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The air in the room is hot as hell, and Louis can’t breathe.
He watches the ceiling in the dimness, the way it seems lower than usual, inching closer and closer until it gets harder to think. Harry makes a sound in his sleep, nosing lazily along the line of Louis’ cheek, and Louis’ whole body stills, it completely shuts down.
He’s suddenly aware of all the places where Harry is touching him—Harry’s nose against his temple, Louis’ hand resting on the lower dip of Harry’s back, the soft skin warm, all peach fuzz. Harry’s body is rolled half on top of Louis’ as they lay together on the carpeted floor of the living room, their half-naked bodies flushed from the heat.
And bloody hell, this is ridiculous.
Louis’ always known that Harry was a cuddly sleeper, he’s known it from the first time they shared the same bed, he has, but this is honestly getting out of hand.
Harry’s all over the place, and Louis can’t sleep because of it.
The closeness of their bodies makes it hard for him to think, it makes all of Louis’ thoughts run together and out into the room, suffocating.
This close, he listens as the breathe leaves Harry’s mouth—
Slow, slow, slower. Soft.
Sometimes Louis wishes that he had something to hold onto.
The other boys have been asleep for hours now—they all piled into the living room when the sun was still up and sitting low on the horizon, washing in through the window and striking at the dust in the air—but Louis, Louis’ still just coasting on the edge of it, barely dipping down into the depths of a dream.
He thinks if he did have a dream now, it’d be all bright green.
“Haz,” Louis whispers, his words muffled against Harry’s curls. Harry shifts, his hips brushing over Louis’ as he makes another sound in his throat, low and sleepy, and Christ—Louis actually has to work hard not to react to that. “Haz, get off. I’m thirsty.”
“’M sleeping, Lou,” Harry mumbles, and Louis can tell that he’s awake but trying not to be, his words blurring up against the skin of Louis’ bare shoulder. Louis never knows what to do when Harry gets like this, always touching and then touching some more, shifting until their hips are connected, until they’re chests are connected, until their heartbeats are beating at the same time. Harry giggles, and the sound is smudged with sleep. “Shhh, baby. Time for bed.”
Rolling his eyes at the ceiling, Louis sighs, and the sound is loud against the sticky silence of the living room. “I’m not your baby,” he says, but Harry just smiles lazily against his shoulder, already shifting back into a dream.
Louis sighs again, louder this time, because bloody hell—Harry really is something else.
It’s still quite hard to believe that they’re band mates, him and Harry. It’s hard to believe that he’s in a band at all, because everything happened so fast, and now it’s all five of them on the floor of Harry’s stepdad’s bungalow, it’s all five of them sleeping together, a tangle of limbs and sheets and summer.
Louis thinks that they’re going to be spectacular.
The curtains are drawn shut on the window, so the whole room is full of an inky sort of dimness, but he can still make out the small hints of everything around him—the television stand against the wall, the dark green arm chair beside the matching sofa, and then the other boys laying all over the place, snoring and sleeping and being generally annoying, especially considering Louis can’t sleep.
The top of Louis’ head is just hitting against the bottom of the sofa, Harry’s forehead pressed against the hollow of his throat, and he thinks for a moment that he could definitely go lay down up there.
Then again, he’s pretty sure Harry will follow him no matter where he goes. Harry’s an annoying little fucker, see, so Louis’ really got no idea why he’s got it so bad for him.
It’s just one of those things, he supposes.
It’s not like he plans on saying anything about it.
“Harry, move,” Louis tries again, his voice low so he doesn’t wake up the other boys. Their soft snores rise and fall around him, Niall’s louder than Zayn and Liam’s, and even though it’s dark, Louis doesn’t really want them to see the way he looks right now.
Jesus. He can practically feel the way his face is bright red.
“I’m tired, Lou,” Harry mumbles, nosing along the line of Louis’ throat. Louis blinks, and then his eyes are widening as one of Harry’s legs slide in between his, Harry’s thigh pressed up against the front of Louis’ boxers, and no—no, that is not about to happen.
Before he even has the time to think about it, Louis rolls Harry off of him and sits up, shaking his head as he pushes himself off of the floor. Everything is a mess of sleeping bags and sleeping bodies, the whole room sticky with a drowning sort of heat, so Louis steps around Zayn’s head and then Niall’s feet as he moves towards the kitchen.
