Let's Roll- Larry Stylinson

Chapter XXXIII

Shots mixed with beer. Harry and Louis are drunk, the dance floor their playground. Their hands have not left one another, skirting along the fabric of pants and arms, creeping under to touch skin. Louis' hands have finally found purchase on Harry's neck, tiny fingers slipping into his hair every once in a while. Harry's have yet to linger anywhere for too long, dancing across the glimpse of skin Louis' untucked shirt provides. He tugs the boy closer and closer, inhaling his scent, marking his neck, wanting so badly to do more, yet even in his hazed filled mind, he knows to stop himself.

But should he be stopping himself? In less than a minute the clock will strike midnight. December twenty-fourth. Louis' eighteenth birthday. No longer underage. No longer a problem.

Harry seizes his movement, taking a gulp of air before lifting the now eighteen-year-old boy in his arms. Louis gasps, bending down to meld their mouths together. Harry kisses him passionately until he can't anymore, not in this crowd, not with so many watching. He weasels his way out the main doors, carrying an almost drowsy Louis up to their room.

The bed catches Louis's fall, Harry heaving him on it as he rushes to rid himself of clothes. Louis is still far gone from drinking, lying on the bed with heavy breaths. He knows what's coming though, smiles at the fact that he's finally getting all he's ever wanted. He sluggishly reaches for his cock, hand finding it through the fabric. Harry watches Louis do this, watches as the boy plays with himself. He looks gorgeous in the moonlight, his lips as enticing as ever as he bites them. Harry- now clothing less- falls onto the boy, running his hands up the Louis' body. He catches his shirt, removing it with ease. Pants are next, shoved down so fast, Harry barely registers that Louis wasn't wearing any boxers.

Louis' bottom half is now exposed, legs parting easier without constraint. Harry starts with his thighs, licking his way closer to his prick. Louis bucks up when he feels it, gripping the sheets underneath him in frenzy. It feels wonderful, having Harry's tongue on him, his mouth sucking the skin so gently. He revels in the languidness, likes that Harry isn't rushing anymore. Harry doesn't just want to take him, he wants to love him, to remind him that they don't have to go all the way tonight. If this is as far as they get, Harry's okay because he'll have had a taste of what he's always wanted.

But Louis is squirming with every suck, begging Harry to do more, to touch him everywhere. He wants to be consumed in all things Harry. He wants Harry up there with him now, kissing him the way he likes, tongues colliding and sweaty skin making him tingle. He voices so, Harry hastily connecting their mouths in the next minute.

Louis wants this to be more, doesn't want Harry to feel like he has to limit himself. "Will you be my first?" He husks, not entirely sure what he's asking for, but sure he wants it. Harry almost stops, almost thinks he shouldn't be doing this. He's going to be Louis' first, not like he hasn't already taken some of this boy's firsts. This is bigger though. Louis wants to have sex, wants Harry to have all of him. Harry inhales sharply, dazed for a moment. His movements seize and Louis notices. "I shouldn't have said that." Louis mumbles, readying to move. Harry stops him, hands holding his arms.

''Louis, I-" He stares into his eyes, the clear blue overshadowed by black. Lust, so hot in his eyes. Harry loves it, loves how gone he is. He can't stop now, won't stop. " I love you." He breathes, melting back into it, kissing Louis' breath away. He needs to fulfill this boy's wish. It's a birthday wish.

His hand goes down again, drawing closer to Louis' arse, skirting his fingers against his most sensitive spot. Louis' hiccups, not used to the feeling yet, squirming a bit as Harry continues his torture. Harry drops his head, spit leaving his mouth in a long strand to help ease the pain. He made sure to have as much saliva as possible because this was going to be Louis' virginity on the line. He didn't want to hurt him, least of all make it uncomfortable. He had a few fingers in, Louis lost in pleasure as the pain subsided. This was different, but not unwelcomed. Louis wanted something more again, wanted to see what Harry would do next.

"Are you okay?" Harry needed to ask, to make sure Louis wasn't in pain, that this was just as nice for him as much as it was for Harry. Louis, breathless and pliant, nodded, reaching up to tug Harry close.

"I love you. A lot." He exhales, moaning loudly as Harry finally takes the final step. It's unexpectedly painful, but it stops as soon as it comes, Louis wrapping his legs around the man. He twitches with every thrust, Harry finally giving him his greatest desire. He feels light, bubbly in the late of night, wanting to laugh all of a sudden. He stops short when Harry hits something inside of him, makes him keen instead. He bucks up with it, Harry picking up speed with his own all consumed pleasure.

Harry wants to drive Louis mad with everything he's held in. The passion of every bite, kiss, lick, he wants the boy to feel every part of him. He wants to make sure he knows just how wild the boy drives him, wants him to realize that he loves him too. "Louis I-" His eyes tear up, oddity of all odds. Harry isn't one to cry, not normally, but this giving of himself to the boy has made him sentimental. Love, love is so very clear to him in this moment. He loves this boy with all his heart.

Nostalgia hits, remembering the young boy on the train. Remembering how young he looked, how lost he had been. Now the boy in front him is still as youthful as ever, but with love in his eyes and a warm tinge to his face. He's adored and appreciated in Harry's arms and Harry just can't take it anymore. He comes, his hand swiftly tugging at Louis' prick to make him come too. Louis is far gone the second he does come, blindly arching his back in pleasure. His shout is hoarse, whine sinful as he lowers back onto the mattress. Louis' breathe is ragged as Harry rides out his own orgasm, stilling when he's sated. He bends down to kiss Louis again, to mark his lips one last time.

Louis is officially eighteen, no longer boy, but man. But to Harry, he will always the boy on the train, the one that made him question all sanity until this point because he's now aware of why this boy drove him so crazy. He was destined to love him, to have him be his lover in the midst of the chaos of this day and age. He was going to love this boy forever, his green light in the bay. He wasn't going to be alone anymore. He was going to have Louis there to ease his days.

Life in the 1920's is party and riches and reputation, but Harry wanted to forget all that, at last with Louis in his arms, his life was made.

THE END