, and Harry feels like he’s won a prize.

Louis doesn’t reply because Niall (the leprechaun is really looking for it) hauls him off, and Harry watches them until they’ve disappeared. Then, he desperately turns to Liam with wide, fraught eyes. 

“Liam,” he moans, yanking at tuffs of his hair. “Liam, what do I do? I’m such an idiot...and I don’t deserve Louis ‘cause I treated him like he was a possession and he’s so much more…he’s – he’s my favourite and I’m so stupid, and I –I think that I’m in love with him!” There, it’s all out.

A silence stretches then Harry hears a little chuckle. He looks up to find Zayn smiling widely (creepily), and Liam doing the same. He frowns, confused.

“Holy shit, Styles!” Zayn erupts with deep laughter. “That’s rich!” Harry’s frown deepens.

“Awe, Zayn! Harry’s finally fessed up to it!” Liam exclaims plaintively, as if it’s the worst thing to have happened, though his next words are a right contradiction to that. “’m so proud. This is the best day of my life…”

“Hey!” Zayn squawks, looking scandalised. “Whatta ‘bout our first date?”

Liam smiles warmly at his sulking boyfriend. “Nothing compares to that babe, you know that.”  

“I know, just wanted to hear you say it,” Zayn replies, rather smugly. And well. Okay, it’s unbelievably adorable.

“Alright, before you two start shagging like rabbits,” Harry breaks it up –Zayn and Liam both rolling their eyes – “I need some help for tomorrow night, yeah? I know exactly how to fix this.” Harry smiles widely.

He spends the next thirty minutes with his two best-mates until it’s time to enter the interview. Even then, Harry can’t stop smiling, impatiently awaiting what’s to come.

×××

Louis has trouble paying any attention to the first half of the interview. It starts of the same per usual, with a round of random questions, mostly repeats, like what they (him and Niall) personally miss about the X-Factor until they’ve moved onto the fan questions. The one’s Louis manages to catch are quite hilarious, like, “Does Harry actually sleep in the nude? You can tell us, we keep secrets,” and the likes. Then it’s time for a short break, and Louis waits patiently for the others to arrive when Niall waves a hand madly in his face

“Earth to Lou!”

Louis blinks, eyes focusing on a mock-outraged Niall. “Mmm?”

“Were you listening to a word I even said?”

“Depends,” he answers cheekily. “Would you be put out if I said no…?” Niall  narrows his eyes, but before he can comment, Paul comes in laughing, followed by Liam, Zayn, and Harry, all who look extremely…cheery.  Niall, easily affected by the happy atmosphere, jumps away from his spot beside Louis, greeting them.

Louis eyes them warily, but remains quiet, convincing himself that nothing’s changed, he most certainly did not just light up inside because Harry Styles waltzes quite goofily, tripping over his overly large feet, except,  he did…He really, really did.

Harry, who’s supposed to be his “best-mate” (right, as if anyone has fallen for that), who already gets enough hate for just being around Louis, who – with an inward sigh, Louis locks the guilt-ridden thoughts away for later, instead he focuses on his boyfriend, who makes his way towards Niall’s now vacated seat.

His stomach gives a little dip, watching his confident strides, entranced by them. It isn’t the first time, but it’s still weird –as everything seems to be of late.

“Hello,” Harry greets, grinning lopsidedly as he slouches on the couch, so close that his heat radiates into Louis’s side.

He smiles at him, feeling giddy. “Hi.”   

Harry takes his hand, rubbing the inside of his palm absentmindedly. “You okay?”

Unable to lie (Harry knows how interviews tend to affect him), he just admits indignantly. “A bit nervous –,” at his concerned expression he frantically tact’s on, “but nothing especially awful.”

Harry nods then, seemingly deep in thought. Louis lets the silence settle over them, staring intently at his expression. His dark eyebrows are knitted together, slightly arched at the ends, and his hair looks messier, pieces hanging over his forehead and eyes –eyes that are narrowed, and his whites dig into his bottom lip.

Louis leans forward, rubbing his smooth cheek with his free hand. The curly-haired lad automatically relaxes his expression, head snapping up to peer at him. “Don’t do that, Haz. The dimples are a better look on you,” he says seriously, eyes boring into Harry’s –encased in their own world.

He gives a small, breathy laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Abruptly, he looks secretive, leaning closer to Louis, too close for mates, but Louis can’t bring himself to care.

“Can you do something for me, Lou?” Chills run down his spine, sensations crawling along his skin.

“What?” He asks softly, keeping completely still. Harry, however, does pull back a bit, allowing Louis to catch the strange, calm, and personal smile stretching his lips.

“Sleep with me tonight?” And the moment’s lost, Louis tensing, but Harry licks his lips, speaking hastily. “Not that way…Just –Can I cuddle you tonight?”  

“But –why?” He questions stupidly, unable to help his unsteady breathing. Harry warned him from the beginning: he wasn’t looking for love; just mutual intimacy…They – Something between them has certainly changed.

Harry’s smile changes, tipping on one end, almost curiously. “Because, I can’t sleep without you.” Louis stares wide-eyed and astonished, as Harry’s eyes will him to say yes with a – a glow that he’s never seen there before. Not before today.

Before he can promise, the hostess’ voice has him scrambling away, breaking the moment. “We’re live in five, four, three, two, and action!”

Followed by, “Hello everyone, and welcome back to ‘All Stars Latest’! I’m Rebecca here, live with all of One Direction!” Then they’re all waving madly at the cameras, smiling wolfishly.

“So, boys…” Louis is side-tracked, shamelessly staring at Harry. The boy’s seems to be flamboyant today, but Louis feels the drag of exhaustion settling in his mind, and imagines cuddling in bed with –

“How ‘bout you Louis?”  The hostess (yes, he’s already forgotten her name) asks suddenly.

Lost, he utters a far-too-sure, “Yeah!”

The hostess’ eyes widen comically, a complete look of bewilderment that quickly turns into a keyed up grin. Shit. From the corner of his eye, he catches Harry’s gaping face, Niall’s obnoxious cackles in the background. Double shit.

