- “”You’ve got quite a collection of films here.” / Harry can see the chain of the necklace between the man’s fingers, can’t understand why he doesn’t just hand it over, but waits for Louis’ signal to pry it out of his grip. / ”I do,” the man acknowledges. ”I need to sort them a bit, but yeah, I’m a bit of a film buff, you could say.” / ”Wicked,” Louis breathes as he starts in on the second pile. / ”Yes, fascinating,” Harry finally says, words spilling out without any real thought, but also without regret. ”Can we just get Louis’ necklace and be out of here before you decide to ring the police, please?” / The man jolts and then nods quickly. ”Right, of course. So sorry,” he adds, stepping closer to Louis and extending the necklace to him. ”Harold, was it?” he asks, turning his attention to the door. / ”Harry,” is all he offers in response. There is only one person that Harry has ever allowed to call him by that stupid, horrible nickname. / The man nods again, apparently deciding that Louis is the safer of the two of them. Anyone who actually knows Harry would say that he’s as harmless as a tiny fly, but that doesn’t mean he can’t draw up to his full six feet, straighten his broad shoulders, and look intimidating when he wants to. / Louis is as unaffected as ever, though, smiling as he clasps the necklace around his neck. He strokes the charm for a moment and then blinks, as though pulling himself out of his emotions. / ”Thanks, mate,” he says, so genuinely greatful that Harry hates this man even more. That affectionate look is Harry’s, dammit. / ”It’s Greg,” the man says, growing somewhat flustered under the glow of Louis’ smile. Harry can’t blame him for that. Louis’ smile has disarmed bigger, more imposing men than this oversized toothpick. ”My name’s Greg.”” — Tell Every Lost Boy (that you’re my man)
- “Something is sizzling in the air, Harry thinks. Louis might be flirting, but sometimes it’s hard to tell with him. He had to jam his tongue down Harry’s throat that first time, years ago now, before Harry believed that Louis actually wanted him in the same way that Harry wanted Louis.” — Tell Every Lost Boy (that you’re my man)
- “He takes a deep breath and clicks the door open, swinging it wide and cocking his hip against the doorframe. Louis is sitting on the couch outside of the dressing room, picking at his nails; he looks up and sputters when he sees Harry standing there. / ”How do I look?” Harry asks lowly. He turns around and gestures towards the unzipped back of his skirt for him to help. Louis stumbles forward and places a cold hand on the exposed side of Harry’s stomach, steadying him while he pulls the zipper up the rest of the way. He pushes Harry back into the dressing room and stands behind him in front of the mirror. / ”It’s — you’re tight,” Louis chokes. ”It’s tight, I mean. It’s. Yes.” His hand is curved around his hip now, squeezing lightly. / ”Tight’s good, right?” Harry murmurs, batting his eyelashes. He almost can’t believe himself.” — like how your hands feel me up and down
- “He waits for a second at the door and then swings it open just as Louis is about to knock. / ”Holy fucking shirt,” Louis breathes. And yeah, same, Harry thinks because Louis looks like a divine gift. He glances up at his ceiling and mutters a quick thank you prayer to whatever beings exist that Louis Tomlinson is real and in front of him and wearing that. / ”Hello Spiderman,” Harry greets while he looks him up and down. He has his mask pulled down around his neck and he’s wearing a hoodie but he’s clad neck to toe in skintight spandex. It clings to every inch of his body so of course Harry’s eyes quickly narrows in on the obvious bulge of his cock. He shakes himself out of it quickly, hoping he hasn’t been caught, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Louis is still dumbfounded, eyes glued to his stocking-clad legs.” — like how your hands feel me up and down
- “[…] the door to the store swings open with a little tinkle. Louis glances back and is met with a face full of curly hair and flushed cheeks and surprised eyes and yes, he most definitely wants to screw Harry.” — the city never sleeps
- “With that, Louis waves quickly and is out of the store in a flash and Harry just stares. He doesn’t even need to come up with a back-story for this man; he’s a story all on his own.” — the city never sleeps
- “Slowly, a head pokes out from beneath the fence, nervously casting a glance toward Louis’ house. Louis can’t see much from this angle, but he can make out long curls, and a jaw structure that looks too defined to belong to a child who breaks flower pots. Holding his breath in anticipation, Louis waits until the stranger’s arm reaches out for Louis’ tree, and he nearly lets out a squeak. / Tattoos. A whole lot of them, actually. And shit, that is a nice, defined arm. / ”Looking for something?” Louis pipes up, and what he receives from the other side is a startled, manly squeal before the stranger’s body is lurched backward with a loud thud. ”Fuck!” / Louis scrambles to his feet, rushing over to his neighbour’s yard. He’s ready. He’s ready to defend his fucking tree. He’s ready to beat the shit out of this lad who has been stealing his fruit for the past few weeks. He’s ready to give him all that he deserves. He’s ready… / He’s not. / Rounding the fence, Louis finds a tall man on the other side, his shirt askew and his face tinted red. And… his eyes. They’re greener than any other emerald Louis’ mom owns, and his lips. Shit. Cherry pink. / He’s breathtakingly gorgeous.” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “”Niall mentioned you, actually,” Louis tells him. ”Invited me over for pie, too.” / ”Niall,” Harry repeats, tipping his head to the side. ”You met Niall and I wasn’t there? When?” / ”The day I yelled at you for climbing my tree. I went over to your house and found Niall instead.” / ”Oh, right,” Harry says sheepishly. ”I ran away and hid.”” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “Louis swats Zayn’s arm. ”You’re being obvious again,” he whispers. / ”Being obvious about what?” Zayn says, pretending to be oblivious as to whatever Louis’ talking about. / ”Why don’t you just tell him you like him, mate,” Louis says. ”Tell him you want to order a hot cup of Liam.”” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “Shaking his head, Louis waves his hand at Zayn. ”Nope, not on a date. This is Zayn. Certified loser and heavily infatuated with our barista friend at the counter.” / ”Louis,” Zayn hisses. ”What the hell.”” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “At 2pm on Wednesday, Louis arrives at Harry’s with a box of fruit tucked under his arm and his heart beating at an unsteady pace. Making fruit smoothies isn’t a big deal. It’s just blending fruit, for God’s sake. / ”Coming!” A voice echoes from within the house, and the door flings open, revealing a sweaty Harry. / Fuck. Harry is wearing yoga pants. Yoga pants. Louis might faint.” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “”You’re wonderful,” he insists. ”You’re hilarious and charming and you let me take your fruit. Your bum is out of this world. Your smile alone can end winters. You —” / ”Stop being gross, Harry,” echoes an Irish accent from upstairs. ”I’m sure he gets it.” / ”Stop eavesdropping, you bloody leprechaun!” Harry shouts back, flustered. / ”Harry writes poetry about your eyes! He’s been wanting to tell you for weeks!” Niall calls back as Harry squeaks in embarrassment, and a door shuts.” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “True to his word, Harry delivered Louis the pie after the day they met. Louis had answered the door to a bashful Harry holding a delightful meringue pie in his hands, eyes sparkling expectantly. The pie didn’t disappoint. It was so delicious that Louis accidentally let out a moan at the first bite while Harry was in the middle of telling him about the recipe. Harry ended up stumbling over whatever he was saying.” — orange you glad i stole your heart?
