~*~ Louis ~*~
Louis’ hand returns to making slow easy circles over Harry’s stomach as they watch the movie. The longer he does it, the more he realizes it’s not enough. He wants to be closer to Harry. To touch his skin. To feel Harry’s heat under his fingers. Grabbing the material of this shirt under his fingers, he slowly drags his hand up to Harry’s hip, easing his shirt up to his waist. He slips his hand underneath the edge of the shirt, finding Harry’s soft, warm skin, and moves his hand back to sit low on Harry’s stomach. Louis hears Harry’s breath hitch when his fingers find the line of hair leading into the extremely low waistband of his joggers. He continues tracking the path from Harry’s belly button down to his pants, back and forth, in slow and easy rhythmic movements.
Louis shifts down and lines up their bodies, his nose dragging over the back of Harry’s neck. He can no longer see the movie, but he honestly couldn’t give a rat’s arse. His entire focus is on Harry. Louis stops moving his hand and pushes into Harry’s stomach, squeezing the boy closer to him. Harry, responsive, beautiful, perfect Harry, grinds back into him and arches his neck, presenting a long line of unmarked skin to Louis. He chances a look to Gemma and Ella, seeing them engrossed in watching Channing Tatum thrust his dick around on the screen. Not that it would have stopped him had they been watching him instead, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
Louis’ mouth opens over Harry’s neck. “Can I?”
“Yes. You never have to ask. The answer is always yes.”
Louis uses his tongue ring to press relentlessly into the flesh, sucking hard. He feels the shudder of pleasure and need run through Harry’s body as the feelings flood him. “Easy, Haz. I’ve got you,” he breathes into Harry’s ear before moving to a new place near Harry’s collarbone and resuming his task, abusing the skin under his mouth. Louis has never felt this irrational need to brand someone to this extent, to lay claim for all to see; but with this boy, it overpowers him and overrides all logical thought. He’s been proprietorial before, but this is different. This is more. This is like a hunger that he can’t satisfy, a thirst he can’t quench; and like he told Zayn, it scares him. Terrifies him, really, but Zayn is right. He needs to take chances. He needs to let go, which only leaves one question dancing in his mind. Is Harry worth that risk?
Louis doesn’t take what he is doing any further, having left several more marks but never touching Harry beyond the light movements of his hand over his stomach and his mouth on his neck. When the movie ends, Gemma asks Harry to pick a movie. Harry decides to pass again, which thrills Ella. “Horror movie it is, then.”
“Bathroom break. I’ll be right back,” Harry says, sitting up, his erection tenting his joggers. Louis quickly sits up behind him and murmurs quietly so that only Harry can hear, “Don’t wank, yeah?” Harry’s head bobs almost imperceptibly in acknowledgment as he stands and heads to the bathroom.
Louis stretches, his neck and shoulder popping loudly in the room, before standing to takes his turn in the loo after Harry. When he opens the bathroom door to return to the main room, he hears Gemma’s shocked, “Oh, my God! Those weren’t there earlier.” Ahhh. She’s seen the new bruises along Harry’s neck then. Louis can’t help the smug look that washes over his face in that moment, but he efficiently schools his features as he walks back into the room.
“You did that,” Gemma accuses Louis, pointing to Harry. “While we were watching a movie, you did that.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Louis denies, the smile on his face belying his feigned innocence.
