Larry Stylinson ~ Poor Little Rich Boy AU

9.

“How are you going to do that if you’re stuck up a tree?”

“Shut up. Stop enjoying my humiliation. Pick up that ladder and get me down!”

“Say ‘please’.”

Louis said something, but it most definitely wasn’t ‘please’. In fact, it sounded like a mouthful of swearwords, but because he was drunk, they all blurred together into an incoherent mess of syllables. Tutting, Harry shook his head at him.

“Language. I’m not sure I should help such a foul-mouthed young alcoholic, you know.”

“I’m not an alcoholic, and you deserved it. Please, Harry, get me down! I’m literally begging, now, that is how desperate this situation has got! I’ll be your slave! I’ll – I don’t know, I’ll bow down at your feet and worship you, I’ll –”

Amusedly, Harry enquired, “Is it really that bad up there? I mean, that bark has to be a bit scratchy on the buttocks, but other than that it doesn’t look too uncomfortable, really. I could be wrong, though. Is it that bad?”

“No, but I really need a piss,” Louis admitted, “and if there’s one easier way to lose your dignity than pissing yourself, it’s pissing yourself up a tree. So will you please get me down?” His blue eyes turned pleading, and Harry could have sworn that he fluttered his eyelashes a little.

There was an extreme temptation to let him stay up there all night, maybe make him beg a little more, forge a couple of unbreakable bargains…but Harry couldn’t be that cruel. Sighing, he bent down to get the ladder, leaned it against the tree and carefully held it in place as Louis thankfully grabbed hold of it, stepped onto the first rung and started scrambling down.

When he reached the bottom, he seemed to forget that Harry was standing directly behind him; he stepped straight back into the younger boy’s arms. Immediately, Harry stiffened, because the warm weight of Louis Tomlinson was suddenly pressed up against him, and he didn’t smell boozy at all; he smelled like toothpaste and the free shampoo you got in little bottles next to the shower, and maybe a little bit like the tree he’d just been sitting in, and Harry was at just the right height for Louis’ feathery hair to tickle his chin. His slender body was the perfect shape to fit into Harry’s arms; Harry could have put his arms around Louis’ waist from behind and he sensed that it would have felt perfectly natural. Letting out a short, sharp breath, Louis hesitated, staying still for a moment, and Harry closed his eyes, scarcely daring to breathe, because the most gorgeous man he’d ever met was extremely close to him, and he didn’t know if he could stand it.

Slowly, Louis turned around, and all of a sudden, there they were, chest to chest. Louis rose up onto his toes so that they could be eye to eye, as well, and his little pink tongue flickered sinfully over his lips, wetting them so that they glistened. Harry’s eyes were drawn there, and he was suddenly rather wobbly at the thought of how those lips might feel on his.

Bewildered, he struggled to acclimatize to the sensation of being so ridiculously attracted to someone, so much that his chest was tight and he was struggling against the urge to crush Louis against his chest and bury his face in his hair, and just hold him for a while. Strong affection wasn’t something Harry was used to, and it frightened him a little.

It didn’t help that Louis was staring hungrily at him, his blue eyes dark with something that could have been Harry’s shadow falling across his face, but could have been desire, as well. Something primal tightened in the pit of Harry’s stomach, and he hesitantly placed his hands onto Louis’ biceps, carefully stroking down his arms. Louis closed his eyes and gave a small sigh, which Harry took to be encouragement, and he stroked a little further up Louis’ arm, feeling heat scorch his fingertips and whisper up through his hands all the way to his spine, making him shiver in delight. He’d never touched anyone like this before – not ever. He’d never really felt the inclination. Right now, however, he wasn’t sure he could stop.