Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

lip liner

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"How big is your dick?"

Louis closes his book - something for English, he'll have you know. Reading and pleasure are two words that he purposely does not allow together - and lets it fall to his lap. "Come again?"

"Like, approximately." Harry is throwing jelly beans and trying to catch them in his mouth, tone light and casual as if they're discussing the weather rather than Louis's... masculinity.

He wrinkles his nose. "Um, I don't know. I've never measured it?"

Harry sits up, suddenly very serious. "Can you?"

They stare at each other for a moment, and Louis is fairly certain his face is hot enough to fry an egg. That is, of course, until Harry starts cackling wickedly and chucks a pink jelly bean at Louis. "I'm kidding! You should've seen your face."

"I hate you," Louis huffs, successfully embarrassed, and he throws the jelly bean right back. Harry is sitting on his bed, and Louis is sitting across the room on the sofa. The sofa. Harry has a sofa in his room. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't jealous. Harry also has excellent water pressure; something Louis had learned during Damage Control after Harry accidentally smeared chocolate ice cream down his front.

Harry's still giggling, stuffing candy into his mouth like a child, and Louis might legitimately resent him if he wasn't so fond. He runs his hand through his fringe, sighs, and takes a moment to wonder if Harry is a dream or a boy. Or both.

"You know, I heard there's, like, insect shit in those," he accuses, pointing at the opened bag on Harry's bed. There's a scatter of colorful beans across the surface, and Louis briefly considers taking it away before Harry pukes.

"Oh yeah?" Harry snorts, popping another piece in his mouth just to spite Louis, "I suppose you read that on the internet?"

"No," he lies. He tries his hardest to keep his expression neutral, but he knows Harry can see right through him. "I... my aunt is a jelly bean manufacturer."

"Is she?"

"Yes."

"What's her name?" Harry seems too entertained by their dialogue to continue stuffing his face.

"Shelly."

"Don't say it-"

"Shelly Bean." Louis cracks a smile of his own, and it only gets bigger when Harry lets out a dramatic, heavy groan. "Aw, c'mon. I thought that was a good one."

Harry flops onto his back, taking his bag of beans with him, and resumes his jelly bean throwing. He misses almost every time, the beans ricocheting off his face and hitting the floor, and he hums in response.

"Harry," Louis prompts, and then when Harry fails to answer, "Harry. Harry. Hazza."

"Mmf," Harry replies.

"You're going to make yourself sick," Louis tuts as he stands and crosses the room, plucking the bag from where it lays atop Harry's stomach and hiding it behind his back. Harry looks at him with genuine betrayal painted across his face, and Louis has to fight back a smile. He sits up again, pouting, and one of his hands snakes up to grab the bottom of Louis's shirt. "I hate this color on you."

Louis blinks. "Thanks."

With a sly look that Louis knows all too well, Harry purrs, "You should take it off." His lower lip tucks itself beneath his teeth, and Louis almost rolls his eyes.

"Harold. How did we get here, anyway? I'm just trying to take your candy and you turn it into something naughty." Louis turns and sets the bag on Harry's nightstand, allowing Harry to pull him onto the bed. Suddenly, before he has time to process it, Harry's straddling him and messing up Louis's fringe with his hands. "Hey, stop it." Louis's protests do nothing but encourage Harry even further. He pushes Louis's hair back so far that it almost hurts, watches it fall back on Louis's face, and laughs like he's pleased with himself. What a weirdo Louis's got on his hands, honestly.