And What If I Were You

Chapter 4 - Part 36

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What if I showed you my soul

What if I shared my shame

Could we know and never let go

And what if I were you

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Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Louis' Villa

Pandanus Palms Retreat

Pandanus Island

9.15am. Waking up in Louis' bed...

Harry's dreaming. He must be. There's a warm, wet heat around his cock that feels suspiciously like Louis' mouth. That can't be real though, because Louis has left him, disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving Harry alone and heartbroken...

He doesn't want to wake up, wants to stay here forever, so he keeps his eyes closed tightly. But he's never had such a strong sensory dream before, so he slowly reaches between his legs and– His eyes fly open and he looks down.

He's not dreaming.

Suddenly, it all comes rushing back in a wave. He's here. Louis is here. They're together.

Then he remembers last night's conversation about establishing a more level playing wherever possible and he quickly closes his eyes, slipping into Louis' world. Just to be sure he doesn't succumb to the temptation to gaze down, he grabs a pillow and shoves it over his face. "I'm not looking. Promise," he says, the words muffled by the pillow.

Harry feels Louis smile around his cock as he keeps sucking him off.

Fuck, he's missed this too. Louis gives head like no one else and he's always had a thing for waking Harry up with a blow job. Harry has never complained, not once, and he's certainly not about to start now.

He allows himself to be taken to that ethereal place, far outside of the confines of the human form, drifting weightlessly in a sea of blissful pleasure and guided only by the heat and passion of the moment.

Louis takes him to the edge over and over again, pushing and then easing off, teasing playfully and then with more intent. Tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers, roaming and pinching and caressing, everywhere, all at once, leading him closer to oblivion.

Harry has no concept of time, no idea how long Louis toys with him, lost in pure desire and animalistic need. It's too much and not enough. Harry would scream out, beg for more, if he had a voice, if he could arrange his thoughts into any semblance of sense, if he wasn't at the mercy of this wonderful man. But he is at his mercy, completely and willingly.

Louis takes him to the edge again, mouth tight as it slides from base to tip. When he reaches the head, he uses his tongue to firmly massage the underside, while those evil little canines, so tantalisingly sharp, dig in under the crown with the perfect amount of pressure to make Harry's toes curl, just the way he likes it.

He's close, so torturously close. If only Louis would release him from the hold he has.

Harry writhes on the bed, just his upper body and legs, keeping his pelvis and mid-section still like they're super-glued to the bed, afraid that a millimetre one way or another might somehow bring him crashing down from his precarious perch on the precipice of euphoria. Or perhaps that's just Louis holding him down, Harry's too far gone to be able to distinguish.

It's building and he knows it won't be long. Prays it won't be.

All the blood that isn't filling his cock is rushing in his ears, drowning out all other sounds and leaving him in a bubble of sheer ecstasy.