When Louis wakes up, it's to the sound of a certain someone singing in the kitchen, “Druuunk in looooove.”
He laughs, rolling out of the bed with the giddiest feeling inside of him. He doesn't bother making the bed, and he doesn't bother putting pants on either as stumbles out of the bedroom into the kitchen. He finds him, his soft boy with matted curls and pink cheeks, pouring a glass of strawberry milk completely naked - and all Louis can say is, “Beyonce?”
(They take slow and gentle kisses against the refrigerator, and when Louis goes to lift Harry on top of the countertop to stand between his legs, they knock over the glass of strawberry milk, and all they can do is giggle into each other’s mouths and kiss the sound of reassurance.)
YOU ARE READING
Strawberry Milk L.S.
Teen Fiction"So here's the thing," he starts. "I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn't like it because their opinions...
