Give Me Truths || l.s

chapter 19

Louis couldn’t help but take hold of Harry’s belt loops and gently tug his body down- he wanted to feel the weight of this gangly, clumsy boy laid out against him, torso to torso and shoulder to shoulder. For once, Harry was resistant, his hips staying firmly in place and too far away from Louis, who murmured a quiet, “You can touch me, you know.” He pretended his voice wasn’t a little shaky when the words came out.

Instead of coming forward, though, Harry pulled back and nodded. “Right, right, sorry,” he mumbled, and rocked back until he was sitting atop Louis’ thighs. His hands were immediately at the top of Louis’ jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper before Louis had the presence of mind to grab Harry’s wrist and stop him.

There was nothing but innocence and surprise in Harry’s face when he glanced up at Louis. “Did- did I do something wrong?”

“N-no,” Louis began unsteadily, “it’s just- that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t, um, I wasn’t asking for that or anything, I was just saying that you could be close to me, like physically. I know Thomas didn’t let you, so I was just, um, reminding you. That you could. With me.” He wondered vaguely in some small, unexcited corner of his brain why he was suddenly unable to do the words putting together and coming out good thing.

You could see the gears turning in Harry’s head. “Oh,” he said after a pause. “You want me touch you. Not like touch you, but touch you.”

“Yeah,” Louis replied, because that did, somehow, make sense. “Exactly. Yeah.”

“Are you going to, um, take your shirt off?” Harry was blushing so hard he could barely get the inquiry out, and even with all of his long body perched on Louis’ lap, he managed to look small.

Louis tried to hide his surprise. “If you want me to, yeah, of course.” A hesitant nod was the only reply, and Louis rushed to oblige. Did Harry just ask for something? He grinned as he wriggled the shirt over his head because Harry was asking for things. It was heady and a little thrilling to know.

But the true enchantment was in the way that Harry was reaching out and letting his fingertips explore Louis’ stomach and chest, running over happy trails and v-lines and the faint outline of abs hiding behind the tummy he had from too many nights drinking. He slid his hands up Louis’ sides, slowly, memorizing, and Louis trembled at the feather-light touch. Harry placed large hands on Louis’ slender shoulders, then ran them down from bicep to wrist until their hands were linked and they were finally torso to torso.

They both exhaled, Louis shakily and Harry in relief, and as they melted they seemed to mould together perfectly. Actually, it was most like Louis was the mould and Harry was the water flowing through the lines of him and shaping quietly and gently to the form of Louis. He was all softness and exhale…

...except in the place where Louis could feel, through his jeans and Harry’s, what had to have been an uncomfortable hardness for Harry. When he could think around Harry’s kisses, which had started up again, he marveled at how self-controlled Harry was, how he managed not to rut against Louis at all, or even squirm. But that was Harry all over. Good, always and unfailingly.

Louis pulled his wrists free and sat up, wrapping one arm around Harry’s middle so he could push him gently sideways and roll them over so that now it was Louis hovering over Harry. “You’re hard,” he said simply, his voice low and a little rougher than normal.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean- sorry,” Harry frets, pulling back to look up at Louis’ face.

“Harry,” Louis chided, “I’ve told you before, it’s perfectly fine. Your body is reacting the way that it’s meant to. Actually, if you had a hot, shirtless boy leaning over you and you weren’t hard, then I’d be concerned,” he added teasingly with another kiss.