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Looking back on it, it was probably the dumbest thing Harry had ever done. He knew the gangs patrolled around the back streets of the city and along the river wharf, he knew they wouldn’t think twice about beating his head in if they caught sight of him, he knew it was the unmarked territory of the teenage delinquents and yet, there he was, hunched over his heavy text books with his head handing low praying the young law offenders wouldn’t see him. Liam trailed close behind him, constantly looking over his shoulder to check they weren’t being followed.
“Why couldn’t we just walk home the way we usually do?” Liam asked in a staged whisper, “We should go back.”
“We’re three quarters of the way there.” Harry whispered back, changing his grip on his books so he could push his hair out of his eyes. “And, anyway, it looks like it’s going to start raining soon and I kind of want to get home as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure you’ll be worrying about the rain when we’re beat up and lying in a gutter.” Liam muttered coldly but Harry ignored him. He didn’t make the other lad come with him, he just didn’t see why he should have to lug his books and extra five blocks by going around the long way, when he could just cut down the middle and get home in a fraction of the time. They just needed to get over the bridge that ran alongside the river and they would be on the safe side of town.
Harry’s step quicken slightly at the thought of home; warm, comforting, safe home. The boys walked in silence for a little while longer, their eyes darting back and forth in search of danger, when a hand came out of nowhere and snatched up on of his textbooks.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” An unfamiliar voice taunted, making both Harry and Liam freeze.
Nervously, Harry looked to where he could hear the pages of his textbooks flicking as the thief scanned over its content. The man, probably in his late twenties, was covered in what looked like a seamless tattoo, twisting with dragons and roses dipped in blood. Behind him, there was a group of similar looking people, all leaning up against their motorcycles with careless interest written on their pierced faces. How had Harry not noticed them before?
“May I please have my book back?” His voice came out shakier then he would have liked. The man gave him a once over, talking in the expensive look of his pastel blue sweater over a crisp white button down, small beady eyes sweeping over long jean clad legs their journey ending as he reached pristine white converse.
“And if I say no?” The tattooed man asked lazily, dragging his eyes back up to meet Harry’s slightly frighten ones. Even though textbooks are unreasonably expensive, it wasn’t like the Harry’s parents couldn’t afford to get him a new one, they’d most likely throw money at him and tell him to get two, just for good measure. They also had enough money to cover his hospital bill when he gets beaten to a pulp. So, with strange satisfaction in this knowledge, Harry felt his lips lift in an uneasy sneer.
“You keep it then. I’m sure a textbook on Law will keep you entertained when you’re locked in a very homely prison cell.” At his words, he felt Liam tense up even further behind and place a warning hand on his elbow as the tattooed man’s face twisted with rage. Liam tugged on his arm a little harder and Harry’s eyes quickly glanced over the group behind him, all of who looked equally as angry – all except for one, he had an amused smirk lighting his lips and Harry could have sworn he winked at him. But, he didn’t have time to ponder on it as Liam was pulling him harder and forcing Harry to run up the road alongside him with a distant yell of “You better fucking run kid!” following behind them. That was the first time he saw Louis Tomlinson and, unbeknownst to Harry, it wouldn’t be the last.
~*~
“Hi, Harry?” Harry looked up from pretending to write notes on what his lecturer was saying and up at the girl beside him.
“Hi.” He smiled back. The girl was in a few of his classes but he’d never bothered to learn her name.
“I was just wondering if you’d like to come to a party with me tonight.” Her voice dipped slightly, as if embarrassed of asking him out. Harry’s eyes scanned over her face as he decided his answer. She was pretty enough, with a tight blonde ponytail and low cut shirt. Plus he hadn’t been out of the house, other than Uni, in over two weeks. He didn’t think he should leave the house after his run in with the gang member a few days ago.
