Not Again? || l.s

t w e n t y - f o u r

twenty-four | broke my heart again

It's funny how a memory
Turns into a bad dream
When running wild turns volatile

~ 'moral of the story' by ashe

ツ

Louis' lips moved from Harry's, trailing down his jaw to his neck like they always did. Harry's hands moved up and down Louis' back, fingertips kneading into flesh, loving how warm and soft Louis' skin always was. But Louis' lips were still moving downwards. He bit at Harry's collarbone, pulled down the neck of his t-shirt to kiss the center of his chest.

"Shirt off," Louis mumbled as he pulled back, resting heavily on top of Harry, towering over him. "Get it off, Harry."

"R-Right."

Harry nodded and pushed himself up, trying to pull his own shirt off with unsteady hands. Louis got impatient, pulling it off for him, and then it's gone and Louis was kissing his chest again, sending sparks through him with nothing but a whisper of those lips. 

"Fuck, Lou—"

Louis moved lower, teeth scraping, tongue dragging over Harry's skin, like he couldn't get enough of it. He undid the button on Harry's jeans, tugged them down in one easy pull because Harry's hips lifted obligingly, and then Louis' teeth were nipping at his hipbone, his chin pushing Harry's boxers down a little farther. 

That heavy feeling settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe, but it's for a completely different reason. It's because Louis was looking up at him with wide blue eyes, finger hooked under the waistband of Harry's boxers, pulling them down.

"Louis," Harry said roughly.

Louis smirked up at him, lips on Harry's inner thigh. "This okay?"

That was possibly the stupidest question in the entire fucking world, Harry thought. 

"Yeah, 's okay," he nodded anyway.

Louis smiled, the little stubble burning against Harry's milky thighs, which sent jolts straight to his cock. He wanted to fist a hand in Louis' hair, wanted to push Louis towards that spot where Harry needed him, but he's happy to wait. Happy for anything Louis gave him, at this point.

Harry's always sort of distantly thought that Louis' lips were obscene. They're pink and thin and they thin more when he smiled. He hadn't taken a lot of time to really consider how they'd look wrapped around his cock, and he's not prepared for the sight of it when Louis' tongue snaked out, gently gliding over the tip before he's wrapping that mouth around it, one hand wrapped around the shaft to hold him steady. 

And it's— it's overwhelming, pink spread tightly around him, Louis' eyes looking huge as they blink innocently up at him, the warm wetness of Louis' mouth, the drag of that sinful tongue.

Harry wasn't sure where he's allowed to touch. Whether he's allowed to touch. Could he grab at Louis' hair? Drag his thumb along Louis' cheek? Trace the stretch of his mouth? He didn't know, so he fisted his hands in the sheets instead and tried his best not to push up into Louis' mouth.

Harry took back every single bad thing he ever said about Louis in his entire life. The man's a gift. He's brilliant. Heavenly. He did this thing where his lips tightened around the head and his tongue swirled around it while he moaned, and Harry's entire body shudders, mouth opening and closing in a silent, breathless gasp.

"What— what about you, though?" Harry forced himself to ask, if only because this wasn't how they did things. 

They never focused on one of them. It's always both of them, struggling to get themselves off as quickly as possible. Right now, this was just Louis, all of his attention on making Harry feel good. And he's fucking succeeding.