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blood bank

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In the dark, the sounds are easier to hear.

Or at least Harry imagines that they are, especially for Louis, which is why he makes sure to keep his breathing steady. It’s why he makes sure to keep his heartbeat slow. Watching the side of Louis’ face, Harry smiles softly as Louis drives them down the slush covered road, frosted pine trees bracketing them in on either side.

Like this, Louis practically glows in the dark.

The blizzard outside moves like television static, moonlight stealing over the car walls in flashes and softening the lines of Louis’ face, the line of his jaw and the small bend of his nose. His hair looks soft when it’s tucked back beneath a beanie like that, and Harry grins at the way Louis’ bundled up in a sheepskin jacket and gloves even though everyone knows that he never gets cold.

And like, fuck, Harry’s really bad at this—at being close to Louis without touching.

Because honestly, that’s all he really wants to do right now.

Sighing lowly, Harry shivers against the cold even though the heater is on and blowing warm air into his face. The night is frozen over with winter, and they’ve got hours left to go until they get to where they’re supposed to be—Niall’s house, a million miles away from here, right by an ocean that’s white and frosted and all pale blue.

And Harry’s not stupid, even if he is only seventeen.

He’s not stupid. He knows what Louis is and he knows that being alone with Louis in a car for so long is a dumb idea, especially when they can’t stop off anywhere to get Louis what he needs, but he can’t even help it. He just wants to get closer, to press his lips to Louis’ neck and just feel it, his throat and the pulse there, or the pulse that was there before, well. You know.

“Why is your heart beating like that?” Louis asks suddenly, glancing over at Harry with a small grin as he speeds down the road, snow whirling bright against the darkness outside.

The blue lights on the car radio light up the dark, washing lazy over Louis’ face, and Harry feels his heart beat even faster.

“Hey, stop listening to it,” He pouts, but it turns into a small smile when Louis rolls his eyes dramatically. Harry shifts so that he’s sitting with his back resting against the passenger window, his whole body turned to face Louis. His shoes are off and he’s got his socked feet resting on the center console, and everything is dim and soft and warm. Louis grins and Harry frowns, “Seriously, Lou, s’not fair.”

“It’s not my fault that your heart’s going crazy, mate,” Louis laughs, and his voice is loud against the hushed silence of the car. Moonlight slips over his face, brightening everything before melting away again, leaving the whole car swimming in an inky sort of dimness that’s all dark blue. Louis glances over at Harry again, his eyebrows raised. “What are you thinking about anyway?”

“My teeth on your neck,” Harry says, honest.

Louis laughs at that, a one syllable sound. “How original.”

And of course Louis doesn’t give the idea the time of day, because he has one strong look but don’t touch rule in place, apparently. Fuck, Harry seriously wishes that Louis would just kiss him. Like, a proper kiss, with tongue and lip biting and everything. They’ve known each other for about a year now—Zayn introduced them because as it turns out, Zayn’s quite cool in Louis’ vampire crowd. How he managed that Harry has no idea—and now it’s like they’ve been best mates forever. But Louis still won’t touch him, and for a while Harry thought that maybe Louis was strictly into girls or something, but he’s pretty sure Louis had a thing with some other vampire named Nick a few months ago.

So, that theory’s dead. Louis’ definitely into blokes.

And the whole crush thing isn’t even Harry’s fault, either.

Louis’ like, really good looking. He’s good looking and he’s the funniest person that Harry’s ever met, even if he isn’t a person at all, even if he’s a vampire with sharp teeth and pale skin and hands that could break bones like twigs.

He’s lovely, is the thing, and Harry’s so in love with liking him.

“I could hurt you, you know,” Harry grins, his whole heart swelling as Louis looks at him again, the white glow of headlights stealing over the them as some car speeds by outside. Louis scoffs and Harry laughs, nudging Louis in the thigh with his socked toe. “I’m serious, Louis. I could make you cry.”

“By doing what, Curly?” Louis asks, smiling as he stares out at the road ahead of them. “Hanging up garlic?”