“Well, please, go on then. Twerk.”  Go on…Twerk?!

He sputters –why are they even discussing…twerking?! He shoots Liam a pleading look, but Daddy Direction smiles back evilly. “Well, you did say you could twerk, didn’t you, Lou?” The traitor says matter-of-factly.

He smiles tightly – he could throttle him. Honestly, he would feel no remorse at this point. “I did, didn’t I?” He will never let Harry and his good looks distract him again. Nope, he will not.

Legs wobbly, he stands, breathing out a long sigh. The hostess claps her hands happily. “Don’t be shy now, Louis! Here, maybe some music will loosen you up a smidge!” Oh, they do come prepared don’t they?

Before he can admit he’s a tit and can’t actually twerk, horrible music blares in the background and all he hears is, “work, work, work, work, watchu twerkin’ with,” and well. He might just die.

This is not how he envisioned his day going but. Surprise, surprise.

As he shifts, the lads look ready to burst into laughter, though Harry nods encouragingly, and oh, is pay back a bitch.  But he can do this…right? He’s been blessed with a bum…Yeah, yeah, he can do this, he thinks, though he would certainly prefer death. “Go, Lou!” Niall howls, laughing so hard and –fuck it.

He turns, cheeks beet-red, and bending over the way he’d seen on the funny Vine videos. Alright, now he just…hands on thighs, he discreetly makes sure he’s closest to Harry, then he just…moves.

It’s probably mad, and all wrong, but honestly, he’s no dancer, especially not a twerker (if that’s even an official dance?). Louis rolls his hips, squeezing his eyes shut and flaunting what he has. He pushes the fits of laughter away from mind, and just spends a full thirty-seven seconds pushing his bum back, rolling, popping… (twerking, he hopes?). Then he jerkily straightens. The music abruptly stops as he pastes an achingly wide smile on his face and waits.

“Um, well, that was um, quite the performance,” Rebecca (he thinks that’s it?) finally coughs, before a little giggle escapes her and wonderful, even the hostess is laughing at him.

“Moving on…” Gladly, he takes his seat beside Harry, throwing an arm over his eyes, humiliated.

“You’re so fucking hot…” the whisper is shuddery, and Louis’s eyes snap open, arm falling to his lap so he can risk a glance at Harry, who stares with a fire in his blown eyes.

“Yeah?” he breathes unsurely, licking his lips.

“Fu–uck yeah. Got me so hard,” it’s so low he almost doesn’t catch it, but it doesn’t matter as Harry shifts, body facing Louis. Then, his slackened hand is being placed on the very large bulge in his jeans and Louis inhales sharply as Harry hisses, eyelids fluttering a bit. The two glance about too see if anyone takes notice, but the camera’s are all pointed on Liam and Rebecca, who are deep in conversation. 

“I’ll show you again…sometime,” he promises slowly, heat pooling in his belly, but before it goes too far, he pulls his hand away, trying to seem composed. But Harry is just…forceful, and fit, and, and –Louis wants him. 

The thing is, Louis wants more than just his body…And yeah, that’s the thing.

×××

Thankfully, for Harry’s sanity, the interview follows fairly uneventfully after Louis’s little show, and now they’re all piled in the car. It’s a fairly silent trip with Paul at the wheel, Louis in the seat ahead of his beside Niall who talks quietly into his ear about nothing really, and Zayn with Liam, holding hands as Zayn stares intensely out the window and Liam tries to text one-handedly.

Nobody does anything to break the comfortable silence, and one by one, the boys are dropped home until Harry’s left with Louis and Paul. Daylight is fading fast, and exhaustion threatens to fill up the car. He’s officially spent for the day.

Still, nobody speaks, and he leans his head back lazily, watching Louis through thick eyelashes to see he’s doing to same. The blues of his eyes on Harry courses heat through his body, the warming kind. Louis is warmth.

Harry feels so whacked under that warmth, but the buzz of Louis being near and his semi hard-on keeps him conscious as they wait to reach their condo. Sometime passes, but at last, they stop at their building, both slipping out the car with half-hearted wave’s goodbye to Paul. Then, he hooks an arm protectively around his boyfriend’s waist and pulls him closer. 

He’s so tired, tired, tired, and wants to stumble into their bed, toss the covers around them, and drift into a dreamless sleep filled with warmth –Louis. The need drags at his eyelids…sleep with Louis, sleep, sleep, sleep.  

They reach the door, but Harry fumbles, hands limp enough that Louis stops him, taking the key and surely sinking the key into the lock before twisting. The door opens slowly, beckoning him to go and slide underneath the fluffy blankets of his bed.

At the doorway, Harry kicks his shoes off, Louis following suit, then gradually, he takes off all pieces of clothing, keeping only his pants.  After, he looks over to see Louis standing there, eyes on the floor. With a sigh, he goes over to him, tugging his shirt over his head, telling Louis what he wants. He strips down to his pants as well, and then Harry’s leading him to their room.

There, Harry pulls the smaller-lad into an embrace, dragging them to the big, neatly made bed where he tucks the covers around them. Louis feels like his in that serene moment, soft, warm, and snuggling into him with his head on his shoulder and their legs tangled.

Sleep already closes Harry’s eyes, when he hears a soft voice calling his name in the smoggy distance. “Harry…?”

“Yeah?” He grits back into reality, waiting to hear what his boyfriend wishes to say.

“D’you think –You don’t just like me for my body, right?” The other breathes, strained.

Shocked, Harry tries to pull away but Louis clings to him, shaking his head, breath hot on his shoulder. “No, Lou,” Harry murmurs, hugging him tighter. I love you. I love you. I am so bloody in love with you. All that comes is, “You’re my favourite everything…So warm and caring…and just you Louis…My favourite.”

Louis’s breath catches as Harry smiles sleepily. “Yeah?”

“My favourite forever.”  Harry is swallowed by a peaceful sleep, surrounded by the light scent of apples, warmth, and the boy he’s fallen completely in love with.