- “”Um, hi,” he says, voice raspier and deeper than Louis thought would come out of someone who looks like a delicate spring flower.” — need a little sweetness in my life
- “”Can I get you anything else?” / ”Um.” Louis watches as his eyes scan over the board again, looking so unfairly, beautifully emerald like a lush forest. ”I guess throw in the monster nut.” / Louis bites his lip, and he knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s not professional, but he replies, ”Oi, I don’t know you very well, but I do get done in…” He glances at the clock on the wall. ”Fourteen minutes if you’re really interested.” / The boy’s brows furrow, face scrunching in confusion. There’s a beat of silence before he finally speaks. ”What are you talking ab— OH!” he exclaims when it clicks, eyes widening, and Louis can’t help but giggle. ”No, it’s just, no, the cookie — that’s what it’s calle—” / ”Relax, Curly,” Louis chimes in with a laugh, shaking his head gently. ”I know. Just poking a little fun, yeah? You’re not the first one to say that.” / He lets out a breath and a low chuckle of his own. ”Bet you say that to everyone, then.” / ”Louis contemplates it for a moment, but decides to continue to flirt. ”Nah, only the most beautiful boys.” / The boy looks down at the floor, smiling bashfully at his shoes while his hair falls into his face. He quickly tucks a few unruly strands behind his ear before he recovers. ”Who named that?” he asks, and Louis is only slightly disappointed he’s trying to change the subject. ”’S like. Not the best idea.” / ”Tell me about it,” Louis replies with a roll of his eyes as he plucks the cookie from the case. ”Someone needs to tell the people at corporate that that’s not what the kids mean by monster nut these days.”” — need a little sweetness in my life
- “After typing in his number, Louis contemplates for a moment what emojis to use. Harry’s recently used are a strange collection — the peace sign, the prawn, the bow, and the baby bottle just to name a few — and he decides there’s nothing there for him. His usual choice is the sunglasses emoji, but that somehow seems impersonal in a situation like this. Chuckling to himself when the perfect idea hits him, he scrolls through the emojis and adds the demon face as well as the — well, it looks like a nut, so, it probably is one, right? Louis decides it serves its purpose and hands the phone back to Harry. / He looks down and nearly spits out his drink when he realizes, and he shakes his head saying, ”Monster nut.” / ”Just a little reminder so you remember who I am,” Louis replies, and Harry giggles into his hand — actually giggles, and is it too soon for Louis to be in love? — as he shakes his head. / ”Like I’d ever be able to forget you.”” — need a little sweetness in my life
- “He’s rearranging the bagels — and can leave in 18 minutes — when a beautiful boy with long, chocolate curls walks in, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair like a headband. He’s in skin tight jeans with rips at the knees and a flowered button down that’s undone to the top of his stomach, revealing a few tattoos. He smiles as he heads to the counter, a quick glance at Louis before looking up at the menu boards, and god, the only thought on Louis’ mind — aside from how gorgeous this boy is — is how much he wished he’d actually done something with his hair before rolling out of bed this morning.” — need a little sweetness in my life
- “”m’just gonna have some of yours,” harry murmurs, looking up at louis with these lovely pine eyes, his arms reaching above his head, stomach pulled taught with the stretch, the laced ink of his ferns and butterfly breathing with him. / ”are you now?” louis asks with a gorgeously curved eyebrow and a cocked hip. his eyes roam over harry’s body unabashedly as harry stretches out further, his muscles all loose from the weed, skin golden from the LA sun, and he loves when louis looks at him.” — yes, daddy, i do
- “louis runs his hands down to harry’s bum and harry’s hips jolt forward, lace rubbing rough against his skin. he lets out a little ”ahh” and louis’ fingers sneak under his waistband as he kisses harry, hips rolling up into him with a heady slowness. / he tugs harry’s trackies down over his bum and his whole body goes still when he touches the lace. / he pulls back from harry’s ballet bruised lips and his eyes are suddenly so dark, ”darling,” he says, ”did you go into my things without asking?”” — yes, daddy, i do
- “harry hums and nuzzles into louis’ neck, lapping at his skin and rolling his hips into louis’. their cocks rub together, slick and oversensitive. louis shivers. ”daddy, will you fuck me now?” he says. / louis tips his head back and bares his throat for harry to bruise, ”only if you promise to keep your lace on, darling.” / harry wriggles happily in his lap, all seventeen and a half years of him grinning full and wide.” — yes, daddy, i do
- “harry looks at him and thinks about how when he had walked into the recording studio of triple string ltd. as a naive sixteen year old he’d had no idea that a year later he’d be getting tied to his twenty seven year old producer’s bed every second night and fucked so hard he saw stars.” — yes, daddy, i do
- “he lights up another joint and rubs absentmindedly at harry’s tummy, watches the straw caught between harry’s lips, and wouldn’t those just be beautiful wrapped around his fingers, his hipbones, his cock.” — yes, daddy, i do
- “”you know you don’t get nice things from daddy until you’re especially good.” louis continues, and each time he spanks harry it leaves a lovely little pink flush behind. louis can see his fingerprints on harry’s skin. it does funny, twisted things to his insides.” — yes, daddy, i do
- “It made him feel hopeless and idiotic, and it made the idea of finding love again daunting, because how could he ever find someone else that could replace him? They had been in love the very moment they met, and of course he had pushed too hard — had pushed him to the breaking point until he had no choice but to dump Harry.” — The Beauty of Rebirth
- “Because the person in front of him was utterly gorgeous. He had feathery brown hair that fell gracefully across his forehead, blue eyes that shone like precious stones, and a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He was small, but built, and his muscles were on display due to the tank top that hugged him slightly, accentuating his effortless beauty. / And his arse. Jesus fucking Christ.” — The Beauty of Rebirth
