Dare || L.S

24



In the cozy living room, bathed in the warm glow of golden lights, Louis and Harry sit cross-legged on plush cushions. The soft hum of laughter fills the air as they play MarioCart. Harry bites his lip, trying desperately to maneuver his car around. Louis is winning, like the last 15 rounds. Harry isn't a sour loser but is he happy for Louis? Absolutely not. He wants to distinguish his car and make sure it isn't going to see daylight again. Not that he's competitive.

He's distracted by the photographs sitting on top of every near piece of furniture, glowing under the evening sun. Dust dances in the rays. Harry's gaze shifts to the ones in the bookshelf. Louis looks around 17, one sister each holding his hands. They're all grinning happily. Louis shirt reads 'love is love' in capital letters. His mother is right behind him, smilling as well. There's not a trace of malice on her face. Harry doesn't get it. How could she not feel the sinking disappointment his own mother felt?

Harry loses the game. As the evening sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle warmth, Louis gets up. He wanders to the kitchen in his fluffy socks and his oversized everything. His hair is electrified, standing up tousled in every possible direction.

Harry leans back against the couch and crosses his legs. Louis comes back quickly, a bottle of red wine dangling from his hand. He flops down in front of Harry to shut the Tv off since he won enough, feeling satisfied as it seems. Harry expects him to hopp on the couch and open the wine.

What he doesn't expect is Louis to lean back. He seems to be expecting the embrace of a pillow but encountering something far more comforting – Harry's chest. A fleeting moment of realization washes over Louis, a subtle shift in the air that both acknowledge but don't verbalize. Harry tries his best to calm his racing heart. He fiddles with his hands, unable to react. Louis' bodyweight presses against him.

Louis takes a deep breath and looks at Harry over his shoulder, his eyes fleetingly trying to catch Harry's. He isn't saying anything but the look in his eyes is careful and his smile is reserved. Harry nods quietly, allowing Louis to fully lean back.

Warmth shoots through Harry's body. His stomach jumps and all his senses are comforted by Louis' body. Either he's touch starved or has some sort of undiagnosed mental issue because he isn't thinking straight.

The atmosphere is filled with a sense of quiet intimacy as Harry, with a tender touch, cards his fingers through Louis's hair. Each gentle caress weaves an unspoken something. Louis' stiff back relaxes, the wine bottle unopned. Harry notices Louis' eyes closing and he wonders for a brief second if he overstepped a threshold. If he's in a house that he won't get out of again or if he left a house he felt trapped in.

The room becomes a haven, cocooning them in the soft radiance that mirrors the growing warmth between them. The golden glow becomes a metaphor for the burgeoning emotions. The turmoil in Harry's head quiets down, his hands is shaking when it finds his way around Louis waist. There's nothing wrong with him he repeats in his head. This is fine, he is fine. It's only a touch. Innocent and simply, yet the world around him becomes ready to crumble.

"Harry." Louis moans softly, his lips slightly parted. Glistening with spit. "I might let you win if you promise you'll do this forever."

"That's the only thing I'll get in return?" Harry chuckles. He runs his hand through Louis' soft hair and pulls carefully.

It's like a brick falling onto his chest when Louis adjusts his sitting position, now pressing his back right where Harry's dick is trapped in his pants. He's turning to look at Harry with gorgeous blue eyes, gazing up.

"What would you want me to do in return?"