×××

The breath leaves Harry in a rush when a body sets over his, a muffled giggle escaping the culprit. “Lou-is,” he whines, voice gravelly from sleep. Far back, he wonders why the smaller-lads skin is so moist, and bare, but he’s still half-asleep, and doesn’t mind the feel – at all.

And Louis does stay where he’s at, until he becomes restless. “Haz,” his voice is low as it prods through Harry’s sleep filled haze. But he refuses to speak. Nope, he will ignore him. He will! “Haaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzz!”

Hands land on either side of his throat, the distinct smell of apples sharp in the air as Louis nuzzles his jaw coaxingly. Now, he thinks groggily, he has to resort to speaking. “C’mon Lou, sleep time…”

“No, Hazza,” Louis presses a chaste kiss to the base of his throat. “It’s nearly half-past noon.”

Defeated, Harry wearily opens his eyes –which squint as the sun burns into them.  “Fine, fine, you wank –,” the words get stuck in his throat as he focuses in on his boyfriend –naked as the day he was born.

“Louis, you’re starkers,” he sighs playfully –obviously the other must know that –but still. It’s been forever since he’s seen Louis this naked, and it’s a sight –sun-kissed skin in the morning light, so stunning and –

“Really? I hadn’t noticed! It is a very good morning after all!” Smart ass.

 “Indeed,” the other purrs, stretching forward to grab Louis’s hip, but before he can, Louis rolls away.

“Hey!” Harry yelps, mock-scandalised as he clutches his chest with one hand. “Get back here, you scoundrel! You’ve just stolen my eyes’ innocence! I demand you return it!”

“Innocence?” Louis scoffs, scampering towards the wardrobe, Harry’s eyes are busying themselves on his bare arse. “Harry, if anything, I’m the virtuous saint and you are the devil whose sole purpose is deflowering me.”

Still staring, Harry deadpans. “There is nothing remotely innocent about that arse, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis shoots him a glare, but it’s full of amusement as he disappears in the wardrobe.

“Don’t discriminate against those who’ve gotten generous helpings, Young Harold.”

“You mean do appreciate those who’ve gotten generous helpings, Boo-Bear.”

“No.”

“Yep.”

“NO.”

“I do believe so.”

“Nooo!” screeches Louis –who promptly launches himself from the wardrobe, does a spy flip on the mattress, then straddles Harry’s stomach, cocking an invisible gun to his head with a stern expression. “You’re under arrest for questioning the Tommo authority.”

“The devil can be arrested?!”

“It’s all about connections,” Louis says, beaming, and hell, Harry’s breath catches (how hadn’t he noticed how beautiful Lou looks with a smile before?) “Now, Oh-So-Malicious-One I’ve sought out back up, they’ll be arriving right about –,”

“LOUUUUIIIIIIIIIS!”
“Harry?”

The calls come from the lounge and Louis grins evilly, “now, actually.” Harry grins so hard his cheeks hurt, surprising them both when he flips over so that he’s looming over Louis –who’s legs are wrapped around his waist. He thinks now would be the perfect time to tell him –

“Honeys, I’m home!”  And surprise, surprise, Niall, cock-blocker of the month, bustles in. Louis tenses beneath him and Harry glares up at Niall whose eyes widen. “Oh. Hey Harry,” then his eyes narrow in on Louis and Harry fights to deter the instinct to block the menacing (just slightly) view.

“And I betted on you too, Lou! Such disappointment.” Then he stomps away, leaving the two bemused.

Louis gains his composure first, untangling his legs and sliding off the bed. Grumbling, Harry goes to bathroom, brushing his teeth while making funny faces at Louis who watches until he’s finished.

 Louis is the first to scamper towards the lounge. Harry follows, easily catching up until they reach where the others have made themselves at home.  Liam and Zayn are piled on the loveseat, flickering through the tellys guide as Niall grumbles around a mouthful of crisps to Zayn. “You win, Z, these too are worse than you and Li.”

Zayn smiles widely. “I always do –,”

“What’re you morons going on about?” Louis snaps, snatching a bag of crisps from Niall. Harry silently watches with an amused smile.

“Well, Louis, since you asked so kindly. I know you and Harry fucked last night, you dirty –,”

“Whoa –We didn’t – I mean – I just –,” Louis stumbles and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Me and Louis didn’t have sex last night, you dolts,” Harry mutters smoothly, plopping on the sofa across from them.  I only wish.

“Then what –why were you guys in compromising positions?” Not nearly compromising enough, Harry thinks, slouching deeper into the cushions.

“Compromising posi – Oh, bollocks, that is nothing of your business!”

Niall shrugs happily, nicking the crisps back. “Long as Zayn loses.”  

×××

Louis has a feeling. A strange, obnoxious feeling that won’t go away. It’s curled up tight in the pit of his belly, making him fidget and chew at his bottom lip.

It’s been four hours since he left their flat (having taken an entire hour to get through the fans), now, he waits beside Niall in the long, stretching queue of the (ruddy third) shop they’ve gone into.

By some turn of events, he’d been opted to spend his afternoon and evening food shopping with Niall –who could purchase an entire supermarket –, and who’d whined, “Harry and Liam’s obsession with health foods (Hipster and Health-Freak, well, whaddayaknow?) and Zayn’s lack of interest in food whatsoever wouldn’t give him proper advice; but honestly, who needs advice on what food to buy? Oh, that’s right, Niall, the Hungry-Horan.

By the time they reach take-out, Louis’s bottom lip is bleeding. The dodgy feeling won’t just go away, and his mind keeps wandering back to Harry –what could he be doing?, does he miss him?, is he having a good time with his mates?

With a harsh blink, he helps Niall unload his groceries. “Somethin’ the matter, Lou?” Niall asks, turning to him with blue eyes full of concern.

Louis doesn’t fancy all the attention, but he honestly wants to get rid of this feeling…So he goes with the truth. “’m fine, just feelin’…off.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, um, yeah, lemme just pay and we should be ‘bout done.” He glances at his iPhone, turning away from Louis though no before he catches Harry’s messenger tag. Louis narrows his eyes. He’s texted Harry twice already –all of which to no reply –yet he can text Niall… “Yep, all done here.”

