Louis wakes up first, eyes dragging open slowly against the dull light pouring in through the thin curtains of the hotel room. He whimpers softly, mind still chasing his dream from last night. His brain is fuzzy though and all he can grasp are quick flashes of intense heat, of big hands gripping into him roughly, of lips and teeth and tongue and the feeling of being on fire.
He blinks his eyes a few times, willing himself to wake up. His brain slowly starts to work and a brief flash of panic runs through him. It’s not until he tries to move that he fully registers the warm body lined up next to his; a long, muscled arm curled loosely across his stomach and warm breath ghosting over his collarbone. His memories from last night suddenly rush to the front of his brain: He and Harry fighting and then not fighting, but kissing. Harry had come back. He had come back and kissed him until he was too tired to keep going and Louis can remember everything. The way Harry felt and smelled and tasted, the rough sound of his voice in Louis’ ear, exhilarated and terrified all in one breath.
Louis’ skin prickles with heat as long fingers unconsciously graze over his flesh. He vaguely feels Harry’s curls tickling his chin as the younger boy moves in his sleep, nails scraping lightly on Louis’ stomach as he readjusts. Louis bites his lip and his smile reaches his eyes because this is how he knows it was all real, that this actually happened and Harry is really here with him right now. He thinks if someone let him, he wouldn’t move from this spot for the rest of the day. His bladder has other plans though.
He does his best to maneuver out from underneath Harry without waking him up. Louis can tell from the low light in the room that it must still be ridiculously early. He ambles to the bathroom quietly and takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth. He feels unusually well rested, last night the first night he’s really slept decently in weeks. He dries off and slips on a pair of briefs and some loose sweatpants. He checks his phone to see the time and realizes they still have several hours to stay in, their game not scheduled until mid-afternoon.
When he gets back to bed, Harry has moved onto his side of the mattress. Louis smirks and goes to the other side, crawling in beside him. Harry is lying on his back, face blank and serene in his sleep. Louis figures it might be a while yet before he wakes up. Louis isn’t tired anymore, but the idea of doing anything other than lying here next to Harry while he sleeps seems too taxing. He watches the way Harry’s bare chest rises and falls. He must have removed his shirt sometime during the night after they fell asleep. Louis studies the pale skin there, takes in all the changes of Harry’s body that he hasn’t been close enough to really notice before. He’s allowed to look now, he remembers, and he finds that he wants to with no reservations this time. It’s frightening, how quickly things shifted. But maybe that’s what being honest does to a person. Louis suddenly wants to feel every inch of Harry’s skin to see if it’s as smooth as it looks. And even though Harry let him snog him senseless last night, he’s still unsure where their boundaries, transient and constantly shifting, are now.
Louis doesn’t know how far he’s allowed to go and he felt so much braver last night in an almost pitch black room. He doesn’t know what he's allowed to do, so he just watches his own hand as it falls into the shallow dip of Harry's waist and rests there tentatively. Harry doesn’t stir. Louis then lets his fingers drag slowly across Harry’s ribcage, back and forth. His skin is warm and soft and when Louis' eyes flit back to his face, his heart skips when he sees that Harry’s eyes have opened.
Louis halts his movements, pulls his hand away and tucks it between them on the mattress. Harry only stares at him for a moment, eyes half-lidded and Louis can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. Louis chews into his bottom lip and Harry’s eyes darken slightly. Louis then feels fingers reach down to grip onto his hand and haul it back up to its previous spot. Louis’ eyes flicker to where Harry is still grasping his hand and then to his mouth, and at the same time his hand clasps back around Harry’s waist, he leans down to connect his mouth to Harry’s.
