Call Me Baby: Chapter 12
Louis sighed heavily, pulling on his pajama pants hurriedly, thoughts swirling rapidly around his head.I’m happy being his friend. His shirt hit the floor with a muffled thump, and he uncrumpled the plain, white t-shirt he wore for bed, the cotton hugging his shoulders familiarly. I don’t need more from him. He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. I can’t risk scaring him off. He flicked on the light on the bedside table, the lamp lighting up with a soft sound. You may think you’re happy now, but eventually, it won’t be enough. He shoved the covers back, climbing into the bed and crawling over to his side of the bed, laying back to wait for his friend.
So, tell me: are you or aren’t you in love with Louis?
Yes, I am.
*~*~*~*
Harry yawned as he clambered up the stairs for the second time that night, after saying “good-night” to his mum. His eyelids felt heavy, his head fuzzy with exhaustion. He passed the closed doors of the girls’ rooms, his feet silent on the carpet as he made his way to his and Louis’ bedroom. He could see the soft glow of the bedside lamp under the door, the light localized to the left side, rather than the bright light that spilled out when the overhead light was on. His fingers automatically reached for the door knob as he approached, wrapping around the cool metal and twisting carefully, pushing the door open.
Louis looked up as the door opened, sitting up to watch Harry enter. Harry stopped just over the threshold, staring at Louis with startled eyes, not expecting Louis’ gaze. His expression melted, shock slipping cooly off as confusion flickered fleetingly in his green eyes. Louis didn’t move, barely daring to breathe as the tension built between them, opting to watch silently as understanding replaced confusion on Harry’s beautiful face. Harry’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his cheeks flushing as he stared determinately into Louis’ eyes.
“You heard,” he whispered, and it wasn’t a question, his low tone sure and unrepentant. Louis opened his mouth to speak, his throat clicking obstinately on his first try. He coughed once, before attempting again.
“Yes,” his voice low to match Harry’s, a quiet rasp present in the back of his throat. Harry took a shaky breath, his chest expanding slowly as he breathed deeply. Louis’ eyes didn’t move from Harry’s face, waiting for a reaction. Harry’s eyes flickered back open, carefully blank as they stared into Louis’.
“And?” Harry asked, his voice not rising above a whisper this time either-it was as if neither of them were willing to speak louder for the sake of the tension permeating the room. Louis chose not to respond, instead standing from the bed and walking to stand in front of his friend. Harry tried desperately to calm his racing heart, sure is cheeks were glowing. Louis paused, looking up at Harry with a gaze void of emotion. He leaned up on his tiptoes, slowly, painfully slowly moving his face closer to Harry’s, as if to make sure what he was doing was okay. Harry’s mind went blank, his conscious scrambling for something to do. Finally, something clicked, just as Louis’ lips were about to touch down. “Stop,” Harry whispered pleadingly, “Please.”
Louis pulled back, looking dazed and a little hurt. “What?” He asked softly, confusion coloring his tone, “Why?”
“Because if you’re doing this out of pity,” Harry explained quietly, “or as a joke, it’s neither wanted, nor funny. I’m in love with you, Louis. Please don’t abuse that.”
“You know what your mum said when I told her I had overheard your conversation?” Louis asked lowly, his blue eyes achingly sincere, fire dancing behind his irises as he tried to make Harry understand, “She said ‘don’t waste this’. So this is what I’m doing to ensure that the information I’ve acquired doesn’t go to waste.”
“Well,” Harry muttered, eyelids drooping as Louis leaned back in, meeting no resistance from Harry this time around, “Look who’s swallowed a dictionary.”
And with that, their lips met, Louis’ hands curling into the front of Harry’s shirt to anchor himself as he stood on his toes. Harry’s eyes slipped closed, and he exhaled heavily through his nose as he returned the pressure of Louis’ mouth.
Heat began to pool in his stomach, bubbling joyfully so he couldn’t tell happiness from arousal. His hands moved of their own accord, wrapping tightly around Louis’ hips, the fabric of his pajamas crinkling under his large fingers. Louis huffed lightly, pulling away and turning his head for a better angle, his own hands slipping into Harry’s hair to twine through the curls. The pressure returned almost instantly, and Harry used his grip on Louis’ hips to pull him closer.
What had started as soft, gentle pecks was quickly turning into something much more heated. Louis’ tongue swept out darlingly, tracing the seam of Harry’s mouth. Harry’s mouth opened automatically under him, arousal hooking him behind his navel and tugging sharply. He sucked Louis’ tongue in impatiently, relishing in the groan that tore from his friend’s throat at the action.
His smugness faded, however, when he felt Louis’ tongue sweep slowly over his cupid’s bow, a low keen vibrating in his throat in appreciation. His hands wandered down, wrapping around Louis’ thighs; he hesitated a moment, unsure how far Louis wanted to go, before lifting his swiftly. Louis’ knee hooked around Harry’s waist, and his arms slid backward to get a better grip. Harry’s own arms wrapped around Louis’ waist, to ensure that he wouldn’t fall and ruin the moment.
Louis’ skin was hot under the thin cotton of his t-shirt, the warmth burning into Harry’s own searing skin as he staggered over to the bed. Louis’ landed on it with a soft oof, their contact breaking for a moment. Louis stared up at Harry from the bed, cheeks flushed and eyes shining as he panted quietly. After a very intense moment, Louis’ eyes broke the contact, flicking down to Harry’s lips almost of their own accord. He surged up, grabbing Harry’s shirt and yanking him down onto the bed, flipping them quickly and crawling up his body to plant another searing kiss on Harry’s lips. His hands fisted his shirt, the material wrinkling around his fingers, and Louis groaned.
