larry smut

heavy hitter

He nodded, shy at the way Louis' dark eyes were eating him up. He looked so tan from just a few days under the sun, it was hard to believe his beauty was even human. The light brown in his skin shone with sweat and sunscreen, like he was made to reign summer.

"Could have slept some more," Louis embraced Harry's waist, dangerously narrow and warm under his palms.

"Oh, I was painting." He looked down, always flustered by the unwavering attention Louis directed at him. "Had a nice dream and got inspired."

Louis still vividly remembered when they first met. He was spending a couple weeks in Mallorca, half exploring the Spanish market and half indulging his need for a break. Harry happened to be the waiter serving his yacht, always coming back to check on the lobster or if Louis wanted more Sauvignon Blanc.

Eventually, Louis slipped a note in his uniform pocket telling him to meet at his private cabin. He found out Harry was working in catering to pay for his art supplies and that he dreamed of opening a gallery. They clicked so well that, by the end of spring, Harry had left Mallorca and gone straight to California to move in with Louis.

Louis really did try not to spoil Harry at first, treading water with both of their intentions. Buying him art supplies was one thing, but he just couldn't resist his boyish eyes and how they glimmered when they saw a Balmain bag, a jet ski or, well, Louis' hard cock in a damp bathing suit.

Harry never really asked for anything, but Louis was good at guessing what he liked and, with time, he was able to tell exactly what kind of things caught his eye. He just thought Harry was too pretty to work a single day in his life.

"Really, baby?" Louis pushed Harry's curls out of his face. "Can I see?"

"Hmmm," he bit his lower lip, "it's not finished yet."

"I'm sure it looks wonderful."

"Okay."

He moved away from Louis' embrace, heading to the lounge, where his tripod held a white canvas. The desk was quite messy – many paint tubes were open and his palette needed a wash.

Amidst the mess, his fresh creation stood out. He had painted a wheat field during twilight. The sky had dark shades of purple, blue and black, colours Harry didn't always choose.

"You're so talented, baby," Louis spoke, fitting his head on Harry's shoulder from behind, "can't wait until we open your gallery and everyone gets to see how gifted you are."

"Yeah?"

"Of course," he kissed Harry's neck slowly.

"Mmmm."

"What is it?" Louis indulged him, as always.

"Always make me feel so good, Lou."

Louis smiled against his skin, sucking one of those hickies the girls that worked for him craved so badly. He took his time, willing to leave a purple mark.

"Can we get on the bed?" Harry breathed out, struggling to form words.

"Thought you'd ordered food, love," Louis reasoned.

"I can call downstairs. Tell them to come later."

Louis hummed, sending vibrations across Harry's spine. He lifted Harry's shirt up, just enough to take hold of his prominent hip bones.

"Please?" Harry insisted, feeling Louis' cock against his ass.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"For you," he tried lamely.