A Hungry Heart

Chapter 4

Harry's alarm nudges at the edge of his consciousness, annoying and unwelcome. Reaching over, he slaps at his phone where's is sitting on the bedside table, silencing the noise and flopping onto his back. He stretches out his legs and arms, sliding his hands up under the pillows to press into the headboard. The last wisps of his dream drift away, Louis' smile the last thing he's left with. He struggles to grasp at the flashes of memories interspersed with his own imaginings; out on the field, sunshine obscuring his face slightly, his crinkly-eyed smile beaming, fringe soft, eyes filled with mirth. It's not the first night he's spent with Louis starring in his sleep time fantasies and he's sure, after this weekend, it won't be the last.

The bed sheets are soft against his skin, blankets providing a cocoon of warmth and warding off the chilled morning air. He arches his back, pushing his arse down into the mattress and dragging the covers over his morning wood. He tucks his hand under the sheets and takes hold of his cock, stroking it languidly but firmly, eyes still closed, taking control of the disappearing dream and directing his thoughts to the only place he wants them to go: Louis.

The dip of his waist, his delicate wrists, his Adam's apple bobbing as he lets out trills of laughter. He imagines he can hear the raspy lilt of Louis' voice in his ear, egging him on with his teasing, filthy words as Harry's fingers trace a path between his pecs and over his abs, down to where he needs them the most. In his mind, Harry replaces his own hand with Louis', thinking of the way it would feel working him over, just this side of too rough, fingertip digging into the slit, thumb pressing into the vein under the crown, twisting on the upstroke, the glide smoothed by Harry's precome.

Harry bucks into his fist, his other hand finding his nipple and pinching it in the same way Louis had pinched his hip at football yesterday, sharp little tugs, harsh and so fucking good as the familiar feeling builds in his gut. He climbs with the sensations, higher and higher, until he's at the precipice of the cliff, and with one final stroke he's tumbling, coming over his hand as Louis' name falls from his lips.

He rides out the aftershocks, sinking further into the mattress before blinking open his eyes and letting the room come into focus.

A chuckle escapes his mouth. Fuck. He's in deep.

~*~

Harry makes his way down the grand, sweeping staircase of Bettington House, the plush red carpet with edges of golden trim, flowing like a river down the stone treads. The walls are filled with oil paintings; landscapes of the grounds over the centuries, changing with the seasons. High above, a mural on the ceiling depicts an old-world map, framed with ornate plasterwork that trails down the columns to the floor below.

"Haz!" Louis shouts from behind him and Harry stops halfway down the stairs and turns, leaning against the balustrade as Louis and Fernando catch up. Harry tries his best not to gape at the sight he sees before him, but really, he doesn't think anyone could blame him. Louis' outfit will no doubt be making regular appearances in Harry's future fantasies; light grey trousers that hug his thick thighs, white sneakers, and a black polo shirt with white and blue pin stripes. It's a lot to take in, especially this early in the morning.

"Morning, Lou, Fernando," Harry says in greeting. Louis had an industry event to attend the previous evening so he wasn't there for dinner and Harry suspects they got back quite late. "How's it going?"

"Yeah, alright. Tired, hungry, the usual," Louis says with a flick of his fringe. Harry receives a small nod from Fernando who Harry is rapidly learning is a man of few words. He's Louis' driver and bodyguard and goes everywhere with him, not that Louis necessarily needs protection on set, but he guesses it's better to be safe than sorry.

"How was last night?" Harry asks as they wander into the dining room together, Fernando excusing himself to take a call.

"Same old, same old. The music business involves a fuck load more schmoozing than I'd ever imagined. Smiling and shaking hands and standing around drinking champagne, listening to people bang on about shit they know nothing about, even though they think they do."