Louis was wandering aimlessly down the corridor when someone slammed into the back of him, knocking him quite literally to the ground. He landed with a yelp on the floor, and found that he was being pinned to the ground – and his thoughts went instantly to the little yellow button that was certainly too far away to press. Besides, no guards were posted outside his office door anymore; everyone loved him, and nobody seemed to have any concerns that he would be attacked. Yet clearly the security shouldn’t have been relaxed, because someone was holding him down firmly on the floor so that he had no room to maneouvre and barely enough space to breathe.
Before he could open his mouth and start yelling, lips touched his neck, and a familiar warm mouth started exploring his collarbone, his jaw, the back of his neck, his cheek…hands tugged impatiently at the collar of his shirt as his assailant scrabbled for access to his back.
“You scared the life out of me!” Louis scolded, relaxing in an instant.
Harry laughed quietly. “Sorry. I was just excited.” Slipping off Louis’ back, he reached for his boyfriend’s hand and helped him to his feet, fondly brushing dust off his shirt with a sheepish grin.
“Right,” said Louis cheerfully, putting an arm around Harry’s waist, worriedly withdrawing it, and then making a resigned sound and slipping it back again. “Was there any particular reason why you decided to jump on me?”
“Oh, yes.” Harry’s eyes danced with joy. “Can we step into your office, Mr. Tomlinson?”
“Absolutely not,” Louis teased, taking Harry’s hand. “Of course we can, you fool. You still think you need to ask?”
“Well, it is your office,” Harry pointed out as he pushed the door open and slid inside, pulling Louis after him. He slapped the wall, switching the light on, then twisted sharply so that he was pressed against Louis’ chest, their interlocked fingers trapped between them. “You need somewhere to keep your packets of chocolate Hob Nobs. Which you still owe me, by the way.”
“Consider it a joint ownership,” Louis offered, grinning at him. “My heart – and my biscuits – are yours.”
Harry kissed him in response, and they stood together for a while, lips moving gently together. Louis swayed almost dizzily, and Harry chuckled, releasing his fingers to place a supportive hand on Louis’ spine. He had refined his kissing technique in the few weeks they had spent together: gone were the days of messy tongue-tangling, replaced by the kind of kissing expertise that made Louis’ stomach swoop at the slightest touch. Harry’s fingers brushed his arm, lingering on his wrist, and they did that for a while. One of Harry’s hands was still behind his back, unseen, although Louis didn’t it pay much attention.
“Right,” he managed breathlessly when they eventually separated. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
A slow pause, Harry’s face lighting up with a perfect grin, his green eyes sparkling as he hesitated for effect, linking their fingers together again. Eventually, when Louis thought he might go mad with suspense, Harry brought a crisp white sheet of paper out from behind his back and waved it under Louis’ nose with a thrilled expression on his face. Frowning slightly, not understanding, Louis let his eyes skitter quickly down the official-looking document, skimming through it in confusion. He was just about to ask Harry what exactly he was supposed to be looking at, when his breath stuck in his throat and he choked, his lungs constricting as he tried to remember how to breathe, couldn’t seem to remember, and felt his heart stuttering and fear shivering through him like ice in his veins in case this was some kind of wind-up.
At the bottom of the paper, in huge red block-capitals, screaming out at them so Louis could barely believe it had taken him so long to notice it, was stamped ‘BAIL GRANTED’ in huge, slightly smudged scarlet lettering.
Louis forgot what words were as he stared in utter shock at Harry, almost expecting things to start melting away like he was waking up from the best dream he’d ever had.
Seconds later their lips collided in a raw, rough, messy kiss, Louis grabbing as much of Harry’s hair as he could and twisting it around his fingers as he slid his arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him until they were both breathless and pink, until they had both forgotten was breathing was. His heart racing, Louis smashed their mouths together over and over again, excitement and passion spilling over, until somehow the desperation gentled into their usual soft kisses, but with an undercurrent of longing sparking through every movement of their lips. Nibbling Harry’s bottom lip, Louis nudged him affectionately with his mouth and then drew back, taking deep breaths.
“You never told me you were trying to get bail!”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Harry admitted, wiping his shiny mouth with the back of his hand, lifting Louis’ hand as well because he wouldn’t let go of his fingers. “It was never certain that I would get it. If there was a chance, and I didn’t get it…well, I thought it would disappoint you, knowing that there was the possibility of me being released for a bit, and it didn’t work out.”
“Oh, Harry,” Louis said softly, touching his cheek.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Harry asked. “We can be together…all day, and all night. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
Louis kissed him. “I can do this,” he murmured, “whenever I like – and not have to look over my shoulder all the time.”
“Not to mention,” Harry reminded him quietly, “plenty of opportunities for…other things.” He let his hand play down Louis’ chest and rest for a while on his hip to show what he meant.
A low shudder rippled through Louis’ body. He had always been thinking about no sex before marriage – but if they had the chance, why wait?
“I think we’ll be able to fit…other things into my incredibly busy schedule,” he whispered playfully.
Harry bit his lip. “That sounds…you know…good.”
They both blushed.