Harry nods, soft and slow, and suddenly he feels like laughing for no reason but that’s almost normal because he always feels like laughing when he’s with Louis. “Yeah,” he smiles. “I’ll bring you out into the sunlight too. You won’t be laughing when you turn into dust.”

“Oh, the little baby is vicious,” Louis muses, grinning as he shakes his head. “You know I don’t actually burn in the sun, right? I mean, you have known me for a year now.”

“What a boring vampire,” Harry notes, but he’s still smiling.

“Yeah, I tend to stick to the basics, sorry.” Louis says with a small laugh, and the snow outside looks like a sheet of falling stars against the darkening blue sky—it turns the headlights of passing cars into ghosts. “Blood sucking, terrorizing the humans and all that.”

“Right,” Harry laughs, and the glass of the passenger window is cold against the back of his head. He tries not to think too hard about Louis saying the word sucking, and he tries not to think too hard about Louis’ mouth on his neck, on his thighs. “How are you doing so far, by the way?”

“Wait do you mean?” Louis asks, glancing over at him.

“I mean will you be alright until we get to Niall’s?”

Louis nods, but his hands are fists around the steering wheel as he turns back towards the road, something about that makes Harry feel a little bit curious. “Yeah,” Louis says, grinning small. “I’m immortal, remember.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that, and then the world is silent for a while.

The car is quite and hushed, broken up only by the muffled sound of slush crunching beneath the worn out tires of their car. Harry’s still shivering even though it’s warmed up a bit, and he’s glad he wore layers—two shirts underneath a jumper and faded black jeans pulled on over a cozy pair of long johns. At this point, he can’t wait to get to Niall’s place, especially since it’s right by the ocean and when he goes out and sits on the backyard porch, he can always hear the waves crashing over the shore even when it’s pitch black and he can’t see a thing. And then there’s Louis, who never bloody sleeps, who never does anything other than stand around trying to intimidate.

Oh, and speaking of Louis, Harry’s quite worried about him.

The thing is, he has no idea when Louis ate last and he’s never been around a hungry Louis before. They’re headed to Niall’s because Niall lives like, ten minutes away from the blood bank and they always go and get the stuff that Louis likes. Harry can’t really imagine that a hungry Louis is something he wants to see, unless it’s the kind of hungry that ends up with Harry’s leg between Louis’ thighs and Harry pressing kisses to Louis’ neck, to Louis’ eyelids and Louis’ belly and his mouth, his mouth, his mouth.

Alright, so Harry’s a sexually frustrated little teenager. Whatever.

“Your heart’s going crazy again,” Louis says suddenly, glancing over at Harry with the kind of closed-mouth smile that Harry hates. He hates it because he wants to see Louis’ teeth, the sharp little points of them, but right now he’s a bit distracted by the way that the moonlight washes in and makes Louis’ eyes look all ice blue. “What’s it this time?”

“Still the same thing, mate,” Harry admits with a small grin. He’s got his feet resting on Louis’ thigh and everything is warm and still warming up. “My teeth on your neck.”

“Wow,” Louis laughs, his hands moving over the wheel as he turns them down a bend in the road, the pine trees still bracketing them in on either side. The car brightens for a moment as a car speeds past them, the sound of tires skidding over ice, and Louis’ still smiling. “You really wanna hurt me bad, huh, Haz?”

Harry shakes his head, and he can’t stop smiling even though he knows that this sort of flirting is useless. “No,” he says slowly, watching the side of Louis’ face. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Harry,” Louis says after a moment, voice warning. “Don’t.”

And Harry knows exactly what Louis’ thinking right now, but he’s not really interested in that, if he’s completely honest. He’s still not understanding how kissing Louis’ neck could be a dangerous thing for anyone, so he keeps going.

“Are vampires even affected by that sort of thing?” Harry asks, genuinely curious. He feels hot and prickly all over and he thinks that that’s something caused by being alone with Louis, here in a car with a heater blowing hot air into his face, with the sky darkening into a deep blue outside. “I mean, if you let me kiss your neck right now, would you be like, turned on by it?”

