Once in a Lifetime ➳ Larry

chapter nine

Chapter Nine

"Let's play a game."

Louis's head perks up at the sound of Harry's cheerful voice. He has too much energy for two o'clock in the morning, he thinks. Although vampires don't technically need sleep to survive, a proper rest sounds nice, in Louis's opinion. He wants to close his eyes and relax, try to unwind, try to make sense of everything.

He frowns. "A game?"

"Yeah, like a board game," Harry says enthusiastically, practically jumping in his seat. His green eyes light up and twinkle as he speaks. Pretty dimples indent his pale cheeks.

"A board game," Louis repeats slowly. "I'd rather just sleep, to be honest."

Harry looks disappointed. He reaches over and grabs Louis's forearm, tugging slightly. A pout forms on his strawberry lips, which seem to have gained color since sucking Mitch's blood. A lot of things have changed since then, actually.

"C'mon, Lou," Harry pleads, "just for an hour or so."

Louis tilts his head. "Harry—"

He's interrupted by Harry sitting on his lap, curling his arms around his neck so they're chest-to-chest. His thighs plant on either side of Louis's waist. He giggles cutely as he nuzzles his nose into his neck, breathing in his musky scent.

"Please, Lou," he whispers.

His bum shifts on his crotch, but Louis can't decide if it was accidental or purposeful. He gulps with nervousness. Harry's large hands move down to his sides, squeezing slightly.

"I'm tired," Louis says dryly, looking away to avoid Harry's burning stare.

"You leave me no choice," Harry sighs.

Before Louis can ask any questions, Harry's long, nimble fingers start tickling his ribs. Soft, breathy laughs escape his lips as he lightly traces his tummy. He squeezes his hips and prods at his torso until Louis hunches over in a fit of laughter, swatting Harry's hands away urgently, face turning pink.

"Okay," Louis chokes out between chuckles. "You win! Go pick a game."

"Yay!" Harry says triumphantly, hopping off Louis's lap.

The space over Louis's thighs feels cold now, like it's missing something— missing Harry, specifically. He bites his lip as Harry trots off to look under Louis's bookcase, where he keeps his boardgames. As he bends down, he can't help but notice how the hem of Harry's shirt rises up a little, revealing the dip at the bottom of his spine and the top of his crack. He squeezes the arm rests tighter, tries to look away. Tries not to be a creep.

"Scrabble," Harry announces, pulling out the red rectangular box. He sets it on the coffee table between them and picks apart its contents. He spreads out the colorful board and the black bag filled with letter tiles.

Louis bites back a smile. He loves whenever Harry reveals another layer of his complicated personality. He never expected that a stripper would have excitement over Scrabble, of all things. He puts stereotypes and presumptions to shame.

"You start," Harry presses, grinning widely.

His sharp canines are still lengthened, and Louis knows he has swollen and sore gums. Despite all this, he doesn't complain. Louis loves that about him. Even though he's been through hell in the past week alone, he's lovely and kind and incredibly sweet. And, for fuck's sake, he loves Scrabble. What kind of male stripper in his early-twenties loves spelling and vocabulary?