“Too many clothes,” he mumbled shortly, pulling back a fraction of an inch, and Harry keened in agreement. Louis pulled back fully, and Harry had to suppress a whine as cold air flooded over his chest. He watched silently as Louis tossed his shirt over his head, flinging the material to the side carelessly, before his hands attacked the buttons on Harry’s, ripping three in his haste. He discarded of that, as well, not bothering to right it as it landed haphazardly on the lamp.
He leaned back down, finished undressing for the moment, and obviously impatient to touch. His hands slipped down Harry’s torso, palms caressing the expanse of his ribs as his fingers mapped each bump and indent on Harry’s naked flesh. His lips attacked Harry’s, their tongues dancing together intimately. Harry’s hands clutched at the back of Louis’ head, curling around his scull and threading through the slick strands. Louis’ tongue caressed his in tandem with the hands traveling painstakingly slowly down his body, and Harry couldn’t suppress a moan at the sensual onslaught.
Louis’ hands reached his hips, pausing to stroke the heated skin. Harry was tingling all over, burning up where Louis touched him, drunk with the sensation. His hips bucked, suddenly desperate for more contact, the teasing caress on his hips stuttering to a stop as their pelvises collided. Louis’ keen was high and frantic, piercing the air with an unimaginable urgency as he bore down on Harry’s hips in response.
“Fuck,” he cursed fervently, grinding harder as his lips met Harry’s once again, their teeth clacking briefly as Louis’ kissed him hurriedly, “I hope you’re planning to follow through, Harry, because you’ve brought it this far and I don’t think I can stop now.”
“Are you kidding?” Harry asked hoarsely, propping himself onto his elbows to nose at Louis’ neck, “I’ve been waiting forever for this-I am if you are.”
“Thank God,” Louis breathed, pulling back a bit as Harry chased him, leaning back to sit on his heels, letting Harry sit up against the headboard, before moving back in, his thighs clenching Harry’s hips and his hands sliding deliciously up Harry’s chest to curl around the nape of his neck as he leaned in, shoving his lips over Harry’s fiercely. Harry broke the kiss this time, not allowing Louis a moment before diving down to Louis’ neck.
He dragged his lips over the skin, sucking bruises into the flesh. Louis tossed his head back, a whine crawling out of his throat and gasping passed his lips. Harry grinned into the skin, biting softly, scraping his teeth down the side of his neck, leaving thick, red lines that he soothed with his tongue. Louis squirmed, thrusting his hips down in search of elusive friction that Harry was deliberately avoiding giving him.
His head shot up when Louis’ hips met his, and his back arched. The new angle caused their erections to collide ineffably. His hands wrapped around Louis’ hips, Louis’ own curling around his neck. It was Louis’ turn to lean forward, his lips finding Harry’s nipple. Harry let out a shout, back arching further, his head thumping against the headboard, his fingers slipping into Louis’ hair and tugging almost painfully.
“You like that, huh?” Louis smirked, lips curving filthily around Harry’s nipple. Harry groaned in response, scraping his fingernails along Louis’ scalp to urge him on. Louis licked down, tracing a circle around the dark splotch under Harry’s nipple, before pulling back. Harry’s whimper was cut off as Louis kissed him again, grinding down as he did so.
“Fuck,” Louis cursed, his hands flying to Harry’s trousers, “Fuck me.”
“Yes,” Harry growled, doing a barrel roll and covering Louis’ body with his own, tensions high as frustration escalated. Harry shoved his pants down, removing his boxers swiftly as he did so, before moving his hands to Louis, tugging his pants and underwear off quickly as well, with little preamble.
He stopped short, panic hitting him hard as he realized-Louis was a man. He had a penis-he didn’t know what to do with a penis! The only one he’d ever touched was his own, what if he did something wrong? And Louis wanted him to fuck him, to boot-he had no idea how to prepare for that.
Louis, sensing his hesitation, propped himself up on his elbows, watching the fear and lust war on Harry’s flushed face. He reached out, pulling Harry closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips, feeling Harry relax under his touch. He pulled back, resting his forehead against Harry’s.
“I know I said earlier that I wanted you to follow through,” Louis whispered, “But if this makes you uncomfortable, we can stop.”
“I don’t want to stop,” Harry responded immediately, his own voice equally soft, “It’s just-I’ve never done this before.”
“What?” Louis looked shocked at the confession, “At all? Or just with men?”
“Men,” Harry told him quietly, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment, “I thought I was straight until I met you.”
“That’s okay,” Louis assured him, a small smile curving his lips softly, “I can show you this time, and maybe next time, you can do it.”
“You-” Harry cut himself off, clearing his throat awkwardly as it tightened, his eyes shimmering, “You want there to be a next time.”
“Yes,” Louis said hoarsely, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet, “I’m bad at feelings, Harry. I don’t even know what I’m feeling most of the time, let alone how to express it-it took me way too long to figure out that I’m in love with you.”
“You are,” Harry whispered, awed, his hand climbing to cup Louis’ cheek so they were mirror images, Louis’ own hand resting against Harry’s face as their foreheads kissed, “You’re telling me we could have done this sooner?”
“Probably,” Louis grinned, “But I kind of like how this is going.”
“Me too,” Harry’s answering smile was adoring as he gazed upon his lover. Louis pressed his mouth to Harry’s, their smiles making it difficult to kiss each other properly.
That night, under the glow of the partially covered bedside lamp, they made love, soft pants and groans marring the silence that otherwise encompassed them. Kisses were frequent, and hands wandered reverently, taking the time to map out the skin of their partner, knowing they had the rest of their lives to learn every inch of the skin that covered the one they loved. And as they climaxed, they whispered their love into each other’s hair, the words caressing and encompassing them as they cradled each other in their arms. That night, they fell asleep wrapped around each other, worn and sated, skin flushed and glowing, hair mussed and sweaty, more content than they had ever been.
Continued here