Timeless - A Larry Stylinson FanFiction

Chapter 28

Their lust-fueled madness mixed with reality like a paint-covered brush dipped in water, like soap in a hot bath, like milk in tea. It twisted and swirled until it was impossible to differentiate one from the other.

Their grasp on each others’ bodies, alike in warmth from the troublesome rate at which their hearts were beating, had become somewhat stale following the last words off Harry’s lips, which seemed not to fall to the unmoving water and sink like a stone, but hung in the air for a prolonged moment before falling lightly to the surface of the lake.

It was then that both men had at once realized how cold the water was and how saturated they had become within their own bone chilling serenity.

What seemed as though it could never end was suddenly cut short when the crunching and unmistakable sound of movement not far off interrupted the couple’s moment.

“Someone’s coming,” Harry whispered, freezing in his spot.

The rustling continued, getting closer now, as though their pursuer was just beyond the closest fringe of birch trees.

Louis acted quickly, picking his top hat up from the long grass it had fallen silently into, and grabbing Harry’s slightly trembling fingers with his own.

Their fight or flight instinct seemed to kick in in that moment, and neither man was prepared to fight this battle. Off they went on shaky legs, pushing through the weak current in hopes of escaping the clutches of the sickening limelight chasing them. The rustling footsteps matched their rapid heartbeats, and as each got louder Harry felt a panicked yank on his coat sleeve, followed by a face full of frigid water. Like the night sky itself, the water looked light and felt heavy and covered them both as Louis made the choice to plunge into it, bringing Harry with him.

The two were a mess of heavy limbs as they pushed downward into the water, enveloped in darkness, hidden quite literally now. Louis, with a frozen grip on Harry’s sleeve, forced his body forward, letting out little rows of bubbles through his nose. They escaped so easily, and Louis opened his eyes for a moment just to see them go. With his last ounce of oxygen held in his lungs, Louis was forced to resurface, releasing near-silent gulps, taking full advantage of the endless oxygen around him.

Beside him was Harry, doing just the same. He rubbed at his eyes, scanning the scenery around him to make out a weary outline of the shore, tiny glints of light escaping from behind budding tree leaves marked where the party was. They hadn’t made it too far in just a minute or two of panicked swimming. Louis’s hand was still firmly grasping his bicep, and Harry could make out the rough outline of his jaw, chin tilted up at the sky.

“What now?” Harry asked without much thought.

Louis brought his hands together, rubbing his palms to create any kind of friction, warming them slightly. He let out a low sigh, sounding almost angry in his tone.

“Not making decisions for you,” he spat, proving Harry’s hunch true in his voice. Anger filled him now, thawing his chilled bones and soaking his limbs and party clothes. What he’d done was setting in, and not only had he shared a lust as potent as straight gin that gave a similar sensation, but had given in to this sick temptation plaguing his heart, his soul, his mind, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. One part of him had tried to reason with this sensation, maybe if he gave in to temptation and indulged in this lust, despite it being a wicked sin, these urges, feelings, longings, would disappear. But now that he had more than indulged, Louis only longed for more. A never-ending thirst for this foreign touch, this foreign lust. He continued to be baffled day after day by the amount of time he spent letting his mind wander to lands uncharted, piling prayer upon prayer that there was a God somewhere who could forgive his need to explore.