Devil in Your Smile

Chapter 41, For The Love Of Fuck

LOUIS POV 

I see his back from where I'm eating in the kitchen, so I say fuck it, and open the door to the backyard and step out with my plate in hand. I almost regret it when he turns and tenses when he sees it's me, but I know I can't go back in now. "Scooch. Beep beep." I nudge his thigh with my foot, thanking myself for painting my toes when I see him look at them. He complies, moving over about eight inches so that I can have enough space on the step. I mirror the way he's sat, putting my plate onto my knees as I face the yard, seeing Clifford laying on the grass underneath the tree. I sit next to him as we eat in silence, and he finishes his food before me but stays sat until I'm finished too. I set my plate behind me, folding my hands into my lap and keeping my eyes forward even when he turns and studies me. Finally, he breaks, and breaks the silence. "You're confusing, you know. Are you mad at me or not?" I look at him, confused on why he's asking, but then I remember what he's talking about. "No, I'm not mad, I just didn't know what I was expecting. I shouldn't have played into a fantasy, and when I realized it I decided it's best if I don't go any further with you." I hear him snort, like he thinks what I said was funny, "You won't go any further? I've already gone as far as it can go with you, Louis."

He says my name like it's sour coming from his mouth, making me glare at him, finally breaking my staring contest with the beetle in the grass. I let out something that I've been questioning since last night. "Have you ever actually felt love? Not something parental or friendly, but love from someone who wants more from you than money or status within your little man eat man world?" I watch his face morph, realizing what I'm getting at, but just to clear the air and drive the knife deeper, I go on. "I didn't give you all of me, Styles. I gave you a part of me that has been given before. That doesn't make you special, you asshole." 

I try to keep the tears at bay, only doing a sub-par job because a few slip down my cheeks but I use my injured hand to wipe them as I move to stand. His hand grabs mine, making me glare and look down at him, only to be met with a frown, and a face filled with sorrow. He keeps his hand in mine, eventually getting me to sit down as he speaks. "I'm completely out of my realm here, Louis. I'm confused and I'm angry because I'm confused, and I'm mad at myself for upsetting you. I don't know how to deal with this! I was taught how to kill, how to manipulate and lie, how to con, and how to lead, but nothing my father taught me was about l-" He stops himself, but I already know where he was going. I bring my right hand up to where he's holding my injured one delicately, squeezing his hands to get him to look at me. He speaks up before I do, saying something similar to what I was going to, "I'm sorry. Okay? I tried to talk to Niall about it, and then Liam, but neither of them gave me the answers I needed, and I can't talk to Connie or my Mum because I'll have to reveal too much."

I nod, appreciating him being open and mature about things, so I give mutual respect back. "I apologize for what I said. I'm out of my element too, Harry. This is all uncharted territory for me, I have no fucking idea how to approach this. Especially since we're both too stubborn for our own good." I make a joke out of it, trying to lighten the mood, and thankfully it works. He runs his thumb over my hand and across my bandage, and I look at him and see him staring at it with intent. "I was pissed when you came home in blood. I don't like seeing you like that, baby. Not like that." I almost miss the last part, but I look up to see him staring at me with dark green eyes. Christ he has the mind of a teenager doesn't he? He's totally giving me sex eyes right now. Does arguing turn him on? I try not to laugh at my inner thoughts, watching him as he watches me. Before I can even process it, one of us is moving in, and our lips brush together. That familiar heat, something icy and burning and made from lust fills me, making me move forward and fully connect our lips. I mess with him, not allowing him entrance for a few seconds before I let him win and allow his tongue to slip into my mouth. He's breathing heavily, like kissing me is more important than getting oxygen to his lungs, and I hate how turned on I get by the thought of him being so desperate for it, for me. I pull away from him, knowing where this will lead if I don't stop, "We can't right now, H. I kinda need to walk tomorrow, I can't be limping like I was on Friday and Saturday morning."