“Sure.” He nodded without hesitation, the girl giving a sigh of relief. She wrote her name, number and the address of the party on a piece of paper that she ripped out of her note book to hand to him. He looked over the loopy scrawl that spelt Isabelle –Typical rich white girl name. Once their class was over, Harry kissed the girl on the cheek to which her face turned a brilliant pink, with the promise of seeing her later before wondering out the door to meet up with Liam.
Harry managed to convince his uptight friend to come to the party as his plus 1. Even after Liam argued a very good case of plus 1s unable to invite their own plus 1. The party was in celebration of some rich kids birthday – Charles or William or something – and was taking place at a park situated on the ‘safe’ side of the river. Because, apparently, it was a genius idea to let drunk teenagers near massive bodies of water.
Harry and Liam arrived when the party was just kicking off. The base of the music flowed from large speakers, making the ground shake and vibrate under their feet. Alcohol was handed out in every direction, goody-two-shoed kids getting wasted beyond recognition as words slurred and hips grinded.
Isabelle found Harry fairly quickly and proceeded to pour drink after drink down his throat before pulling him into the pulsing sea of bodies. His large hands clumsily gripped her waist as her back pushed up against his chest and she ground her bum down into his crotch. Alcohol slogging in his brain, Harry dropped his head to line open mouthed kisses along the junction between her neck and shoulder. Their bodies rocked together along with the sweaty people pressed up against them when, suddenly, the loud music was cut short with low hum of static white noise.
A chorus of displeased groans flowed throughout the crowd as their grinding was cut short. It was only when a girl screamed, a high pitched shrill sound that had Harry’s ears ringing more that the music, that everyone turned to see a small band of people standing on and around one of the park’s picnic tables. One was holding the cord to the speakers, swinging it nonchalantly in her fingers, her fluffy hair hung around her head in a heavy brown halo. Black leather reflected the light of the moon and highlighted wicked sneers and a startled gasp echoed through the drunken teenagers.
“So,” One of the tattooed delinquents announced loudly, so that everyone could hear. “I heard that there was a party tonight and we weren’t invited.” He stood up from where he’d been leaning against the table to take a step up onto the seat, the new angle showing his black quiff and shining brown eyes. His tanned hand came to rest on the shoulder of a blonde leather clad boy.
“Now, I may be wrong,” He continued looking out over the sea of worried faces, “But, that is a very rude gesture. Wouldn’t you say?” Harry silently began searching for Liam between the tightly pressed bodies of the crowd when the blonde lad made a tisking sound while shaking his head lowly.
“Extremely rude.” He confirmed, his words laced with a thick Irish accent, while the rest of his group made noises of agreement. The tanned quiff boy nodded and took another step up so he was standing on the table itself and wrapped his arm around the shoulders of a boy standing up there with him. Both smirked at each other before glancing back to the crowd, who watched in silence. Eye’s carelessly scanning over their nameless faces,
“So, what do we do?” Quiff boy asked wildly. The other boy leaning into his side caught Harry’s eye for just a second and winked at him, looking way too happy. Harry froze as he looked up at the same boy who he’d run into barely a week ago and the young delinquent held his gaze and his smirk turned into a full blown pointy toothed smile.
“Have some fun?” He answered, pulling a crowbar out from where it was hidden behind his back. Screams and curses exploded from the crowd instantly as they began pushing and shoving each other, trying to get away from the threatening gang. Harry broke his eye contact with the crowbar holding boy in favour of grabbing Isabelle’s hands and dragging her towards the place he’d last saw Liam.
“Liam!” He tried to yell out louder than the screaming mass around him. “Liam!” He tried again, pushing his way through the panicked group of people with one hand and clutching tightly to Isabelle’s with the other, who was crying shamelessly. He just needed to find his friend and get all of them home safely after all it was Harry fault Liam was out tonight. “Li–”
His scream was cut short as Isabelle’s hand was getting ripped from his. Harry’s head quickly whipped back to where a female member of the gang had Isabelle around the waist and was dragging her out of the crowd. Fuck.