His face is still flushed, but he doesn’t think about that.
-
The kitchen is a blur of shadow and moonlight.
Making his way over towards the sink, Louis pushes hair away from his face as he swallows, liking the way that the floor tiles are cold against his bare feet. It feels nice.
Leaning forward against the counter, Louis turns on the tap and doesn’t even bother getting a glass before cupping his hands beneath the stream and letting it rush over his fingers, freezing cold—like ice cubes or a winter air, it’s a good kind of cold, the kind of cold that wakes him up.
You know, Louis’ always liked the bungalow.
Everything about the place is warm and cozy and comforting, almost country style, with its wooden walls and floral kitchen curtains that turn blush pink when the sun hit them. There’s a clock ticking somewhere, but other than that, it’s totally silent. Even if it’s only his second time here, it feels like he’s known it forever.
Sort of like Harry, he thinks.
And Louis’ starting to think that Harry might be a bit of a problem.
It’s like, he’s never been into lads or anything like that, he really hasn’t. He’s had girlfriends and he’s liked them, and he knows that it isn’t really an excuse, but he’s honestly never thought about any other boy the way he sometimes thinks about Harry.
Emphasis on sometimes.
It’s just, he’ll be good, right, he’ll be great—and then he’ll look over at Harry and Harry will already be looking back, the sunlight washing over the green of his eyes and making them look lighter than before, pale leaves on the surface of a pool.
Something you could drown in, Louis thinks.
He always gets this feeling in his stomach when he’s around Harry, a slow sort of burning like he’s falling or like he’s flying, maybe.
And alright, so maybe he sometimes touches Harry a bit more than necessary, but it’s not like he can help it. He feels restless when Harry’s close by, when Harry’s laughing and smiling and nuzzling into Louis’ side—there’s nothing else for Louis to do but bring him in closer, but run his hands through Harry’s hair and just feel.
Oh, for fuck sakes. Louis’ a bloody mess for this kid.
Sighing, he turns off the tap, and then the kitchen grows silent again, moon beams flooding in through the window over the sink and pooling like bright spots on the tile. Through the window, he sees the pool outside, glowing bright blue even in the dark. Maybe he should go for a swim, cool himself down a bit.
Yeah, that’s a good idea. He should definitely do that.
“Lou?” Someone says suddenly, voice smudged with sleep.
Turning towards the sound, Louis blinks when he sees Harry standing in the doorframe. He’s dressed only in his boxers, and his torso is a long stretch of unmarked skin. His hair is wild, one side matted to his head, and Louis’ laugh comes out in one syllable, a gust of wind. “Jesus, Curly. I really can’t get rid of you, can I?”
Harry laughs at that, and the moonlight coming in lines the edges of his face in silver. He seems soft like this, baby soft and warm, and suddenly Louis’ remembering their closeness only a few moments ago—their closeness as they slept together on the floor, Harry’s leg slotted between his, Louis’ hand on the lower dip of Harry’s back, rubbing small circles there.
“Nope,” Harry says, moving slowly into the room, feet dragging. “I can’t sleep without you, Lou, you know that.”
And fuck, if Louis was starting to cool down before, he definitely isn’t anymore. Now, his skin is prickling with white hot heat and he doesn’t like the way that the word Lou sounds all blurry when Harry says it, all gentle and full of fondness.
Except he does like it, he bloody loves it, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do about that.
“Well, what did you do before you had me?” Louis asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up as Harry watches him, as Harry moves closer and closer, the moonlight stealing slowly over the walls and making everything into a dream.
“I never slept before I had you,” Harry says, and the smile is gone from his face now. As he reaches Louis, he moves in and then he moves in some more, and Louis blinks as he finds himself stepping back and pressing himself against the counter, Harry crowding in towards him. The world seems soft and fragile but the heat is suffocating, and Louis’ suddenly stuck on the green of Harry’s eyes, on this stupid sixteen year old boy that makes Louis feel like he’s got stars in his throat. Harry blinks and his voice is flat as he says, “I used to be a vampire.”
Louis laughs at that, but the sound comes out like a breath, and he can’t really bring himself to do anything more than that. Harry’s something else. “You are so fucking weird.”
Harry doesn’t say anything to that, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward like he’s trying not to smile. He just keeps staring at Louis, his face so close that his features seem fuzzy, and then he’s tilting his head to the side like he’s searching for something. The moment is stilted and full of moonlight and the nape of Louis’ neck is damp with sweat, but he can’t move.