“I would never let you kiss my neck, so there’s no point talking about it,” Louis says before he laughs a moment later, almost to himself, and the sound is loud against the hushed wintery static of the car. “Shit, Curly, how old are you anyways?”

“You know how old I am,” Harry frowns, wishing that Louis would just take him seriously for once. He’s seventeen, it’s not like he’s a kid. He’s old enough to know what he wants. “And you’re only nineteen, so stop acting like I’m a baby.”

“You are a baby,” Louis laughs. “And I’ve been nineteen for a while, so.”

“Well, what if I bit your lip, then?” Harry asks, ignoring Louis’ statement. Frankly, he’s got no time for topics of conversation that have so close to nothing to do with him potentially turning Louis on, with him sucking on Louis’ bottom lip and swallowing all those sounds he’d make. As much as he loves hearing about what Louis was doing at the turn of the last century, he likes hearing about what turns Louis on even more. “Are you into that kind of stuff? Oh wait, what if I licked your lip? Licking is always nice.”

Louis shakes his head, pale light passing over his face. “Shut up.”

“You want to lick my mouth, don’t you?” Harry grins, and then when Louis doesn’t answer, he nudges Louis in the thigh with his foot. “Oh, come on, seriously? You don’t want me at all? Not even a little?”

“That’s not important—” Louis starts, and then he sighs, scrubbing one gloved hand down his face as he keeps the other one on the wheel. “I mean no, Harry, I don’t want you. Me and you, we’re mates. That’s all we are.”

Harry frowns, thoughtful. “Mates can still kiss each other’s necks,” he says, and then, more softly, “I think about you kissing my neck.”

“Well, don’t think about it,” Louis says, clenching his eyes shut before opening them again, shaking his head. “I’m a vampire, Harry, I can’t let you touch me or I’ll forget what to do with my teeth.”

Harry smiles shyly. “I think about kissing your teeth, too.”

“Oh, god,” Louis groans, but he’s smiling too, shaking his head as he drives them down the highway, the silvery white glow of headlights brightening the car for a moment before slipping away again, lost in the dark. “You’re so bloody annoying, you know that?”

“Whatever,” Harry laughs, “How long until we’re there?”

“Just close your eyes and sleep, baby,” Louis sings, his voice full of laughter. Harry kicks him again even though he knows Louis can’t even feel it, and for a moment he wonders if Louis’ still listening to his heart, right now, if he’s listening the swimming sound of it. Harry once asked Louis if he could read minds and Louis teased him about it for weeks. Harry sighs and Louis says, “Go on, mate. We’ll be there when you wake up.”

“I’m not your mate,” Harry jokes, shifting in his seat so that his feet are tucked up beneath him and he’s sitting with his temple pressed against the cold glass of the passenger window. Everything is frosted and the snowstorm outside is getting worse, but here, sitting in a car where the light from the radio is making everything look blue, Harry feels warm. “Not until you kiss me, anyways.”

“But I’m never going to kiss you,” Louis says, glancing at Harry.

Harry shuts his eyes, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Here, bathed in dim moonlight, he almost feels like he’s floating through a dream. “Then I guess we’re not mates, huh?”

“Guess not,” Louis shrugs, but he’s smiling and Harry likes that.

Yeah, he’s smiling and Harry likes that a lot.

Everything is going well until the sky turns black.

The car breaks down with a hiss and a cough, smoke billowing out into the dark as Louis swears, tires skidding over slush and snow as he pulls them over to the side of the road. “Fuck,” Louis hisses, twisting the keys in the ignition to try to start it up again. “What the hell just happened?”

Harry stays quiet as the other cars on the road speed past them, headlights blurring out into shooting stars. In the last half hour, the blizzard has gotten even worse, millions of snow flurries spinning out into the dark, making everything outside into a blur of cold colors.

“I think. The car stopped working,” Harry notes finally, his voice slow.