“Let her go!” Harry screamed after them, weaving his way back through the crowd, to where Isabelle wiggled uselessly against the other girls strong arms. He’d just reached the edge of the pack of still drunk teenagers with his hands out stretched, reaching for Isabelle when another hand looped around his waist and pulled him backwards. A choked cry cut short as he stumbled back and hit the solid chest behind him.
“Get off me you wanker!” He thrashed in the guy’s grip, watching as Isabelle’s captor had stopped walking backwards and stood a few feet ahead of them, just out of reaching distance. The guy behind him shoved Harry’s hands behind his back with careless force. Ignoring the burn in his shoulders, he quickly glancing around. Harry could see a few other people in a similar predicament, surrounded by angry gang members. It was then that Harry was Liam being backed up against the wall of the public toilets by two girls, one of them being the fluffy haired one who had stopped the music. Fucking brilliant. Liam would never hit a girl.
“What a pretty girl.” The sneer pulled Harry back to his own shitty situation. Someone in a denim jacket was running his hands through Isabelle’s soft hair with his back to Harry. New tears ran down her already tear stained face and her lip wobbled, looking desperately at Harry. His heart dropped to his feet as he imagined all the vile things the man had planned for his date.
“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” He screamed louder than necessary. The hand on Isabelle’s face paused as the criminal turned to face Harry and oh shit. Thin lips lifted in a genuine smile as blue eyes glinted mischievously, making panic rise in Harry throat. He struggled against his restraints as he took a step closer.
“I’ve seen before.” He ginned wickedly, his voice shockingly calm and smooth. “You stood up to Derek. Dumb move.” Without looking at her, Harry could see the confusion paint Isabelle’s features.
“No, a dumb move is threating kids whose parents have enough money and power to put you away for life.” Harry retorted angrily to which had the other boy’s grin widening, if it was possible. He glanced back at Isabelle before looking back at Harry, his smile becoming more private.
“Is she your girlfriend?” The delinquent asked almost conspiringly. Harry would have laughed if it weren’t for terror that shuddered through his body. “Oh! She is!” He laughed once Harry didn’t immediately answer and clapped his hands together. “I can imagine it now. You guys get married, you become a lawyer and she becomes a stay-at-home-mum, you have a bunch of snotty nosed children and live in a lovely house with a white picketed fence. It’s beautiful, really.” He dropped his hands and wondered back over to Isabelle, putting an arm round her shaking shoulders as the other girl backed off so she was only holding her forearm.
“But, you wanna know what would be unfortunate?” He asked no one in particular, leaning in to rest his head against Isabelle’s. “If little miss perfect here got impregnated before you got the chance to do the honours.” Isabelle whimpered and Harry pushed back against the guys holding his arms fast.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Harry screamed making their tormenter smile wickedly. He kissed Isabelle’s cheek, to which she flinched away, and walked back over to Harry, the other girl taking her place holding Isabelle still.
“You wanna know what else would be unfortunate? If prince charming preferred sucking di–”
“Go to hell!” Both Harry and Isabelle yelled to which he cocked his thin eyebrow in amusement.
“Whoa. Defensive.” He teased, running a finger from Harry’s temple to the curve of his jaw, his eyes sparkling with malevolence. “Okay, I’ll tell you what,” he said holding his hands up to Harry. “I let the both of you go unharmed… if and only if you let me kiss you.” Harry choked on his tongue and he heard Isabelle gasp.
“What?! No!” He spluttered, once again struggling against the grip on his arms. The boy in front of his pouted and shrugged as if Harry’s refusal had caused him great sadness.
“The choice is yours.” He said a little disappointed before nodding to the girl holding Isabelle who must have tightened her grip on her thin arms, and Isabelle made a pained sound.
“Harry.” She whimpered as the evil blue eyed boy took the back of her neck.
“Wait stop!” He realised her neck, maybe a little too forcefully, to turn to Harry. Harry bit back his pride and tried to ignore his father’s voice at the back of his head that it was not worth the humiliation but, the terrified look on Isabelle’s face had him speaking without thought. “I’ll do it.”