- “”You still look exactly the same,” laughed Louis. ”Do you remember my name?” / ”Louis Tomlinson,” he breathed out quietly, and watched as Louis’ expression brightened up considerably. / ”Ah, a man after my own heart!” he crowed. ”You don’t know how happy it makes me to know my old crush remembers my name.”” — The Beauty of Rebirth
- “”What are you doing here?” he accused. His heart was beating erratically, rabbiting against his ribcage, and he wasn’t angry, really, just nervous as he looked into those cerulean eyes that he had once known so well. / Louis looked shocked at his question, his eyebrows rising to hide behind his feathery fringe. The silence stretched on for a while, before Louis quietly said, ”Suppose the groom’s best man has to make an appearance, doesn’t he?” / ”You’re Niall’s best man?” he blurted out. / ”Guilty as charged,” quipped Louis, and Harry winced as the words resonated. It was so Louis to say that, and it reminded him of that day all those years ago. / It made him bitter, and he couldn’t help the scowl that appeared. ”Should’ve figured it was you.” / ”And what’s that supposed to mean, Curly?” Louis looked hopeful and Harry — / He just — / Absolutely fucking not. ”Don’t call me that,” Harry quietly seethed. ”You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.” / Louis’ expression fell immediately, and his hands went up in the nervous tick that he still had from all those years ago. He was nervously wringing his hands together in front of him, and Harry’s eyes narrowed at the sight. / ”You lost that privilege when you broke my heart three years ago.” / Louis looked pained. / ”Harry,” Louis started, but Harry held a hand up, silencing him. / ”You broke me, Louis. You just—” He cut himself off, swallowed, and angrily swiped at the tears that were threatening to spill. ”You left me, you prick. Without a reason, like our three years together was nothing to you.”” — The Beauty of Rebirth
- “Sharp pain was blooming around his heart, and he lowered his head to avoid looking at Louis. ”I should probably go,” the words feeling like sharp glass as they left his mouth. / ”I love you,” said Louis, and it took all of Harry’s courage to walk away.” — The Beauty of Rebirth
- “Tomlinson blushes but doesn’t reply, merely gives an awkward bow and hurries to the door. Harry can’t help but notice the way the trousers of his uniform hug Tomlinson’s backside, Harry’s mind conjuring up images that would probably give his uncle a heart attack. / The man is nearly out the door when, emboldened by the brandy, Harry stops him. ”Oh, and Tomlinson,” he says, waiting for the steward to meet his gaze before continuing, ”you’re welcome to test the softness of my bed any time you please.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “He gnaws at his lips, hands tugging fretfully at the hem of his coat. ”I suppose you’re going to turn me in now?” / Feigning deep consideration, Harry strokes his chin, pursing his lips thoughtfully. ”Hmm, I could,” he says slowly, not missing the way Louis’ body tenses at the words. ”But I rather think I’d prefer to ask you to dinner instead.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “”I’m not worth all the fuss,” Louis insists stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. / Still smiling, albeit a bit sadly, Harry steps closer yet. This time he does raise his arm, letting the back of his hand slide along Louis’ cheek in the barest of touches. The contact startles Louis, but he doesn’t back away from it, just follows Harry’s movements with wide, questioning eyes. / ”You’re worth all this and more, I’d wager,” Harry murmurs, dropping his hand and stepping away.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “”Tomlinson, eh?” he says, picking up a canapé from his plate. ”I’ve never heard of you before.” / The distaste is clear in Charles’ voice: If he hasn’t heard of someone, they’re nobody. Louis bristles, clenching his glass of champagne harder than he ought to, before replying in a honeyed voice: ”Nor I of you. I suppose we’re even.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Hanging the jacket over the back of a chair, Harry takes a step closer to Louis. His eyes are kind as he looks down at Louis, smiling wide enough to produce a dimple in his left cheek. Louis swallows hard, not sure why being the focus of Harry’s attentions has his heart hammering away in his chest. He isn’t afraid — if Harry were going to turn him in, he would have done it by now. But then what else could explain the fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach?” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “His face sags at the edges, like his skin is tired of being attached to his muscles.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “It’s true, Louis may be nobody to these people, but he’s certainly not going to be insulted and keep his mouth shut.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Pulling the borrowed jacket from his shoulders, Louis smiles proudly. ”I think I did quite all right, if I say so myself.” His fingers move to the buttons of his waistcoat, then his shirt. / Harry’s eyes watch every movement, gleaming in the electric lighting as he slowly removes his own clothing. “I think you did splendidly,” he breathes, and for some queer reason the praise makes Louis shiver. / “You’re staring,” Louis says, feeling somewhat exposed stood there in just his undershirt and steward’s trousers. / “I am, yes.” / “Why?” / Harry’s eyes fall to the floor, cheeks red enough to rival the silk paneling of the walls. “Because I rather think I’d like to kiss you,” he admits, still staring down at his polished shoes. / The words hit Louis like locomotive, leaving him frozen in place as he tries to process what Harry’s just said. He’d be lying if he said the prospect doesn’t appeal to him, but a niggling voice in his head reminds him that Harry is a man, and King Edward’s law is quite clear on the matter — not to mention God’s own law. / There are dozens upon dozens of reasons why he should decline, excuse himself back to Third Class and never look back, but, yet again, Louis’ not the best at doing as he should. / “All right,” he says, his mouth dry as paper around the words. / Harry’s head jerks up in surprise, his eyes searching Louis’ face for any hint of jest. He’s at Louis’ side in two steps, his hand coming up to cup Louis’ cheek, Louis leaning into the touch despite his mind screaming at him to run. / It seems as if Harry is moving in slow motion, his eyes fluttering closed as he bends to cover Louis’ lips with his own. They’re warm and soft, offset by the roughness of the stubble just growing back along Harry’s cheeks. It’s the closest Louis’ ever felt to another person. / Louis forgets to breathe for a beat or two, and when he remembers, the fresh oxygen to his brain disperses some of the drunken fog. He leaps away from Harry, a hand flying to his lips to feel the lingering wetness and warmth. / “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he says sharply, trying to ignore the wounded look in Harry’s eyes. “Thank you for today, and good night.” Grabbing up the steward’s jacket, he flings open the door and doesn’t turn back, even when Harry calls after him as he rounds the corner of the First Class corridor. / It’s wrong, it’s a sin, it’s a crime. Each footfall sends a new thought spinning wildly through Louis’ muddled brain. Finally back on F Deck, he’s so sick to his stomach that he thinks he might vomit up every last bit of the best dinner he’s ever tasted. He clutches at the jacket, pulling it away from his neck. It’s a blessing no one saw him in his flight; having struggled into the jacket as he ran, several buttons were missed altogether. / Mercifully, his cabin is empty when he reaches it, the other men no doubt still reveling with newfound friends. With trembling fingers he undresses quickly, hurrying underneath the bedclothes to avoid looking at his traitorous body. / It hadn’t felt wrong, is the thing. His entire life he’s heard men who engage in such acts described as sinners, pederasts, and abominations. Yet how can he reconcile those awful words with Harry Styles? Harry, who is charming and kind, well-mannered and handsome. Who loves his sister and mourns his mother, and didn’t turn Louis in for impersonating a steward. Could such a man be spoken of so highly in one breath, and cast as a disgrace in the next? / His mind churning as wildly as the sea underneath the three great propellers at the stern, Louis closes his eyes, allowing the steady thrum of the engines to lull him into a troubled sleep. Perhaps he will be able to see things more clearly in the morning. Better yet, maybe he dreamt the whole thing — though the way his lips still tingle, the way his cheek misses the warmth of a certain palm, confirms what he already knows: It was real, and it was wonderful. / And it must never, ever happen again.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““Tommo, get out of here. I’m sure your girl is wondering where you are,” he says with a wink, making Louis stammer and blush as Stan and Zayn erupt in laughter. / Louis narrows his eyes, but doesn’t miss the way Niall tips his head at the drawer concealing the uniform. The other lads don’t even notice; they’re too busy executing a charade of Stan (as Louis) trying to woo Zayn, who is doing possibly the worst imitation of an Irish lass that Louis has ever had the misfortune to hear. / He doesn’t want to see Harry. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that his lips have touched another man’s, and instead of revulsion he feels… something else. Curiosity. Interest. Maybe, somewhere deep down, even a bit of pleasure. It had been a rather nice kiss, after all, until Louis’ brain had caught up with his lips.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “It’s been two days now since Harry boarded the Titanic, and he’s right back where he started: curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wishing this damn voyage was over already. / He can’t believe he was so stupid. Kissing Louis was a mistake, and now he’s lost the closest thing to a friend he’s had in years. He can only hope Louis doesn’t turn him in, though Harry wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. / A knock at the door startles him out of his melancholy and out of bed, still wearing his pyjamas even though it’s past midday. His heart flutters with the hope that it could be Louis, perhaps willing to give Harry a chance to explain.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““It’s past noon. That’s far long enough to have slept off whatever trouble you got into last night.” / It’s all Harry can do not to roll his eyes heavenward, not wanting to risk a wallop from his sister. “I didn’t drink too much, if you must know,” he grumbles, wishing that too much alcohol was the cause behind his pounding head and aching heart. / Gemma tilts her head, studying him curiously. “What’s troubling you, then? You seemed so happy at dinner. The fellow you brought, Tomlinson, he had you in higher spirits than I’ve seen in ages.” / He must flinch at the name, because Gemma’s eyes widen in understanding. “Did something happen after dinner?” / “We had a bit of a misunderstanding.” Harry’s eyes stay fixed on his hands, too humiliated to meet his sister’s gaze. “I— I kissed him, and he fled.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““I most regret causing him any distress. I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to apologise to him.” / “I wouldn’t say that.” Gemma face is a perfect mask, completely inscrutable. There’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that she’s up to something, though what it is he can’t begin to guess. “You should have seen the way he looked at you at dinner. I’d wager that we’ll be seeing Mr Tomlinson again.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Harry asks from the doorway, glancing with concern between the pair of them. / “No, I was just leaving.” Gemma moves from her chair to Harry’s side, skirts rustling in her wake. She leans in close, her lips only a hairsbreadth from Harry’s ear as she whispers, “I like this one, Harry. Please be careful.” She punctuates the warning with a kiss to her brother’s cheek. Without another word, only a reassuring smile in Louis’ direction, she leaves the two men alone in the heavy silence.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield it.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “He holds up a hand, still sticky with juice from a perfectly ripe peach. “And I certainly never thought the most luscious peach I’d ever eat would be found at sea.” / “Amazing what you can find at sea, isn’t it?” Harry drawls, eyeing Louis like he’s still hungry, and the last course isn’t something that can be served on a plate.