Behind Closed Doors (A Larry Stylinson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 48

LOUIS’ P.O.V.

“Lou, baby. Wake up.”

Harry’s soft voice pulls me out of my deep sleep. It’s not his groggy, raspy voice, though, which leads me to assume that he’s been up for a while. I roll over in the direction that I hear him and before I can open my eyes, he leans down to peck my lips, earning an automatic smile from me.

“Mornin’ Haz. Why ar’you up so early?”     

Harry chuckles and kisses my forehead.

“Love, it’s noon.”

I bury my face into his clothed chest and groan, upset for missing so much time out of our romantic weekend.

“M’sorry, you should have woken me up sooner.”

Harry squeezes me tightly before walking over to our bags. He retrieves a pair of black briefs for me and joins me under the sheets.

“Well, it was freezing in the living room when I woke up, so I started a fire and then went to this town a few minutes down the road and got some breakfast from a bakery. Are you hungry?”

“Haaaarry,” I whine as I pull on my pants, “this was supposed to be a weekend of me doing things for you; not the other way around.”

Harry scoffs and starts to pull me closer to the edge of the bed.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you wait on me hand and foot?”

I lay limp, thinking it would make it difficult for Harry to pull me out of bed. He’s been working out, though, and I seem to keep forgetting that.

“The kind of boyfriend that I usually am!”

Harry swoops me up in his arms easily, my legs draping over his strong forearm.

“I love taking care of my baby.”

I smile and coo into his neck as he walks us to the kitchen. It’s warm and cozy, the fire crackling behind me. He sits down in a big chair where some food is laid out on top of paper bags at the dining table. I begin to stand up and move to another chair, but Harry holds me on his lap, spreading his legs enough for me to comfortably sit between them. 

“They had some of those soufflés that you liked in France so I got you that, as well as a few choices of muffins.”

These are the types of things I need to remind myself of whenever I begin to doubt Harry’s feelings for me. He remembers the tiniest things about me; like the soufflé I enjoyed two years ago in some tiny cafè in Paris and haven’t had since.

“Thank you; it all looks great.”

“Anything for you, boo.”

My smile reaches my eyes without any effort. Harry stretches his large arms around me and starts to break away pieces of a muffin. He brings the first bite to my mouth and I hum as I chew the moist pastry. 

“So good! Here, try some.”

I take another piece of the same muffin and wait for Harry to part his lips enough for take a bite. He shuts his eyes as he waits for the muffin, I set it down and sit up enough to kiss him, my tongue slipping between his gaping lips. He chuckles and then quickly begins to kiss back, his hands trailing down my bare sides and resting on my hips with his thumbs tucked under the elastic band of my boxers. I run my fingers lightly through his hair, pushing his beanie onto the floor and pulling him closer to me, our lips moving unanimously.

“Wait,” I reluctantly pull away, biting his lip as a punishment for ruining the moment, “m’Lou, I want to take you somewhere.”

I shake my head and rest my hand between our bodies, pressing firmly against his bulge. His breath hitches and he tightens his grip on my hipbones.