He can’t move, not now, not with Harry’s eyes on him like this.
Not with Harry standing so close that Louis can feel his warmth spilling out into the space between them, a match that lights up the dark.
For a moment, Harry is still, completely frozen—
But then suddenly Harry is moving in, so swiftly that Louis doesn’t even realize it’s happening until it is, until Harry’s got his teeth on the side of Louis’ neck and he’s biting down, just gently, his tongue flicking out to lick at the skin there.
“Fuck,” Louis gasps, and oh, fuck, no—there is no way he is getting turned on by Harry pretending to be a fucking vampire. “What in the bloody hell are you on?” He asks, forcing a laugh as he pushes Harry away and wipes at the spit on his neck. His heart is beating a little too fast, though, a small pulse that he can feel in his throat. It takes a bit of effort to keep his voice steady. “You’re actually quite disgusting, Haz, did you know that?”
“Am not. That’s how vampires show their love,” Harry says, sleepy and slow, and for a moment he looks so young, glittering green eyes as big as the moon. And that’s the thing—Harry’s eyes actually glitter, and Louis’ never seen that on anyone. It’s like witchcraft. Harry smiles, “And I love you, Louis.”
“Of course you do,” Louis says, “I’m fantastic.”
Harry smiles, and Louis sort of wants to stay on X-Factor forever.
Glancing back towards the living room, Louis notices that he can just make out the sleeping silhouettes of the other boys all laying together on the carpeted floor, moonlight making the dimness look dark blue. And then his eyes are travelling across that—across the living room door and back into the kitchen, then across the kitchen fridge, across the kitchen table where a bowl of lemons sit cloaked in shadows.
Through the sliding glass door that leads outside, the bright blue water of the swimming pool casts shadows over the glass.
“You wanna go for a swim, mate?” Louis asks, glancing back at Harry to see Harry staring at him already, green eyes seeming endless.
Harry laughs, a hushed sound as he looks back, and then he’s moving in towards Louis and wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist, nestling his head in the dip of Louis’ neck. His skin is flushed and warm from the heat, and he’s shorter than Louis right now, but he’s got legs like a baby giraffe and Louis can tell that he isn’t finished growing yet. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Nodding, Harry’s curls brush against Louis’ chin as he says, “Yeah, pal, let’s go.”
-
The soft sound of pool water hits Louis first.
Sliding the backyard door shut behind him, Louis notices that out here, the heat isn’t as suffocating. Everything is cool and dark, and little white stars are spilled across the night sky like fireflies.
Moonlight is brightening things up just enough so that he can see—that he can see the rose bushes lining the side of the bungalow, and the broken wood fence that’s wrapped all around the backyard, separating it from the houses surrounding it.
It’s nearly silent at this hour, way past midnight on a weekday, the only sound coming from singing crickets and shifting pool water.
It feels like the entire world is asleep, almost.
Louis, though, Louis is wide awake—
His whole body feels full of some sort of electric energy, some sort of constant awareness that seems to come from being around Harry, the annoying little twat that he is.
“Dare you to get naked,” Harry says suddenly, nudging Louis in the shoulder as they walk towards the pool.
Like Louis said, Harry’s an annoying little fucker sometimes.
Louis glances over at him and he finds Harry looking back, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows like that was the best thing he’s ever come up with. “What?” Louis laughs, a burst of sound. Bloody hell, Harry’s such a kid. He’s only two years younger but it sometimes seems like so much more. “No way, Curly. I dare you to get naked.”
And okay, so Louis probably should’ve seen it coming.
Harry’s willing to get naked even in the least appropriate of times, but still—when Harry just shrugs and says, “Alright,” it takes a moment before Louis remembers how to breathe again.
In that second, the words no, no, stop are right on the tip of his tongue, because he wants to say them so badly, because he knows that he can barely handle Harry in the daylight, all covered up, and like this? Fuck, he can’t handle Harry like this, under this close cover of darkness that seems so quiet and so loud all at once.
But Harry just slips out of his clothes with a small rustle of fabric, and then he’s smiling shyly up at Louis, green eyes soft.
For some reason, it’s the sort of thing that makes fondness rise up in Louis’ belly like a wave, warm and prickling and making him feel like he has to say something, anything, to get across the point that he’s alright with it.
