be a bit mischievous

"You love it when I manhandle you," Liam insists, smirking knowingly down at Louis' red cheeks, flushed from more than just his jaunt up the stairs. He comes down over Louis not a second later, nuzzling into his neck. Louis catches his head and curls his fingers into Liam's hair, knowing well enough that without the encouragement Liam would pull away.

Louis stops at the bottom stair and spins around, fingers loosening from out of his husband's collar. He kisses the man softly, savoring the sweet way Liam still sighs into it every time. They kiss again, and this time Louis lingers with his hands on Liam's shoulders, just breathing against his lips until he opens his eyes. 

Louis makes another noise. "Why do you have to make so much sense all the time?" he whines.

"It's not my first day, though, it's theirs." He curls his fingers loosely in Liam's sleep shirt, needing to seek out a little bit of his warmth now that Louis knows he's awake. "What if Hazel gets shy? You know how she gets nervous in front of new people. And Noah's probably gonna lose track of his lunch and he's not gonna have anything to eat and--"

Louis does his best to look pouty but in all honesty the fact that Liam manages to remember the duvet after a marathon fucking session is so completely endearing that he gives up.  He helps peel the cover off--throwing it all the way to the end of the bed is a good idea, considering the come on it and the fact that Liam is a literal furnace in his sleep.

Louis giggles sleepily. "Not sure that would be much help--you know Zee would just sleep all the time."  He tangles fingers with the hand resting near his face.

It turns out the slowing pace of Liam's talented tongue was only a ploy to distract Louis from Liam's sneaky right hand.

Liam has done this before, Louis tries to remind himself.  This isn't the first time.  You're not going to completely lose all functionality because of this.  You're not gonna need a straightjacket.

Louis cries out in surprise, a rush of heat crashing over him in a sudden wave. "Oh, fucking fuck," he babbles, feeling his hips cant toward Liam of their own accord. He lets his forehead droop onto the sheets. "Jesus."

Louis knows he could, and he would without Louis having to ask twice.  But Louis wouldn't make him; he's not cruel.

Louis jumps at the pinch. "Ow!" And then, "you wouldn't dare."

Louis loves the way Liam can make him shake and tremble, the way he still knows how that touch will curl his toes or how this one will make him cry out even after a good five years of marriage.  He wonders how well he'll remember them in twenty, thirty years. But then again, he doesn't feel like he really has to wonder--he knows.  Liam will remember.