“Really Curly? I didn’t notice,” Louis sighs, scrubbing both hands down his face as they sit in the car at the side of the road, frosted pine trees still surrounding them on either side. Harry frowns, because Louis’ the one who asked the stupid question here, not him, but before he can say anything, Louis’ looking over at him with raised brows.

“Have you got a phone on you?”

Nodding, Harry shifts a bit, pulling his phone out of his back pocket before passing it to Louis with a smile. Louis takes the phone, his fingers brushing against Harry’s as he does, and Louis hands are like snow—pale white and almost shining in the dimness.

“You’re so cold,” Harry grins. “Aw.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything as he scrolls through Harry’s contact list. The light from the screen brightens up his face until he’s the brightest thing in the whole car, in the whole world, maybe. Harry thinks about leaning over and kissing Louis’ face again before he frowns, because hell, he really needs to get laid.

“We should probably call your mum, yeah?” Louis asks, tapping Harry’s phone screen. Louis’ voice is sort of strained, like talking is some sort of huge effort, but Harry doesn’t think about that. “She thinks you’re gonna home in half an hour.”

“I’ll call her later,” Harry sighs, moving in his seat so he’s sitting back the way he was before—with his back against the passenger door, his socked feet resting in Louis’ lap. “Text Liam and tell him to pick us up.”

Louis nods, and then the world grows silent again.

Harry’s teeth are starting to chatter now that the heater is off, and he’s really wishing that he’d wore a real jacket instead of just a jumper and some t-shirts. His hair is tucked back beneath a beanie though, and that feels nice on his ears, but still. Harry’s always been the type to cuddle when he’s cold, and it’s frustrating that Louis’ the furthest thing away from a cuddler as possible.

“He says he’ll be here in an hour, probably two with the storm and all,” Louis says with a sigh, the whole car becoming dim again as he shuts Harry’s phone and passes it back to him. Harry’s still shivering, and Louis frowns. “You alright?”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s really cold. Like, freezing.”

For a moment, Louis looks almost confused, like he’s not sure what exactly Harry’s saying, but then his eyes widen. “Oh,” he says, finally getting it. “Right. You’re not like me.”

“Jesus,” Harry huffs, laughing even though his teeth are chattering like crazy. “You vamps think you’re so bloody cool.”

Louis chuckles at that, soft and low, and Harry feels it in his stomach. “Uh,” Louis says, light flashing over his face as another car speeds past them on the road, tires crunching over ice and snow. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You can kiss me,” Harry grins, and he doesn’t know why he’s such a pathetic flirt when it comes to Louis, but he is. It’s like he’s not even being serious anymore, he’s just saying shit because he wants to, not because he think anything will actually come from it. “Come on, mate. Warm me up. Get my blood flow going.”

“That’s—” Louis starts, shaking his head. “There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea.”

“Name one,” Harry says. Louis shakes his head, and Harry grins, sitting up a bit in his seat. “I’m curious, Louis. Name one good reason why you think kissing me is a bad idea.”

“You’re seventeen, for one,” Louis says.

“Terrible reason,” Harry grins. “Next.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis stays quiet, and he seems to think about it for a moment before saying, “Well, you’re not a vampire.”

Harry shoves Louis in the shoulder. “Hey, that’s discrimination.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Louis says, glancing at Harry with a smile. Harry might just be making things up, but he feels warm when Louis looks at him, he feels like he’s being adored by someone. Louis shrugs, and he’s speaking like he doesn’t want to say the words. “It’s just, you’ve got blood, Harry.”

“And?” Harry asks, leaning in a bit closer.

“And I drink blood,” Louis finishes, looking almost annoyed that he has to say it out loud. Harry shifts in his seat, crossing his legs as he moves in to rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder, his lips brushing against Louis’ jaw. Louis’ freezing cold but somehow he’s warming Harry up, just the closeness of him, just the closeness of their skin. Harry shivers a bit, and then he’s moving in a bit closer, he’s pressing his lips against the line of Louis’ jaw—not kissing him, just feeling. “Harry, don’t,” Louis says, his voice strained as Harry noses along his cheek, feeling sleepy and cold and in need of some cuddles. Louis sighs, and Harry frowns as Louis pushes him away gently, his face drawn. “I’m serious, Harry, alright? It’s been two weeks.”