“Good lad,” He says finally, grinning wide, “nice little body.”
“Screw off,” Harry laughs, “Let’s see you, then.”
“All you had to do was ask,” Louis says, and then he’s pushing down at the waistband of his boxers and stepping out of them one leg at a time. He can feel Harry watching him and something about it feels too gentle, too soft, so Louis grins over at him and says, “You’re a freak, you know that?”
“I love it when you’re mean to me,” Harry grins.
“Of course you do,” Louis says, rolling his eyes as he starts towards the pool. But he’s smiling, he’s smiling because Harry’s an idiot. The patio floor is cool beneath his bare feet, still warm from a sun that set hours ago, and Louis likes the feeling of this moment—how everything around them feels soft and frozen in place, like the whole universe is holding its breath, the white stars spinning down and splashing onto his tongue like sugar cubes.
Everything feels close, close, closer than before.
Even Harry, who’s right at Louis’ side again, their shoulders brushing as they stand naked together at the edge of the pool. It’s bright blue and glowing, and Louis can see straight to the bottom of it where white and navy mosaic tiles are distorted by the water.
“Let’s jump,” Harry says, his eyes on the side of Louis’ face.
Louis turns towards him, corner of his mouth lifting up. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Harry smiles, his eyes crinkling, and then he’s taking Louis’ hand in his and bringing it up to his mouth, and see—shit like that is why Louis can never figure him out. Harry grins at him, green eyes glittering again. “For good luck.”
“You’re the one who needs it, mate.” Louis teases, and Harry just nudges him in the shoulder as they both look back out at the pool.
The stars move in closer, and they seem so close tonight that Louis can almost feel them prickle over his skin, sinking inside of him and making every nerve-ending buzz, white hot and electric.
It might be the stars. It might be Harry. Louis’ not sure.
“On three,” He says, glancing towards Harry with a smile.
But of course Harry jumps on oneanyways, and he brings Louis right down with him. They hurdle through the air in a way that reminds Louis of a rocket launching, and Harry’s laughter echoes through the backyard before they slice through the surface of the pool, still holding hands as they kick back up.
Louis sputters and gasps as he breaks through the surface, drinking the cool night air into his lungs like lemonade. Harry’s still laughing, wiping wet hair out of his eyes, and Louis splashes him and shouts, “I said on three!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing as he swims over to the opposite side of the pool and leans back against it, bright blue water rising up over his mouth as he watches Louis.
The stars twinkle, growing brighter—
And suddenly Louis’ aware that they’re both naked and standing across from each other in the bungalow pool, the full bellied moon dipping down like it wants to listen in.
It’s almost strange, standing here with Harry, because it’s not like he’s known Harry for that long, but at the same time, he feels like he’s known Harry forever.
It’s quiet for a moment before Harry rises up a bit, the water only up to his chest now as he rests both elbows up on the side of the pool. The blue light plays over his face, little blurry patterns that remind Louis of spider webs. “You wanna play truth or dare?”
“With just you and me?” Louis asks, and then he shakes his head a moment later. “Nah. Boring.”
“Oh, you suck.” Harry says, but his eyes are soft as the pool water casts pale shadows over his face, over his wet hair and his nose and his mouth. Louis likes his mouth, the small curve of it. That’s alright, isn’t it? Louis can like Harry’s mouth. It’s a totally normal thing for him to do. After another moment of silence, Harry brightens up. “Then can you give me a piggyback once around the pool? I’d love to go for a little swim.”
Louis laughs loudly at that, shaking his head to himself because of coursethat’s Harry’s idea of fun. A piggyback around the pool. Figures. Pushing hair out of his face, Louis grins. “You’re naked!”
Harry’s smiles grows wider, and he wiggles his eyebrows as the moonlight drenches one half of his face in silver. “Oh, sorry, mate. Do you find my nakedness distracting?”
“You wish,” Louis laughs, and then he pushes himself off the edge of the pool and swims out into the middle of it, lowering himself down so that the water is up to his neck, soaking the hairs there. “Let’s go then, Curly. Once around.”
Smiling, Harry swims out to meet Louis in the middle, the cerulean light casting patterns over his face. “I’ll pay you back in two years when I’m taller than you,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck from behind. “Then I’ll be the one carrying you around the pool, yeah?”
