Red Brick Heart

17

"Ooh, I got you good, didn't I," he muses, reaching up and pressing his thumb to the purpling bruise. Harry feels an uncomfortably arousing swoop in his stomach at the dull pain.

"I'll have to get you back later."

"Promise, promises," Louis mimics, before resting his hands on Harry's hips and gently shepherding him out of the room.  He keeps his hands there all the way up the stairs, and Harry reaches back to grab one hand and twist their fingers together as they creep back into Louis' room. In their absence Niall has rolled into the middle of the bed and someone – probably Liam – is snoring in the corner.

"Move up, you twat," Louis hisses, hefting his arms under Niall and rolling him away, before deftly jumping back onto the bed. Niall stirs, groaning, as Harry swiftly follows him, preening a little as Louis tugs him onto his chest and curls an arm around his shoulders.

"What the fuck," Niall says croakily, just as Harry settles on Louis' chest, skin warm and smooth, "went on last night?"

"Good question, Neil, but I'm going to have to ask you to save that one for later, because I'm going back to sleep now," Louis says, squeezing Harry tighter. He grins against his chest, giddy with happiness even though he still feels a bit sick and his head hurts and his chest is sticky with tequila.

"Oh, Christ, are you naked?" he hears Niall say, the bed dipping as he shifts away. "You two didn't get off while I was passed out, did you?"

"No," Harry mumbles. "Might do if you stay long enough, though."

There's a chorus of sleepy groans from around the room – apparently everyone is less asleep than he'd thought – and a pillow lands on his back.

"It's way too early for me to have seen your cock, Harry," Leigh-Anne says, before adding pointedly, "again."

"Nakedness is freeing," Harry murmurs into Louis' chest, and just before he falls asleep again he hears Louis say, "If any of you start discouraging my boyfriend from getting naked at every opportunity, I'm going to have to reconsider our friendship."

They spend most of the rest of the day sleeping: everyone disappears in dribs and drabs during the day until it's just Louis and Harry again, and they cook pasta and kiss and lounge around the sofa in sweatpants and hoodies, empty bowls stacked up on the coffee table as Louis drapes himself over Harry, kissing him until his lips are numb. They go up to bed again just after eight when their respective hangovers have worn off – and they've had a very quick and very violent snow fight in what remains of the previous day's snowfall – and Harry makes quick work of undressing them both, pulling the duvet over them as he settles in between Louis' legs, arms hooked around his thighs and bringing them up to wrap around his waist as he sucks a bruise into the soft flesh of his upper arm.

"Harry," Louis says, flushed and breathless, fringe falling into his eyes as he runs one hand down Harry's side, the other curled loosely in his messy, unstyled curls. Harry grips his thighs tighter, teeth nipping at his reddened skin, as Louis says, "Harry, d'you want to – oh – do you want to fuck me, babe?"

Harry closes his eyes briefly, nosing at his soft skin and licking his lips. "'Course I do, yeah."

"'Cos, like," Louis bites his lip as Harry shifts his thighs higher up around his torso, and Harry loves the feeling of his tensing his muscles, clenching around him, "I spent so much time last semester thinking about it – like, a lot of time, you know? And-"

"You don't have to explain yourself," Harry says, smacking a kiss to his lips before holding Louis' gaze. "Just, like. Talk me though it, maybe? I don't want to be rubbish."