“Two weeks since what?” Harry sighs, frowning.

“You know since what,” Louis says, his voice tired. Harry blinks, and for a moment he’s confused, completely not catching onto anything, but then, all of a sudden, he gets it—all of a sudden he’s noticing the way that the space under Louis’ eyes looks pale purple like he hasn’t slept for weeks. But the thing is, Louis never gets tired, one of the many perks of being a vampire, so it must be something else.

“Wait,” Harry says, words slow. “You haven’t, like, ate anything for two weeks?”

Louis doesn’t answer that, he just sighs as the moonlight steals over the walls of the car, over their two bodies in the front and the stark emptiness of the backseat. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”

“Oh my god,” Harry breathes. “You haven’t eaten for two weeks.”

Louis shrugs, and the passing headlights cast shadows across the frosted car windows, across the edges of Louis’ face, Louis’ body, the small and frightening curve of all that he is.

Harry sighs after a moment of silence. “How bad is it?”

“Define bad,” Louis says, and he tries to smile but it falters, it falls off. “Shit, Harry, this was a terrible idea. This was such a terrible fucking idea.”

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks, “being hungry, I mean.”

Louis nods, exhaling sharply, and suddenly Harry’s aware of how pale Louis’ face is, of the way Louis’ hands are clenched white around the steering wheel. “It feels like I’m burning up.”

“Shit,” Harry breathes, his eyes wide. “Why don’t you look around?”

And Harry doesn’t usually suggest murder, but.

Louis laughs at that, but it’s clear that he doesn’t find anything funny at all. His voice is loud against the silence of the car and Harry’s still wondering when his fear is going to kick in. “Look around?” Louis repeats, eyes crinkling around a smile that has no warmth behind it. “Shit, Harry, I don’t wanna kill anybody, alright? That’s so medieval.”

“But you’re gonna die, Louis.” Harry argues, his eyes wide.

“I’m not gonna die,” Louis scoffs, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sits back in his seat. He looks so soft and warm in the moonlight filled space of the car, and Harry’s still shivering. For a moment Harry thinks again that he wants Louis to kiss him, that he wants Louis to kiss his thighs and his neck and the dip of his throat, and hell, it’s hard being best mates with a vampire. You always forget their strength. Eyes shut tight, Louis speaks through a clenched jaw. “Can you—can you just do something to distract me? Anything.”

“Uh,” Harry starts, his mind thick with smoke. “Uh, alright.”

And then he’s taking his phone out of his back pocket again, flicking it on and letting the small white screen light up the car. He picks a song near the top of the list and presses play, letting the sound fill up the space like rain or static or snow.

Well, I met you at the blood bank, we were looking at the bags.

“What is this?” Louis bites out, his eyes still shut as he sits with his head resting back against the headrest. Harry blinks, momentarily distracted by the pale line of Louis’ throat, and he almost laughs because fuck, you’d think he was the vampire here.

And I said, I know it well.

“It’s a song,” Harry shrugs, sort of embarrassed. He tries to keep his heart steady, though, because nothing would be worse than Louis knowing he was embarrassed by his method of distraction. He feels like all the blood has rushed to his head, though, like the whole world is tilting and spinning around him. “Blood Bank by Bon Iver. I felt like it was fitting.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Louis says, shutting his eyes tighter.

“You’ve never heard of anything,” Harry grins, teeth chattering as the blizzard whirls on outside.

He can almost hear the snowflakes pelting against the frosted glass of the car windows and he lets himself sink back into the sound, but even so—he’s still completely caught up on the sight of Louis’ throat, of Louis’ pale hands fisted on his lap.

It fucks with your honor, and it teases your head.