“And again, you wish,” Louis grins, even though he knows that Harry probably is going to be taller than him one day. He stays still, letting Harry get comfortable on his back, Harry’s chin resting in the dip of Louis’ left shoulder, and Louis laughs when Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ waist. “I can literally feel you against my back, mate. More than I’ve ever felt the need to feel, really.”
“Yeah?” Harry laughs, his breath puffing out warm against Louis’ ear. “How’s that going for you?”
“It’s not too weird, actually.” Louis says as he starts to swim them around the backyard pool, cerulean water splashing gently around their bodies. Over up on the patio, Louis can just make out the hints of the fire pit and the patio chairs in the dimness. He didn’t turn the porch light on, so the only brightness comes from the pool lights, little silver moons glowing brightly beneath the surface.
And he can still feel Harry against him but the thing is, it really isn’t as weird as it should be. He feels comfortable, you know, and Louis’ never been big on fate or anything like that, but he still thinks it’s unbelievable the way him and Harry just got on so well together from the word go. It doesn’t happen with everybody he meets, definitely not, and like he said before—it sort of feels like the stars aligned just right and made the impossible happen.
“You’re my best mate,” Harry breathes suddenly, his arms tightening around Louis’ neck as they lap around the pool for the second time. The lulling sound of pool water echoes in Louis’ ears as Harry says, “You’re like, my favorite person in the whole wide world, I think.”
Louis’ laughs at that, but the steadiness in his voice falters when he feels Harry’s mouth against his neck, just resting there. Harry’s breath lights him up. “Am I really? What about your mum? Lovely woman, she is.”
“She doesn’t count,” Harry giggles, and then he’s softly kissing Louis’ shoulder, his lips chapped but lovely, and the thing is—Louis can’t really deal with this right now. Like, Harry’s always kissing everybody so it’s not that big of a deal, but Louis’ naked at the moment, and he feels like that’s something different entirely.
Harry’s still kissing his shoulder, quick little pecks that remind Louis of a bird, and so he tries for a laugh even though it’s getting difficult for him to talk. “Well, this is quite intimate, man.”
“You think so?” Harry hums, laughing a little, and his legs are still hooked around Louis’ waist. “I kiss all my best mates, Lou. You’ll just have to get used to it.”
Louis’ laughs at that, shaking his head. “Right, and how many best mates do you have, exactly?”
Harry smiles against Louis’ shoulder, his wet hair brushing Louis’ ear, and he brings his hand up out of the water to turn Louis’ face back towards his. They’re looking at each other as Louis stops swimming, the glowing blue water shallow enough so that it’s only at their chests—and this close, Louis notices how green Harry’s eyes are, green and flecked with gold, the bridge of his nose dusted in freckles made by the sun.
“Just you,” Harry grins, kissing Louis on the nose before pulling back and resting the side of his head on Louis’ shoulder blade again. There’s a fluttering feeling in his and he thinks again that Harry might be a little bit of a problem. Harry’s arms still wrapped around Louis’ chest, and Louis brings his own hands up to cover them.
“That’s cute, Tarzan,” Louis says, surprised that his voice comes out so steady. “But I thought we were only going for one lap.”
“You don’t have to swim,” Harry says, his words falling out into the shell of Louis’ ear. “I just want to stay here.”
Louis grins. “On my back?”
“Yeah. It’s actually quite cozy back here. You should try it.”
“If only I could.” Louis laughs, shaking his head as he walks them over to the shallow end where the pool steps are sitting, royal blue and white beneath the water. He sits them down on the third step, just high enough so that they’re still in the water from their necks down.
“Lou, have you ever kissed a girl?” Harry asks a while later, when the world is quiet and hushed and calm.
Louis huffs out a laugh at that, shaking his head. He says, “You’re such a lovely conversationalist, you know that?” And then, after a small pause, “Of course I’ve kissed a girl.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” Harry hums, and his mouth is right on the nape of Louis’ neck. Each syllable is a separate vibration, and Louis’ skin is prickling again. It’s quiet for a second longer before Harry says, “What about a boy, then?”
“What about a boy?” Louis asks, and he sort of wishes that he could see Harry’s face right now, but instead he’s looking out at the rest of the pool, cerulean water that glows beneath the moon—he’s looking at the backyard tree, at the patio chairs draped in shadows.
“Have you ever kissed one?” Harry asks. “A boy, I mean.”
