Wear it like a crown

chap 12

hey slept well into the afternoon, or at least Louis did. Harry woke around noon and needed several seconds to orient himself—the bright sunshine, the warm weight plastered to his back, the memory of a conversation that felt like the hazy remnants of a dream. The lingering impression of Louis' hands all over him. 

Of course I'll still want you, little Prince.

Moving a little, Harry's muscles gave a faint twinge. With a smile, he shifted in the circle of Louis' arms to study him from up close.

In sleep, Louis' features were lax, lips parted slightly to release long, regular breaths. Harry was briefly caught in wanting to trace Louis' long lashes with his fingertips, their ends brighter, paled by the sun. Then Harry noticed the dark smudges under Louis' eyes, hinting that Louis' lack of sleep went beyond just that one night.

Slowly, careful not to wake him, Harry slid out of the embrace and went to take a shower. A glance into the mirror revealed several fresh bruises that Louis' mouth and hands had left, littering Harry's torso and the insides of his thighs. Finger-shaped marks decorated the spot where Louis had held on tightly, shadows pressed into the pale skin right next to the jut of Harry's left hipbone. Harry fought the shiver of arousal and thought about it—waking Louis with his mouth and his hands, fingers nudging into him.

No, there was plenty of time for that later. Let Louis catch up on sleep first.

After a quick message to Niall and Zayn (

'Happy like a room without a roof!'

), Harry retreated onto the balcony. He ordered a late breakfast from room service, then settled in to wait with his book in his lap, the sun pouring down on him.

The knock at the door came some fifteen minutes later. While Harry sprinted inside to answer it quickly, before it would disturb Louis' sleep, he wasn't fast enough; Louis gave a little jolt and came awake with a start. He sat up, the thin sheet pooling at his waist, and dear God, he was breathtaking. No one could blame Harry for stopping to tug him into a close-mouthed kiss, smiling when Louis responded immediately, seemingly on instinct, skin warm with sleep. "Breakfast," Harry told him in an undertone, straightening. "If you want. You can sleep some more after."

Louis' eyes were slightly unfocused, staring up at Harry. "Breakfast," he repeated blankly. "Yeah, sounds good."

Shooting him a bright look, Harry went to open the door and made certain that Louis couldn't be spotted. He rolled the food cart into the room himself, and Louis climbed out of bed a moment later, fully naked. After looking down at himself, he grabbed the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his waist.

"What did you do 

that

 for?" Harry asked.

"You're dressed," Louis pointed out. "So you don't get to complain."

"Just my pants. I didn't want to flash a passing plane or something."

Louis' gaze dragged down Harry's torso, lingered on the bruise at Harry's hip, then moved lower to assess the flimsy boxer briefs Harry had shuffled into after his shower. "All right," Louis allowed, slow and sweet. "The pants can stay. Not like they hide much."

"Which is why it's still unfair that you're donning a toga," Harry told him. "Hides far too much."

Louis' only answer consisted of a smirk. He followed leisurely when Harry moved the cart over to the balcony doors and watched, head tilted at a curious angle, when Harry laid everything out on the table outside. "Some help?" Harry asked.

"Certainly." With that, Louis draped himself along Harry's back and clung to him, mirroring his every step and slowing Harry down with the effort of coordinating them both.