Apocalypse | L.S [Completed]

XXXIII

Louis wakes up to a mop of curls pressed against his nose, warm limbs wrapped around his naked torso. Harry's small breathes melodises the quiet room, thick curtains blocking the outer world and clock sincerely ticking away the time. In a state of half consciousness, Louis grips the warm body tighter and inhales the apple scented curls, shy smile spreading across his lips once the memories of the past night flows in. He opts to draw small patterns on the younger's naked skin under the blanket instead of waking him up, vibrant blue eyes worshiping his unreal beauty while he sleeps serenely half on top of Louis.

"You're starin'," Harry rasps without opening his eyes, soft lips moving against Louis' pecks with a small trickle of drool as he speaks. "Your beauty is ought to be admired, love. Can't help it," Louis replies pressing a firm kiss on top of the soft unruly curls. "Jesus! You have sex once and now you turn into a cheesy teenager," Harry teases in his deeper than usual voice and Louis feels his warm lips forming a smirk against his skin, emerald eyes never opening. "Fuck off! You little shit," Louis fakes an angry growl, pressing another kiss on the addictive curls. "So no 'I love you's now? It took one night for you to change. One!" Harry plays along, dramatising his tone with a few gasps, eyes still closed and arms still gripping Louis. Man child. 

"What can I say? I am a different man during the night. I lure cute, young boys into the bed with the false promise of my love in return," Louis continues, wicked fingers tracing Harry's spine. His fingers travels miles and miles of smooth ivory skin, finally stopping above Harry's meaty cheeks, slapping it slightly. "Did you play with my poor little heart and throw it away like it was nothing? Did you just use me, Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry's voice is sheer sultry, sinful lips sucking Louis' nipples wetly. Louis feels the blood rush to his core, innocent greens finally connecting with his while his mouth works not so innocently on Louis' bud.

"Baby, no," Louis stops Harry's unforgiving exploit, fingers digging into his thick bottom. It's not like Louis doesn't want to, he's probably harder than a rock down there, but he knows that Harry's sore and no matter how much the green-eyed boy wants him, he doesn't want to hurt him in pleasuring themselves. "Lou," Harry whines in a higher pitch, lips stopping their work to form an adorable pout. "Let's freshen up, yeah? You are pretty sore, my love, I promise we will do things when you feel better. Now, go on, freshen up," Louis advices with a few pats on Harry's bum, sniffing his curls one last time. Harry groans but doesn't protest, detaching himself from Louis and sitting up with a slight wince before waddling his way into the en suite, giving Louis a good show of his plumpy, pale bum.

Louis' defiant lips curve into a rebellious smile when Louis catches a glimpse of his marks scattered over the pale skin, contrasting the skin with its deep purple-ish hue. He pulls the blanket off, searching for a pair of boxers to cover his naked glory. He checks the grand clock, realising they have over slept an hour as it reads half past ten. He puts on the cotton clothing, standing in front of the large mirror in the corner and admiring the love marks Harry left mixing with some of his past scars; a gentle reminder. Louis looks away, not wanting to be reminded of his defile life while Harry's lyrical voice echoes as he sings, probably under the shower. People exaggerate an angel's voice when Harry Styles exists.

Louis' listens to the ringing voice with a calm heartbeat until his phone vibrates on the bed table, 'Whore-an' flashing on the screen. "Mornin', cunt!" Niall greets, voice cheery and fresh, completely opposing his mood yesterday. "Such kind words, fucker, I'm touched. I take that the Russian signed the deal, huh?" Louis smirks, knowing quite well that Niall can't see him, but he does anyway because he can. "Yeah, the bitch wasn't as bitchy after all, just needed to praise their vodka and curse some former presidents," Niall says nonchalantly, as if he didn't shower his temper on both Harry and Louis. Dumb Irish.