𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 , 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 .

"it's horrible," louis confirms before pressing a slow kiss against her jaw. truly, a horrendous fate for a man so young — torn between swollen lips and all the parts of her body that for now remain teasingly hidden beneath thin fabric ( and then of course: those steelblue eyes ). how could he ever behave? not delve into rather scandalous daydreams that seek to be made reality? april's embarassment over the forgotten game only adds to his seemingly impossible quest, the red burning cheeks accentuating the shape of her pretty face, making her seem almost innocent, as if she's not the sweetest succubus he has ever met. "oh, i'm sorry. am i making you uncomfortable?" before she can reply, he removes his hand from her boob ( sadly ) and frames her face instead. slowly brushes back caramel strands of hair, extensively beholding her fine features like she is something precious he isn't willing to share . . . another kiss is then brought to her face, this time placed against her forehead.

“horribly  uncomfortable,  can’t  you  tell?”  it’s  entirely  cheeky,  given  the  way  she’s  so  easily  perched  atop  him  and  melting  into  every  touch  —  frankly,  louis  could  spend  every  conversation  with  his  hand  encircling  her  tit,  and  she’d  never  complain.  he  feels  good  on  her,  natural  and  comfortable,  and  it’s  the  sort  of  intimacy  that  april  can’t  allow  herself  to  overthink  . . .  and  then  he’s  kissing  her  forehead,  something  so  goddamn  delicate  that  she’s  briefly  stunned,  utterly  softened.  her  lips  pull  into  a  gentle  pout,  channeling  her  bubbling  affection  into  playful  frustration  with  a  knitted  brow  and  her  forehead  pressed  against  his.  “louis  belvedere,  you  are  so—”  so  handsome,  so  stupidly  charming,  so  annoyingly  clever,  so  ridiculously  intoxicating, “—such  a  pain  in  the  ass.”  yet  the  smile  that  envelopes  her  face  is  entirely  fond,  warm,  and  she  cements  her  point  with  her  own  lips  pressing  a  gentle  kiss  against  his  temple.  “of  course,  you’re  the  most  special. it's quite frustrating for me.”  the  giggles  that  frame  each  word  shouldn’t  negate  the  utter  sincerity  of  them,  and  the  slight  hitch  in  her  chest  when  she  realizes  she  might’ve  made  him  a  little  shy.  these  are  the  things  they  don’t  say,  but  the  lines  feel  a  little  blurred  tonight.  

his bite rewards him with a whimpered louis — not exactly what he was going for, he had hoped for a scream instead, but he will take it. the ego boost from having his name called out on air easily surpasses the possible amusement from an emitted cry caused by a bite she wasn't expecting. "oh no," he replies, voice laced with feigned horror. anew, his hands almost automatically find her frame after she repositions herself, stabilizing her, holding her in place. "trapped under a girl who isn't wearing a bra. poor me, how will i ever recover?" where would he be going? to his apartment, to hang out with himself instead? not when he has better options . . . head leans back, slate blue eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he induldes in the kisses placed along his jawline — soft kisses with an underlying hunger that is both sweet and ecstatic. the paradoxic kind of kiss he never expects from men, only women instead.

“god,  i  know,  you  must  be  suffering,”  april  taunts  breathlessly,  always  keen  to  trade  jabs  with  him  even  when  a  solid  percentage  of  her  focus  is  fixated  on  all  the  things  she’d  like  to  do  to  louis  —  it’s  always  been  this  curious  game  of  push  and  pull  with  them,  perpetually  getting  under  each  other’s  skin  while  indulging  in  the  sensual  delights  of  all  they  could  do  to  each  other’s  skin,  and  then  some.  and  when  louis  brings  her  attention  back  to  their  little  game,  april’s  cheeks  pinch  bright  red  with  only  slight  embarrassment  that  she’s  gotten  herself  so  swept  up  in  their  intimacy.  “fuck,  right,  truth  or  dare,”  she  laughs,  sitting  up  somewhat  and  trying  to  maintain  some  semblance  of  control  . . .  given  the  swell  of  her  lips  from  their  crushing  kisses,  her  flushed  cheeks,  and  slightly  unkempt  caramel  tresses  spilling  over  her  shoulders,  she  imagines  she  certainly  don’t  look  the  part.  before  he  can  get  too  smug,  she  quirks  a  brow  at  him,  “somebody’s  horny,  he  says,  with  his  hand  on  my  tit.”  like  she’s  not  the  one  who  led  him  there.

"i surely am," he mumbles, breathing against her skin. impossible to behave like a decent human being, quite certainly impossible to love, and yet . . . "—and yet i'm holding you in my arms, keeping you company during work. how dare i." a lazy smile accompanies his words, accentuating the wrinkles around his eyes, making him look a little tired. he is anything but, a night owl at heart, his attention entirely and absolutely focussed on the girl in his lap — how could he be tired? "you—" indeed, he was about to reply with some classic louis-isms, but gets shut up quite effectively. not that he would mind . . . at the end of the day, he is just a guy, isn't he? easily prone to physical touches and female assets. hers, in particular. big hands automatically find her butt, palms possessively cupping both cheeks as they kiss each other as if they are starving, as if they have never kissed each other before.

that  little  mhm,  so  dismissive  and  resolute,  is  so  quintessentially  louis  that  april  can’t  even  bring  herself  to  be  annoyed  in  the  slightest  —  frankly,  with  his  ravenous  touch  encompassing  her,  she’s  having  difficulty  culling  any  sympathy  for  their  unfortunate  caller.  when  his  teeth  grazes  her  breast  through  the  thin  fabric  of  her  shirt,  her  chest  unencumbered  by  any  bra  as  usual,  she’s  putty  in  his  grasp,  and  she  can’t  resist  whimpering  his  name  before  hanging  up  the  call  -   she’s  confident  that  she’ll  receive  some  reprimand  for  this  from  the  station  manager  come  tomorrow,  but  it’s  such  a  minute  concern  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things  that  she  can’t  even  pretend  to  care.  she  keeps  a  firm  grip  on  the  front  of  his  t-shirt  when  she  reaches  aside  to  continue  her  queued  playlist,  promising  them  another  few  minutes  of  uninterrupted  fun.  once  she  hears  jeff  buckley’s  voice  croon  over  the  radio  waves,  she  shifts  her  focus  back  to  louis  -  this  time,  though,  she  straddles  herself  on  his  lap,  thighs  draped  on  either  side  of  him  and  bracketing  the  boy  in  place.  “for  the  record,”  her  voice  is  low,  breathless,  “you  are  not  going  anywhere.”