Louis nods shallowly but let’s Niall pay without any questions. Then they’re back in the car, Niall driving with their edibles in the backseat. As they drive off, the feeling gets worse, fluttering around and performing summersaults. Continuously, he wipes his hand, sweat-slickened by nerves, onto his trousers, watching from the window as the flats begin to fade, realising then –

“Ni, we’re going the wrong way,” he points out blankly.

Niall smiles widely, but doesn’t answer, instead he raises the volume so the Eagles’ voices pound along the car’s interior, and keeps driving. Louis glares, but doesn’t comment, thinking maybe Niall has one more place to go –but. Soon, they’ve reached the more suburban part of London, and Louis’s mind is buzzing with questions.

It’s dark by the time they finally reach their destination –a tall, unusually empty skyscraper. The lights are out, and well, he doesn’t know what the hell they’re supposed t be doing here. 

Something is definitely up, he thinks as they reach security gates, where Niall enters in a pin-code, then continues up the long, stretchy drive. They near a circular opening and valets swarm about but Louis pays them no attention, caught up in the gardens that surround them, stemmed blue violets line up to the glass-doors, where something dangles by a loose thread.

Eyebrows raised, Louis follows Niall –who know chats quietly with a vale –, out of the car, taking the time to really look around. It’s intimidating: the size of the building, the extremely posh air, but it’s lovely all the same. Surrounded by gardens of wild coloured flowers, glass reflecting all the lights of London…It’s lovely and Louis can’t tear his gaze away until Niall steps in front of him with an evil smile. “Time to go!”

Louis narrows his eyes guardedly. “No. Nope, I am not going anywhere with you until I know what the fuck is going on.”

Niall sighs, unimpressed. “Quit bitching Louis, we don’t have time.” Well, as stubborn and dramatic as he is, curiosity killed the cat and just might kill him too. Go figure. With a reluctant sigh, he trails Niall over to the glass doors where he plucks the object which he sees now as a thick piece of (terribly) patterned cloth. “Okay, now turn,” the Irish lad orders.

Louis sticks his tongue out, but complies. “Don’t be such a little cunt, Lou, smile a bit.”

“Maybe I would, if someone would just tell me what’s goin’ on…I want my Harry,” Louis sniffs as the makeshift blindfold is tied over his eyes, leaving him to opaque black.

“There, there, little one,” Niall tuts. “They don’t call me the Fairy-God Horan for nothing.” He doesn’t bother to remind his mate that they don’t call him that at all because he’s being led through –what he presumes is – the glass doors.

Louis thinks for a moment. “Wait, does this mean you’ll make all my wishes come true?”

Niall snorts. “Don’t be greedy. Only one.” Louis inwardly winces –the first (pathetic) thought that came to mind having to deal with “in love” and “Harry”.

Their footfalls make muted-thuds on the floor (tile, he thinks) before they stop abruptly. The air around them is warmer than outside, but there aren’t any hints as to where they’re going, it’s so quiet Louis can hear his own breathing. It stays that way for a few seconds more before he’s pushed into a smaller space –with tunes he can only reincorporate with elevator tunes. It’s a quick ride, and then Niall steers him out of the lift, and he walks unsteadily, the hands on his forearms guiding him in the right direction.

They make a few more turns before Niall stops to rap on something –a door? –before claiming in a deep, rather dramatic voice, “We’ve arrived!”

Louis smiles a little, running his fingertips over the smooth, cool texture, listening intently to the low hisses coming from behind.

“Shit! Already?”
“Told ya! Niall drives like a bloody maniac!”
“Should’ve let me be the distraction…”

Curious and mildly amused, Louis chuckles, letting his hand fall too limply to his side. “Open the door, you idiots!” Niall huffs impatiently. And finally, finally, the door opens with a click, and Niall bursts into laughter.

“Where’s my phone? This needs to be documented!” Louis frowns, squinting beneath the blindfold as if he could somehow see what’s so funny.

“Shut it,” comes another off-pitch voice.

“I think,” Louis whines. “It’s highly unfair for everyone, but me, to know what’s happening here.” Someone drags him forward, just as Niall answers cheerily from behind him.

“It’ll all be worth it soon. Trust me.” Smug, knowing, Irish, bastard.

“Trust you,” he scoffs, stumbling over something on the floor and just barely catching his balance. “You’ve blindfolded me and dragged me into the dragon’s layer!”

“Alright, alright,” it’s Liam who cuts in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Take the blindfold off him Niall, it’s almost time.”

Louis’s about had enough of all this “almost time” bullshit. “Almost time for what!?” he mutters in exasperation.

Nobody answers, instead someone –probably Niall– comes up behind him and makes work at untying the blindfold. It takes a few seconds but then it’s not so dark anymore.

Well, actually, it is very dim, but he can make out the large, open space he’s been shuffled into. There’s not much too it, but on the floor he can easily make out the soft glow of tiny candles, all in a trail-like row, evenly set up on either side.

Unconsciously, he starts towards them, letting his eyes wander now that they’ve properly adjusted. The walls are a pale, cream colour, easily distinguished against the darkness. They’re also bare of decorations, in fact, that only things that are decorated are the floors. He looks down again, at the polished linoleum, finding that there are blue (violet?) petals littered about and –what the hell is he supposed to think of this…? Honestly.

It’s very silent around him, and one look over his shoulder tells him that he’s alone now. It’s just him, the spacey (kind of creepy) room, and the mysterious trail of candles. Well.

Louis bites his lip, transfixed as he continues carefully down the candle-trail, trying not to let his thoughts get ahead of him but fuck, he’s very excited and the earlier feeling has turned to butterfly’s throughout his belly and his head. Yeah, he feels like something amazing is going to happen. So, what?

The trail so happens to lead to a curtain and he pauses, taking a few deep breaths, ready to find out what the hell is going on and what is hiding behind when Zayn stumbles from a hidden opening (the place seems to be full of secret hiding spots and the likes).

When he takes in Zayn’s clothing he blinks, but when he opens his eyes again, yeah, Zayn still looks…the way he looks. He bursts into laughter, clutching his belly as he does so. “Wha –What the fuck are you –wearing!?”

