Bloodsport- l.s •Unbelievers Harry's POV•

Chapter 12

To say Louis was excited when Harry came over that evening was an understatement. Harry was concerned by his surprising behaviour, but nonetheless optimistic. He didn't know whether Louis' mood had shifted back to sad again, but he hoped not. He liked the way Louis had kissed him, full of desire and delight. Most of all, his mind kept shifting back to those two words: Thank you. He had no clue what they referred to, or what caused Louis to lay them out so openly, but they ricocheted through his body for hours after the fact.

"Don't worry about it," Louis said when Harry stepped into the bedroom. He was subsequently persuaded to lie down on the bed, naked with Louis behind him, kissing his skin. Naturally, he didn't put up much of a fight.

Harry didn't hesitate to show Louis how much he wanted him back. The next morning, he had breakfast with Lottie (smashed avocado toast with chili flakes), went to school, drilled the last of the preparations before Friday's match into his teammates' heads at training, headed home to shower, and flung himself back out the door to get to Louis' house.

There, in his room, he buried himself in Louis. He dug his face into his neck and touched him until Louis slid his hands into his boxers. Sleeping with Louis was a nightly dosage he needed. Having sex with him was a taste of heaven. Something new and explicitly overwhelming happened every time, and Harry had not just fallen in love with Louis, but in love with his body. Maybe he'd fallen in love with Louis' body first, and the rest later. Either way, the whole of Louis was killing him softly. Over the next few weeks, Harry would want him in the shower, on the floor, and in the car. He would want Louis to grab him on the football pitch and snog his brains out on the fresh-cut grass. He'd desire nothing more than the whole of him every minute of every hour of every day.

Harry found it easy to show Louis how much he desired him. All he needed to do was get naked, climb on top of him, and grind down on him for long, long minutes. He moved up and down, clutching at Louis' body beneath. Louis' head was on the mattress, eyes closed and mouth opened in pure ecstasy. Harry felt the same. He was shivering as sweat simultaneously burned at his hairline. He wanted to come, but more than that, he wanted Louis to. He wanted to feel his body react under his. Harry's heart raced as he moved, and all he could think about was the burning in his thighs and Louis twitching under him.

Louis nearly pushed him off the bed when he ground down in a firm movement. Louis' hips jerked in reaction, and Harry groaned, gasping and curving backward. Again. He wanted Louis to do it again.

"Cramp!" Louis gasped. "Hip, cramp, cramp." Harry opened his eyes with a start, suddenly realising that Louis was in distress. He'd been lost in the senses of their bodies blending, and it took him a moment to mentally wind down. He slowly rose, but Louis' fingers immediately dug into his skin, stopping him. "Don't! Don't move."

It took Louis a minute to relax. His face was contorted in pain, but Harry was still on him, hands pressing down on his chest. Once he seemed to have recuperated, he exhaled heavily, body turning lax. Harry pinched him. Was he just going to stop making him come? Or what?

"You good?" he asked when he opened his eyes.

"Yeah," Louis breathed. "C'mere. I'll fuck you."

Better. Great, even.

His hands clutched Harry's hips, and he rolled them over with ease. The movement was practiced by now, and Harry didn't mind it. He opened his legs and pulled them up, fitting Louis comfortably in between. Louis' arm snaked around his waist, holding him up slightly and reaching better angles. He moved into him with sturdy, hard movements that make Harry's eyelids flutter. He could do nothing but attempt to hold on, allowing small moans to leave his mouth at every other thrust. Louis leaned further down, and Harry could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. His own body seemed to tingle and tighten with every movement.