“Not really,” Louis says, and he’s sort of confused but he answers anyways. “I kissed Stan once but that was on a dare and I was drunk so I reckon it doesn’t really counts.” Harry laughs, his chin resting on Louis’ shoulder again, and Louis grins softly. “Well, what about you, Curly? You ever kissed a girl?”
Harry hums a response that Louis doesn’t quite catch, and then he’s pressing his mouth to Louis’ neck again, biting down gently and making Louis’ mouth drop open around a gasp, his whole body jolting from the feeling. “Shit, Harry.”
Harry giggles, nosing sleepily at the place where he just bit Louis’ neck. “What, Lou? I’m being a vampire.”
“Harry, you can’t—” Louis starts, and his heart is beating on his tongue. Fuck, he feels so stupid, because Harry is just joking around but Louis feels hot all over, his toes curling around the edge of the bottom step. “You can’t just do that to me, alright? I can’t—”
Harry kisses his neck again, gentle this time, and Louis stops talking.
“Can you show me?” Harry asks, his words soft around the edges.
“Show you what, Harry?”
“How to kiss.” Harry replies, his voice blurring out into the soft lulling sound of pool water. Louis can hear the shy smile in his voice. “I wanna see how you do it.”
“You wanna see how I kiss girls?” Louis asks, his voice flat.
And fuck if he doesn’t feel like he’s about to faint.
Harry laughs like Louis told a joke, and then suddenly he’s untangling himself from Louis’ back and moving away, swimming down the steps until he’s sliding himself in between Louis’ legs. The pool casts pale blue shadows over his face, and his curls are soaked and pushed back, eyelashes thick with pool water.
“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes flickering between Louis’ now. “I reckon I need practice.”
“Practice for what?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice steady as Harry moves in even closer, both of them sitting together naked on the pool steps. Louis really hopes nobody comes outside.
“For girls.” Harry grins, kneeling right between Louis’ legs on the step where he’s sitting. Like this, their faces are inches apart, and if either of them move, they’re cocks would definitely be touching, and that’s—well, that’s not something that should be happening, is it?
“You want me to kiss you like you’re a girl?” Louis asks, because he still can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.
Harry nods at that, the pool water splashing around him gently as he moves in and brushes his nose against Louis’, soft and gentle like a baby kitten. Their lips are inches apart, and Harry’s words fall onto Louis’ mouth like rain. “Please?”
In a moment of blind panic, Louis thinks he might actually get hard from this. It’s just—fuck, Harry’s naked. Harry’s naked and it’s all just too much and Harry keeps pressing little kisses all over Louis’ face—to Louis’ eyelids, cheeks, the dip of his chin, everywhere but his actual mouth.
And at this point, all Louis really wants to do is taste him.
“Come here,” Louis says, his voice barely a mumble as he takes Harry’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. He looks at Harry and Harry’s looking right back, the pool water shifting and lighting up the space between them, making everything bright blue. “When you kiss a girl, try to go slow, yeah?”
“I like slow,” Harry nods, but he’s looking at Louis’ mouth.
“Don’t tell me that,” Louis breathes, voice strained, because Harry really, really shouldn’t be telling Louis about his kissing preferences. It just makes Louis think about Harry with his mouth swollen pink, with his neck covered in pale lilac bruises like little half-moons. “Just—open up your mouth a bit—yeah, Haz, like that.”
Harry’s watching Louis with his mouth slightly parted, and fuck, that should definitely not be as hot as it is.
With his hands on each side of Harry’s face, Louis leans in, slow, slow, slow, and there are those stars again—like sugar cubes, like fate or something impossible. He keeps moving in, just until their noses are touching, and he can feel Harry’s breath puffing out warm against his bottom lip.
“Lou,” Harry says, just a breath.
“I’m gonna lick your mouth now, yeah?” Louis says, and his words aren’t coming out right at all—they’re all over the place, shaking just as bad as his hands on Harry’s face.
Harry nods, swallowing thickly, and then Louis’ leaning in and licking a slow swipe across Harry’s bottom lip. Harry’s mouth drops open further as he moans softly, and it’s a sound that goes straight to Louis’ cock.
“Shit, you can’t—” Louis starts, pulling back. His breath comes out in heavy bursts, and all he’s done is lick Harry’s dumb lip. This is fucking pathetic. “You can’t make those noises, mate, just—just keep them for the girl, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry breathes, swallowing again. “Sorry.”
