Blood Red Lipstick [L.S.] ✓

Ch. 3; Arousal.

"Wait, really?" Louis asks, and his boss nods.

"Tonight. He's attending that charity gala, then apparently going to a party on the other side of party." Michael, his boss, says. "I'd say you'd be better going to the gala and getting yourself an invite to the party from there. Then, lure him to a hotel or something and kill him there. Don't attempt anything before then or you'll lose your chance again, and it's very likely that you won't get another chance, and then you'll have to break into his house or something, or something. You know what could happen if that happens, too many risks. You need to kill him soon, everything is riding on this."

Louis nods, and Michael begins talking over their plan.

***

Louis walks into the gala, fixing his suit and making sure his gun is secure. He spots Harry instantly, in a less sexy dress than yesterday, a stunning black and red number. His lipstick is the same deep blood red.

He decides to not approach immediately, and moves around socialising before he speaks to Harry.

 "Jonathan? Is that you?" Harry's voice says from behind him, and he turns, smiling pleasantly at Harry. "It is you!"

 "Fancy seeing you here." Louis says warmly, and Harry chuckles.

 "Small world." He says. "I apologise for yesterday. I panicked and ran away. I'm sorry."

 "Don't be. I'm told I can be quite intimidating." Small understatement. He's only under exaggerating a little. Just a smidge.

Harry smiles, grabbing two glasses from a passing waiter. "How about a do over? While that's not appropriate for an event like this, I'm going to a party before the dinner. If you don't have any prior engagements, I'd love you to come along?"

 Louis mentally cheers, and nods. "I'd love to."

 "Now come on, I wanna donate before I get drunk and accidentally donate a fuck ton. The people that run these can be kind of vicious when you're donating." Harry says, taking him by the arm and leading him to the other side of the room, stiletto almost colliding with Louis' shin. "'Are you sure? The orphans could really use the money. They're so poor, such wretched wee pets. Lost their mummy and their daddy, they have nobody, sir.'" He adopts a silly, high-pitched tone, one dripping with sarcasm and fake altruism.

 "Pretty this gala is for curing cancer." Louis points out, and Harry scoffs.

 "Whatever. Free booze and the slight feeling of power you get when you help others. I don't really care what it's for." Harry says, and Louis chuckles.

***

He's in a taxi with Harry on the way to the party, watching the other man out of the corner of his eye.

"So, Jonathan." Harry begins. "You got anybody in your life?"

"Why would you ask that after you kissed me?" Louis asks.

"I've never really had a problem with being a homewrecker." Harry shrugs, scooting closer.

Louis remains silent, just as Harry's fingers wrap around his wrist.

Harry is pressed against him, and his lips connect with Louis' neck. "Anybody you're going home to? Will they notice the lipstick stain?" He murmurs.

Louis shakes his head, and that's when Harry cups his jaw, making him turn his head and connect their lips. It's less heated than the night before, Harry's just kissing him languidly, probably smearing his lipstick all over his lips. His hands cradle Louis' face, and Louis' just remain uselessly at his side.

He hates this. He's going to be killing this guy. God. He's never felt this amount of foreboding and guilt for a target before. Usually he doesn't give a shit. Usually he kills them without a second thought.

They arrive at the party, and Harry pays the driver before dragging Louis out of the car, pulling him through the front door. Music is thumping, the tangy aroma of alcohol and sweat tickles his nostrils.

Harry pulls him into a room, where people are grinding on each other in a make-shift dance floor.

"So, Jonathan. How old are you?" Harry asks, placing his hands on Louis' shoulders, moving against him in time with the beat. 

"26." Louis replies, letting his hands drift to Harry's hips. "What about you?" He asks, acting like he doesn't already know.

"24." Harry says, moving even closer. "You're from Doncaster, yeah?"

"Yeah. How did you know?" Louis asks.

Harry blinks, fumbling for a second. "Your accent, idiot."

"Oh. Right. Yeah." Louis says, and Harry leans forward, kissing him. It's like the first one, dirty and passionate. Harry's hand moves to his lower back, pulling him flush against the other man.

They end up stumbling into a couch, Harry planting himself on his lap and kissing him fiercely, little desperate moans coming from his mouth. Louis just knows there's gonna be lipstick smeared all over him. 

He grips Harry's ass, their crotches connecting. Harry's hair brushes against his forehead, the scent of him invading Louis' senses.

He plunges his tongue into Harry's mouth, the chatter and music around them fading, the only sound being the little noises which erupt from Harry's mouth.

"Oi, Harold! Stop making out with that guy and come play beer pong!" An Irish voice yells, and Harry pulls away with an annoyed sigh, raising an eyebrow. "Don't glare at me like that. You'll have plenty of time to snog him later."

He won't, but whatever.

"Ugh. Fuck you, Niall." Harry sighs, stumbling to his feet and fixing his dress, grabbing the drink from the Irish blonde and downing it at the same time. "Come on, Jon. You play too."

Harry tugs Louis to his feet, and the Irish guy grabs his hand, introducing himself as Niall cheerily. "Jonathan." He says, extracting himself from Niall's enthusiastic grip.

"Niall, where's the booze?" Harry asks, and Niall rolls his eyes.

"Harry. Mate. You're absolutely fucking loaded, and all you do is try to get ways to get free booze." He says, and Louis raises an eyebrow.

Looking at Harry, it's actually not surprising that he's rich. He just... Dresses expensively. "Hold on, you're rich?" Harry shrugs. "Harry... You literally donated a tenner tonight."

Niall snorts loudly, and then drags them towards the kitchen, where the beer pong and booze is.