Deep in Thought: A Larry Stylinson Story

Unwanted Desire

So, I try not to do this, but I have to put this in.

This chapter was inspired by this poem by Matthew Arnold. I know it's old, but it's nice!

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,

A messenger from radiant climes,

And smile on thy new world, and be

As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,

Come now, and let me dream it truth,

And part my hair, and kiss my brow,

And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Have fun reading!

(((\\\///)))

      Harry's dream this time was startling. Sure, he had dreams about sex a lot, but with girls. The Louis in his dream was amazing, perfect. He was the same Louis that ignorant Harry knew, but full of light and laughter. Without his Hazza, Louis' light had dimmed a bit.

     They were in Louis' bedroom. They were kissing, which Harry expected from his dreams by now. He was always kissing Louis. Or Louis was kissing him. Was there a difference? Dream Harry was easily distracted.

     But even more destracting was Louis' wandering hands. One curled around Harry's waist, pinning their bodies together. The other was... Teasing. They were already barechested, and Louis' rough thumbs brushed against Harry's sensitive nipple. He quivered a bit, involunarily, and Louis laughed, a low chuckle in his throat that was sexy and seductive, and it drove Harry crazy.

     His wandering hand searched lower, lower, until it found the edge of his boxers. That was all they had left were boxers. Louis snapped the alastic against Harry's skin and laughed when Harry yelped, surprised. Louis' hand rubbed- maddeningly- against the bulge on the outside of Harry's boxers, making him moan and press up into the teasing palm. He wanted more of- all of- Louis. No exception.

     Harry took over, then. He was through being Louis' plaything that night, and he wanted him so, so badly. Needed was a better word. Harry lifted Louis, an easy task, and dumped him fully on the bed. He pulled off Louis' boxers in one movement, and took Louis into his hands. Louis' head fell back as a blissful moan escaped his lips, and his breathing deepened. Harry licked Louis from base to tip, savouring the sinful flavour. He sucked on the tip, and brought Louis close, so close. But then he pulled back.

     Louis whimpered, wanting the sweet satisfaction that came with having Harry all to himself, but he didn't have the strength to pull him back, Harry had weakened him so much. Harry found a small bottle, and after he freed himself of his boxers, used half the contents on himself. He didn't want to hurt Louis, but knew he would, anyway. It always hurt at first.

     The first thrust was always the hardest. Louis gasped in pain and exhileration, as did Harry. They were both breathing deeply now, they're love and lust too much to contain. Harry was thrusting in and out harder and harder, and he felt Louis reach completion first. The sticky wetness was enough to thrill Harry into utter bliss. He threw in a few finishing thrusts, reveling in the aftershocks of making love to his one and only.