Let's Roll- Larry Stylinson

Chapter XVII

Louis is the picture of innocence as he asks, "Why?" That very look taunts Harry, wanting so much to just deny he ever said anything at all. He takes a shaky breathe, eyes meeting Louis' again.

"I... just- can't." He explains, as if that were explanation enough. Louis slips out of his lap, dropping back into the passenger seat. Harry knows he hurt the boy's feelings and he so wishes there were a way to backtrack, to take back all he's said to make Louis smile again. He sighs, bringing the car back to life. He drives down the highway, trying his damn hardest not to let his gaze drift.

Back at his house, Louis barrels out of the car, almost knocking over the butler at the door. Harry hears the echo of a door slam and he shuts his eyes in shame. Instead of going on his merry way, he travels the expanse of the hall, to Louis' room. He knocks on the door, hearing a very petulant "leave me alone" on the other side.

"Louis, please. We need to talk." He hears the shuffle of feet, but there's no move to open the door, so he tries again. "I'll explain, I swear." He finally hears the click of the lock, Louis opening the door slightly. His eyes are watery again and Harry hates himself. He caused that. He caused him to hurt.

Louis leaves the door open, circling back into the room. Harry enters, immediately taking the spot next to Louis on the bed.

"Know that I want this, I want this more than anything. But I can't because... you're so young. I feel incredibly guilty, like I'm taking advantage of the situation." It's the honest truth. He believes the only reason for Louis even kissing him back is because of a misconception. He's just a boy, of course he would get attached to Harry- he is taking care of him. If Louis saw the real him- the one who takes lives when he isn't paid- he'd be running for the hills. Harry doesn't want Louis to leave, ever. He's accepted that now, but even if he does want him to stay, it's entirely up to Louis to decide his fate. He knows that Louis technically already choose his way of life, but he hasn't seen it all, not yet. He doesn't think he ever wants to expose the boy to such a horrible thing.

Louis, well he can't understand Harry's logic. He shouldn't feel like he's taking advantage, not when Louis wants him, or at least he thinks he does. That first kiss had made him feel something, some shapeless emotion he quite likes. It made his heart beat quicken, body alight with adrenaline. He would very much like Harry to do it again, to kiss him, touch him. He side-eyes the man, wondering why he seems distraught. He doesn't like it, would much rather watch him smile. With some gust of confidence, he pounces, jumping into Harry's lap.

Harry's reflexes are quicker, flipping them over so Louis lies underneath him. Harry's breath catches, caught up in the way Louis looks underneath him, flushed and willing. Louis' ankles hook around his waist and Harry has no choice but to stay put, hands on either side of the boy's head.

"Please," Louis pleads, trying his hardest to connect their lips again. Harry resists, stretching his neck up farther. Louis whines, kissing his jaw instead, trying to get some reaction out of him. The butterfly kisses have Harry shutting his eyes. He wants to bend down, lick right into Louis' mouth. He wants to let his hands wander, have them reach underneath the boy to pin them even closer, rub against him. He wants to remove their clothing, skin to skin contact. He wants so much with this boy and it's scary for him. He doesn't think he's ever felt this strongly for anyone. His resolve deteriorates when he feels Louis press their lower halves closer, Harry feeling just how much this is affecting the boy. He curses to the sky above for his sins- as if he hadn't sinned before- leaning down to meet Louis' lips.

Louis whimpers, hands reaching for Harry's biceps to steady himself. This is what he wanted, to have Harry on him, mouth back on his. To feel the man lose himself completely in the passion, in the heat, Louis groans. Harry kisses him fervently, hands no longer holding himself up. Instead, they go to Louis' bottom, helping the boy rut up against him. Louis continues to moan, extremely responsive to every touch Harry gives. He's whining and whimpering, hips moving faster to try and get off. Louis seems fairly close to coming, breathing becoming panting and whimpers becoming hiccups. They've only been rutting against each other for such a short while and he's already so close. It's because he's inexperienced, Harry's mind screams. He's innocent, pure.

Abruptly, Harry scrambles back, connection lost as he tries to regain his breath. He stands by the door, watching a very disoriented Louis sit up in puzzlement. He looks debunked, cheeks pink and hair tousled. He's still hard, dick straining against his trousers. Harry can feel his own erection, wanting attention, wanting to finish what he started. Harry can't. Harry can't when he thinks of how young this boy is; how this is probably the first time anyone's made him feel this way. Harry's shouldn't be the one taking this's boy's purity.

Louis avoids eye contact, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Harry hadn't even noticed he untucked it. Guilt plagues him and with great strength he finds the will to open the door, edging his way back out of the room. The door puts some space between them, for Harry to think about his wrongdoing. He can't have this happening again. Not with Louis. Louis deserves better, someone who loves him wholeheartedly, who can give him the world. Harry steps away from the door, calling for his men as he walks.

"Be ready in twenty minutes, we have some business to attend to." His men nod, all hurrying to be ready on time. Harry impatiently paces through the front hall as he waits, inner dilemma keeping his mind busy. He needs some time to lighten up, to try and forget what just happened. Somehow he already knows it'll be pointless.

He won't forget the feel of Louis underneath him, the way his body reacted so openly to his touch. He won't forget his parted lips or the faint taste of caramel on his tongue. Harry won't forget any of it, the pretty sight already imprinted in his mind. He thumps his head to try and shake the memory, and it's only when his men reappear that he gains some sanity back. For now, he moves it to the back of his mind, hoping that somehow- when he returns- all will be back to normal.