+
The sun is well below the horizon, stars starting to dot the sky, when Louis asks whether Harry is staying the night or not.
They've both got their shirts rucked up to their tummies, and Louis had been delighted to find the tattoos all over Harry's abdomen—his butterfly and laurels may or may not be covered in little bruises from Louis' mouth. Nothing further than that had happened though, which left Harry feeling vaguely disappointed but mostly just fuzzy inside over the knowledge that Louis wants to respect his boundaries and go at Harry's pace. They're both hard, quite obviously, but both of them ignore it. That's why Louis' question is so surprising, since Harry can't imagine they'll simply go right to sleep if Harry stays over.
"For... To sleep?" Harry checks.
Louis laughs lightly with a nod. "Um, yeah. Or, I mean. It's your call, Harry. I won't be mad if you say no, or if you want me to sleep on the couch, even."
"You're funny," Harry giggles, darting forward to kiss him on the shoulder. Louis wrestles him around until his arm is wrapped around Harry's waist, rubbing lightly from the birds on his chest down to the tips of his laurels, his fingertips rough but his palms soft. "Just yesterday I was thinking that you might not like me back."
Louis blows air out of his mouth dramatically. "No way. I've been thinking I was too obvious and you thought I was annoying. Harry, I invited you to a sex club the first day I met you."
Harry's stomach tightens up in laughter under Louis' hand. "I... Suppose."
A second goes by, and then Harry finally twists his head up to look at Louis' face. "And yes, yeah, I'll stay the night. On the bed and everything, no couches necessary."
+
It should be awkward, Harry thinks. As they trail into the bedroom, Louis passing Harry a pile of pajamas and turning around respectfully while he changes, Harry can't stop imagining all the things he'd like to do with Louis eventually, and it's disappointing that all they can do tonight is kiss. He knows that Louis is letting Harry call the shots, and technically he could move them further along if he wanted to; he just doesn't want to ruin it by seeming overeager.
Harry holds his old clothes in his hand awkwardly while he watches Louis plug his phone in on the nightstand, shuffle pillows around, and take a large sip of water from a bottle next to the bed. Maybe, Harry thinks, Louis is just as nervous as he is. That thought brings a smile to his face.
"So, can I wash my face?" Harry blurts. "Since you got pizza grease, literally, all over it."
"Oh, please, there's barely anything," Louis snickers, kissing him on the cheek and pointing at a skinny door on the right. "Everything's inside the cabinet, help yourself, love."
Harry makes quick work of locating the face wash and scrubbing himself with it, also digging out a bottle of mouthwash. Since he didn't think to bring his toothbrush, it'll have to do. By the time he's done, he's feeling clean and ready to resume their activities.
The bedroom is filled with low music when he reenters, and Harry stops for a moment to take in the scene of Louis, shirtless, his back to Harry while he scrolls through the music on his phone. He looks up when he hears Harry's footsteps, and smiles lightly. "Hey, sorry, I can never sleep without something playing. Too quiet. Got any suggestions?"
Harry shrugs, trying to keep his eyes trained on Louis' face rather than his body. Even through the corners of his eyes, Harry can tell he's gorgeous, with his long expanses of tanned skin, his thin waist and contrastingly large biceps. He could probably stare at Louis for hours without getting bored, except he's only allowed a mere thirty seconds before he'll look like a creep. He remembers Louis' question, and instantly, the names of any band he's ever listened to have completely escaped his mind. "I like everything."
Louis hums with his eyebrows raised, and nearly a second later, a twangy, acoustic country song is trickling through the speakers.
"Except—Except this," Harry giggles, as the singer starts to crow about America the free in a heavily Southern accent. "Anything but this."
With one last smirk, Louis finally decides on a playlist titled 'Bedtime Tunes', and then sets his phone down on the table again. It's playing just loudly enough to ease the leftover tension in the room, without being distracting. Louis lifts up the blankets, gesturing for Harry to get in first. Harry does, leaving enough space for Louis to feel comfortable. Louis climbs in after, lying on his side facing Harry. He pulls a funny face, then, with his tongue sticking out and his eyes crossed. Harry bursts out laughing, unconsciously moving closer to him.
