drowning on a dry land [ls]

Chapter 4: star stickers on roof

Wishful thinking worked in mysterious ways and they had been rocking side by side for seven years now. Last year, they planted a beautiful garden in the backyard of their shared apartment. Harry and Louis had themselves picked each flower to be planted. The local florist must be secretly taking pills for all those headaches, there was no other reason for her to be some composed when the both of them whined around in her shop and threw fits like children. The woman, bless her, had the patience of a saint and catered to each of their specifications. The both of them had squabbled with each other a few times while deciding things. They had some quite heaty debates which ended up with the tension exploding in their bedsheets.

On the patio, they shared a lot of morning kisses while Louis sat doe-eyed and fawned over the flowers and Harry. They loved each other.

Did Harry mention that he had always been the first to sense when love begins dying out? Because those senses have been tingling a lot recently.

A dormant volcano was slowly preparing itself for an unprecedented explosion in the near future. Till then the traces of fumarolic activity had started distantly. The both of them had started snapping at each other over the smallest of things. Hostility had become a new normal. Their flaring egos clashed against each other on a regular basis. At times, the rude remarks left by one of them left both of them stunned. The fragile flame had been dying out and being ensorcelled by each other wasn't preventing them from evading the screaming matches in the evening.

༺❀༻

"Their child scratched our couch. It's looking really bad" Harry declares as soon as the family is out of their house after a tedious round of monopoly. Harry cleans all the stuff up alone while his boyfriend faceplants on the same couch. Louis glances at it and groans. "Little one had a car key in his hand." He continues

"Don't tell on him though, won't be a polite thing to do," Louis answered in an even tone as if he was cajoling an obstinate child who has no sense of right and wrong.

"I won't." He muttered, not being able to help himself, he continued, " 'Cause apparently, we show more compassion to strangers than the ones we live together with." Harry's words were accompanied by a scoff. "Now more your arse, some tickets are lying under you." He pokes Louis' shoulder and whines.

"The heck is that supposed to mean?" Louis grumbles, getting up from the couch, only to pull Harry's body towards him. They both landed on the couch with Harry straddling Louis' thighs and his hands on his chest. "I brought the groceries this month because you were sick. Even though it was your turn." He chastised him in the same tone Harry hates being spoken to. "So you don't have to be a meanie to me." He caresses his cheeks.

"Didn't know you'd be using it to get out of every single chore henceforth." Harry shrieks when Louis swats his bum. "Hey!" he scolds Louis. This only encourages him to slot his mouth on the man's neck. The wet kisses make him let go, and he lays down his whole body weight on Louis.

Louis slips his left hand under Harry's shirt and graces the skin with his fingertips. His right hand comes in contact with Harry's clothed hardness. He cups it through the fabric of his jeans. Soon Harry's whole body is trembling with a burning desire. He pushes further into Louis' palm hating himself for being so desperate for friction.

"What do think you're doing?" He grips Harry's hips to stop him from rutting against his crotch. "Always so desperate," he tutts before slipping his tongue in his mouth. He then flips them over, never letting their lips disconnect.

"Please," Harry hates himself for letting his voice come out like a squeak. With a swift motion, Louis takes off every inch of fabric on his body. Harry whines when two fingers are inserted in his mouth.

"Get them wet, darling." His commanding tone earns a high-pitched moan and soon Harry is swirling his tongue around the fingers, in a way he'd do when blowing Louis.

Harry waits for him to insert his finger. This is the very reason he absolutely loses it when Louis grabs his hard cock and rubs it against his own clothed one. "Fuck, he curses, barely able to function when it felt so good to be feeling the light burn from the fabric and wetness from Louis' finger at the same time.

"You like this? Lying naked on our couch, grinding a man with clothes on?" His raspy voice did wonders for Harry's boner. "Sad that I don't plan to give you a release any time soon.

Harry's eyes turn darker with lust as he is dragged by Louis into their bedroom.

Watching Harry yell "faster" and "harder" each time he nails his spot with a sharp thrust, Louis wonders how long it had been since they had made love. As much as he cringes at the word 'make love', for the lack of a better word, it's what he desires each time their skirmishes lead to a hot angry fuck. Although the angry sex always does wonders to ending the fight, (which means that it leaves both of them panting too much to speak), it makes him feel hollow inside. It had been months since one of them had taken their sweet time taking the other apart.

Despite being the one who tops frequently, it is Louis who bottoms when they are 'making love' Louis becomes a putty in Harry's gentle hold. The raspberries being blown into his skin are always followed by trimmed nails running over his torso. The sensitive bud of his nipples is thoroughly ravished by him. Harry loves to have him squirm under the flickering of his tongue or when he grazes his prostrate with his slender fingers. He always tips him over the edge, only to pull him back by retrieving his fingers. After opening him up like he has all the time in the world, Harry slowly bottoms out. He always kisses him after that and sucks on his bottom lip until it is swollen. He doesn't start until Louis is chanting a string of "Harry please" like a mantra. Only then, he starts pushing in and out of him with long drawn, slow but deep thrusts. Louis' entire body shakes by the time he's close. The white hot bliss ends up clouding his vision and the only thing he feels is Harry cleaning him up and kissing him goodnight.

But now, when they are finished Harry te-

"Get your sweaty body off me," Louis gets rolled onto the other side of the bed.

No one says a word for a while and Louis just lies quietly on the bed. He keeps staring at the ceiling. The radium star stickers on it frown back at him. When they had acted on this idea, Harry and Louis used to lay in the bed with their fingers intertwined, counting the radium stars that glowed in the darkness of the room. They never really got to know how many stars they were because sleep caught them before they were anywhere near close.

Louis wonders if he would be able to count the stars on the ceiling now that Harry has stopped giving him uncountable kisses before dozing off.

"Harry?" he calls softly.

He knows that he isn't asleep by the way he's consciously fisting at the covers. He tries again, "Harry?" Louis swallows the lump in his throat and groans.

They sleep with their backs facing each other.