Drowning || Larry Stylinson

chapter twelve

After three days of Harry staying with him, Louis felt like he was going to lose his mind. He had always loved his best mate, Louis would have done anything for Harry before their big argument. And he was always used to the weird quirks that Harry had, like how he had to have the crusts cut off of every sandwich he ate. Or that Harry took about twenty minutes in the bathroom before going to bed at night, so Louis always had to take his showers earlier in the night, directly after dinner. Most importantly, Louis was aware that Harry had always slept barely clothed. 

During the winter months, Harry was more keen on turning the heat on high than to actually put on more layers. He always said he liked the feeling of being fully caressed by the sheets as he slept, and that clothing was just too restrictive. Harry likened wearing pajamas to wearing shackles around his neck and waist. Louis never understood it, as he always felt more comfortable wearing boxers and a sleep shirt during the summer months and full pajamas during the winter ones. He wasn't one to ever tell Harry he couldn't sleep in what God provided him, though. 

Well, until the first night that Harry had stayed with Louis. They had been on the couch, Louis snuggled up underneath a thin blanket and Harry stretched out, his arms draping over the back of the couch and his legs spread out, taking up as much space as humanly possible. Louis didn't mind too much about that, he was always one to curl up underneath himself and pull his legs up to his chest. He liked to be as compact as possible. They were just finishing up a movie, and as the credits had rolled on, Harry suddenly stretched his arms out and yawned. He always yawned like a cat, his tongue close to flopping out and his eyes squeezing shut as he arched his back. 

"Well," Harry announced, slapping his hands onto his thighs, "I think it's time for some shut eye, don't ya think?" 

Louis chuckled, his own eyes starting to droop and ache with sleepiness. He hadn't stayed up that late in quite a long time. He rubbed his left eye and let out his own yawn, rolling his shoulders back as he did. "I don't really have a bed set up for you, Harry. Do you think the couch will be comfortable enough for you?" 

Harry shrugged. "Don't have much of a choice, mate," he replied before he stood up and stripped off his shirt, carefully folding it before he flopped it onto the coffee table. Before Louis could say anything, Harry was dropping his jeans as well, his belt clinking against the floor as he did. Louis couldn't help his stare, he was unsure if any person, straight or not, would be able to help their gaze in that moment. 

As Harry stretched out again, the muscles in his stomach flexing, Louis's eyes flitted down to the undergarments he had been wearing. They came just a few inches down his thigh, barely cupping his ass cheeks, the hemming coming just below. The waistband stayed low on Harry's hips, the bones protruding forward as he leaned back, the delicate fern leaves right above them acting like a guide. Louis wasn't sure if Harry actually had any protection in these trunks, a pouch in front caressed Harry's member carefully, but with no restriction. 

With a gulp, Louis's eyes drifted back up to Harry's face. When their eyes met, Louis wasn't sure if he had been caught staring or not. Harry's face kept calm and serene, just sleepiness in his eyes. But Louis thought he noticed a small quirk in Harry's lips, like maybe he had been stretching and flexing on purpose. Just in the hopes of catching Louis in the act of indulgence. 

"Um, well...goodnight," Louis croaked, clearing his throat after. He chuckled dryly. "Throat's a little dry, ha." 

Harry nodded, barely acknowledging Louis's statement as he sat down, curling up on the couch. Louis grabbed an extra pillow from his linen closet and a thicker blanket, setting both down next to Harry. Little ringlets still damp from Harry's night routine hung in his face, ending right below his cheekbones. Louis wanted to reach out and tuck the strands behind Harry's ears, to get them out of his face, but he quickly diminished that thought with a shake of his head. Harry got comfy on the couch and brought the thick blanket up to his chin.