kinky ao3 bottom harry smut

8. talking without speaking

author: beechersnope

summary: Louis enjoyed a bit of physical intimacy minus the conversation every once in a while, but it already felt like the one thing they never did when they were together anymore was talk. And now Harry just had an excuse to continue to avoid it.

word count: 4,996

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"Aren't you hot?"

Harry glanced over from where he was sat on a poolside lounger, his skin gleaming under the summer sun as he basked naked in the garden. Evidently, he'd been undeterred by Liam's hypochondric ramblings about skin cancer the week prior in their group chat. Harry slowly lifted his buggy pink sunglasses away from his eyes and pushed them into his hair to give Louis a sceptical look.

"You've known me for nearly ten years," Harry pointed out in a slow drawl. "You know all about my cold intolerance."

"Still," Louis countered as he reached up for the fifth time in under a minute to wipe away the sweat beading above his brow, "it's like an oven out here. Don't know how you can even stand it."

"You're welcome to go inside where there's aircon if you aren't comfortable."

Louis knew the snippiness in Harry's voice had nothing to do with their discussion about the weather. Harry had been a bit stroppy all day after their argument that morning about his studio time. Namely, Louis couldn't understand why he wouldn't just reschedule his time slots for next week, when Louis would be in Europe again, so that they could make the most of their time together now. Harry had insisted that it wasn't that much time spent in the studio to start with and refused to put his work on hold for seemingly any reason—even when it was Louis who was doing the asking.

And, although it was begrudging, Louis had found the wherewithal somewhere deep inside himself to respect that decision. But the argument had still managed to rear its ugly head over breakfast despite their agreement beforehand to keep work-talk to an absolute minimum.

"I don't want to go inside," Louis insisted, which was (technically) a lie. He very much wanted to go inside; he just didn't want to go inside without Harry, who seemed equally committed to getting a semi-decent tan out of the afternoon. If this was all the quality time they'd get together, then Louis wanted to make sure they were actually spending it together, not in separate wings of the absurdly huge house that neither of them were enamoured by any longer.

When Harry had first bought the place a few years ago, things had been different. The break, the perks of the break, the evolution of their own relationship—all of it had still been a novelty back then. Now it all felt every bit as stagnant as the summer heat that was currently smothering West Hollywood.

"How long before you have to leave?" Louis pressed. Maybe there was a chance he could convince Harry to do something fun before he was whisked off to the studio again, the way he had been nearly every night of Louis's stay so far. Once he was gone, there was no telling how long he'd be out. Sometimes he didn't come back for nearly eight hours, by which point Louis was usually in bed and trying—and failing—to fall asleep.

Harry sighed. "Two hours?" he replied vaguely.

Louis closed his eyes and did his best to suppress an answering sigh. Two hours wasn't long enough to accomplish anything in Los Angeles, where everything and everyone moved as slow as molasses. It was like the whole city was living in a state of suspended animation, without the normal cycle of changing weather to remind them that time was passing by. Louis hated it. He really did. But for now, Harry was firmly rooted there, and with the kid to worry about—