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Now, though. Now all he can think about is Harry’s long, slender fingers, the perfect bow of his lips. Of baring himself completely to someone — no, not just someone, but Harry. / Louis shivers despite himself, the images in his mind proving too much for him to bear. / “Are you cold?” Harry asks, lips drawn in a concerned frown. “We can go, if you’d like.” / “Yes, please,” Louis replies, surprised at the roughness of his own voice. / The way Harry’s pupils dilate in the soft lighting says that Louis’ tone did not go unnoticed. After that it’s only a matter of moments before Harry is slipping their server a generous wad of notes and leading the way out of the restaurant. / The walk back to Harry’s stateroom is silent but for the hammering of Louis’ heart against his rib cage. His hand keeps accidentally brushing Harry’s as they go, little jolts of electricity bursting from each touch. His head swirls from the wine and his thoughts and Harry, so close to him yet forbidden to touch until they’re safely locked away. Harry’s lips are stained red from the wine, and Louis would rather like to kiss him, to see if they still taste of Chateau Larose. / It seems to take ages to reach their destination on C Deck, despite the A La Carte being only one level above. When they finally reach the cabin, Louis’ palms are sweaty and his lip is bitten nearly raw; Harry isn’t in much better shape, judging by the way his hand slips off the doorknob on the first try. / “Please kiss me again,” Louis asks the second they’re safely ensconced. Harry complies without a word, their mouths falling together effortlessly. To Louis it feels like the first exhale after holding a breath for too long, releasing everything stale and toxic inside of him to replace it with fresh and new. With Harry. / A wet pressure on Louis’ lips takes him by surprise, even more so when Harry’s tongue slips inside his mouth. It should feel wrong — disgusting, even — but instead Louis melts into the kiss. He feels as if Harry is learning his body inside and out, more intimately than anyone else in the world knows him. He tentatively probes back with his own tongue, earning a groan from low in Harry’s throat. / “I’ve never kissed like that,” Louis gasps when they part, saliva cooling on his tingling lips. / Harry’s eyes are surprised but patient. He brushes stray wisps of hair from Louis’ damp forehead, a smile quirking at his swollen lips. “I’m sorry, I should have asked your permission. I find it hard to control myself around you,” he admits, looking embarrassed. / To be desired, particularly by a man who can have anything, is a heady feeling.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Harry’s hands continue to map Louis’ body, rolling slightly to the side so he can reach between them. The first drag of fingertips over Louis’ abdomen has his whole body twitching, and when they journey lower— / “Oh!” Louis gasps as Harry takes hold of him. He’s never been touched by another person, not like this, and it’s hard to believe how impossibly wonderful it feels. Harry’s hand is warm, and Louis’ hips chase the touch of their own accord. / “Does this feel good?” Harry asks as he strokes, watching Louis’ face carefully for any flicker of doubt. He won’t be finding any. / Louis’ thoughts are a jumble, hazy and incomplete. All he can focus on is the hand gripping his arousal, Harry’s hand, and the spike of heat from somewhere deep inside him. He can feel Harry’s body reacting as well, his length pressing insistently against Louis’ hip, and he can’t help but reach for it in wonder: This is because of me. / The timid brush of Louis’ fingers has Harry moaning, nearly collapsing on top of him. Emboldened, he takes Harry in his hand, replicating Harry’s touches on his own body. / “Louis,” Harry keens, rocking his hips into Louis’ touch, his own ministrations picking up speed. / “Harry,” Louis whines in reply, amazed at the noises spilling from Harry’s mouth in response to his touch. Muscles ripple and flex beneath Harry’s pale skin, his curls hanging limp and sweaty over Louis like a curtain, and Louis knows his name has never sounded as good as it does slotted between the moans falling from Harry’s plush lips.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “As much as he tells himself that he’ll be fine if he has to say goodbye, something in his chest wrenches terribly. James took such a large portion of his heart when he was sent away, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to love again. / Now, with Louis sleeping at his side, Harry feels as if maybe the missing piece of his heart didn’t leave with James, but rather was always gone, only returning to him the first time he saw Louis in the crowd from the Titanic’s gangplank. / Because the man with the fire in his eyes had been Louis, he’s sure of it. Harry was meant to find him, in one way or another, and now all he can do is hope that Louis feels the same. He isn’t sure he can handle his heart being torn asunder once more, not after finally remembering what it feels like to be whole. / Eventually he succumbs to sleep, lulled by the whispers of the ship and the gentle puffs of air from the man sleeping beside him. He doesn’t dream, exactly, but his subconscious conjures the image of clear blue eyes and windswept brown hair, the only face in focus in a sea of thousands, and Harry sleeps better than he has in years.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Louis’ cheeks are flushed, his lips wet and breath coming out in little puffs. Harry’s too polite to check if Louis is as affected by the kiss as he is, but the way Louis’ hands fall in front of his groin gives Harry a fairly good indication.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “He’s the most exquisite thing Louis has ever seen, including all the other wonders First Class has to offer. Harry Styles was born to be beautiful. / Harry just smiles at him, and it feels like all the air rushes from the room. It seems so surreal, standing across from an exquisite man wearing exquisite clothes, and only moments after he’d been kissing said man. The memory of the kiss has Louis’ heart fumbling its cadence, a faint tingle warming his lips and, ah, other parts of his anatomy as well. The thought is enough to make Louis blush — he’d heard of men sharing their bodies, of course, but never in a way that made it sound at all desirable. Now, looking at Harry, he thinks he might be willing to take a closer look.