 Zayn, whose hair is smoothed into this horrible, sleek side-do, glares, hands self-consciously patting over the crisp white button-up, tucked into posh chinos, as he shifts, revealing a pair of clean, white plimsoll’s.

It’s so…unlike Zayn. “Watch yourself, Tommo. I didn’t dress like a pansy for you to laugh.”

Gasping, Louis manages to sober up, realising that Zayn actually looks a bit pissy. “Then why did you dress like a pansy? I mean, it looks…cool…but its different is all.” His lips twitch again, but he keeps back the laughter bubbling inside him though Zayn just rolls him eyes.

“Well, I fear that Harry might rip my balls off if I don’t do this the quote correct unquote way…” Okay…Louis frowns at the subject change. “Come on, Princess.” 

“Hey! I am a pr…in…–,” the words die as Zayn pulls back the curtain. The breath leaves him in a rush. Lights. Lights sparkle everywhere in his vision. The balcony ahead seems to extend for miles, casting the most breathtaking view of the London’s busy outcast. But it can’t hold his attention, not with Harry in sight.

The taller-lad is dressed in his tightest black skinnies, broad shoulders stretching over a blue blazer with a loose white tee, and necklaces at his collarbones. And those brown, scuffed up brown boots are forever on, of course. His brown curls are pushed to the side over his forehead, and he’s chewing nervously on his swollen bottom lip. Louis almost salivates at how gorgeous his boyfriend looks, but is side-tracked by the scene just beside him.

There’s a small, square table, cloaked in thick, white table-covers. Atop are two long, white candles that look like they could be found in a posh manor, the flames dim, but not so much that it covers the cutlery (is that pizza?), or the wine glasses, or the fucking flower petals. Louis anxiously licks his lips, gaze flickering to Harry, ready to go back to the table, but noticing Harry’s unease as he rubs roughly at the back of his neck and stifles a cough in his other hand.

“Haz,” he breaths softly. “What’s this?” Far off, he hears Zayn shuffle out, so that it’s just him and Harry.

“Um,” Harry swallows, Adams apple bobbing. “A-A date? I didn’t really –It was…It’s for you,” he finishes stupidly. A grin lights up Louis’s face and he thinks all he knows then is happiness.

“It’s lovely,” he tells him, eyes misting threateningly. This boy…This boy will be the death of him.

With a watery smile, he approaches the table, running his fingers over the soft flower petals curiously, as he catches sight of their dishes, it actually is pizza slices. And it’s so completely Harry that he giggles girlishly. Perhaps he is a bit of a princess. Well, royalty is royalty.

“What’s funny?” Harry asks, a smile in his voice. 

“Pizza, how romantic,” Louis counters mischievously.

Too edgy to detect the teasing, Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “I could get us somethin’ better, y’know…I just thought –,” Louis stops him with a shake of his head.

“It’s perfect, Haz. Honest.” It really, really is. Harry smiles slowly, pulling the seat closest to him out (like the true gentleman his Hazza is), so that Louis (with a roll of his eyes, because Harry is such a sap), sits. With the delicious look of the pizza, Louis’s suddenly famished. But he waits for Harry to sit –stretching his legs so that their ankles tangle, it’s a bit uncomfortable, but Louis doesn’t move –before he smiles shyly, taking a testing bite into the pizza.

It tastes amazing, and he moans appreciatively, watching as Harry’s eyes light up and he starts at his own slice. For awhile they eat in comfortable silence until, after three slices, and two glasses of wine, Louis’s properly stuffed. He watches silently as Harry keeps going, gulping down another glass of wine when his eyes go wide and he jerks to a stance.

“There’s more,” Louis guesses, positively thrilled. Harry beams, pulling him up to lace their fingers so that their palms are flat against each other.

“Ready?” But he doesn’t have time to answer because Harry’s dragging him into the shadowy halls, steps large and sure. Excitement buzzes around them as they ignore everything they pass, stumbling down carpeted steps.

Finally, they go through doublewide doors and into –a ballroom? Louis gapes. The space is huge; all glass walls, revealed so that the city-lights reflect onto the smooth linoleum floors, though above, a magnificent chandelier twinkles with pride.

Oh my fuck, Harry didn’t…He’s –Oh my gosh.  “You –Harry,” he chokes barely audibly, but the words still bounce around the open room. Harry laughs lightly, taking Louis and spinning him around once.

“Why –I – This feels special,” Louis blurts his thoughts, flushing as they spiral onward. What if he’s got the wrong idea? If Harry’s just trying to get him into bed –

“It is,” Harry agrees, cutting off the flow of the venomous thoughts with a brief smile. Then he takes Louis’s other hand and slips them both around his neck, leaning a bit so that the other doesn’t have to stretch.

“What’re you playing at, Styles?” Louis grins fondly.

“Slow dancin’ love,” he drawls, hooking his arms around Louis’s waist, pulling him in close.

“What about the music…?” he sighs, mouth dry. As if on cue, guitar strings are pulled, the sound flooding the room and Louis jumps, startled by the sudden intrusion. He’s unable to go far because Harry’s arms constrict around his waist so that he can only crane his neck towards the sound, eyes landing on Harry’s good mate, the one and only, Ed Sheeran, holding his guitar with knowing smile.

But before he can do anything Harry turns him easily, lips at his temple and Louis melts into the embrace just as the cords slow and Ed’s voice sooths over –but Harry’s deeper one sings the line, “I fell in love next to you…”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, tensing as the words wring at his heart, but listening intently to Harry’s voice over Ed’s. “Burning fires, in this room…It just fits,” they glide in another slow turn. “Light and smooth. Like my feet, in my shoes…Little one, lie with me.” Louis feels the words all over his skin, whisper-soft and warm.

More lyrics, though only from Ed, pass as they glide around the room. Then Harry’s breathy voice, “…And hold me tight. Don’t let me breathe…Feeling like, you won’t believe.” He wants too, he really, really wants to. There’s the chorus, and they sway back and forth.  