“I hope you realize I’m not, erm…particularly experienced at that kind of thing,” Louis confessed, looking at his shoes in embarrassment. “I’ve never actually…done it. Before.”
He’d expected Harry to grin at him and say ‘Awww, how cute!’ – but to his surprise, Harry smiled sheepishly, like a naughty child. “That makes two of us, then.”
“What – really?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t feel stupid,” Louis said softly, brushing Harry’s face with his fingertips. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re going to do it for the first time with someone you truly care about – better that than some pointless fling, or a casual one-night stand you’ll never see again. Don’t be ashamed. I’m not.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Harry insisted. “I just…don’t want to do it wrong.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m a virgin, too. Weird as it sounds, we’re both new to this – neither of us are exactly going to know what’s meant to happen. If it doesn’t go perfectly, how will we know? It could be completely normal. We won’t know until we try.”
Harry laughed. “I’m glad we’re doing this, you know, when I get out – I was terrified I’d never get the chance until I got out. Imagine that; I’d be a twenty-eight year old virgin!”
Louis bit his lip and smiled. “Well, don’t think I’d be doing it with anyone else while you were locked away! I’d be a thirty year old virgin – that’s dangerously close to being a real-life version of that movie…you know the one.”
“The Forty Year Old Virgin? Yeah, that would be pretty embarrassing,” Harry admitted.
Louis giggled. “I know this is kind of immature, but…I don’t think I’ve ever said the word ‘virgin’ so much in one conversation.”
“Me neither. I can’t imagine discussing my virginity with that lot out there, can you?”
They both burst out laughing. Childishly, this sparked a debate about which of the prisoners were virgins and which weren’t, a conversation that would have mortified almost all of the people who they talked about – especially Liam, who they both agreed would definitely be a virgin on his wedding night, and Niall, who Harry proclaimed ‘too innocent’ to have ever done anything – and even though not a thing they said was anything more than a joke, it calmed the atmosphere and helped them not to feel awkward about their decision. Admittedly, some of the shyness returned when Louis happened to mention that his flat had only one bedroom, and therefore they would be sharing, but seeing as neither of them exactly objected to the idea, soon they were too excited to be nervous.
“It’ll be kind of like a sleepover,” Louis said eagerly.
Harry smirked. “Oh yeah, definitely. What kind of sleepovers have you been going to?”
Louis punched him lightly. “You know what I mean. I’ll get food and DVDs, we’ll have a movie marathon. Come on, what films do you like? Horror movies?”
Shuddering in mock horror, Harry tutted “Just because I’ve killed someone doesn’t mean that I like blood and guts. I’m more of the romantic comedy type.”
“Really? Oh my God, that’s adorable. Have you ever watched Grease? Tell me you like Grease!” Louis begged.
“Of course I like Grease, what do you take me for? Rom-coms, chick-flicks – I’m a big girl at heart.Grease is just the pinnacle of slushy, cheesy love films. Plus, it’s catchy.”
Louis kissed him on the nose in delight. “Finally, someone gets it! Oh my God, you like Grease. It’s official; we’re getting married,” he declared, taking Harry’s hand and kissing it.
“I’d have hoped we were getting married anyway, similar movie tastes aside,” Harry said dryly.
Shoving him playfully, Louis rolled his eyes. “Obviously – but now it’s going to be even better, because we can have girly movie marathons!”
“You’re so masculine,” Harry snorted, “are you sure you’re not a woman?”
“Definitely not. What are you on about, you? I’m obviously the most masculine guy you’ve ever met – check out my biceps!” He flexed his arm proudly, and they both watched his arm muscles rippling underneath the skin.
“Oh yes, because we’re real men, and real men watch chick-flicks.”
“Real men do watch chick-flicks,” announced Louis. “Real men also wear pink frilly aprons and do ballet – feel free to try those things, by the way; I’m sure you’d look adorable.”
“I’m not going to do ballet, Louis. But bring me popcorn, and I’m your slave.”
“Any other requests?” Louis asked, blindly reaching for his notebook and a pen without looking away from Harry’s face. “Do you like ice cream?”
“What kind of stupid question is that? Who doesn’t like ice cream?” Harry shook his head in disbelief.
“I know a girl,” muttered Louis, scribbling ice cream down.
“What kind of people have you been associating with, that don’t like ice cream?”
Louis shrugged. “Unusual ones? Hmm…any preference of flavour?”
“Anything other than mint choc chip,” Harry dictated. “Preferably something with lots of E-numbers.”
“Well, when you have a crazy sugar rush and start bouncing off the walls, don’t blame me…Ben and Jerry’s?”
“Is there any other kind of ice cream?”
“I must admit, if you told me you had a fetish for ASDA’s smart-price vanilla, I would probably disown you…” smiling to himself, Louis added another quick note to his bit of paper and then dropped it back onto his desk. “I think that’s everything.”
“Nope,” Harry said, nuzzling against his neck. “That is most definitely not everything.”
Louis rolled his eyes as he turned his head to kiss him, and he thought with amusement that Harry really was the most shameful flirt he’d ever met, and it was a good job he enjoyed it.