Let's Roll- Larry Stylinson

Chapter XXIV

Pink, no bubblegum. Maybe taffy, or a deeper watermelon color. No matter how much he stares, Louis can't quite pinpoint the right shade of pink for Harry's lips. They're enticing, fleshy and the most beautiful shade of pink. He'd never really bothered to stare at anybody's physical features before, never really that interested in anyone's face that much to care. But Harry's face is so fascinating, not just his lips, but everything about him. His eyes as they stare at the page in front of him, murky green as he concentrates. His nose lies perfectly on his face, twitching sometimes for whatever reason. His hair was pushed to one side, falling into his eyes as he read. He would push it back, Louis following the movement. Staring at him leads to Louis staring at his lips again, wondering why Harry hasn't kissed him again, why he kept stopping himself.

Louis just wants to feel them again, pressed against his own. He wants to feel his hot breath fanning his face, a nibble on his bottom lips, his touch on his skin. Louis sighs, book in hand falling to his lap. He uses it to cover the reaction his body seems to be having as he daydreams about Harry. Harry looks up from his papers, noting the odd tint to Louis' cheeks.

"Are you bored?" He asks, tossing his papers to the side. Harry had to read through some letters and update his books, telling Louis he would be in the study if he needed him. Louis had insisted he go with him since there would be nothing for him to do otherwise. Harry had shrugged and told the boy to do as he pleased. Louis had browsed through his bookshelf once in the study, trying to decide on a book to read to pass the time. He had picked one, sat down, and opened it to the first page. Not even five minutes later, he was tired of it, resulting in another round of boredom until he started staring at Harry and thus his daydreaming began.

"Not really." Louis offers, shifting some of his weight to make his problem less obvious. Harry watches him for a moment before returning to his books.

"Would you like to do something today? I don't have anything important to do besides this paperwork." Surprised, Louis takes longer than he should to respond.

"Sure." Harry nods, not looking at Louis as he continued his work. Louis' waits as patiently as he can on the seat by the bookshelf, rearranging himself to have something to do. He sits with his legs propped up on the right armrest, the left armrest, legs folded up, legs tucked under him, and ending with his body hanging upside down, legs on the back of the chair. Harry chooses that moment to finish his work, chuckling quietly as he sees the position Louis' in. A child at heart that boy is. Harry sighs as he makes sense of his words, a headache springing up on him.

Those words are always making themselves known all of sudden, always torturing him. Every time he considers kissing the boy, the words jump out at him, reminding him of the age gap, of the boy's purity. Harry has tried to forget it, lock the words up in a box and lose the key, but the box opens anyway, like the latch didn't catch properly. Something or other will remind Harry that this boy is not beyond his years, so tiny and fragile in the big bad world. He's no yet aware of it all, and when he says all, he means ALL.

The boy can't possibly know about sex and here Harry is, imagining the boy and him engaging in all kinds of it. Harry has had more than one occasion where his mind envisions the boy on his bed, unclothed and blushing. He imagines the way the boy's body would move with every touch, his back arching when his fingers tease his abdomen or his hip jerking with every kiss to his thigh. He most likes to picture the way he'd look when he lost himself completely, whether he'd scream or if his mouth would hang upon in all-consuming pleasure. And just as soon as he'd imagine the boy falling apart because of his doing, the words would attach themselves to the image, a big fat sign telling him to keep away from the boy's virginity.

If he were to kiss him again, he'd have a much harder time stopping himself, lost in the lust he has for everything that is Louis. He never wants to push the boy, never wants him to think that all Harry thinks about is getting his clothes off, even if that's all he has been thinking about lately. His boy is his everything and he wants to keep it slow, as slow as he can manage so Louis' comfortable, so Louis knows it's more than just sex.