(NOT MINE) Poor Little Rich Boy (larry stylinson AU)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen:

Louis meant it when he said he had a lot of explaining to do.

They let themselves back into the Honeymoon suite and tumbled onto the bed, and Louis surprised the both of them by slapping Harry's hands away when they started to wander towards the waistband of his trousers and went to unfasten the buttons. Surprised, Harry blinked and tilted his head back to look at him.

"I said I needed to explain," Louis told him softly, "and I meant that. Once I've done that, I'll do whatever you want, but I have to tell you...you deserve an explanation and I can't live with myself knowing I haven't given you one. I kind of botched up the last one, so...hear me out? Just one last time?"

Harry licked his lips, but then he nodded and sat up, leaning against the headboard with his hands folded in his lap. He got the feeling that he wasn't going to like this much. Anxious, Louis stretched out a hand to touch him, hesitated, and then placed it back on the bed, deciding not to push him. Harry wished he'd carried on, laid a hand on his leg, moved it up to his hip, his shoulders, caressed his cheek -

"I won this holiday in a charity raffle," Louis said, jolting Harry out of his reverie. The younger boy's cheeks burned, and he swallowed hard, pretending he hadn't been lost in daydreams and forcing himself to be attentive. "I don't know if I already told you that. Anyway, Hannah, Stan, Zayn, Niall and I packed up and came here, and we brought an awful lot of booze with us, you know, like you do. Well, like we do." He chuckled darkly, then when Harry didn't seem to get the joke, elaborated, "I'm planning on dragging the four of them to Alcoholics Anonymous when we get home. Niall drinks even more than I do."

A snort from beside him told him that Harry sincerely doubted that. Louis couldn't help but laugh a little bit as well, because it did sound a little bit unlikely, and he tilted his head back and giggled up at the ceiling, still a little giddy with relief, because Harry was back beside him, thank god.

"Anyway, Stan's easily bored, and he wouldn't shut up, so we were playing Dares. I know - at our age! We're twelve years old at heart, I'm telling you. So I wasn't paying attention, and Stan doesn't like that, and I wasn't listening because I'd spotted you wandering around on the beach. He looks up to see what I'm looking at, and quick as you like dares me to see how fast I can get in your pants. Which is a bit disgusting, but we're kind of like that, Stan and me. Back home, we've got, ah...kind of a reputation that precedes us. As being a couple of slags. He likes to live down to it. I used to, but I dunno...that changed. Anyway, he staked fifty quid on it, as you know, and I'm a jobless bum bordering on a drink problem - I jump at any chance to get a bit of cash in my pocket. And...you're hot." He chanced a tentative grin, and Harry couldn't help but return it in spite of himself. "So...I said yes.

"It was a totally stupid thing to do, I see that now. I think I always thought there was something wrong about it, not that that's any sort of excuse. If I was any kind of a decent human being I'd have never agreed to it in the first place. But I figured I could grab you and do the deed, and then cash in hand, I'd swagger off into the sunset and play the big man. I'm not a very nice guy, you know. You should have run away from me as fast as you could at that airport. Anyway, you gave me a run for my money - or Stan's, I suppose - because I thought I could make a pass at you and you'd just fall helplessly into my arms, boom, done. In the money." Louis smiled wryly, a little sideways glance at Harry's now blank expression turned that small smirk into a wistful sigh. "You were never going to be that easy, were you?"

At that, Harry fought not to blush, because he remembered all too well what had happened that first night, even if Louis had been too intoxicated to remember. His hot mouth on Harry's had been too soft and fleeting to leave real marks, but Harry had been able to feel that warm, damp pressure on his skin for days afterwards - could still summon it to memory if he so wished. A shiver ran through him at the thought. A complete stranger, accosting him in that way, and he had been shocked at himself when they both ended up shirtless on the bed. He had just been lucky that after Harry had vanished into the bathroom to gather his wits about him and cool off before things got out of hand, Louis had fallen asleep.