“Warm me up, with your lips…Heart to heart. Melt me down, Lou…’Cause it’s too cold. You’re the one, to help me get to sleep…” He hears it all, even the lyrics unsaid by Harry, and filled by Ed.

Louis’s blood is heated. “It’s only been one night of love…That is not enough…” He doesn’t want the sound to end.

“There’s a firefly, loose tonight…Better catch it, before it burns this place down, and I lie, if I don’t feel so right…”

Ed stops completely. And Harry pulls back enough that his eyes, sincere and affectionate, bore into Louis’s blurred ones. ‘But the world looks better, through your eyes.’ Louis whimpers a bit, hands falling to clutch the lapels of his blazer, a desperation wisps down his spine.

“Wha –Please tell me what this is supposed to mean…?” Harry holds his eyes as he leans closer, so they’re nose to nose.

“I love you, Louis Tomlinson,” he murmurs gently, but firmly. Louis lets himself fall in love all over again. Except this time, he isn’t drowning…He’s flying. So, so high where nothing but HarryHarryHarry, can reach him.

Louis doesn’t notice the tears streaking down his cheeks, though Harry carefully brushes them away. Involuntarily, his eyes fall shut just as swollen lips brush over his parted ones, sweet and easy.

Harry Styles loves me, he thinks dazedly. “Tell me again.”

Harry hums in his lips, “Louis Tomlinson, you’re my forever. I love you, God…I love you.” He lets out a short, stuffy laugh, hands moving to Harry shoulders where the muscles bunch under his fingertips.

“You –I love you,” he mumbles raggedly into his throat a moment later. “You’re –I love you…Just, I love you.” The others hands rub slow circles into the small of his back. “Make love me to, Haz…”

-o-

Harry eyes sting. It isn’t enough –nothing possibly ever will be, but he’ll keep trying to make it so. Harry’s going to keep trying for the rest of his glorious fucking life.

His heart hammers so hard, he thinks his ribs might break, but doesn’t mind –it’s worth it. Louis’s worth it. “Make love to me, Haz.” It’s not a question, but a demand, and it’s so like Louis.

He wants too. He wants to so bad, but. But. “No. Let’s just stay here…” it has no conviction, but he’s trying okay? He tries to tug the smaller boy forward, but he holds his ground, looking up with those deep fucking, ocean-coloured eyes, like Harry’s the best thing in the world. Harry squeezes his hand once, though Louis is practically crushing it already.

Louis Tomlinson will be the death of him, of that Harry is completely sure. “Lou, please, I’m trying,” he clears his throat, suddenly very hot. “I’m trying to be romantic…And you’re –just so…” beautiful, tempting, warm… Harry makes no sense.

Louis smiles, stretching up on his tiptoes so that his hands rest on both sides of his throat, and his eyes are up-close, glinting seriously. “Styles, you’re a sap at heart. I’m already yours, have been for awhile. Now, will you take me to one of these fluffy, posh beds already?” That’s all the convincing he’ll ever need.

With a shaky exhale, Harry cups Louis’s face in his head before slotting their lips together. The kiss is deep; both exploring each other’s mouths, like it’s their first kiss. Louis tastes like wine and something…sweetly Louis, making his head spin. Sighing, he stumbles backwards, towards the exit, all the while, nipping at Louis’s puffy bottom lip, rewarded with a sexy little noise.

His blood is molten fire, burning through his body, but it isn’t painful, nothing with Louis ever is. With all the willpower he possesses, he pulls away from the other to drag him through the halls and into the master-suite. The I.D. card scans easily and the doors quickly open, and Harry’s lungs constrict, his cock hardening to the point of pain at the knowledge that once they’re in there, Harry’s going to have his boyfriend a needy wreck beneath him, going to explore every part of his body –

“Now, now, now,” Louis repeats, hauling him inside. They don’t make it too the massive bed in the middle of the room, instead his back hits the wall, where Louis yanks the heavy blazer off his shoulders. Then he’s all Harry knows, Louis, Louis’s smell, Louis’s body, Louis’s warmth, Louis’s sounds.

And Louis seems to get it, because his lips attach to Harry’s leaping pulse-point, sucking hard on the skin. Harry lets his head fall back to hit the wall, but he doesn’t feel it, not at all. He runs his fingers through Louis’s soft hair, needing to feel…needing something.

“You’re so beautiful,” the words fall off his lips. “So, so beautiful. Every part of you…” Louis whines, pushing forward so their hips grind filthily. Pleasure, in hues of whites and blues, burst over his vision, and something clicks in his head: the profound, completely smitten part of him.

Unconsciously, he shifts so he’s got Louis’s smaller body on the wall and all he manages to think is I love him, I love him, I love this boy…It’s an enthralling mantra in his head, the only thing he’s able to pull from his thoughts, as he stares unashamedly. Louis studies his eyes, searching for something, but Harry doesn’t ask what, absolutely mesmerized by his eyes, wondering if he could possibly drown in the blue depths. “Lou…?”

“Yes.” It’s not a question, but a scratchy, emotion-filled answer. I love him, blue, warm, deep, love him.

“Your eyes…they change colours,” he blurts, heart thudding deafeningly in his ears as he desperately kisses the other boy, trying to bleed everything he’s feeling into his very being. His skin burns where Louis’s nails drag over his forearms, but the burn feels so good. Everything about Louis Tomlinson hurts in the best of ways, especially the sounds he’s making into his mouth.

Harry wrestles with the buttons of Louis’s shirt until finally, the smooth plains of his boyfriend’s chest is revealed. He dips to his collarbone, sucking roughly at the skin whilst his hands slide to the slightly round of his tummy, over the light hairs leading into his agonizingly tight trousers. When Louis rolls his hips lightly, skin turning a satisfying red, Harry trails lower, rolling the small bud of Louis’s nipple between his lips, shuddering when his boyfriend crush’s their cocks in line with each other, tingles shooting up his spine. Eagerly, he pushes back, growling, “They go from –this…bright blue, t-to a lighter, grey colour, when…you’re…upset.”

