They call us Larry Stylinson (Larry One Shots - book 2)

like breathing was easy ♡

From: http://archiveofourown.org/works/872611

~~~~~

Rating: Mature

Warnings: morning sex, lazy mornings, frottage, established relationship, canon compliant, nipple play, rutting, pwp, warm and fuzzy feelings, porn with feelings, soulmates, smut, fluff

Word count: 2404

Summary: louis feels actively sorry for the version of himself that wasted all those years, all those mornings. he wishes he could go back and shake young louis' shoulders and tell him it gets better - not because of the fame, the millions of pounds, not because his mother is getting married again - but because the day will come when he'll be able to wake up in the morning and the first thing he sees will be this boy.

-

louis is pretty sure he spent a long time not waking up to harry styles. a good eighteen years, in fact. eighteen years of waking up to his alarm clock, or desperately hung over, or to his mum's singing. one memorable morning he woke up in an airport terminal with absolutely no recollection of how he got there. there were more mornings than he can actually count - maths were never his strong suit - and as far as he can tell, he managed pretty well.



louis feels actively sorry for the version of himself that wasted all those years, all those mornings. he wishes he could go back and shake young louis' shoulders and tell him it gets better - not because of the fame, the millions of pounds, not because his mother is getting married again - but because the day will come when he'll be able to wake up in the morning and the first thing he sees will be this boy.



he's not awake yet, but that's to be expected. it's barely half five in the morning; the first hints of sunlight breaking through the heavy fog that throws itself over london like a winter blanket. the night is giving way to day and in the dark grey in between louis can make out harry's sleeping form so close next to his. even if it was darker, louis has spent so many hours looking at harry he has no doubt in his ability to find every spot, every freckle, each dimple, without any trouble at all.



it's so rare to see harry like this these days, nearly impossible for anyone who isn't louis or maybe the boys. louis does not envy the world. sure, he envies their privacy occasionally, occasionally he admires their confidence or freedom. but at the end of the day, and especially the beginning, louis knows what harry looks like when he's sleeping. he is the only one who knows the equation for the curve of harry's shoulders when they aren't tenses with anxiety. he knows how many breaths harry takes per minute when he's deeply asleep like this. he knows the rise and fall of harry's chest, can map it out like the waves of the ocean that move with the tide. the hanging gardens of babylon can go fuck itself as far as louis is concerned; harry styles sleeping is the eighth wonder of the world.



as if he can feel the weight of louis' gaze, harry snuffles a bit and frowns in his sleep. his arm twitches, then relaxes as it makes contact with louis' own hand. harry's face smooths out at that, as if simply the proof that louis is beside him is enough to calm his subconscious. louis isn't sure what he did to deserve this, but he'll do it a thousand times over to have this beautiful, strange boy in his life.



"hazza," he whispers after a few moments, "hazza, love, wake up." harry doesn't move, so louis goes for his plan b. he pulls himself up just enough to crawl over and sprawl on top of harry, burying his face in the crook of harry's neck and kissing his way up, along the jaw and across his face. he bites gently at harry's earlobe and grins like a cheshire cat when harry finally stirs under him.



"'s early," harry moans, going for put out, but the way he's beginning to harden underneath louis' hips sort of negates any grumpiness in his voice.



"hazza," louis sing songs right into his ear, "wake up, wake up beautiful boy."



even in his half asleep state, harry blushes a bit at that and turns to bury his head in the pillows with a groan. "nope, not awake. no waking up."



louis had kind of been hoping for that; he's never been one to turn down a challenge. he tuts a bit, then rolls his hips so harry can feel how hard he is. "that's alright then, babe, i suppose i can take care of this," he emphasises with another slow rock downward, "all by myself." he takes his time rolling onto his back and off of harry, and it only takes a minutes for harry to groan and reach out to pull louis back on top of himself with a hand on his arse.



"so easy, harry," louis says with a self satisfied smirk, "always so easy."



harry mumbles something back that sounds suspiciously like only for you, but it's lost in the way he presses his lips against louis' insistently. he whines high in his throat until louis starts reciprocating, and lets his hands run up and down louis' back gently, soothingly.



it gets louis going more than he thought was possible, growing harder in his pants just from the light contact and harry's mouth on his. he spreads his legs to bracket harry's hips for better leverage and keeps up the dipping motion he has going on. they kiss for what seems like hours, until harry breaks away to take in a deep breath. louis doesn't let up even then, just goes back to kissing along harry's neck and down his collarbones until he reaches the birds that live there. harry hadn't said explicitly what they mean, but he doesn't have to. louis can see it in the way that one is slightly bigger than the other, in the way that they're a color swirl of blues and greens and blacks. he mouths at the bird on the left, then on the right, the moves lower to harry's nipples.



he's sure there's a genetic reason for harry to have those extra two nipples - he'd read somewhere that apparently it's a sign of having absorbed a twin in the womb, but harry said that was shit, and if he was going to absorb a twin he would definitely have kept something cooler than their nipples - but louis couldn't care less about why they're there, he's just glad they are. harry fists his hands in louis' hair as he attaches to the nipple on the right, sucking lightly, then harder, and harry arches his back and takes in a deep shuddering breath when louis scrapes his teeth against the hard nub. once he's pleased with his work, louis moves on to the other side and repeats the same pattern of suck, lick, teeth, over and over until harry is rutting up against him even harder than before. once harry's two bigger nipples are hard and red, louis moves down and takes his time with the two tinier ones.



