And Now A Piece Of Me Is A Piece Of The Beach || larry stylinson

8

It was Saturday morning, and Harry was more than a little hungover. Usually, he would be able to rid himself of the nasty feeling fairly easily, but it seemed that tequila did not agree with that. Harry blamed Zayn one hundred percent. The perfectly coiffed haired boy had brought a large bottle of tequila with him that he nicked from Fit Aiden’s stash behind his stall, and, well, it was hard to pass up on any type of alcoholic drink, let alone tequila. They seemed to be extra rowdy around the campfire for some reason, all five of them getting plastered pretty quickly.

Tequila seemed to make Louis talk less, surprisingly enough, and just sprawl all over whoever he was close to. Harry, however, seemed to talk a lot more, along with Liam. Banter was passed back and forth between them all, but Harry felt like he was spouting utter shit half of the time. He vaguely remembered the fact that Louis may have told him something along those lines, but that thought was a little blurry and less defined for him to trust. Those kinds of jokes that would be carried on for months and months afterwards were created and laughed about, some of them not even making the slightest bit of sense. It was the perfect way for Harry to relax after a hard day’s work, but that was not the best of it.

The highlight of the night, Harry remembered, was probably that promise that Louis had made merely hours before. True to his word, Louis and he had stumbled further onto the beach, away from wandering eyes and mocking shouts (not that they would have cared in the state they were in anyway). Harry had been pushed to the ground with little force, his unsteady legs already weak at the knees before anything had even happened. Harry kind of wanted to see Louis on his knees in front of him, but then he remembered that he was bladdered and probably would have wavered around a bit and ended up choking Louis to death. So, unfortunately, he realised that he would have to save that for another time.

Anyway, Louis had ended up unbuttoning Harry’s shirt with fumbling fingers. He pressed open-mouthed kisses in the wake of the soft material, hot breath sticking to his skin as it tried to escape the delicious cave of Louis’ mouth. A tongue darted out and swiped over Harry’s nipple, teeth then scraping over the hardened nub and making Harry’s mind whirl. The cold air around them stuck to the wet skin as soon as Louis had pulled away, making Harry hiss quietly under his breath when the invisible plaster of warmth was ripped off his skin.

His lips had trailed all the way down Harry’s exposed chest, sucking blossoms of red around his belly button. His teeth tugged on the hairs trailing down to the waistband of his trousers; he looked up at him through thick eyelashes, the blueness of his eyes darkened substantially to an arousing beauty. Sand became embedded underneath Harry’s fingernails from how his fingers dug canyons into the dampened ground. Harry’s chest was heaving up and down in anticipation.

Suddenly, the heel of Louis’ hand was pressing down on Harry’s crotch. A breathy moan tumbled from between Harry’s lips, the pressure on the bulge sending sparks through his thighs and hips. As Louis started pressing wet kisses around the curve of Harry’s waist, he unbuckled Harry’s belt swiftly with his other hand. Louis pulled away from licking intricate patterns on Harry’s skin and popped open the button to his trousers. The caramel haired boy leant up and connected his wet lips with Harry’s dry ones, melding them together in a sloppy kiss. Tequila and smoke was all that was found behind Harry’s teeth, but it was more Harry than Louis could really ask for; it was just something else that he could add to the tiny little Harry collection that he was storing away in his mind.

Without Harry even realising it, his mind too preoccupied with the curling of Louis’ tongue around his, the other boy had his hand wrapped around his cock in his boxers and was pumping slowly. Harry’s breathing was stuttered as the lazy movement of Louis’ hand caused a fantastically prolonged friction. The lax movement of the small hand ended up taking its toll on Harry’s kissing skills. His lips moved with less coordination than they ever had, his bottom lip catching on Louis’ chin and his tongue stabbing the smoke-infested corner of Louis’ mouth.