Strawberry Milk 2

1

There is this warm place between the soft hums of bolsters and the fluttering eyelashes of laughter that Louis likes to call home. It is filled with delicate touches, light colours, and sweet smells that wrap around him, constantly murmuring that this is exactly where he is supposed to be. It's chocolate curls, creamy skin, and lips like strawberry milk.

Harry's soft curls are tickling his neck and his head is heavy against Louis' chest. Faint breaths brush over his collarbones, his pretty boy sleeping soundly beside him. Harry's legs are tucked in and tangled with his own, and the blankets are supple to their skin. Louis watches him sleep; his eyelids flit, his nose twitches, and a little noise slips from his mouth and into the early morning air.

Louis smiles, runs his thumb over the boy's cheek, and shifts so he is on his side and can pull him in closer.

(He kisses his lips softly, even though they are cracked.

There is no symbolism in it, just love.)

*****

"Harry!"

Louis wiggles against the circle rug that covers Harry's bedroom, only in his pants as Harry, who is laughing contently above him, straddles him. His hands trail down Louis' sides, pinching here and there, making him spit out giggles with tinted cheeks and crinkles by his eyes. Harry is laughing too; his mouth wide open, dimples caving deep holes into his cheeks as he presses closer to Louis, feeling him squirm beneath him. Louis can turn his head against the floor and peek under Harry's bed; he sees a crown and a sparkly dildo tucked carefully under, almost like Harry is trying to hide them. Louis feels his stomach swoop with dejection at the cinch thought, but he ignores it, not wanting to make Harry uncomfortable by questioning him on it.

"Say you're sorry!" Harry urges above him, sneaking his hands under Louis' armpits to make Louis look back up at him.

A loud howl of laughter pours from Louis' open mouth, and he yells out, "Never!"

Harry pets at his side again, giggling above him with bright eyes that reflects back into his own in vibrant ribbons of golden elation.

God, he is so in love.

Despite Harry being the personification of a soft, glowing star in the distance, Louis can't help but to quickly grab Harry's waist to roll them over, so he is the one on top. He grabs Harry's wrists, pinning him down as his lips curve in a smirk and he cocks an eyebrow. He can't help it, has always preferred the top.

It flashes quickly, but Louis catches it. He catches the way Harry's eyes widen, and his eyebrows line, and his cheeks turn white.

(He's scared.)

Louis' smirk fades as he swallows his hurt, loosening his grip on Harry's wrists before completely dropping them to his side, retracting his hands to himself. He smiles weakly, the silence of the room biting at his skin, crawling into his bones, making him feel a strange sort of weakness that sits in his throat, choking him, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

Harry laughs below him reassuringly, though, cheeks returning to their natural pink colour. He smiles encouragingly, so Louis returns it. Long fingers are trailing up his arms and Harry's thumbs rub over the inside of his elbows - they both know. Louis lightly trails his fingers over Harry's side, making quiet giggles fall from the boy's lips as he leans down, kissing him so gently it takes both of their breath away.

"M'sorry, m'sorry, m'so sorry, baby." It's tender and careful, and maybe he is apologising for taking the last apple slice from Harry's plate and then running from him, or maybe it is for anything and everything.