Louis nods, and he takes a moment to steady his breathing before moving in again, stopping just before he kisses Harry. “Close your mouth,” he says, and when Harry does, Louis leans in and places his lips right over Harry’s—not doing anything, just keeping them there. He’s got his hands on the side of Harry’s face and he kisses Harry again and again, licking into the seam of Harry’s lips until Harry’s mouth opens up beneath his, until Harry moans again as Louis’ tongue flicks inside.
He’s starting to feel like he’s got his whole head underwater.
It’s getting hard to breathe and he’s swallowing all of Harry’s sounds with kisses, he’s muffling them with his tongue, and his fingers are tangling themselves in Harry’s hair and pulling gently, keeping him close.
And hell if Harry doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.
He’s a good kisser, better than good, maybe. Fuck, he might be fantastic. He’s sloppy and messy and all over the place, yeah, but he’s breathing heavily though his nose as he kisses Louis back, licking at Louis’ tongue and biting at Louis’ bottom lip, gentle. Too gentle, and the water is bright and casting light over their faces like moon beams. Louis’ head is spinning away from him, evaporating into mist and disappearing like dead stars, but then Harry ruts forward, he ruts forward and Louis feels Harry against his leg, and he’s hard, he’s bloody hard, and no—no, that can’t happen.
“Shit,” Louis groans, breaking away from Harry and then moving in again, kissing Harry’s mouth three times because he can’t fucking help it, because he’s hard too and he can’t fucking help it. “Fuck, Harry,” he says, muttering the words right against Harry’s mouth this time, and then he’s turning away and scrubbing his hands down his face as he moves up the pool steps, cerulean water lapping around his bare calves.
When he gets to the top step, Louis lays himself down right there on the concrete, the hard surface digging into his back. His heart beats loud in his throat and he keeps his eyes on the stars, forcing himself to calm down.
He can’t calm down.
He’s still hard against his stomach and he’s honestly fighting the urge to touch himself at this point—but he knows he can’t touch himself, he can’t, because Harry’s right there in the pool and he can see Louis from where he’s standing—and now Louis’ wondering why he didn’t just go all the way back inside. It’s like he’s a man of zero will. It’s absolutely ridiculous.
Shutting his eyes tight, Louis counts the seconds in his head.
It’s a short while before there’s a shift in the air and Louis’ blinking his eyes open to see Harry hovering above him on all fours, his face lit up against the stretch of dark black sky behind him. Harry doesn’t say anything and Louis doesn’t remember how to talk, he just watches as Harry leans down, his face shifting out of focus as he licks slowly over Louis’ bottom lip.
“Harry,” Louis starts, but his voice is barely there.
“I like it when you kiss me,” Harry says, and he’s kissing Louis.
And it’s, it’s unlike anything, really—
It’s white hot heat erupting in his bones like stars, it’s an ocean wave wracking through his body, knocking him over, making it impossible for him to do anything but just kiss back.
Stars like sugar cubes, a tongue like candy.
“Fuck,” Louis pants, his body jolting as Harry takes hold of his cock—and his hand is cool and damp with pool water, but it feels good, it feels fantastic, and then when Harry moves over Louis until they’re rutting against each other, both of their cocks in Harry’s hand, Louis’ vision blurs out a bit at the edges.
They’re moving slow but they’re speeding up, and Louis can’t think anything other than fuck, fuck, fuck—the moon washes the backyard in silver, and Louis can hear the soft hum of pool water beneath his heavy breathing and his fast beating heart.
Harry moans into Louis’ mouth and that’s it, that’s it—
His whole body erupts in white hot heat and he’s coming, he’s coming and the sounds he makes all got lost on Harry’s tongue. “Shit, Curly, where’d you learn to do that?” He laughs, barely more than a breath as Harry follows after him, long body shaking as he clenches his eyes shut, mouth opening up on around a moan.
Harry laughs too, wild and electric and young, and in that moment, with the moonlight washing over Harry’s face and softening the edges of him, Louis thinks that he’s the most attractive thing on the fucking planet.
Afterwards, they lay side by side on the patio, naked and breathless.
Harry curls into Louis’ side as the moon dips down even lower, and their laughs fade out into a night full of crickets and pool water. Louis thinks that in a world like this, like tonight—where everything is pale blue and drowning—Harry feels like coming up for air.
