Tainted Saints and Velvet Vices

Chapter 12: Forward and Spiral

Sitting on the step of the stone staircase were their cats and Louis absently realised that Harry must have sent them out of their dormitory. Abrax was chewing on something in idle satisfaction, Cassiopeia watching him with the most contemptuous look her endearing face could muster. The sight of them made Louis snort.

The possible reasons Harry may have wanted privacy set Louis' skin alight beneath his clothes, which suddenly seemed excessive when all he wanted to do was reach Harry's bare, pale skin. Louis pushed open the door and his gaze latched onto Harry, who was standing with a rigid back, his eyes alert and glazed.

Neither of them spoke a word, both surging forward and wrapping their arms around each other. Louis pressed his lips to Harry's, soft and tenacious. His hands plunged into Harry's dishevelled curls, twisting and tangling, and eliciting a low groan from Harry.

"Fuck."

Louis snorted. "Highly eloquent, Harry."

Harry's smirked and allowed his hands to travel across Louis' back, his nails pressing into the fabric of Louis' shirt and fisting it roughly. Harry's fingertips travelled lower and sunk into Louis' hips. He expertly dragged them beneath Louis' shirt and along his back. Louis shivered as Harry whipped Louis' shirt off and threw it on the floor. Louis felt Harry's long, deft fingers sink into the bare skin covering the dimples in his back. Louis had to keep his body from trembling at the slight sting of Harry's nails diggings into his skin and undoubtedly leaving pink lines where only Harry could see.

Tugging at the hem of Harry's shirt impatiently, Louis quickly helped Harry discard his own. Harry observed Louis' chest with such sedulous awe that Louis blushed beneath his gaze, fumbling with the waistband of Harry's trousers. In a moment of wild fever, Harry's hands grappled at Louis' trousers and worked at unclasping the button. Louis' skin prickled with anticipation and he leaned forward, suddenly exhausted, to rest his head on Harry's shoulder as Harry tore his trousers off him in a single, swift movement. They fell to the floor and, as Louis stepped out of them, leaving himself in just his briefs, he felt highly exposed beneath Harry's scrutiny.

Harry placed two fingers beneath Louis' chin and carefully guided his head up until their eyes met. "Are you okay?" he asked, tone suddenly patient, as though he would be willing to drop everything solely to make sure that Louis felt safe and comfortable. Louis' heart ached at Harry's open, obliging expression.

"I'm good," Louis said on a breath. He placed his fingers gently on Harry's slender hips and felt a shiver wrack Harry's body. Letting out a shaky breath, Louis fumbled at Harry's trousers (which clung to Harry's thighs so tightly that Louis thought they were attached by a Sticking Charm) before yanking them down with a little more aggression than he had intended.

"Over to the bed, come on," Louis said, gently pulling Harry towards Harry's neat bed, rather than Louis' indistinguishable bed beneath his pile of clothes and books. Harry fell back onto the bed and, taking a moment to savour the sight of Harry sprawled across it, Louis climbed atop. He took care not to injure either of them in the process—their wounds from the final task were still tender—and rested his knees on either side of Harry's hips. The sight below him, Harry's eyes dark and trusting, was something that Louis wanted to etch in his thoughts forever.

Harry leaned up and pressed a kiss with a strange eloquence to Louis' collarbone, a steady, rehearsed rhythm to the way he swiped his tongue across the slightly protruding bone and sucked insistently to leave a dark love bite.

Louis felt a scintilla of self-doubt course through him under Harry's attention before Harry met his eye and smiled.

"So beautiful," Harry sighed, brushing the curve of Louis' hip. "Your skin is so delicate."