A wicked smile crossed the criminal’s face. “Good choice. Harry.” Harry’s name sounded vile coming from his worthless mouth. The guy behind him let go of his arms, the burning in his shoulders spreading to his fingers as he shook out his hands. A hand gripped around the back of his head and he was roughly being pulled forward only to stop inches from the other boys face while his other hand rested securely at Harry’s hip. The boy was shorter than him by at least 2 inches but that didn’t stop him from having the upper hand of the situation. Harry didn’t try to hide his look of disgust as he ran a calloused thumb over his bottom lip,
“If you ask me,” at such a close proximity, Harry could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath along with the cheap cologne used to try and cover it up. “I think you’re prettier than your little girlfriend over there.”
“Fuck yo–” His insult was cut short by lips forcefully pressing into his. Harry’s first instinct was to push him away and that’s what he did. He pulled his head back and pushed his arms forward against the other males chest, still in his grip but making a few crucial centimetres to separate their faces.
“There. You kissed me. Now let us go.” He demanded but the blue eyed criminal was shaking his head.
“If you care to recall, I said let me kiss you. So would you like to try that again and, this time, only stop when I say so.” He voice turned hard and Harry had no time to reply before their mouths were re-attached. Harry struggled for a second but the man’s grip on his hip turned almost painful and he forces himself to relax. He closed his eyes to muster all his concentration and put it into the kiss that he hoped would be over in a few seconds.
The criminal bit down on his bottom lip, making him gasp against his lips and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry didn’t even try to fight for dominance, submissively sliding his own tongue along the underside of the criminals’. His mouth tasted disgustingly like cigarettes. Harry wanted to pull away, wanted to find some water to wash his mouth out with, wanted to brush his teeth until they bled, wanted to punch this guy square in the jaw but, he knew if he wanted Isabelle and himself to walk away unscathed he’d just have to grin and bear it.
He changed his grip on the back of Harry’s head, his hand sliding up to tangle in the curls at the base of his neck and Harry own hand made tight fists in the material of his black band shirt. The scratch of his stubble against Harry’s chin was weird but not a bad weird. That thought in itself had new found panic flood Harry’s chest and he went to pull away again, only to be stopped by the criminal shushing him before, once again, kissing him deeply, this time much more gentle. Harry didn’t see what other choice he had other than to mould under his persistent lips and even push back into the kiss.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been there –Seconds? Minutes? Days? –When he heard the distant sound of police sirens slowly getting closer. He could hear some noises of panic and worry but couldn’t bring himself to care as he slid his tongue over the roof of this guy’s mouth and sucked at his lips. A second later when the boy did pull back to the nervous yell of “Louis, come on!” and Harry found his mouth following after him.
Harry looked down at him with dazed eyes as he lent up on his toes to place one more quick kiss at Harry’s bruised lips before smirking while getting dragged towards a cluster of motorbikes by the girl who’d been holding Isabelle. Shit! Isabelle.
As the thought entered his head, he was almost being barrelled over by her body clinging onto his. He slid his arm around her waist and watched as the boy, Louis?, winked at him from across the park before speeding off down the road. He was so fucked.
“Hey, are you guys alright?” Harry never thought he’d been so happy to hear his friend’s voice. Isabelle released him and they both turned to face Liam who was engulfing both of them in a warm hug. Harry couldn’t help but let his mind flick back to the evil blue eyed boy. He truly was fucked.
~*~
Looking back on it, it was probably the second dumbest thing Harry had ever done. Because, not only was Harry walking down over the river wharf but, he was doing it after dark. By himself. In a bright orange sweater. For having filthy rich parents, Harry didn’t understand why he didn’t have a car.
It had been three days since ‘the incident’. Isabelle hadn’t spoken to him since he dropped her back home that night, nor has she been able to meet his eyes. She didn’t tell Liam what had happened, and for that, Harry was grateful and willingly listened as Liam retold him of what the two girls that backed him against the wall were saying and how he claimed ‘girls so young should not even know such filthy things.’
