Kiss Me
Title: Kiss Me
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Word count: 1,035 words.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: mentions of careless sex, alcohol. AU-ish.
Disclaimer: I own One Direction's beautiful arses and order them (not that they need much coaxing to do so) to have buttsex with each other every night.
Summary: Louis and Harry are just fuck-buddies, really. It's been clear from the start. But you know what they say about a butterfly flapping its wings.
[Read More]
Settle down with me
Cover me up
Cuddle me in
Lie down with me
And hold me in your arms
It wasn't a thing, per se. They fucked, that's all. No feelings, no questions asked. That was the unspoken deal. Problem was, Louis wasn't sure if he was still sticking to the former part of the agreement.
I'm falling for your eyes
But they don't know me yet
And with a feeling I'll forget
I'm in love now
He didn't mean to, really. Louis never meant to like how his hair seemed to glint several different shades of brown in the sunlight; he was never supposed to admire how the blue-grey tendrils that snaked up his arm stood out even more against his pale skin when he clenched a fist or reached forward to pick up something; he was not allowed to enjoy the swirling pools of green that reflected in his eyes, drawing him in, clouding his sense of judgement.
Settle down with me and
I'll be your safety
You'll be my baby
It was wrong, so wrong. They lived in a world where drug peddlers hid in shadows, where memories floated away with cheap booze concealed in greasy paper bags, where people woke up next to strangers bruises and yet-unborn babies.
This was London, not a fairy tale.
But Louis' heart didn't seem to be getting the message, skipping entire beats when the Cheshire-raised boy did something like run his fingers through his hair, or lay down next to him.
And he couldn't help himself, not really: his fingers lingering a little too long as he brushed Harry's curly locks out of his eyes in the morning after spending a night together; sleep-hooded eyes looking at Harry too long from where he lay behind a mound of pillows. Lip pausing a beat longer than a kiss without any meaning should; curling up into Harry's side after a night of amazing sex.
And your heart's against your chest
Your lips pressed to my neck
This feels like falling in love
falling in love, falling in love
And suddenly, subtly, there was a shift in their relationship, whatever it was, like seismic plates moving under the ground.
Harry started reciprocating his feelings, sort of, and Louis wasn't sure what to do, where this left them.
He didn't notice at first, really; how could he? But now there was no rush or pressure from Harry to get out of his flat earlier, their kisses lazier, lingering; less heat as Harry pounded into him, an almost tender affection lying under the words panted; breakfast awaiting him in the morning after he woke up; jokes shared.
This feels like falling in love
falling in love
Harry hadn't ever kept to a man for so long. Often, their 'friends-with-benefits' relationship would last a month or so, before Harry promptly left and found another.
But Louis was different.
The man, despite his tougher image, was everything Harry didn't even know he wanted. Louis laughed and smiled more than the other men he had been with, and it was genuine, the beautiful blues of his eyes covered by his freckled eyelids for a moment, the edges of his eyes crinkling. It was so stupid; a laugh, it was a laugh that Harry loved and adored and obsessed over. There were other things too, oh, so many other things: the way he couldn't dance for shite, the way Louis mussed his hair up in the morning so it was perfectly tousled, although he didn't seem to think so. Of course, there were the mind blowing sexual fetishes that made Harry hard just thinking about them: the long red scratches that decorated his back the morning after, or his dirty words whispered in Harry's ear, or him begging for Harry to come on him, rather than into a condom. But the little mannerisms and habits that weren't sexual; those were harder to explain, but were what Harry picked up on.
I've been feeling everything from hate to love
from love to lust to truth
I guess that's how I know you
So hold you close
to help you give it up
It was a slip of the tongue; a mere three words accidentally uttered in the dark of the night that had changed everything forever, irrevocably.
"I love you."
A pant of the syllables, sounds that could have no meaning. It was quiet and soft and intimate, and Louis hadn't meant to whisper it, his lips soft brushing the shell of Harry's ear.
But he did.
And Harry's heart, his stupid, sensitive heart, hadn't meant to beat against his chest so fast, like a hammer pounding a nail determinedly into the wall.
But it did.
Louis stared at him, wide-eyed in the darkness of his bedroom that smelt like sex, the azure orbs blinking in shock. Time slowed down, just for a brief moment, and for that brief moment, Harry hesitated and almost whispered it to him back. Almost.
But then time resumed it's pace again, and Harry's heart was still beating in his chest so fast he'd though it'd explode, and the grandfather clock outside was ticking really loudly, and then-
Louis still doesn't know what happened. It's all a blur, a slam of doors and flying clothes and desperate cries of please, Harry, come back, and then the apartment's empty, void of where Harry used to be.
He doesn't know how long he mopes, wandering around his apartment and cursing himself, bashing his knuckles against the wall until they bleed and turn a shiny red. What was he thinking? No feelings, no emotions, nothing, that was the deal.
And Louis thinks, okay, I'll mend, slowly at least, and he's almost mended completely (but not truly, no) and he's fine, until the day Harry shows up at his door.
This feels like falling in love
falling in love
A mess of curls, beautiful green eyes, and his porcelain skin, waiting for him on his doorstep.
Louis almost laughs, with relief and anger and all his emotions jumbling together in a heap, and also because it's funny like some badly cliched rom-com.
