December 16 - Thursday

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Chapter 15 recap...

Louis and Harry had woken up feeling decidedly worse for wear after their night of wine and decorating, Louis had cooked them breakfast, and they'd confirmed arrangements for their third date: Ice Skating!

Louis glances out of his bedroom window when he hears Harry's car pull into the driveway, the headlights shining brightly in the dark night. He's on time, which Louis really does appreciate, wishing more people would show that level of courtesy in their daily lives.

Louis turns back to the full-length mirror, giving himself a final once over. He looks good, even if he does say so himself. More importantly he feels good; confident, sexy, casually smart without appearing like he's tried too hard.

When he'd packed to come home, he was distracted and annoyed about the forced extension of his vacation, so it's a miracle he hadn't just filled his duffle bag with old Halloween costumes and novelty socks. Perhaps the universe had cut him a break though, because he'd thrown in his best come-fuck-me jeans along with his favourite turtle-neck, the black-on-black combo perfect for a night out. He appreciates turtle-necks aren't for everyone, but when he styles his hair up into a quiff it does this magical thing to his cheekbones that never fails to have guys falling at his feet. Maybe it won't have such a big impact on someone like Harry, who is used to being surrounded by models, but Louis figured he may as well pull out the big guns.

He'd spent quite a lot of his time thinking about Harry today (okay, all of his time). About where this might go and what Harry's expectations might be. Harry's definitely interested, a blind man could see that, they just haven't talked about it. And maybe it doesn't require a conversation at all. Harry's a perceptive guy and he's well aware Louis' time at home is finite, so Louis is just going to approach tonight as what it is: a good time with a great date.

Harry's deep voice and rumbling chuckle drift up the stairs and Louis feels a zip of nerves shoot straight to his gut. Rolling his eyes at himself he does a last check in the mirror and gives himself an appreciative nod, grabbing his phone and wallet before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. He finds Harry and his Nan chatting in the kitchen-diner, Harry straddling the swivelling desk chair the wrong way around, forearms crossed over the back while Louis' Nan is cooking at the stove. Louis is struck by how comfortable and, well, right it feels to have Harry in the house, like he's always belonged there, like he's been a part of their world for far longer than he actually has.

"Evening," Louis says and Harry turns, a broad smile fixed in place readiness, but it slides off his face when he sees Louis, eyes widening and mouth going slack as slowly he drinks him in. He trails his gaze down Louis' body and by the time his eyes come back up to meet Louis' the smile has been replaced by a devilish smirk.

"Hey, Lou. You look... wow."

Harry stands, throwing his leg over the chair like he's dismounting a motorbike, which is an image that will stay with Louis for some time, and immediately shoots to the top of his list of the sexiest things he's ever seen.

But then Louis takes in what Harry's wearing and his mouth goes dry. Because fuck.

Harry's black jeans are practically painted on, hugging his muscular thighs and strained across the obvious bulge of his cock, a plaited dark-brown belt threaded through the loops, the end hanging free down at his side and drawing Louis' eyes. His sheer black shirt is undone down to his sternum, buttons clearly an optional extra tonight, tattoos peeking out enticingly and begging to be traced by Louis' tongue.

Louis wants to drag him upstairs, strip him naked, and drop to his knees. He feels a desperate need to get his mouth on him, to touch him, to feel his bare skin under his fingertips, burning inside him like a raging wildfire.

In A Twinkling (Larry Stylinson)Where stories live. Discover now