-
When Louis blinks awake, the spare bedroom is full of morning.
Pale light steals slowly over the ceiling, hitting at the dust in the air, and for a moment he’s not sure where he is. He can hear the boys down the hall, the low rattling of pots and pans floating up from the kitchen, but there’s a dull weight on his side—something heavy that makes Louis frowns and glance downwards, and oh, right.
Harry’s sleeping beside him. Of course he is.
They’ve somehow gotten into a bedroom that Louis’ never been in before, a bedroom with colorful dinosaur wallpaper that’s frayed at the edges, and Louis wonders if Harry ever slept here when he was younger.
For a moment, he watches the way that the sunlight pours in through the window and softens the edges of Harry’s face, the way that it turns his hair into a sandstorm and makes the angel blue veins on his eyelids seem like lines on a road map leading back home.
Harry breathes softly, his mouth slightly open.
And for a moment, Louis is almost confused.
But then he’s remembering last night, he’s remembering everything about it, every moment coming back to him in flashes, in fragments that trickle through his fingers like sand—
Bright blue water and stars like electric bugs, the swimming sounds of two heartbeats, Harry’s eyes on his face, Harry’s hands on his body, Harry’s mouth, everywhere, tasting, touching, teasing—both of them standing at the edge of the pool, dipping down into each other and getting lost in nothing but the sounds of their own breathing.
And he remembers how Harry had said, I like it when you kiss me.
Louis shifts suddenly, sinking down so that he’s laying with his face in front of Harry’s, the details of Harry’s face blurring out into nothing, into everything. “Haz,” he whispers, something like love running through his veins, something powerful and glittering. “Haz, wake up, babe.”
“Huh?” Harry mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing in his sleep, and the sound is blurry and tired and warm.
Louis grins, shifting Harry over gently and then hovering over him on all four, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight as he moves in closer, closer, closer, brushing his nose against Harry’s. They’re both dressed in their boxers again, and Louis has no idea when the hell that happened, but he doesn’t question it.
“Harry,” Louis says again, and this time he kisses Harry’s eyelids softly, just a quick press of mouth against skin. Harry mumbles something again and Louis brings his hands up to cradle the sides of his face, thumbs brushing over the soft skin by his ears. Leaning in, he presses his lips to Harry’s, his words muffled when he speaks. “You’re my best mate,” he says, repeating the same words he remembers Harry saying last night. “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world.”
“Go away,” Harry groans, still half asleep.
But his mouth opens up as Louis licks into it, as Louis bites down gently on his bottom lip and kisses all over his face. Louis’ sitting over Harry’s hips, so he rocks down into them gently, and he watches the way that Harry’s eyelashes flutter, baby pink mouth opening up around a soft whimpering sound that gets stuck at the back of his throat. It’s the hottest thing Louis’ ever heard.
Sighing, he presses his forehead down against Harry’s, and Harry’s watching him with sleepy green eyes, pink mouth lovely and swollen with kisses. Louis’ itching to kiss him again, but he hears the lads downstairs and he knows that if he doesn’t stop now, he’ll never get out of this bed. “I should go help the lads, shouldn’t I?”
Harry shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he ruts up into Louis’ softly, tilting his head up like he’s asking for a kiss.
“That’s not fair,” Louis grins slowly.
“I want you,” Harry says, his voice worn out with sleep, and like this, he sounds both much older and much younger than sixteen. He tilts his mouth up just a little more, just enough so that it’s brushing over Louis’ bottom lip. And fuck, that’s good. That’s more than good. Louis thinks it’s brilliant that he sort of loves his best mate. “Please,” Harry says, and then that’s it, they’re kissing again.
Bit by bit, Louis melts away until all he feels is Harry.
Harry, beneath him. Harry, in the tips of his fingers. Harry swimming in his heart and in his blood. He seems to everywhere all at once and Louis just breathes him in, biting down on the soft skin of Harry’s shoulder as Harry giggles and squirms away, their breaths coming out in short bursts and blurring out into one sound.
“I’m the vampire here, pal,” Harry grins, and Louis just nods.
Harry licks into Louis’ mouth, and that’s it, Louis thinks.
He’s got this theory, right—
This theory about the stars splashing onto his tongue like sugar cubes, about everything in the sky aligning just right and making the impossible happen.