No Strings Attached

Chapter Seven

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, though Louis might have intended it as such. 

The moment their lips touched – his chapped ones against Harry’s inexplicably pink and full ones – Louis felt the sort of electricity that accompanied their first kiss, just three nights ago. He meant to move slowly and meaningfully because he didn’t know any other way to move. But Harry had other intentions, practically stumbling into him and pressing his mouth hard onto Louis’. Eventually, Louis relinquished his control and let Harry take over. They stood there, swaying and grabbing at each other with urgency.

Louis cupped the base of Harry’s head, slowly slipping his fingers into the mat of curly hair atop the other boy’s head. It was just so soft and he couldn’t help but massage his scalp, causing a light groan that barely escaped from Harry’s mouth. Harry bit down on Louis’ bottom lip in response, just enough to leave a mark later, as he snaked his hands around Louis’ waist and groped at his back, tugging at the fabric there that would eventually become useless. Chills shot up and down Louis’ spine as Harry began rubbing the small of his back, simultaneously pushing their lower halves together in a sensation that made them both want to jump out of their skins. 

As Harry pushed him against the nearest wall, Louis tried remembering the last person he had kissed with such intensity, his most recent night with Harry not included. It was almost pathetic how long it took him to realize that Eleanor had been the last one, brief glimpses of her face flashing in his eyelids. That was back when he believed he fancied girls, and here he was completely snogging Harry and he couldn’t help but moan into the familiarity of it all. It felt so right. 

Louis willingly accepted Harry’s advancements as he pressed harder against him, their bodies perfectly aligning. Harry gently kicked Louis’ legs apart so that he could sneak a knee in between, moving closer to him than he’d thought possible. Harry had one hand against the wall, the other one moving up Louis’ side and finding its place comfortably in the crook of his neck and massaging the skin there. 

Harry was the first one to break the kiss, a kiss that lasted longer than it had any right to last. However, it felt all too soon when the younger boy pulled his lips away from Louis’ playful nibble. He smiled at Louis, his eyes dark with lust and his cheeks rosy with sheer passion. Louis made some sort of noise to urge Harry on, and it seemed to work because he dove down and began littering Louis’ jaw with little nips and kisses. Louis groaned in agreement, his insides threatening to burst when Harry found a spot on his neck and focused all his concentration there, sucking and licking until the spot would turn a violent shade of purple. 

“Harry…” Louis started. How could he have hesitated about any of this?

Harry looked up and concern flashed across his features, like maybe Louis wasn’t having any of it. But he assuaged the younger boy’s fears by grabbing him by the face and pressing their lips together again, slicking his tongue across Harry’s in desire. Harry seemed to pick up on Louis’ fervor and returned the kiss, grumbling in agreement. Their hands flew up to each other’s heads, and it was almost comical how much they enjoyed the softness of running their fingers through hot, damp hair. Occasionally, Louis’ eyes would flick open and his blue would meet Harry’s green and they would stare at each other for half a second, returning to the task at hand in perfect synchronization. 

It didn’t matter that Louis felt inadequate with Harry, who seemed scores more experienced with males than he was. All he knew was the feeling of Harry’s lips against his and the sudden urgency that accompanied his impatience with the clothes that still hung as a barrier between them. 

Harry seemed to sense this because he broke from him and stared at him with his shiny lips parted, panting. 

“Bedroom?”