You Take Me Over, You're the Magic in My Veins

chapter 11

He lifts his head to ask Gemma and Zayn if they could give them some privacy and finds the room already empty. With a deep breath, Harry eases back a step, though not enough to be out of Louis' reach. He plays absently with the ends of Louis' hair, and even though he knows it's good news, can feel it, he has to ask. "So?"

"So, I see you've been busy," Louis comments mildly, peering around the room. There's a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He's toying with him.

"Louis!"

"Alright, alright," Louis laughs, tugging Harry close again. He lifts a hand and tugs at the scarf Zayn had tied around Harry's hair while he had been working nervously on the peonies, works his fingers into the tangled curls. Each tug on his scalp, every scrape of Louis' fingernails feels like heaven, shoots small bolts of heat down his spine that have his toes curling in his boots. "Mum was only angry because she thought I was pulling a joke to get out of marrying Gemma. I reassured her, told her I was quite serious."

Harry's heart swells impossibly in his chest and he whispers, unable to keep his voice from trembling, "Are we getting married, then?"

Louis leans in so that he can nuzzle against Harry's cheek, whispers back, "If you'll still have me."

Joy bursts like sparks behind Harry's eyelids and he turns his head so that he can murmur against Louis' mouth, "I've been yours from the moment we met."

"Sweetheart," Louis sighs, and then they're kissing. It's slow at first, soft and easy and contented, but then Louis nibbles on Harry's bottom lip, slides a hand down over the curve of his bum, and Harry pushes back against it, mouth falling open on an eager moan. The kiss turns dirty after that, frantic, has Harry clutching at Louis' shoulders for stability as Louis walks them back toward the bed.

Harry thinks they trample a few lilies along the way, but he will tend to them later. He has more important things to attend to, like the hard line of Louis' cock against his belly and the way Louis' fingers are digging into his arse, kneading at him maddeningly. He takes a moment to stretch when Louis lays him back on the bed, loosening his limbs and enjoying the way Louis takes him in with dark eyes, then wiggles his fingers eagerly. He wants Louis, wants him to press his body into the mattress, to feel Louis on top of him, around him, inside of him.

He watches through half-lidded eyes as Louis unbuttons his tunic with unsteady fingers. It's a beautiful shirt, green with subtle silver stitching, but Louis drops it carelessly to the floor and knees up onto the bed, crawls over Harry so that he can settle on top of him. Harry parts his legs immediately and wraps them around the backs of Louis' thighs so that he can rub up against him, so that Louis can feel how hard he is, how much he wants him.

"Louis." Harry trails his fingers up Louis' naked back while Louis works on the buttons of his shirt. "Please, Louis."

"What is it, love," Louis whispers, ducking down so that he can mouth at Harry's collarbone.

Harry arches his back to give Louis more access, lets his shirt fall open so that Louis can trail kisses down his chest, scrape his teeth against his nipple. A shiver ripples down Harry's spine and his hands fall to the mattress so that he can grip the blankets, hold on while Louis fits his mouth around his nipple and sucks.

"Please, Louis," Harry gasps, fists twisting in the sheets when Louis turns his attention to his other nipple. "I want. Yours."

"You are mine," Louis murmurs against his skin. He slides his hands up underneath Harry so that he can lift him off the mattress, close his mouth around one of his smaller nipples. "Mine."

Harry whimpers when Louis slides the palm of his hand over the front of his trousers, pressing down against his aching cock. "Louis, I need you," he pants, rutting up against Louis' hand. "Inside of me."