As much as he tried, Harry couldn’t get the blue eyes devil out of his mind. He ended up giving into the temptation as searched the town’s local gang. A bunch of new reports popped up and a few youtube clips but nothing too interesting. Harry had slammed his laptop shut and fell back against the expensive covers of his king sized bed. The next day, however, Harry’s father was reading the paper at the breakfast table, like he always did, when Harry noticed the cover story. He all but ripped the paper out of his father’s hands to read the bold letters of the article, Local Lawbreakers Crash Teenage Party. Further down the page a few pictures of suspected members of the gang were posted like mug shots. Harry’s eyes flickered over the unfamiliar faces until a pair of shining blue eyes stopped him in his tracks, it was his assailant. Under the picture in bold font was the name Louis Tomlinson.
“Are you looking to get punched? You look like a fucking traffic cone.” Harry wished he didn’t recognize the voice as quickly as he did. He looked over to see a man on the opposite side of the road leaning against a lamppost bathed in a cold pale glow. A cigarette hung from in between his fingers, ash flicking to the ground as he tapped the end. Louis.
As if he was facing a wild animal, Harry stood as still as he possibly could, watching as the criminal took a final drag of the cigarette before dropping it to the pavement. He adjusted his leather jacket on his shoulders and waved Harry over with a careless flick of his hand,
“C’mere.” When Harry didn’t immediately move he gave an overdramatic sigh. “I’m not going to hit you… Or kiss you.” A smirk lit his lips at the last part of the sentence. Harry didn’t smile, his feet were planted to the ground and his hands started to sweat by his sides. This was a criminal. A dangerous and unpredictable criminal that Harry had no business speaking to and yet, somehow, Harry wouldn’t walk away. Louis gave another loud huff,
“Fine,” He pushed himself off the lamppost and walked over to the curb of the street, still under the eerie white light. “You stay there and I’ll stay here.” Harry nodded lowly, watching as Louis seated himself on the street with his feet in the gutter. Cautiously, Harry mirrored him, sitting directly across from the criminal and folding his hands in his lap.
“What was your name again?” Louis asked, plucking a new cigarette out from behind his ear.
“Harry Sty–”
“Ah yes! Harry.” Harry’s automatic response was cut off by Louis joyful exclamation.
“What’s your name?” Harry asked carefully after Louis had a few puffs of his cigarette.
“I’m sure you already know my name.” It was true but Harry couldn’t see the harm in asking so he just shrugged in reply. “It’s Louis.” He said after another beat of silence. Harry raised his lips in what he hoped was a polite smile before he remembered, not one week ago, this guy had his tongue shoved down his throat, and quickly wiped it off.
“What are you doing out here?” Louis inquired, breathing smoke out his nose.
“Going home. You?” Harry’s tone was almost as cold as the night time chill that rustled through the trees.
“Avoiding home.” The quick response took Harry off guard and a heavy ball of pity formed in the bottom his stomach.
“I – I’m sorry.” Harry shuffled awkwardly as the cold of the pavement had started to turn his bum numb and Louis scoffed.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Just forget it.” It was weird, talking to Louis like this. Like he wasn’t some teenage delinquent whose main aim in life was to try and make everyone’s miserable. It almost felt normal. Harry tried a smile, this one feeling a little more natural, that Louis returned brightly.
“You know –” Harry tried but was cut off by a grumble as loud as thunder. He looked down the road to where a wall of lights were coming towards them with surprising speed. He heard Louis curse but didn’t realise the other lad had moved until he was on Harry’s side of the road and pulling him to his feet.
“I’m sorry.” He said quickly and Harry was about to ask what for but then small hands were reaching under his sweater and pulling it over his head and thrown to the ground. Harry tried to protest, his yelps coming up short as Louis ripped down the front of his shirt, popping all the buttons and exposing his stomach to the cold night air.
“What are you doing?” He screeched, pulling his shirt tightly around himself.