“This isn’t working,” Louis says after a while of silence, his voice strained as he opens his eyes again and turns to face Harry. Louis’ eyes are blue, bright blue, even brighter than the sea. He says, “You’re a terrible distracter, you know.”

“I wasn’t trying my best,” Harry admits, smiling shyly again.

Louis grins at that and shuts his eyes again, leaning back against the headrest. Harry doesn’t look away, though, he just watches Louis as the pale glow of passing headlights steals slowly over his face—he watches the soft bend of Louis’ nose, the way Louis’ eyelashes cast shadows like angel webs across his cheekbones, making Harry feel like he’s floating through a dream. Louis looks like he’s in pain.

Before Harry can even think about, he’s sitting up in his seat—

He’s leaning over the center console and inching in towards Louis, closer and closer, the whole world seeming stilted and frozen over as Harry brushes his nose against Louis’ cheek, as he places one hand on the other side of Louis’ face and just keeps it there.

Then the snow started falling, we were stuck out in your car.

“Hey, you’ll be alright,” Harry whispers, his words muffled as he brushes his lips across Louis’ cheekbone, running his hands through the soft strands of Louis’ hair. Louis makes a small sound at the back of his throat and Harry’s still waiting for the fear to kick in, for his body to wake up and remind him that he’s playing with fire here and that he’s about to get burned. Knowing this, Harry still doesn’t pull away—he just kisses Louis’ cheek again, like a best mate would, and he says, “I’m here to distract you.”

“Harry,” Louis says, and his voice is that low warning sign again.

He still has his eyes closed and it’s bloody freezing in the car but suddenly Harry’s warming up, his whole body prickling with heat as he gently turns Louis’ face towards his. Louis still has his eyes closed and Harry rests their foreheads together, pressing his lips against the soft skin right above Louis’ upper lip.

“You’re being stupid,” Louis says, his words strained.

“Bite me,” Harry teases, and then he’s kissing Louis’ top lip, just the top one, blood buzzing through his veins like lightning thunder. Louis breathes out sharply and Harry swallows the sound, their noses pressed together as Harry licks a slow stripe across Louis’ bottom lip, words barely a mumble as he speaks into Louis’ mouth. “Are you distracted yet?”

“No,” Louis answers, swallowing thickly as Harry kisses him again, the blizzard and the traffic outside melting away until there’s nothing left but Harry and Louis and one beating heart.

“Tell me to stop,” Harry says, kissing Louis again.

“Stop,” Louis breathes, and Harry sighs, breathing heavily as he presses his forehead against Louis’ again, their mouths just inches apart. He feels like he’s on fire now, even though his teeth are still chattering and his lips are probably turning blue—he feels like he’s got the sun sitting somewhere inside of him, bright and orange and glowing everywhere all at once.

“Alright,” Harry says, his voice barely a breath. “I’ll stop.”

And then he’s pulling away and Louis’ watching him go, eyes heavy and blue and suffocating, but then Harry’s heart is surging up in his throat as Louis follows after him, everything blurring and tilting into a spectrum of blue and white as Louis crowds in against Harry, pushing him back against the passenger window before kissing him again, mouth closed like he’s trying to stop himself.

“Fuck, Harry, don’t let me kiss you,” Louis says.

“But I want you to kiss me,” Harry laughs, teeth chattering, and then he’s opening his mouth up beneath Louis’, letting his tongue trail slowly across Louis’ bottom lip. Louis’ mouth is cold, like it’s a piece of winter he’s always carrying around. “I want you,” Harry says, his words coming out like a murmured sound. Louis has him pressed against the passenger window and Harry can’t stop himself from talking, can’t stop himself from saying, “I want you, I want you.”

“Well, don’t,” Louis says, exhaling sharply through his nose as he kisses Harry deeper, nearly bruising Harry’s with the force of it. Louis breathes out through his mouth and Harry moans softly, his tongue flicking out to trail along the ridge of Louis’ teeth.

And then Louis’ gone—

He’s gone so fast that Harry doesn’t even see him move, he just blinks and then suddenly Louis’ back on the other side of the car again, breathing heavily with his eyes shut, teeth bared as he makes a sound like he’s in pain.

