0000 hours.
There's a bed, a lone bed, placed flush against the wall of an expensive hotel. And there lies two bodies, pressed incredibly close to one another. Lanky legs thrown across a small waist, hands splayed across tattoos, breathes slow. The air around them is cold, but in the center of the bed, is a warmth, not one that some may get from a heater, or a fireplace, or a stove or hot chocolate, but the warmth you can only get from being in the arms of the one you love.
It's quiet.
YOU ARE READING
24 |hours with larry|
Fanfiction24 hours with Larry Stylinson. It's short for a reason, meant to be read in one sitting.
