Milan.

cinque

WARNING: this chappie is a bit naughty. Perhaps a bit smutty, even, although it's nothing very graphic. It's also sort of a pointless chapter, to be honest with you, and it's just to move the story along. But, hey, finally a bit of proper lilo action, amiright??? Dedication goes to Jo, because... well, her lilo smut inspired me to write this. Idk. Enjoy. (PS, Wattpad tried to rate this R, so I had to take out the word  o r g a s m.) 

"Morning," Louis asked, brushing his hands over the bare skin on either side of my torso. "How long have you been up?" He dug his fingers in deeper, pulling our bodies closer together and pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of my nose. 

"Not long," I lied. I'd been up for almost an hour, trying to decide if leaving Milan with him was a good idea.

"I'm leaving today," he reminded, eyes blinking slow and soft with sleep.

I nodded, not breaking eye contact. "I know."

"I'll miss you," he said, firm and decisive, like he wanted me to believe it. "Next time I'm in London--"

"What if you didn't have to miss me?" I interrupted, drawing my bottom lip into my mouth in fear. What if his offer to bring me along had just been a polite thing to say, and not a true invitation? I'd be stuck the rest of my vacation-- the rest of my life-- wishing I'd followed Louis across the world, let him spoon me in the nighttime and more. 

Louis studied my face for a while, but I couldn't read his emotions, which frustrated me to no end. I was transparent, an open book with its pages billowing in the wind, but Louis was a personal diary under lock and key, and who was I to assume I could open it with a bat of my eyelashes and a couple nights of cuddling? "You want to come," he clarified, voice rough with shock and sleep as his eyes flickered all over my face, from my eyes to my mouth and back again.

"Yes," I confirmed, nodding with the sort of firm confidence he always seemed to have. He nodded a bit, thumbs dipping into the waist band on my boxers, and I scooted forward, feeling the layer of grime on my skin and the musk of not changing my clothes. "Can I kiss you?" I asked, voice shaking despite myself. It wasn't that I was afraid of him saying no; I knew he was attracted to me, and I knew he was open to the idea of being intimate, so if not now, possibly later.

No, the fearful thing was if Louis said yes. If his lips were as soft as they looked, if his taste was as addictive as I imagined. For some reason, I was already hooked on everything else about him-- his touch, his voice, his personality-- and I'd gone to health class. I knew that addiction was a slippery slope, an unhealthy and scary mindset to be in.

So, when Louis breathed out a, "Yes," in the sort of relieved voice that could only mean, I thought you'd never ask, I couldn't hold back the strangled moan in the back of my throat as I tilted my head in to meet our lips. 

He kissed wet and slow, soft and slick and lazy with the sleep still hanging off his tongue, but it sent a blush through my lips and coloured my cheeks the shade of the sunset, and I hadn't expected that. There was something so exciting, stressful, dangerous about this lust with Louis. His passion was expressed through each subtle movement of his mouth against mine and I felt like a bomb getting ready to explode.

His fingertips set off little fireworks across each part of my skin that he touched, and although I was terrified of what was going to happen next, the pleasure took over as Louis rolled me onto my back and straddled me, pinning my wrists against the bed. With a quick nip to my bottom lip, he separated our mouths and pulled away to look at me. "So pretty," he smiled, pupils blown wide, lips sinfully pink.

From his position on top of me, I felt the stiff shaft of his dick pressing against my own, his fingers sliding up gently from my wrists to encircle my palms. "I smell like shit," I commented, as he leaned down to suck gently at my neck.

He snapped his head back, eyes sparkling the way a mischievous child's might. "Do you want to take a shower with me?" he asked, shifting on my lap so there was slight friction.

I cleared my throat and nodded, feeling the colour in my cheeks darken as he pulled the duvet off our bodies and slid out of the bed, motioning for me to follow behind him.

At this point, my mind was racing. I questioned everything I thought I knew about relationships and sex and one night stands, even love at first sight and where the line between lust and love was drawn. Because, watching Louis slip out of his clothes in front of me as he walked into the bathroom was not only sexy, but made me feel genuinely fond of him.

He reached into the shower and turned on the water, and then turned around to face me, now fully naked. "Lift your arms, babe," he said sweetly, hands fisted in the hem of my shirt. I lifted them obediently and let Louis undress me, pressing a few sweet kisses to my shoulders and chest as he did so. "You're so young," he commented. And it wasn't condescending or creepy, but fond and matter-of-fact. He smiled a kind smile and stepped into the shower, pulling me in gently after him. 

He washed my hair for me, massaging my scalp and taking extra care. He let his fingers drag softly against the nape of my neck. Each time he stood on his toes to reach the top of my head, his left hand clutched my left shoulder and his dick brushed against my bum, which made me shiver. He chuckled each time I did, before stepping in front of me and handing the shampoo bottle, waiting expectantly, with his back facing me. 

I lathered up his hair, and then guided his shoulders back into the stream of water, running my fingers into it, ridding it of the shampoo. And, when I finished, he spun around in front of me and pressed kisses from the underside of my chin to my chest, and then along my stomach, until he was on his knees, one hand clutching my waist hard, and the other holding me in place as his mouth slipped around, already wet and warm from the water.

Once we were showered and dressed, Louis and I got into his car and sped off towards my hotel. He offered to wait for me in the car, so I went in alone, dressed in a pair of his trousers, which were a bit short on me. I smelt of him too, fresh and clean, with fluffed up unstyled hair and no shirt on under my jumper. My scalp was cold in the morning air, but I was high off my shower and distracted by trying not to draw attention to myself as I pressed the elevator button in the lobby to go up to my room. 

My parents spent most of their time by the pool during vacation, sipping sugary alcoholic drinks and gossiping with Harry's parents about anything and everything. I used to go to the pool too, swim laps and eat shrimp cocktail. After a while, though, you start to feel like you're being observed in a fish tank, which is why I was so grateful when my teenage years came around and I could leave the hotel on my own.

On our floor, I shuffled along the halls in my squeaky trainers, all the way to room 724, and slipped my key into the lock. Before I turned the handle, I squeezed my eyes shut in a silent prayer that both my parents were drinking pina coladas on loungers. I slipped into the room quietly, clicking the door shut softly and sighing when I head nobody.

I tip-toed over to my suitcase, shoved all the unfolded clothes into the edges, and zipped it shut. Then, I dragged it into the bathroom to get my toothbrush, and walked around shoving anything else I could find into my rucksack. There was no use in leaving a note; my mum would call me straight away when she noticed my bag missing, but I almost paused to write up one, just to keep them from that final moment of panic. Instead, though, I took one last look at the life I was leaving behind (at least for now) and exited the room, leaving my room key behind on the bedside table. 

When I got back into the car, having tossed my things in the back, Louis greeted me with a squeeze on my knee and turned up the radio as we pulled out of the parking spot. As we sped out of the hotel's car park, I realized we'd have to pass the pool to get out. As we waited to turn left onto the street, I stared at the pool, where my parents were lounging, drinks in hand, and Harry was chatting up the poolside bartender as he downed what probably wasn't his first beer. 

Then, just like that, were pulling onto the street and zooming out of sight.