"this one's my favorite," he says idly as he circles his tongue around the dark mark he's made on the extra nipple on the left side. "except," he continues as he moves over to the bigger one on the right, "when this one is. or this one," he says with a nip at the smaller on the right side. harry huffs out a laugh at that, and louis can't blame him. honestly, a favorite nipple? he's clearly lost his marbles. but when he glances up and sees the overwhelming fondfondfond shining out of harry's eyes, louis feels that same tug in his gut he has since the day they met, when he decided he would be as loud and silly and stupid as possible to get harry to look at him that way.



three and a half years later and it's still his biggest goal in life.



he spends a few more minutes biting and sucking at harry's nipples, tracing the line of his pectorals with his tongue and teeth, before he moves down to give the same treatment to the line of his abs. he sucks a dark mark into the center of that stupid butterfly tattoo, relishing in the way harry jerks up like he can't help it, rutting against louis' chest now. he pulls back a bit to admire the mark, then looks up at harry to gauge how he's taking it.



it's an odd thing to think about in a moment like this, but louis remembers his mother's face when she told him about divorcing his stepdad. "we just lost the spark somewhere along the road," she had said helplessly. louis hadn't understood what she'd meant at the time, and he still doesn't now. harry's head is thrown back, dark curls a stark contrast against the white of the pillows, a flush covering his cheeks and down his neck, starting to creep down his chest. the hair around his forehead is damp with sweat, and fuck if he isn't the most beautiful thing louis has ever seen, even after all the time. louis can't imagine that there will ever be anything he wants to look at more than this right here. harry's eyes are wide and glassy and there's barely a ring of green around the edges, most of it taken up by his dilated pupils. his lips are puffy and swollen from the kissing and the way he's been biting at them, trying to hold in his moans, and a lump rises in louis' throat. maybe other couples don't have things like this, don't know how to be split open wide for each other. maybe no one else on the planet knows it, except for the two of them. hell, at this point louis is perfectly willing to believe that they're the only two people on the planet at all. maybe the world doesn't even exist outside their bedroom door. as long as he's got harry, right here, like this, hands clutching in the sheets and breathing hard, louis is fine. the world can go on without them, he doesn't mind a bit.



harry seems to notice how louis has zones out, because he drags himself back from the edge with what must be superhero strength, and pulls louis gently up by his hair to settle on top of him.



"where'd you go?" he asks, voice sleep raspy and sex heavy.



louis blinks down a bit before responding. because, right. "got a bit distracted by your face, soz love," he says, reaching down to brush a kiss against harry's cheek. it's sweet and silly for how their hearts are pounding so fast, their dicks are heavy and still rubbing against each other, but with the way harry lights up, louis doesn't regret it for a second. "want my mouth?"



he moves away and plans to shuffle down, give harry the blowjob of his life, but harry shakes his head and pulls him back in.



"want you to kiss me," he rasps, and yeah. that louis can do.



they kiss like they have all the time in the world. and it feels like maybe they do, with the sun only just barely beginning to stream through the curtains. the world hasn't quite woken up yet, no bustling sounds from the streets below and no alarm clocks for an hour yet. harry slides his hands down from louis' shoulders and grips his arse, angling him just right and kneading at the flesh there. he tilts his hips until they're tipped over on their sides and pulls louis' leg up to wrap around his hip and, there it is. neither one of them can hardly breathe anymore, just frantically rutting against each other and panting into each other's mouths. louis is so, so, desperately close to the edge, hands wandering from being buried in harry's hair to clutching at his shoulders to raking his nails down his back as their dicks rub against each other through the thin layers of their boxers. harry's nearly there as well, legs beginning to shake with the strain. he leans forward and coaxes louis' tongue into his own mouth, sucking on it until he lets go and throws his head back as he arches his back and stiffens against louis with a gasp, coming hard.



seeing harry lose it like that sends louis over the edge as well, his vision going white as he tightens his grip on harry's waist and shoves himself one more time up into harry's hips. he goes a little lightheaded, but harry's there surrounding him, anchoring him. harry's scent filling his senses, harry's hands and arms holding him close, harry, harry, harry. even like this, eyes squeezed shut and every one of his nerve feeling like it's on fire, louis has never felt so safe.



when his breathing finally evens out and his muscles start to unlock, louis opens his eyes to see harry gazing down at him with that look on his face, like he gets it. like he is as in awe of louis as louis is of him. he reaches down and takes louis' hand from where it's resting on his hip and brings it to his lips, placing a tender kiss to his knuckles. on anyone else it would look overwrought and out of place, and louis would roll his eyes and snort, but with harry it fits. his eyes are wide and vulnerable and louis feels his breath catch in his throat. the movement is so harry, and anything that's harry is perfectly okay with louis.



louis whines at the loss of contact when harry finally untangles himself enough to pull down his now soaked pants, and louis' along with it, but as soon as they're wiped down a bit and the pants are thrown across the room he's right back in louis' space, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders and legs slotted together. louis is still on his post orgasmic high, but he pulls himself together enough to recpriocate and pull harry as close as humanly possible, working to get every inch of skin touching every inch of skin before letting himself relax back unto harry's hold.



"think you can get some more sleep, you insatiable little monster? let me sleep another couple of hours and i'll make you tea when you're ready to get up." and, leave it to harry to pull out four syllable words at a time like this. but louis is nothing if not open to bribery, especially when the bribery includes tea, so instead of answering he just burrows himself deeper into harry's chest and lets himself be lulled back to sleep by the steady pattern of his breathing.



he's one lucky bastard, there's no denying it. there's no one else in the world who gets to wake up to harry styles twice in one day.