Untangle Me - L.S (boyxboy)

Chapter 8.

It's getting dark out now, the sun setting outside, soaking Louis' living room in dusty reds and glowing yellows as the two of them sit on opposite ends of the sofa, ankles intertwined. They'd rolled a good few shoddy joints with the last of the weed and some tobacco Louis'd found in one of his suitcases, smoking them sat on Louis' porch looking out over the garden. The high was really starting to set in now.

Louis feels floaty and so light, like he's a balloon and Harry's ankle draped over his is the only thing grounding him and stopping him from rising up and floating away. It feels like all of his energy is focused on that one place where Harry's touching him, like it's a hot ball of light in an otherwise dark room. The bright glare from the television flickers across the walls, illuminating Harry's face in short intervals. Louis studies the way the shadows spill across Harry's face, the sharp jut in his jawline and the soft roundness of his cheekbones. He tilts his head to one side, feeling the room move around him as he focuses his attention on Harry's lips. They're parted slightly, bottom lip puffy and wet with saliva, shining in the fluorescent light.

The sound from the TV feels so loud, loud enough that Louis can feel the vibrations in his skin. It's like he cant make out exactly what's being said though, it's just a constant static filling up the empty space around him. He closes his eyes for a moment, feels cocooned in white noise and Harry.

When he opens them again, he studies the expression on Harry's face. He's got his forehead crinkled, eyebrows drawn together and nostrils flared, eyes focused on the television screen. Louis runs this through his brain, instructing his own eyes to follow the path of Harry's. When they get there, he's met with the sight of a man and a woman, sprawled over a bed. He raises his eyebrows as he watches the man pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side, ducking back down to do the same to the woman. She's arching up to kiss him, running her hands down his back as he mouths at her neck. Louis blinks steadily, clearing his throat as the couple on the TV move together, languid motions and heavy curls of hips.

Louis hears Harry exhale heavily as the woman moans something Louis can't make out, winding her hands through the mans hair. Louis swallows, shifting his weight on the sofa, keeping his ankle pressed to Harry's.

"Do you ever get sick of it?" Harry's voice breaks through the static cloud of noise from the TV, clearer than anything, although it mustn't have been much more than a whisper.

Louis blinks a few times, keeping his eyes on the man and woman rolling around on top of each other. "Sick of what?" He asks, although he can't hear his own voice, isn't even sure if it came out.

"This." Harry slurs, hand motioning towards the screen. "Sick of this. Like, it's so boring, isn't it? Same old. A man fucking a woman. S'all you ever see on these programmes." A man fucking a woman. Same old. Louis' chest feels tight. He keeps his eyes on the TV, watching in a daze as the two people start to rock back and forth together, mouths attached. "They'd never show you, like... something else." Harry continues, eyes on the television. The mans back muscles are coated in sweat now as the pace quickens, the woman's voice crying out. "Like, a man." Harry states. "A man fucking a man."

Louis feels his breath catch in his throat, the place where Harry's ankle is on his almost burning a hole into his skin. He wants to look over at Harry, wants to replay those words spilling from his gorgeous lips, see it on his face. But he can't get his head to move. Instead, he opens his mouth. "You'd like that?"

It's quiet for a moment, cliche love making music from the TV filling the room. "Mm." Is all that comes from Harry.

Now Louis' started, he can't help but keep going. His thoughts are pushing to be front and centre, the weed blurring them all and removing any filter. "Have you ever?"