This Feels A Lot Like Love

3. Sweat Dripping Down Our Dirty Laundry

Harry got grounded after all.

Harry came home last night red-handed, pink-cheeked and sporting kissed-bitten lips, his curls dabbing to his forehead with sweat. He was still running high on adrenaline from kissing Louis, his lips numb and tingling, his limbs heavy from lingering exhaustion. Robin had taken one good look at Harry and asked about the missing beers which Harry confessed to immediately. Lying was never his forte.

So, there Harry was the next night, pacing around his room mindlessly all day while he ignored Niall's update texts of the football match occurring tonight. Harry's only regret was not being able to watch Louis run across the pitch with vehemence.

According to Niall's most recent text, the Regal Bumblebees had won and they were all heading to the new club downtown to celebrate in drunken cheer. Harry felt the pang of his heart from not being able to celebrate along with Niall, especially if Louis was going to be in attendance.

Instead of going out with the lads, Harry splayed out on his bed in a starfish form and stared up at the ceiling, counting down the minutes until his eyelids were fluttering shut with sleep.

Harry was just on the precipice of a deep slumber when a pebble peppered the window. He sat up in bed, rubbing his hands on his tired face. Another pebble tinkered against the glass. Harry's eyebrows pinched together as he padded over to the window, opening it and staring out at the culprit. Louis.

Louis was waving at Harry from the ground, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets and smiling shyly up at Harry.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, keeping his voice quiet.

"Figured you might be lonely. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Harry lied, biting on his lower lip to tamp down his growing smile. "Come up here before my mother catches you."

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair," Louis called out smugly, entirely too pleased with himself.

"Yeah, alright."

Harry rolled his eyes fondly and left the window open. The beautiful bastard probably thought he was being clever. Harry watched Louis climb the ladder and throw his leg over the windowsill. He helped Louis up by holding onto his hands and pulling him in. Louis stumbled in with a harried smile, his features smoothing out. His eyes raced up and down Harry's body, unabashedly checking him out. Harry's cheeks flushed.

Louis whistled lowly. "Nice pajamas, Styles."

"Shh!" Harry clamped a hand over Louis' mouth, silencing his goading. He dropped his palm with quirked lips. "I was about to go to sleep before you so rudely interrupted me."

"Interrupted you, eh?" Louis asked, his eyebrow arched in a tease.

Harry nodded, his bottom lip tucking under his two front teeth. Blood rushed under the tightened, pink skin. Harry's smile grew into a smirk when Louis just kept looking at his bitten mouth, his blue, blue eyes transfixed to the spot where Harry's lip was pulled down from ribbed teeth.

C'mon," Louis urged, tugging Harry's hand.

Louis dropped on the bed and sprawled his legs open, pulling Harry down with him. Harry complied happily and hovered over Louis' thighs, straddling him. Louis ran his knuckles on Harry's arms, causing his skin to break out in goosebumps.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be celebrating with the guys?" Harry asked quietly.

Louis shrugged his shoulders the best that he could lying down. He continued to stroke Harry's skin absentmindedly, his gaze contemplative. Harry loved that Louis did that; that he stroked Harry's skin just for the sake of touching.