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““You’d kiss me and then go stand before God?” Louis murmurs, pointedly avoiding Harry’s eyes. He’s afraid of what he’ll find there, perhaps the dawning realisation of the sin they committed in this very bed. / Gentle fingers grasp Louis’ chin, lifting his face so that he’s looking straight at Harry. “Kissing you has brought me closer to God than any sermon ever could,”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “If he doesn’t do exactly as Charles says, he’ll be arrested — and not only for impersonating a steward. Worse, Harry would be in danger as well. Surely this isn’t worth that. / Louis isn’t worth that.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “There’d been no response from Liam other than thoughtful humming. Louis lifted his head, seeking out the steward’s face. “What?” / “What if you don’t go to him?” Liam asked, as if it were the most obvious suggestion in the world. “What if he comes to you?” / Louis’ eyes bulged out of his head at the suggestion, at the thought of Harry in Third Class — so much beauty and grace surrounded by plain white walls and simple furnishings, dirty men in worn clothing and rats scurrying down the corridor to and from the ship’s pantry — like some sort of fallen angel come to preach the gospel to the damned. / “He would never,” he answered eventually, not that Louis would blame him. After all, it had been a treat to sneak into First Class for Harry. Harry, on the other hand, would have nothing to gain by seeking out Louis.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““Just promise me you’ll take care of each other, and remember what I told you.” / “’Where there’s love, it’s never foolish to hope,’” he recites, cheeks going pink as he glances at Harry, quite a lovely shade of scarlet himself.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““Whose room is this?” Harry asks as he sinks down onto a bunk, fingers going to work unfastening the buttons on the uniform jacket as soon as Payne excuses himself. / Louis takes a seat on the bed across from him, smoothing out a wrinkle in the blanket from his weight. “No one’s,” he explains, lifting his eyes to watch Harry’s hands caress the buttons in a way that has Louis biting at his lip. “The maiden voyage wasn’t sold out, see, so there are empty cabins in every class.” / The way Louis is worrying his bottom lip, the points of his teeth digging in just enough to leave the flesh beneath momentarily white before colour floods back in, has Harry feeling far too warm in the little cabin.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “His hands slide over Louis’ shirt, far thinner than the steward’s jacket and patched in places. It’s strange — Harry has seen Louis in some of the finest suits money can buy, yet here he is looking just as dashing in threadbare linen. / The need to express himself is overwhelming, love pouring out of Harry in the form of a line of kisses trailing down Louis’ neck. In return, Louis is incredibly responsive, sighing with pleasure at each brush of Harry’s lips. Taking great care not to dislodge any buttons, each one seeming to have been sewn on again and again, Harry carefully opens Louis’ shirt, planting a kiss as each new bit of quivering flesh is exposed. / Finally the shirt is open and Harry is nipping at the soft skin just above the waistband of Louis’ trousers. The corduroy is tented with Louis’ erection, and Harry can’t resist placing a kiss directly over the top of it. / “What are you doing?” Louis gasps, though his hips buck into the touch of their own accord. / Harry pulls himself up to sitting, finding one of Louis’ hands and covering it with his own. “I want to do something for you,” he says, drawing figure eights on the back of Louis’ hand with the tip of a finger. “May I?” / There’s a moment of hesitation, a lip tucked between teeth, before Louis dips his head in a nod. “Yes,” he replies, in contradiction of the uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. / Squeezing once more, Harry pulls his hand away and lowers himself to his knees on the floor, Louis’ legs hanging off the mattress on either side of him. Louis watches every movement with intense curiosity, following Harry’s fingers as they undo the fastening of his trousers. / The garment is soon shed, Louis lifting his rump to allow Harry to pull the trousers completely free. It’s breathtaking, seeing Louis like this, spread out and vulnerable just for him. Ribs and collarbones are a bit too visible for Harry’s liking, each jut of bone speaking of missed meals and poor nutrition, but Louis still manages to look like a work of art. / Fortunately for Harry, that isn’t the case, as he has no intention of just looking at this particular masterpiece. / “Is this all right?” Harry murmurs, running his palms up Louis’ bare, muscular thighs, stopping just shy of where he most wants to touch. To taste. / “Yes,” Louis gasps, wriggling as if to get Harry to move his hands. “Yes, Harry, please.” / That’s all the incentive Harry needs to take Louis into his mouth, using his lips and tongue to give pleasure in a way that fingers simply cannot. If the strained string of curses is anything to go by, the action catches Louis off guard, his hands tangling themselves in Harry’s curls and holding on for dear life. / The end comes quickly, Louis pushing his hips into the velvet warmth of Harry’s mouth, his own pleasure escalating with every moan and swear drawn from Louis’ bitten lips. He doesn’t pull his mouth away until Louis is spent and boneless, whimpering and pawing at Harry until he joins him on the bed.