dysfunction ➳ l.s ✔

23. Clean

warning: smut. * the star *  indicates when the smut is over. It's cute this time. Promise. But please read the aftermath part. This chapter is quite informative. 

There wasn't much room for rehearsal when it came to love. Especially the kind of love that makes ones heart hurt so much; a good hurt. A love that makes you feel whole. Louis and Harry's kind of love.

Louis watched Harry blink away the sunlight around the room. Each second spent was like a warm summer, timeless. Like heaven. His green eyes were  a pull, gravitational and unrelenting. Louis could see that it was there, he saw it in his eyes. Louis examined the boy's face and how the setting sun made his skin glow beautifully. His chestnut curls pressed softly against his cheek. Nothing else in the world mattered. He had his boy back. 

In the middle of fall, Harry's hands were the warmest touch and Louis didn't want to let go. They laid on their sides, face to face. Soft breathes left their lips as they stared. They just held hands, laid, and stared. Soft white sheets against their sides, the fuzzy fabric of their socks rubbing together at the edge of the bed. Harry smiled. They didn't speak, simply lying together in school clothes was enough. Until it wasn't. 

Harry ran his hands along Louis arm and they were moving closer, shifting in the bed until the space between them was erased. Neither one of them had to say a word. They both knew how much they'd missed the other and they didn't want to waste any more days, minutes, seconds apart. Louis' palm flattened against Harry's back, smiling when the younger's shirt rode up a bit. Harry took this as a sign to inch even closer till their noses brushed. Lou grinned, eyes unblinking. Harry nodded softly, encouraging him. His left hand finding the space behind Louis' ear, stroking gently.  Pink lips, drawing forward, eyes fluttering shut and they could hear the stars. 

Short, brief kisses turned to dragged out, open mouth, promises. Louis' tongue grazed the roof of Harry's mouth, the younger following his lead. Soft brushes of lips; eager and comfortable, forgiving. Harry positioned one leg to rest between Louis', deepening their kiss. The green eyed boy's newly growing curls were tickling the elder's cheek as Harry began pecking at the corner of Louis' mouth, then his chin, then his throat. Gentle and innocent; much unlike the boys themselves. As Harry nibbled at the boy's neck, Louis hand ghosted lower, running over the younger's bum, fingers daring to curl at the end. 

Minutes passed and it was too much. Louis traced a finger across Harry's lower back, asking for permission. Harry nodded eagerly, mouth still working at the elder's throat. Louis allowed his hands to slide beneath the fabric of Harry's pants, gripping all over with hungry but gentle hands. Harry paused against Louis' collarbone to take in a sharp breath and Louis knew he'd done something right. Harry pressed his crotch down onto the boy beneath him, now sucking hard on the boy's jaw.

"Hazza," Louis moaned, squeezing Harry's bum again. Harry brought his head up, meeting his gaze, eyes shining like fucking diamonds. "I love you."

Harry grinned and traced circles along Louis' bruised neck with his thumb. "Love you too," and they kissed, again and again until they're clothes were hanging off the edge of the bed. 

No practice, no play by play rehearsal, just Harry and the heat of his body to memorize. He wasn't holding onto the first time, wasn't going to let their break-up strain every detail and crevice he'd memorized on Harry's skin. He prepped him this time. Louis gaped at how well Harry took every bit of it. Every curling finger, every stroke of his tongue, Harry took it like a fucking saint. Louis was in love. 

"Lou," Harry was rutting against Louis' left hand while his right worked at his hole. Louis smiled, kissing the boy's thigh. "Louis." 

"Haz?" Louis raised his eyebrows, curling his third finger for the look on Harry's face that tells him why he was fucking born. He knew how shitty he was to do that to his boyfriend but he lived for the look on Harry's face. Lived for it. Harry loved it just as much, pushing down against Louis' fingers, begging.