In A Twinkling (Larry Stylinson)

December 15 - Wednesday

Chapter 14 recap...

Louis and Harry had their second Christmas Tree Decorating date, drank far too much wine, and fell asleep on the couch together...

There's a banging in Louis' head like a woodpecker has taken up residence and is currently trying to remodel the inside of his skull. His eyes are glued shut and there is a heaviness on his body, pinning him down. He briefly wonders if gravity has increased ten-fold while he slept. Maybe the apocalypse is nigh and the world is set to implode. With the way he's feeling right now, he's not so sure he'd mount that much of an objection.

He runs his tongue along the backs of his teeth and it's definitely not the nicest feeling. Everything is so dry that his tongue actually gets stuck on the roof of his mouth and he has to forcibly peel it off. Gross. He doesn't even want to think about how bad his breath smells right now.

Water. He needs water. And to pee. And something greasy to eat. His stomach rumbles loudly at the thought, which is apparently enough to make the weight on his back move.

Fuck.

Louis' eyes fly open, the sun streaming in through the windows stabbing him in the eyeballs and sending a shot of pain into his brain. He doesn't immediately recognise his surroundings but he's decidedly not in his bedroom at his flat, nor the one at his Nan's, he's....

Oh shitting hell. Harry's. He's at Harry's. On the couch. With the man himself wrapped tightly around him and is that a-

Harry's cock—his rock hard, enormous cock—is digging into his bum and Louis quickly realises the situation in his own pants isn't much better. He tenses and then tries to roll away, but Harry has other ideas.

"Oooouch. My head," Harry whines from behind him, tightening his hold around Louis' stomach which only makes him need the bathroom even more.

Louis smacks his lips together, trying to determine if he's going to be able to get his vocal chords and lips and tongue to work sufficiently to speak. "And which head might that be?" Louis manages to croak out, squinting against the offending sunlight as the room spins.

"Huh?" Harry burrows his nose into Louis' hair and wait- Did he just sniff him?

"Which head?" Louis asks, trying and failing to dislodge his legs from where Harry has them gripped between his own thighs. "The one on your shoulders or the one that's digging into my arse?"

Harry freezes and Louis starts to smirk, but that hurts his own tender head, so he relaxes his facial muscles again.

"Oh god," Harry groans and finally rolls away from Louis' back. "Fuck. I'm so sorry I- Jesus Christ. What the fuck did we drink last night?"

"Everything. All of it," Louis offers and rolls himself full onto his front, which is a terrible idea because the room takes an extra beat to come with him, a horribly familiar lurching feeling barreling in his stomach. "I think. Oh god. I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Ugh. Same. Just throw up here. I'll buy a new house."

Louis snorts out a laugh, which he immediately regrets because the snort turns into a giggle and when he tries to stop his whole body starts vibrating with the effort of holding it in. He feels Harry doing the same beside him and soon they're both whining and laughing and the couch is shaking beneath them. "Fuck. Stop. Jesus," Louis pleads through gasped breaths, but it just serves to make them both laugh harder.

Louis slides his legs out from under Harry, his knees hitting the floor as he twists his body and leans against the side of the couch, elbows pressed into the cushions to keep himself upright and give his dick time to get itself under control.