“Shut up!” Louis hushed while pulling his leather jacket from his own shoulders and throwing it at Harry. “Put this on. And don’t say anything stupid.” Frightened into action, Harry slipped his arms into the warm jacket that was a little too small for him and smelt like cigarette smoke. Louis shot him one last warning look before a bike was pulling up in front of them, on it was the Quiff boy from the party.
“Lou, what’s happening man?” The tanned boy asked, resting his forearms on the handlebars of his bike.
“Yeah, not much.” Louis replied just as casually, taking a step in front of Harry as if trying to block him from the other lads view. Unfortunately, it didn’t work,
“Who’s your friend?” He nodded up at Harry who just stared dumbly back at him.
“Oh, this is um – Haz. He was just taking me back to his place.” The lie came easily out of Louis’ lips as he reached an arm back to pull Harry into his side, his hand resting on the bear skin of his hip and sending a not unpleasant shiver down Harry’s spine. A dirty smirk lit Quiff boy’s lips and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh yeah? Need a lift?” Louis declined the offer, claiming Harry lived ‘just around the corner’. And with that they bumped fists and Quiff boy and his gang were speeding down the street. Once they were out of sight, Louis turned back to Harry with an apologetic frown.
“Sorry about your shirt.” He mumbled, bending down to pick up the discarded sweater and pass it to Harry. Harry took the ugly orange material silently, turning it over in his hands and he saw Louis shiver out of the corner of his eye.
In just a thin v neck shirt, Louis must have been freezing. Harry at least had the leather jacket to keep him warm. “Here.” He offered the sweater back to Louis. Louis’ blue eyes flickered from the sweater to Harry and back again but made no move to take the jumper. Harry sighed before lifting up the orange wool and fitting Louis’ head through the top of the sweater and leaving it a scarf around Louis’ neck. The blue eyed boy’s face turned amused as he reached up to slip his arms through the sleeves that hung past his fingertips.
“I feel like a dork.” He flapped his hands around, watching as the material hit against his wrists.
“Good because you look like one too.” Louis batted Harry in the face with the sleeve before he rolled them up so he could see his hands once more.
“If anyone sees me in this,” Louis made a point of searching down the street for any form of life, “I’ll kill you.” And Harry didn’t doubt him for a second. But, for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should. He smiled down at Louis before bowing his head in the direction in which he was previously headed,
“Come on.” He invited before he started walking, not bothering to check if Louis was following.
“Where are we going?” Louis asked cautiously as if Harry was the murderer luring him into his torture dungeon.
“Well, after you ripped my clothes and hurt my pride by introducing me as your gay lover, the least you could do is walk me home.” Harry shrugged and Louis looked up at him with one quizzical eyebrow raised.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea showing me where you live? What if I rob you or something?”
“Are you going to rob me or something?”
“No?”
“Then I’ll take my chances.”
~*~
Harry had no idea how he got himself into this compromising situation, both figuratively and literally. With his hands in white knuckled fists, gripping tightly onto the headboard and holding on for dear life, with his sweaty curls falling into his eyes but not being able to brush them away in fear of disturbing the intense and lustful stare he was receiving from the young man in between his thighs. He had no idea how this happened. How a couple hours ago he didn’t even know he liked guys but, with every thrust of this dangerously beautiful boy’s hips, he pushed deeper and deeper and had him screaming louder and louder, how his body no longer seemed to belong to him; having given it up to want and pleasure long ago. How Harry was supposed to despise the person grunting his name so hotly into his ear, who he wasn’t supposed to associate with him, let alone let him fuck him into the mattress. How with every single motherfucking thrust he could hit his prostate with such precision it had Harry close to tears.
At least that’s what Harry tried to convince himself as he felt the clenching in his stomach and the tightening in his balls, nearing another body rocking orgasm. He released the headboard and quickly latched his fingers into the short sweaty hair of the boy on top of him. Arching his back off the bed and pulling extra roughly on the strands, Harry was coming over both of their chest with a scream muffled by a sloppy kiss. A handful of seconds later, Harry was filled with hot come, the feeling making him groan in both disgust and pleasure. Louis’ heavy body rolled off him to flop down on the mattress to his side.