Louis chest rises and falls quickly now, and Harry frantically falls to his knees, hands splaying over his thicker thighs, pulling him close enough that the bulge in his trousers comes into contact with his parted, bruised lips. “They’re so blue and pretty right now,” he tells him, holding those wide eyes as he unzips his trousers with his teeth before popping the button and peeling the bloody things down his thighs. His mouth waters as he leans forward, mouthing wetly over the head of his cock in his pants.

Louis shakes his head wildly, but Harry ignores him, rolling his tongue over the thin material until Louis begins urgently, “Harry…Harry, stop.” Cold, sharp reject washes over him as he shuffles away, glaring at his fisted hands.  

He’s so fucking open it hurts. He wants to tell, to tell how much he needs Louis, and loves him, and, and –it’s scary. To have the words out there.

“We – We don’t have to do this, Lou…” he murmurs shakily, glancing up at his boyfriend, who opens his mouth to protest, but Harry cuts him off. “No. No, let me talk please. I love you…I love you so much it fucking eats at me. You –You’re just so…effortless. Like everything. From your smiles to your laugh, to your fucking voice. I want that. I want you. ‘Cause you have –you’ve had me for a long time now, and I was –am so…scared. Scared that I can’t have that place in your heart….That I can’t take care of it, of you, like you can me...Its –There’s no putting into words how much I adore you…There’s just –,” he struggles dejectedly, forcing himself to breathe passed the frustration burrowing inside his lungs.

“Oh, Haz,” Louis sighs, curling into his lap and cupping his jaw firmly in both hands, so that he has to look down at him. “Show me, then…Just, show me?” And Harry can’t deny him.

Harry forces his eyes shut, leaning down to brush hips lips over Louis’s temple, inhaling the fresh scent caught in his feathery fringe. “I get high off the way you smell. It changes sometimes, apple-y to that heady cologne you fancy…” his lips swoop lower, over the sharp skin of his cheekbones, until he’s reached the stubble at his jaw and chin. He rubs his cheeks over the prickly hair, smiling happily. “And…I like it when you’re scruffy too, reminds me that you’re not so vulnerable….That you’re…strong.”

Still smiling, he drags back enough that his fingers trace the little splatter of freckles covering his nose, noticing for the first time how they contribute to his – “Beauty,” he breathes. “You’re so beautiful Lou.” Louis smiles tentatively at that, eyes crinkling and Harry kisses there before hitching the smaller-lap up, carrying him easily to the bed, where he lays him gently, so he’s spread out for him. Mine, he thinks carefully easing the open shirt down his arms to toss it onto a nearby chair, drinking in the sun-kissed skin of his body marred by black ink, the slight jut of his collarbones to the swollen hard of his nipples and lower to the softness of his tummy.

Cautiously, as to not brush the outline of Louis’ cock through his pants, Harry brushes his thighs. “Turn ‘round, love, wanna see you.” Eyes swimming with trust, Louis complies silently, flipping so that he’s on his chest, head turned to watch Harry –who’s hand roams that muscles of his bare back, pressing against the indentations to drop to the slight knobs of his spine until he reaches the twin dimples at the bottom of his spine. “So smooth,” he murmurs, falling forward to rub his nose along the small of his back, nipping at those dimples.

Backing off, Harry licks his lips with anticipation, dragging Louis’s tight pants down his thigh so the other has to lift his hips in order to get them off and around his ankles. He almost whines when Louis keeps his arse raised a bit, so Harry can devour his perky flesh with his eyes. “F-uck, Louis,” he can’t hold back the way his voice rumbles with want. He slides his hands down his thighs, pushing his knees out to spread his legs further, leaving him even more exposed to the cool air, and open for Harry to take all of him.

‘Hazza,” Louis squeaks, but Harry ignores it, nuzzling the cleft of his arse, clutching the full cheeks and letting his thumbs trace where cheek meets thigh. “You –I, ohhh,” he gasp when Harry’s hand slowly pulls apart his arse cheeks, breathing close and hot on him. It urges him to dip down and flit his tongue across Louis’ puckered hole, struggling to hold back an irritated growl at the other wriggles, he wants the taste of Louis’ on his lips, in his mouth.

He manages to dig his fingers harder into his cheeks, stilling him. “So fucking pretty here, baby, love everything about you,” he praises, tongue tracing a large circle around the fluttering muscle, too entranced to stop himself, even as Louis tenses.

“Oh…God, Harry…Please, please…” he’s whining now, words muffled because he’s pressing into the mattress. Smirking a bit, Harry sucks a kiss to Louis’ rim, making him cry out and attempt to push his arse closer. At the attempt, Harry shoves the tip of his tongue straight into his opening, creating a filthy, wet rhythm, urged by his boyfriend’s constant whimpers. As he plunges deeper, his eyes flutter closed and his cock throbs for Louis, but he can’t bring himself to pull away, instead he circles the rim of him once more. “Taste so good. You’re so good for me, Louis. Never change, never ever,” he’s moaning in earnest now, sinking his tongue back into his heat, as far as possible.

“Harry, Harry, please!” The plea sends a shock though Harry’s body, his mind is so hazed that he rips away, letting his hands slide up his sides and yank him up enough that Harry can connect their lips, not really kissing, but panting into him, just letting his boyfriend explore his mouth, tasting himself there. Louis scrunches his hand around Harry’s curls, the other fumbling with the button of his trousers, trying not to hurt his erection, which leaks precome, so fucking hard with Louis’ taste.

Finally, finally Louis makes the purchase, heaving the tight material away from him and Harry wants to sob as he musters all the control he can to intertwine their hands, knowing if Louis barely brushes his cock, he’ll come right there. “W-wanna make love to you, baby, wanna –wanna…” the words get lost in his throat when Louis carries his fore and middle finger to his mouth, wrapping his lips firmly around them, sucking, swirling, coating them in hot saliva.

At the feel, Harry’s body stings with want, his eyes boring into Louis’, thick eyelashes fanning his cheeks as they glitter innocently, even though he’s nipping at the pad of Harry’s fingers. With a little ‘mmm’ he wraps his other hands tightly around Louis’ cock, stroking his finger over the swollen slit, coaxing more precome as the other moans like an absolute porn-star around his fingers, hips jerking mindlessly, lips falling apart. Harry takes his fingers slowly away and, laying him onto his back, takes Louis legs around his waist loosely.