"This feels proper domestic," Louis muses.
"Is that a problem?" Harry asks, already knowing what Louis' answer will be.
"No, not a problem," he says. "I like it. I've never just slept with someone before. It's nice, like—starting off on the right foot."
"Does the right foot still include making out before we sleep?" Harry smiles cheesily.
Louis rolls his eyes, but wraps his arms around Harry anyway. "Maybe. Possibly. If you're good."
"If I'm good, yeah?" Harry laughs, raising his eyebrows. "Thought we were starting off on the right foot?"
Louis cringes, his hands freezing for a moment. "I didn't, uh, mean that. Sorry, it's just hard to switch off sometimes. I really do want to do this right, and—I hope you know that I'm not just waiting for you to be my sub, or anything. Even if you never are, that's okay. I don't want you to feel pressured if that's not what you want."
There's that flutter again, the butterflies beating their wings frantically in his stomach. "I get it, it's okay. I'm sorry that I'm so, like, inexperienced."
Harry did not just say that. He did not just admit that he's insecure about this. Oh god, he thinks, this will ruin everything. "Please ignore that I ever said that," Harry huffs.
Louis frowns as he thumbs at the crinkled lines of Harry's forehead. "That's how you feel?"
Though Harry darts his eyes away, it's response enough.
"Love, what kind of person would I be if I cared that you were inexperienced? And for that matter, what kind of dom would I be? Not to sound rude, but you know that for years I've shown new subs the ropes, whether they've never kissed anyone before or they've had sex hundreds of times. It's never a reflection of you, or how much I like you."
Harry feels silly for being ashamed, but comforted by Louis' words nonetheless. "It was stupid," Harry finally says, after a long pause. "I'm sorry."
"Apparently you haven't realized that it's hard for me to think of anything you say as stupid."
Harry rolls his eyes, but he can feel a thick blush spread across his cheeks. "I thought you said we could make out. You know, if I'm good."
He says the last part teasingly, but somehow the words feel nice, rolling off his tongue. He's just not sure that right now he could do anything that "being good" entails.
They fall asleep tangled together, their lips still hovering over each other's. Fuck, Harry could certainly get used to this.
+
Harry wakes up the next morning to hear someone puttering around in the kitchen. He takes stock of his surroundings—still in Louis' room with Louis' arm wrapped around him, but this time with sunlight shining through the curtains—and is instantly on high alert. Who is in the house? Louis didn't mention a roommate. Is someone breaking in ?
"Lou," Harry whispers, gently shaking his shoulder. When he doesn't stir, he shakes harder. "Louis. Lou. There's someone here."
Louis finally sniffles, his nose scrunching up adorably while his eyes crack open. "Jus' the mailman, H," he says nonsensically.
"Louis, does your mailman happen to come inside the house? And open your cupboards?" Harry hisses urgently.
A heavy, annoyed groan leaves Louis' mouth. "Yes," he says. "Every morning."
Harry pulls back the blankets, spinning around so his feet are firmly on the floor in case he needs to attack. Not that he would really know what to do, but he's ready.
Suddenly, a loud female voice rings through the apartment. "Louis! Breakfast!"
"No," Louis grumbles, stuffing his face in the pillow. "Nooo."
Harry's eyes are wide. Who is this woman? Why is she cooking Louis breakfast? Did Louis invite her without telling him?
"I slaved over the stove to cook you this nice meal, the least you can do is come eat it!"
It takes a good minute, but eventually both of Louis' eyes open, and he starts wiggling his fingers in a way that Harry thinks means he's waking himself up. "Jesus, sweetheart, no need to yell about it," he calls back, his voice endearingly squeaky with sleep. Then he looks over at Harry, with a soft smile on his face. It makes his eyes crinkle. "Guess you're meeting Eleanor today, then."
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