Angels in Hell (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 61

The next month of my life is the most magical. But let me start from the beginning. The day after the storm, Harry and I were snuggled under the covers together all morning. I felt warm and comfortable with his strong arms around my waist. I woke him by repeatedly kissing him on the nose. He wiggled it a few times, scrunching it up adorably.

"Louis..." he moaned.

I continued to kiss him until he nuzzled his head into my neck.

"Haz... Time to wake up, babe," I whispered in his ear.

"No... Sleep."

"Get up, Harry."

He groaned, shaking his head slowly.

"I want to stay in your arms all day."

"And I want to stay in yours, but we've got to get up, sweetie."

"No... No. No. No."

"Yes. Yes. Yes."

He whined and pulled me closer to him. His thumbs rubbed circles into my sides. I admit, it felt good. I softly moaned. Harry giggled, amused.

"You get turned on so easily," he whispered laughing still.

"Only for you," I said. "Plus, I wouldn't talk if I were you. Everytime I rub your head, ruffle your hair, or scratch your scalp, you practically purr like a cat."

"It feels good!" he exclaimed.

He suddenly flipped my body on my back and straddled my waist, looking down at me.

"You're gonna get it one of these days, Tomlinson," he playfully threatened me.

"You'd never hurt me."

"Of course I wouldn't. I'd only give you the good pain," he winked.

I blushed and pushed him away.

"Cheeky, Styles," I grumbled.

He laughed and then got up to get ready. I watched him as he looked in his suitcase for an outfit. He looked absolutely flawless that morning. Even with his bed head and puffy eyes. Every hair on his head and every patch of skin on his body is irresistably perfect to me.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at me or get ready?" he said smirking.

He took off his shirt that he put on in the middle of the night because he got cold, revealing his tattoos on his chest and arms. He makes tattoos look so hot. I shrugged.

"I don't know. I like the view."

He smiled and looked through his suitcase again.

"You're funny," he laughed.

"I'm serious."

He rolled his eyes and threw his pajama pants at me. I chuckled and blocked my face. I threw them back at him. They landed on top of his head which made me laugh harder. He pulled them off and looked at me with an angry expression. It was honestly more cute than scary. Then, when he slipped on his shirt is when I decided to get dressed as well. I hopped up and got dressed. That was only the start of our day. The whole day and month, he flirted with me and I flirted right back.

I don't know what we are, but I like it. I like it how we flirt and cuddle and are always wanting to be touching each other in some way. Like holding hands or hugging or kissing one another's cheeks. I like all of those little things that we do. Friends don't do these things. I mean, they can, but not like this. If he isn't touching me, he looks pained. If I'm not near him, I feel incomplete. Like I'm missing something. I hope he's the one for me.