Still bent forward, he sucks on Louis’s bottom lip, slowly easing a finger in to the knuckle, highly aware of Louis’ hitching breaths, his flushed cock twitching at his belly. “More, more, more, Harry, gimme more…” Louis pants into his mouth and Harry obeys instantly, more forcefully sinking a second finger so Louis can begin to stretch. “Can’t, oh fuck, I can’t wait to-to be inside your tight little body…you Lou…So ready for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes…” Harry pushes deeper, scissoring and curling his fingers to find his sweet spot. “Oh, oh, yes, fuck Ha-Harry!”

“One more, Lou, ‘m going to make you come, Just. Like. This.” Harry purrs, reaching between his legs to ease the pain as he shoves a third finger, removing all three to thrust back in. He jerks Louis’ cock, precome a lub as he continues to drive his fingers in until with a high, so high, “Harry!” Louis throws his head back, coming so hard, tear falls but Harry strokes him through it.

He’ll never admit it, but he fucking loves making Louis come. Loves watching his eyelashes flutter, his mouth fall open to release noises that drive him absolutely mad. It’s…enthralling to have him fall apart from just his fingers or his hands…And Harry really needs him –now.

Only then does Harry allow himself to remove his fingers, wiping them uncaringly on the white duvet and groaning a little at Louis’ whine of protest before wrapping an arm around his waist to turn so that he’s left lying flat on his back – Louis staring dopily through his confusion, between Harry’s legs. “Am I – You want me to…ride?” his voice is high, cock still semi-hard despite the fact that he’s just come.

Harry has only ever let him ride a hand-full of times, but tonight…tonight, he’s giving up that control and just allowing Louis to set his pace –giving himself over to Louis’s use. “Mmm, please,” he forces gruffly, petting his thighs. Louis’s wide-eyed as he scrambles forward, so eager, always eager.

“Yeah, yeah…Okay.” Harry bites his lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood tinges the inside of his mouth, but he barely notices, fisting himself upwards to make t easier for his boyfriend. Slickened by precome, he watches through lidded eyes as Louis draws down on the head of his cock. A moan bubbles past his lips at the languid sensations crawling along his skin, the only thing keeping him on Earth it seems is the tight, heat of Louis’ body, which has fully impaled his cock. Everything is blazing, on fire. And Harry gasps, skin sheen with sweat as he fights the urge to fuck up into Louis, especially with how tense he is around him –painful. The thought of causing him pain makes it easy to resist as his body locks up, eyes snapping open to find Louis’ closed.

“Lou…” so fucking tight. “Lou, look at me,” he growls urgently, rubbing soothing circles into his boyfriend’s hips. Instantly, the other obeys, batting his fringe away so that their eyes bore. Another wave of heat crashes into him at the sight of his glassy-eyed boyfriend, so giving and beautiful.  God, he loves him, he loves him, he loves him, he – he just said that out loud, of course.

“I know, Haz…Love you too,” Louis smiles sweetly, breathing hard and uneven. Harry’s answering smile is pained (hard as he tries to show his happiness, everything is so…intense) as he struggles to remain still, though Louis seems to get it because he gyrates his hips, making Harry inhale sharply, pleasure clawing along his groin.

It’s then he begins to lift his hips, angling so that Harry’s brushing his prostate with every shallow thrust and –and everything becomes too much. Something in his chest kind of shatters, leaving Harry in a fade, the only thing he knows is Louis. Louis who’s kind and giving and beautiful and smart and adorable…It’s intense, his boyfriends little body squeezing around his cock, mouth parted so invitingly with little “oh, oh, oh”’s falling passed, so open for him.

“Lou, fuck, ‘m so close,” he groans, sitting up frantically so that Louis’s arms are around his shoulders, his face burrowed into the crook of his neck. Then he’s meeting his boyfriend’s thrusts, driving himself into his tight, pretty hole while Louis’s cocks ruts at his belly.

“I-I…gonna come, Harry...feels so-so good,” he sobs lowly before throwing his head back, revealing the love bites at his neck as he comes again. “Love you…” he whimpers, and that’s it for Harry. A rush burns through his groin and all over his body as he cries Louis’s name, slamming down once more, feeling Louis go limp flush against his chest. Harry trembles all the while, his orgasm pulsing through him and into Louis, head spinning, heart racing loudly in his ears.

For awhile he simply holds the smaller lad until they’re both in more stable states, then he beams, holding him closer. “You’re perfect Lou-Lou,” he whispers, stroking his matted hair. Louis snuggles impossibly closer, giggling softly into his shoulder.

“Only ‘cause I just gave you the most intense orgasm of your life, Styles.” Harry rolls them over, pulling out in the process and growling playfully.

“Hmm, Little-Lou, feeling powerful now?”

“Hey!” Louis squawks, swatting his arm. “I’ll have you know I beat Liam at arm-wrestling twice the other day! Twice to Leeyum!”

Harry cackles, choosing not to comment that Liam probably let him win, but shaking his head before swooping forward to kiss Louis’s lips softly. “So manly, is it even possible I can call you mines anymore?!”

“That’s right,” Louis breathes, knocking their foreheads together. “But I think I’d quite fancy being yours as long as you’re always mine.”

Harry heart does that thing, where it’s like squeezing and struggling to beat. It feels lovely. “So long as you want me, ’m yours forever.”

Louis hums cheerily as Harry Eskimo kisses him. “That sounds ace, Styles, you absolute fool.”  For some time, they stay there, in comfortable silence, caught in memorizing the colour changes in each other’s eyes and Harry notices how much deeper the blue of his eyes are, swimming with the warmth that’d held him captivated since he’d first laid eyes on him. These warm blue eyes are his world, his home…

And Harry knows that with Louis, he’ll never find himself lost in the freezing cold again, he’ll never have to struggle to keep warm. No, Harry thinks with teary eyes and an effortless warmth, Louis’ll protect him from the cold, he always has.

fin.