Smut and fluff

To Be Loved, To Be In Love

By Gotthisniallthang

He can feel his toes catch the cold from the comforter shifting, paired with the lack of heat from the somewhat useless cast iron radiator that he knows had been turned up to the max before he climbed into bed. The draft in the house, he will admit, never fully goes away. You see, when they had been apartment hunting, his husband had been dead set on getting a Victorian style place with the original layout. Louis could never deny his love anything but what he wanted, so now as he tries to pull his leg in deep, seeking the warmth, he tells himself how happy he is with his life, excluding the radiator. Turning to his left side, he knows he's facing his husband. He wiggles his cold feet in between the long, bare legs of his partner, and decides he doesn't always hate the radiator. For instance, he approves it when Harry likes to warm his lacy panties on it, leaving them draped across during the day before he slips into them at night. After his few short attempts to fall back asleep he blinks his free eye open, the one not squashed against the pillow. His smile appears instantaneously when he takes the moment to really appreciate the glow of his husband from the light beams coming through the sheer curtains, insisted upon because 'I can't see the stars if we block them out'. Gosh, he loves his husband more than anything in the world; his quirkiness and passion is what he fell, no, plowed into love for. His husband's light puffs of breath blow a strand of his dark brown hair that managed to fall on his face, and Louis watches, counting the seconds rhythmically as he breathes. It might be a little creepy but he sometimes can't believe his life. He lets his hand slide up from where it's lying deadly, bringing it up to rub soothing circles on the protruding stomach and, taking his time, he hums as he draws little designs over the barely-there bump. This pregnancy might as well as be as shocking as their first; they had planned to wait a little bit before they had their third, but it seems like fate had something else in mind.

Their first nugget of joy they had found out about six weeks after they had returned home from their honeymoon. They didn't plan to have a baby so soon, but nevertheless their daughter Joy Anne Tomlinson-Styles was born on a magical day in April. The first time Louis felt his heart grow out of his chest.

Noah had been planned; they wanted to extend their threesome of a family to a foursome. Giving themselves ample amount of time after Joy was born, they tried to conceive and successfully achieved it a year later. Noah Edward Tomlinson-Styles was born on a snowy day mid-February. The second time Louis' heart burst through his chest.

Bringing them up to count today, the morning of Christmas Day, Harry is now three months pregnant. He's not showing too much, which makes him pout while he's looking down at his bump, but Louis knows how excited and nervous they are to be having a third child. They wanted to wait until Noah was a year old before they even considered trying for their third, much like they had done between Joy and Noah, but apparently that's no longer the case, as Harry will be five months when Noah reaches his first birthday. Oh well, such is life.

Harry stirs a bit from his slumber, turning into Louis' bit of warmth. Louis feels his husband's tail come up to wrap around his arm, the one still tracing over the bare skin of his stomach. Their love story may not be practical, and hell, many don't understand it, but that's never stopped Louis from holding Harry's hand in public and allowing him to be completely himself. No beanie to cover over the perfection of his pointed ears, nor a protector for his tail that he lets swish behind them in the distance. No, Louis has never once been ashamed of loving a hybrid. He encourages Harry to express himself as a human more so on some days, and others as the kitten he is. Whatever Harry feels like being that day, he supports him endlessly.

Leaning over, Louis starts to pepper his husband's face with little kisses, reaching as far as he can without pressing on top of him.

"Mo'ing." Harry breathes out, arms and feet stretching in opposite directions, eyes fluttering open and closed.