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"Are you scared?" Louis whispers in the dark. Only the dim flickering of the candle on the nightstand illuminates the room. The matress beneath them bathes in the golden colors. Harry's naked chest rises and falls.
"No." Harry whispers back, and looks up at Louis with his big eyes, framed by long wet lashes. His head lulls to the side, a soft giggle erupts from his shiny lips.
"I won't count." Louis warns. He pins Harry's rosy nipple between his fingers and uses his other hand to smack the ice cube on top. Harry hisses, his chest rising and falling quicker. Louis sees his muscles contracting. He swallows.
"Sorry."
Harry closes his eyes, "Don't be. I asked you to."
Louis shrugs. He throws the ice cube aside and picks the needle up. "Promise you won't kick me."
"You should sit on my legs. You know, just in case."
Louis nods, he maneuvers himself onto Harry's middle. His weed infused brain makes it hard for him to distinguish between Harry's additional nipples and his real ones. He grabs onto one real one, and squeezes it. He snatches the needle again and aims it, before poling it through the flesh. Harry winces, but his face relaxes immediately after into a relieved smile.
"You're doing good." Louis praises giggling. He moves his ass over Harry's crotch by accident, causing him to feel a poke. He giggles a little more. "Does this turn you on?" He asks.
Harry's face falls into laughter. "Yeah."
Louis shakes his head. He pins down the second nipple and pokes the needle through, though slower this time. He drags it out, curious about Harry's reaction. Harry arches his back a bit, Louis physically feels his hard dick.
"Done." He blushes, climbing to Harry's side. "We might need to disinfect them tomorrow."
"Tomorrow." Harry yawns sleepy and smashes his head into the pillow. "Tomorrow." He repeats dazed and falls asleep.
-
As the clock neared 10 a.m., the intrusive buzz of Louis' phone shattered the tranquility of the room. He let out a low groan, burying his face into the softness of his pillow, attempting to block out the unwelcome disturbance. The soothing symphony of raindrops tapping against the windowpane provided a comforting backdrop, tempting him to surrender to the embrace of slumber once more.
Amidst the delicate ambiance, the warmth of Harry's body beside him offered a sanctuary. Louis, still in the haze of drowsiness, observed the subtle rise and fall of Harry's bare back, a rhythmic dance barely noticeable in the morning light. The room held a suspended quiet, broken only by the soft patter of raindrops.
Unable to resist the magnetic pull, Louis shifted his gaze, discreetly studying Harry's form from the corner of his eye. The gentle curve of his leg, the way his hands lay tucked beneath his pillow. Harry, lost in the realm of dreams, occasionally betrayed his peaceful facade with a twitch of his fingers or an unconscious drool.
"Haz," Louis whispered, breaking the serene stillness, nudging Harry lightly with his elbow.
A grumpy response met Louis' attempt, "What?"
"Turn around. Your poor nipples," Louis insisted. With a begrudging sigh, Harry shifted onto his back in compliance.
Louis, drawing the blanket up to his chin, repositioned himself closer to Harry, craving the radiant warmth that emanated from his slumbering form. The weight of the previous night hung in the air, unspoken but palpable, as Louis murmured, "Last night was something."
A noncommittal hum escaped Harry's lips, "Yeah." The word lingered, carrying a subtle tension.
As the ambient rain continues its gentle percussion against the window, Louis dares to break the silence once more, "Haz, fancy making some waffles together?"
A soft smile tugs at Harry's lips, his gaze meeting Louis's, a silent agreement passing between them. With a shared understanding, they untangle themselves from the warm cocoon of blankets and slump into the kitchen.
Louis gathers the ingredients, he measures the flour and pours the melted butter. Meanwhile Harry sits on the counter. The soft hum of conversation fills the air. They laugh a little, then Harry tells Louis about his motger and how she used to bake alot.
As the waffle iron sizzles to life, Harry's fingers graze Louis's, a fleeting touch that ignites a spark. "Sorry." Harry says quickly.
With the waffles golden and crisp, they arrange them on plates, a culinary masterpiece, or a Tesco mix, no one knows. They sit down and eat in the empy kitchen. Louis sieblings are off to school and his parents are at work. It's like the house belongs to Harry and him entirely. It doesn't feel like how it does when he's with Niall alone. It's the quiet comfort with the building tension that gets Louis.
He reaches for a vintage vinyl record that has been patiently waiting. The crackle of the needle on the record player echoes in harmony with the rain outside. The melodic tunes of a favorite album envelop the room.
After finishing their waffles, the pull of the rain outside beckons them to the balcony. In the present moment, they step out, carrying a couple of cigarettes with them. The cool air wraps around them as they settle into a comfortable silence, watching the raindrops create intricate patterns on the city below. The soft glow of the balcony lights casts a warm ambiance as they share a quiet smoke.
"Why the nipples?" Louis blows the smoke out, leaning against tge wall.
"Why not." Harry asks back. "I like it. Makes me feel something."
Louis laughs, "What?"
"Oh come on. You must know." He laughs too but his eyes are tainted in a strange sadness. "I don't feel deeply. This helps me to."
The rain gets heavier. The stairs are flooded. Louis knits his eyebrows.
"I mean that," Harry looks up, "When you get something or suceed at something, you feel happy right?"
Louis nods.
"I don't feel it. I feel numb a lot, almost all the time. Nothing is that butterfly feeling for me. So I do things to, you know."
Louis knows. He doesn't say it though, he keeps smoking until the burning in his eyes fades.
They sit down cross legged and watch the rain for hours. Louis lays down with his head on Harry's lap after a while.