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “When Louis wakes up to the supper call, his arm is asleep and there’s a clump of thick, dark hair caught in his mouth. He chuckles to himself as he removes it, taking in the sleeping form twined around his body. / Harry is still fully clothed, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed and the arm not holding Louis flung over his head. His hair is in disarray, what appears to be dried spittle flecking the corners of his gaping mouth. At least, Louis thinks that’s what it is, feeling his face go hot as he recalls their pre-nap activities. He can’t believe that Harry put his mouth, well — down there — and seemed to enjoy it. / Not that Louis’ complaining; it had been the most exquisite sensation he’s ever felt in his life. The slick, wet heat, the suction, the clever motions of Harry’s tongue… it was paradise. If what they did last night gave Louis a glimpse of Heaven, then today he could have sworn he caught sight of God Himself.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““Harry.” Louis runs the back of his hand down Harry’s cheek before settling it on his shoulder. “Harry, it’s time for supper.” / Dark lashes slowly part to reveal sleepy green eyes. They roam the strange room for a moment before finding Louis, the resulting smile enough to have Louis considering skipping his third meal of the day to keep it in place. / “Are you hungry?” Louis asks, running his fingers through sleep-tangled curls. “It’s time for supper, if you’d like to eat.” / “I’m famished,” Harry admits, turning his head to kiss Louis’ hand before rolling himself out of bed. “My stomach is not pleased with me for missing two meals in one day.” / Louis shrugs as he stands, looking around for wherever his clothing ended up. “You get used to it,” he says nonchalantly, finding his trousers and stuffing his legs into them before moving on to his shoes. / It’s been silent for just a little too long when Louis straightens back up, shoes in place. Harry is staring at him with a clouded expression, a sad tilt to his mouth and eyes shining with the threat of tears. / Louis’ heart twists at the spectacle. Beautiful people should never look so downtrodden. “What’s the matter?” / Scrubbing his hand over his face, Harry takes a deep breath before he speaks. “It’s just– I can’t bear to think of you going hungry,” he admits softly, voice cracking in the middle. “Were it up to me, you’d never miss a meal again.” / There’s a part of Louis that wants to be annoyed, wants to remind Harry that the world is filled with starving people who will never be spared a second thought, wants to scream that he isn’t Harry’s to save. / But then he thinks of life after this ship, potentially a life with Harry, and it dawns on him suddenly that there’s a very real possibility he will never go hungry again. Not that it has any effect on his feelings for Harry — he’s never used someone for a handout, and isn’t about to start now — and of course he plans on doing his share of work. Louis Tomlinson will be a kept man for no one.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““So, Styles, how do you know our Tommo here?” Niall asks, slapping Louis on the back. / Harry quirks an eyebrow at the nickname but refrains from comment, instead taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips before speaking. “We sort of just ran into each other, didn’t we?” Harry asks, looking to Louis for confirmation. “He stumbled into my cabin one night thinking it was his.” He smiles, seemingly pleased with himself for staying as close to the truth as possible. / “Full up to the knocker, wasn’t I?” Louis replies with a grin of his own. “Couldn’t tell me arse from me elbow. Styles here was kind enough to make sure I didn’t get into too much trouble.” / Stan howls with laughter, elbowing Harry in his amusement. “What I wouldn’t give to have seen that!” / “I’ll never forget it,” Harry agrees, knocking his glass against Stan’s, with a brief yet significant glance at Louis. “And you all share a cabin?” he asks the other lads. / “We do when Tommo here actually comes home,” Zayn teases. “Haven’t seen much of him lately.” / “Tommo’s got himself a girl,” Stan whispers conspiratorially, though it’s plenty loud enough to be heard by everyone around him. / Harry’s eyebrows creep toward his hairline, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as he turns to Louis. “A girl, you say? He hasn’t mentioned.” / The look on Harry’s face says that he’ll be ribbing Louis about this later, when they’re alone once more. Grumbling to himself, Louis sinks down in his seat, feeling the tips of his ears go red with embarrassment.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “The General Room is filled with noise, laughter and clapping and a variety of instruments. It’s exhilarating, seeing people so loud and unrestrained, a far cry from the social gatherings Harry’s grown accustomed to. / This whole day has been rather eye opening. / Just seeing the difference in the Third Class section of the ship, still well crafted and comfortable but missing the extra touches given to other classes, was a huge surprise for Harry. Simple food and simple beds for simple people. / Except these people aren’t simple. They’re clever and talented and fun, carousing together despite language barriers and conflicting backgrounds. They’re so happy, so full of hope that a better life is waiting for them. Harry ardently hopes that it is. / In the midst of it all is Louis, laughing and smiling, clapping his hands along to the music and making up questionable lyrics to the songs. His hair hangs over his forehead, damp with sweat, and he’s rolled up the arms of his thin linen shirt to bare strong, tan forearms. He’s so different here, slinging an arm around Stan and Zayn’s necks, encouraging them to sing along. He’s unbridled, somehow, free to let his spirit shine as brightly as it’s able. / And shine it does. It’s almost as if the lustre of First Class dimmed him somehow, took away some of his radiance, and Harry’s seeing him now for the first time in full colour. It’s breathtaking.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “The door to the bathroom is closed, light creeping underneath, and the thought of Louis emerging from the room, his tan skin wet and glistening, has Harry’s trousers feeling far too tight already.