Their journey to Harry’s house was relatively silent, only broken by offhand comments or a dumb joke on Harry’s part. The house was dark and silent when they arrived, and Harry had explained that his parents were at a benefit, and that’s why he had to walk home so late, and probably wouldn’t be home until the early hours of the morning.
Harry didn’t know what came over him, but he offered for Louis to come inside. They’d shared biscuits and hot chocolate and Louis told stupid stories of the mischief he used to get into when he was younger. Louis was still yet to take off Harry’s sweater despite the warm temperature of the house, and, for some unknown reason it had Harry smiling into his cup.
Harry even enquired about the gang and evil Quiff boy to which Louis had laughed in his face. “Zayn? He’s harmless. He just looks out for his own, you know?” Harry didn’t know.
About an hour of chatting and Harry had discovered more about Louis that he thought he even knew about himself. He learnt things like Louis hated ginger and the colour yellow but loved Christmas movies and warm lemonade. He learnt about his poor high school experience and his four younger sisters. He learnt how Louis’ father used to beat him and how he got kicked out of home when he was fifteen. He learnt that with money becoming really tight, he struggled to pay rent and explained his system of leaving before the tenant wakes up and coming home after she’s gone to sleep.
The more Harry learned the further his heart sank and his stomach twisted. Louis was actually funny and very witty, his tattoos all had justifiable reason for being inked to his skin and the way he talked about his sisters with such adoration Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to believe that the boy in front of him was a criminal. Which, with no lack of an enteral argument, is why Harry offered for Louis to stay the night.
After quite a lot of convincing and promises not to tell anyone, Louis finally agreed. He started out on the sofa in the living room but, Louis realised that if Harry’s parents found him they would probably try to sue him for getting his poor on their expensive couch. So, Louis crept up to Harry’s room, while he was in the shower, and found the most comfortable piece of floor to sleep on. After all it wasn’t the worst ground he’d spent the night on.
When Harry entered his room, still all steamy from his shower, he almost tripped over the body lying in the doorway. Louis explained why he was on the floor and Harry agreed with him except for the whole on-the-floor-thing.
“Just come up here.” Harry said patting the bed next to him.
“No, I’m fine.” Louis yawned, stretching out on Harry’s Persian rug. Harry leaned over the side of the bed and frowned down at the boy on the floor who smiled up at him cheekily.
“You know, Louis, there are spiders on the floor…” And that was all that was needed for Louis jump up onto the bed, making sounds of appreciation as he rubbed his face against the soft pillows. Both boys lay on their respective sides, not facing each other and not talking. Harry was on the brink of sleep when he felt a hand get placed gently at his ribs and a body slide up close behind his.
“Thank you, Harry.” Harry rolled over so he was facing Louis, all his sharp delicate features visible in the pale moonlight, making Harry’s heart ache in his chest.
“You’re welcome.” Louis smiled sweetly and Harry just couldn’t help himself, leaning in and closing the gap between their mouths. Louis’ lips moulded into the kiss, almost like he’d been expecting it, and shifted his weight so Harry was on his back and he was half on top of him. Their kiss was nothing like their previous one, there was no urgent need or threatening challenge. Their kisses were slow and languid, Harry’s brain not even registering that the person he was kissing was a boy, let alone a criminal. The slight taste of smoke on Louis tongue was almost addictive and Harry found his mouth working on its own as he nibbed at Louis lips and sucked on his tongue.
Louis was now fully on top of Harry, his hips cradled by Harry’s long legs and lips sealed around prominent collarbones. One thing clearly led to another and there Harry was, with newly found sexuality, lying boneless on silk sheets with a guy he barely knew pressed into his side, the same guy who took his virginity, the same guy who’d threatened to kill him his anyone saw him wearing his pumpkin sweater and Harry couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried.