Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 18

Harry's POV:

I wake up to the sound of feet shuffling, the quiet swearing of words and the feeling of immense body heat surrounding me. At first, my mind tricks me into believing that I am not at home, but instead someplace foreign, with a one-night stand, trying and failing miserably, to make a quick and quiet exit from wherever we are — these signs surely seem like it. But however, soon enough, my sleep-muddled brain begins to adjust to my surroundings and I hear that same familiar Yorkshire accent, I have grown to know quite well, and I smell that unmistakable stench of spilt liquor which tips me off towards where I really am.

I am in the game room. I am with Louis. I am home.

As my senses start to sharpen, and I dare to open my eyes, due to the throbbing pain I feel in my head, I soon realise that my initial guesses are in fact correct. I still am in the game room, from last night, along with all of the lads and a few feet from us are the plastic cups surrounded by all the knocked-over alcohol.

There are half-filled bottles of Bacardi, Smirnoff and even some Casamigos, littered all over the floor (the bottle of Daniels seems to be missing and I have no idea where it went), however, for the life of me, I can't seem to focus on that. I barely even care about the pounding headache I'm sporting due to my hungover, or the pain in my sternum from the way I was sleeping. All I can seem to focus on is the fact that a pair of blue eyes briefly met mine when the sound of shuffling along with swearing stopped, but they quickly were diverted like they never met mine in the first place

Based on this, and due to the softness in his features, it seems to me that just like I did, Louis has also now awoken. Further, to this, it also appears that the body heat surrounding me seems to belong to Niall where he still lies unconsciously on the floor with deafening snores escaping his parted lips. And the lump of bodies curled up, on one of the armchairs, seems to be the sleeping figures of Liam and Zayn.

My head is pounding. I am slightly nauseous. Bursts of light keep dancing across my vision, heat is swirling in my lower regions, and my tee shirt is clinging to my skin, but I can barely comprehend anything other than the soft feathery hair in front of me. It's like nothing but that exists and—

Fuck I'm so hungover. What the hell am I even going on about?

I can barely even remember last night. All I can remember is getting home from therapy, the conversation in Louis' room, getting drunk with the lads and— oh God me trying to kiss Louis.

I was so drunk. I wasn't thinking straight and his body was just so warm and pressed right against mine on the tiny couch. The soft heat of his thigh kept rubbing against mine and I felt every little breath he took, every hitch of breath, whenever our bodies got too close. His scent was right there invading my senses, breaking down my walls and shattering all our boundaries.   

His eyes felt like they were burning into my body and peeling back layers of my soul when I saw him briefly staring at my lips and then quickly looking away like nothing was happening between us and— and I just lost it.

He was right there soft and pliant, with his lips parted, and I could almost feel every soft breath he took with his against mine and I just wanted to feel him on me again. 

I wanted to feel his smaller body pinning mine to the bed. I wanted to feel him sucking bruises all over my skin. I wanted to feel his breath mingling with mine again. I just wanted to repeat that night, from so long ago, all over again. I wanted him so badly and I just lost it.

I shouldn't have done it (or tried to do it) even though I saw him briefly looking at me the same way I was at him. I shouldn't have in front of everyone, and I shouldn't have when I knew he wasn't in the right mindset.