With Lips Like Fire He Burns Me

7. I Keep Bleeding Love

Harry might be a bit winded, but he was aware enough to see the fierce joy and competition in Louis' eyes and the strong set of his shoulders. His cheeks and lips were bright pink, either from the cold or exertion and Harry could see the fluid way his muscles moved under his shirt when he shifted his weight for another attack.

Louis wasn't far behind him and this time he grabbed Harry's shirt to slow him down so he could steal the ball back. Harry wasn't easily outdone however and they spent what could be minutes or years sprinting up and down the snow covered front yard, swearing and laughing and using dirtier and dirtier tactics to regain possession of the ball.

Louis twisted his fist into the back of Harry's shirt and yanked him back—hard—the two of them going down in a tangle of limbs. The ball rolled away slowly before coming to a full stop. Louis lunged after it, but Harry was too quick, throwing his body across Louis' to hold him back. Harry's hands found Louis' wrists and effectively pinned him down.

Everything had gone so quiet all of a sudden, just the sounds of the two of them trying to catch their breath, Harry straddling Louis now. Harry had imagined them in this position before, but actually feeling Louis there, feeling his actual body and not a fragmented version of him was a little bit too much. Half of him was incapable of rational thought and half of him seemed like he was miles away, watching him from space and analyzing every little detail.

Louis' eyes dragged from Harry's body and up to his eyes and Harry was rendered helpless, his mouth parting open in a wild grin, feeling exhausted and spent and happy.

"Gotcha," Harry said. "Looks like I win."

Harry was completely frozen though and while his smile was there, his whole body felt knotted up in nerves. His blunt fingernails dug into the soft skin of Louis' wrist. Louis pushed his hips up, Harry's breath scattered and catching in his throat. He wasn't sure if Louis reacted unintentionally or on purpose and it had Harry narrowing his focus down to that single sensation.

"Not sure if this is how it's played," Louis said softly.

Harry huffed a small laugh that turned to fog in the cold air. He had momentarily forgotten the temperature, couldn't quite care about that when he all could feel was the heat from Louis seeping into his own skin.

"You tell me how it's played then," Harry said quietly.

Harry searched for a different response, one that was quick and right up Louis' alley, but he couldn't. He felt panic surge throughout his body, crackling along every nerve like lightning. His throat felt tighter and tighter and when he let out an involuntary breath, a small whine came out with it.

Louis surged upwards, bowling them both over, not giving Harry a moment to think. Leaving Harry flat on his back, Louis ran for the football, snatching it up with his cold hands. He ran and ran until he reached the start of the forest. He threw the football on the ground, causing it to bounce once and roll away. When he turned with a winning smile taking up half his face, Harry was slowing to a stop, sporting a tired smile.

"Don't know if that's how you actually win," Harry said, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"You know I gotta I break the rules," Louis said, shrugging, picking up the football and tossing it at Harry.

"I'm parched," Harry decided right then and there because his mind was a whirring cotton candy mess and he didn't have anything else to say. Also, because he was actually parched.

Louis gave him a curious look, but he didn't comment anything on it. Harry was grateful.

They stepped inside the cozy cabin where Niall was watching golf and Liam was on the phone with his girlfriend Sophia. Harry opened the refrigerator door and grabbed two ice cold water bottles, handing one over to Louis.