So they kiss.
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Word count: 1,035 words.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: mentions of careless sex, alcohol. AU-ish.
Disclaimer: I own One Direction's beautiful arses and order them (not that they need much coaxing to do so) to have buttsex with each other every night.
Summary: Louis and Harry are just fuck-buddies, really. It's been clear from the start. But you know what they say about a butterfly flapping its wings.
[Read More]
Settle down with me
Cover me up
Cuddle me in
Lie down with me
And hold me in your arms
It wasn't a thing, per se. They fucked, that's all. No feelings, no questions asked. That was the unspoken deal. Problem was, Louis wasn't sure if he was still sticking to the former part of the agreement.
I'm falling for your eyes
But they don't know me yet
And with a feeling I'll forget
I'm in love now
He didn't mean to, really. Louis never meant to like how his hair seemed to glint several different shades of brown in the sunlight; he was never supposed to admire how the blue-grey tendrils that snaked up his arm stood out even more against his pale skin when he clenched a fist or reached forward to pick up something; he was not allowed to enjoy the swirling pools of green that reflected in his eyes, drawing him in, clouding his sense of judgement.
Settle down with me and
I'll be your safety
You'll be my baby
It was wrong, so wrong. They lived in a world where drug peddlers hid in shadows, where memories floated away with cheap booze concealed in greasy paper bags, where people woke up next to strangers bruises and yet-unborn babies.
This was London, not a fairy tale.
But Louis' heart didn't seem to be getting the message, skipping entire beats when the Cheshire-raised boy did something like run his fingers through his hair, or lay down next to him.
And he couldn't help himself, not really: his fingers lingering a little too long as he brushed Harry's curly locks out of his eyes in the morning after spending a night together; sleep-hooded eyes looking at Harry too long from where he lay behind a mound of pillows. Lip pausing a beat longer than a kiss without any meaning should; curling up into Harry's side after a night of amazing sex.
And your heart's against your chest
Your lips pressed to my neck
This feels like falling in love
falling in love, falling in love
And suddenly, subtly, there was a shift in their relationship, whatever it was, like seismic plates moving under the ground.
Harry started reciprocating his feelings, sort of, and Louis wasn't sure what to do, where this left them.
He didn't notice at first, really; how could he? But now there was no rush or pressure from Harry to get out of his flat earlier, their kisses lazier, lingering; less heat as Harry pounded into him, an almost tender affection lying under the words panted; breakfast awaiting him in the morning after he woke up; jokes shared.
This feels like falling in love
falling in love
Harry hadn't ever kept to a man for so long. Often, their 'friends-with-benefits' relationship would last a month or so, before Harry promptly left and found another.
But Louis was different.
The man, despite his tougher image, was everything Harry didn't even know he wanted. Louis laughed and smiled more than the other men he had been with, and it was genuine, the beautiful blues of his eyes covered by his freckled eyelids for a moment, the edges of his eyes crinkling. It was so stupid; a laugh, it was a laugh that Harry loved and adored and obsessed over. There were other things too, oh, so many other things: the way he couldn't dance for shite, the way Louis mussed his hair up in the morning so it was perfectly tousled, although he didn't seem to think so. Of course, there were the mind blowing sexual fetishes that made Harry hard just thinking about them: the long red scratches that decorated his back the morning after, or his dirty words whispered in Harry's ear, or him begging for Harry to come on him, rather than into a condom. But the little mannerisms and habits that weren't sexual; those were harder to explain, but were what Harry picked up on.
I've been feeling everything from hate to love
from love to lust to truth
I guess that's how I know you
So hold you close
to help you give it up
It was a slip of the tongue; a mere three words accidentally uttered in the dark of the night that had changed everything forever, irrevocably.
"I love you."
A pant of the syllables, sounds that could have no meaning. It was quiet and soft and intimate, and Louis hadn't meant to whisper it, his lips soft brushing the shell of Harry's ear.
But he did.
And Harry's heart, his stupid, sensitive heart, hadn't meant to beat against his chest so fast, like a hammer pounding a nail determinedly into the wall.
But it did.
Louis stared at him, wide-eyed in the darkness of his bedroom that smelt like sex, the azure orbs blinking in shock. Time slowed down, just for a brief moment, and for that brief moment, Harry hesitated and almost whispered it to him back. Almost.
But then time resumed it's pace again, and Harry's heart was still beating in his chest so fast he'd though it'd explode, and the grandfather clock outside was ticking really loudly, and then-
Louis still doesn't know what happened. It's all a blur, a slam of doors and flying clothes and desperate cries of please, Harry, come back, and then the apartment's empty, void of where Harry used to be.
He doesn't know how long he mopes, wandering around his apartment and cursing himself, bashing his knuckles against the wall until they bleed and turn a shiny red. What was he thinking? No feelings, no emotions, nothing, that was the deal.
And Louis thinks, okay, I'll mend, slowly at least, and he's almost mended completely (but not truly, no) and he's fine, until the day Harry shows up at his door.
This feels like falling in love
falling in love
A mess of curls, beautiful green eyes, and his porcelain skin, waiting for him on his doorstep.
Louis almost laughs, with relief and anger and all his emotions jumbling together in a heap, and also because it's funny like some badly cliched rom-com.
So they kiss.