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “It’s without warning when the lights go out, spilling darkness across the ocean. The great ship blots out the stars like a stain on the sky as she rises higher and higher, the black shadows of one passenger after another tumbling down her sides and into the freezing ocean. There’s a new sound now, a low, steady groan emanating from deep within the ship as she seems to rotate her deck away from them. Then, with one final roar, she slips quietly beneath the sea as if she was never there at all, leaving behind only terror in her wake. / The sound. Harry will never forget the sound for as long as he lives, the synchronised agony of a thousand souls crying out for help. From this distance words aren’t distinguishable, blending together instead into a heart wrenching moan, calling for help and for God. / The passengers in the lifeboat weep for their loved ones, mothers clutching their children, lone women holding each other, trying to come to terms with the possibility of becoming widows in the blink of an eye. Watching them, Harry is overcome with guilt and grief: the former for taking a spot in a lifeboat that could have belonged to someone else, and the latter because he can feel it in his gut that Louis didn’t keep his word.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““Gems,” Harry murmurs, eyes tracing the firmament, alighting on star after star after star. / “Hmm?” / “D’you remember what Mother told us? Just after Grandfather died?” / “Of course I do.” Gemma shifts beside him, careful not to dislodge Nellie from her shoulder as she turns to regard her sibling with a sad smile. “She told us that when you die, your soul becomes a star in the sky, and that, should we ever miss him, all we’d need to do is look up.” / Remembering the day Anne told them that, hearing her voice even in his memory, has Harry’s lips curving into a hint of a smile for the first time in hours. “Yes, that’s it.” / She reaches for his hand, squeezing it tightly in her own. “What brought that on?” she asks curiously, stroking over the back of his hand, the flimsy fabric of her gloves doing little to combat the cold. / He sags against her, still straining to look at every single star above them. “I was just thinking. The sky gained a lot of new stars tonight, is all.” His breath catches in his throat. “I wonder which one is Louis’.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““What’s your name and designation, sir?” a uniformed man asks, notebook at the ready. Several lines of the page are already filled with his cramped writing, a list of all the survivors. Harry wants so badly to ask to look for Louis’ name. / “Harry Styles, First Class,” Harry manages, his voice a strained rasp from a night of cold and calling for help. / The man raises an eyebrow at Harry’s clothing but doesn’t argue, just jots his name down before turning to the man with the Pekinese. / “C’mon, dears, let’s get you warmed up,” a stewardess with a round face suggests, gently taking Harry’s arm, her other hand on Gemma’s back. Too tired and cold to protest, Harry lets himself be lead into the Carpathia ’s First Class Dining Saloon. / The room is already filled with other survivors, wrapped in blankets and borrowed cloaks, sipping from steaming mugs to ease their shivering. A doctor checks over those worse for the wear, bundled onto makeshift cots around the room. They’re all First Class, Harry realises, catching sight of a few familiar faces. Even in rescue they’ve been segregated. How long will it be before he learns of Louis’ fate?” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- ““I’m so glad you made it,” Niall breathes, his words coming out on an exhale. “When I didn’t see ya on deck, I hoped you’d already found a spot in the boats.” / The cards lay forgotten on the table, and Harry pushes them around distractedly. “Lou– Tommo made sure I did,” he replies sadly. “He stayed behind. Said he had to come and find you.” / “And he did,” Niall says, causing Harry to shoot up in his seat. “It’s because of his help that dozens of people were saved. People who would have been trapped below deck without knowing where to go.” Niall’s eyes are shining, a proud grin stretching his cheeks. “Louis Tomlinson is a bloomin’ hero.”” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “A man helps his wife into the boat, tucking a fur coat around her and kissing her before stepping back. Goodbye, Louis thinks, watching the man join a group of other husbands staying behind. People are saying goodbye.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Gemma must feel the sobs wracking his body, wrapping an arm around her younger brother and drawing him close. He allows himself to burrow into the warmth of her body, burying his face in her heavy fur coat. His own great coat still hangs in his stateroom, never to be worn again.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “The pair tries to keep up with the others they met on the Titanic, though sometimes several months pass between letters. Niall Horan still lives with his brother and sister-in-law, helping his brother at work to give him more time with his family. He never mentions the Titanic in any of his letters, and signs each of them the same way: ‘Your brother, Niall Horan.’ / Liam returned to England as quickly as possible, a hero’s welcome waiting for him in his hometown of Wolverhampton. He married the girl of his dreams, and now works alongside her father in his bicycle factory. Their first child is due next summer. He won’t ever step foot on another ship as long as he lives.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “Louis has learned both of their bodies inside and out, and revels in that expertise. Harry is finer than any fabric Louis has ever touched, the way their bodies slide together more exquisite than silk.” — Paint The Sky With Stars
- “”Louis, right?” he said. ”I’m Harry.” / Louis licked his lips. ”Hi,” he said, reaching to shut off his car. / Harry smiled. Louis fumbled a bit more for the keys. Why in the fuck was it so hard all of a sudden to control his hand?” — A King Beside You
- “Dagen som gled inn i kvelden gled omsider over i natt. Og natten var lang og varm, og uten ord. Øyne som ikke ville hvile.” — Litt sånn som deg
- “Romeo and Juliet were no match for Even and Isak.” — Just As You Are
- “"Do you want some tea instead?" / "You won't make it right." / "Excuse me?" / "You're American. You won't make it right. You'll contaminate it with sugar and other nonsense." / "I offer to make you tea because you're feeling sad, and instead of just accepting, you insult my tea-making abilities and my nationality?" / "It's not your fault you were born in the wrong country." / Harry scoffed. "Challenge accepted. How do you take it?" / "Up the ass, usually."” — I Don't Want You To Leave, Will You Hold My Hand?
sep 8 2016 ∞
mar 30 2017 +
mar 30 2017 +