“Louis?” Harry frowns, his chest rising and falling fast with every breath as he sits up slowly. “Lou, what’s wrong?”

Louis doesn’t answer for a moment, he just sits there as the passing cars brighten their faces in flashes before leaving them in the dark again. It’s a moment before Louis speaks, his voice worn out like it’s about to break. “You can’t—you shouldn’t put your tongue in my mouth like that.”

Harry nods, dazed and breathless, and he’s so fucking turned on.

Like, he feels like his whole face is flushed red, all the heat rushing up to the surface and leaving every other part of his body numb and electric, full of stars and snowflakes, the snow melting into rain and into blood. He doesn’t say anything though, and there’s the sound of honking from outside, muffled like it’s been travelling for miles.

“Louis,” Harry says, because it’s all he remembers how to say right now, with Louis sitting across from him in a broken down car in the middle of a blizzard, in the middle of a storm that feels endless. “Lou, come here.”

Louis shakes his head, and it’s a moment before he opens his mouth up, almost like he’s trying to show Harry something.

“Oh,” Harry breathes, because Louis has fangs. Like, real vampire fangs from the movies. Harry’s heard all about them but he’s never actually seen them up close and somehow it makes the biggest difference in the world. He swallows thickly, and he’s even more turned on than before, somehow, his whole body buzzing with heat and a sleepy sort of arousal even though it’s freezing cold. “You’ve got some nice teeth there, Lou.”

“You shouldn’t put your tongue in my mouth like that,” Louis repeats, every word coming out like it’s an effort. Harry breathes softly and licks his lips without even thinking, face flushing when Louis’ eyes flicker down to catch the moment. “Shit, Curly,” Louis says, “Are you even listening to me?”

Harry nods, and his heart is beating on his tongue, almost.

And then he’s moving in again because he can’t help himself, crawling over towards where Louis’ sitting in the driver’s seat with his head against the head rest, and everything is way too close now—the world presses in around him, it suffocates.

Blizzards like static, storms of snow.

Pale blue and drowning, a place where hearts don’t make any sound.

Louis is watching Harry with heavy eyes, but he says nothing as Harry climbs over onto the driver’s seat settles down in Louis’ lap with his back to the window, socked feet still sitting in the passenger’s seat. “Hi,” Harry says, resting his forehead against Louis’ temple. He noses along Louis’ cheek, sleepy and searching for warmth, and then he lets his head fall down until he’s got his teeth on Louis’ throat and he’s biting gently even though Louis would hardly feel it even if he really did bite hard.

“Shit,” Louis says, throat shaking with laughter. He sort of sounds like he’s in pain, though, he sort of sounds like he’s trying to stop himself from doing something. That should be scary, but it isn’t. “You want to hurt me for real this time, don’t you?”

“No,” Harry says, licking over the spot where he’s left bite marks. But Louis’ like an ocean, and the marks are gone only a moment later, so fast it’s like they were never there at all. He kisses Louis’ neck again, and fuck, he’s never really been the type to get so worked up just from kissing somebody’s neck, but like, Louis is different. Louis makes Harry feel like he’s got a fire inside of him, and that’s unlike anything else in the world. “Still wanna make you feel good.”

“Harry,” Louis says, the beam of headlights sweeping into the car as another car passes by them, tires skidding over slush. Outside, pine trees look like black brushstrokes. Harry moves up to kiss Louis’ jaw, turning Louis’ face before kissing Louis’ chin, and Louis makes a small sound in the back of his throat that goes straight to Harry’s spine. “You’re being stupid.”

Harry grins, shifting again so that he’s sitting with his legs folded on either side of Louis’ thighs, their bodies pressed together as Harry’s thumbs trail along Louis’ jawline.

On the other side of the windows, the snow is like a sheet, falling down from nowhere.

Louis’ watching Harry with heavy eyes, bright blue as Harry watches him, and pale light steals over the edges of his face as the cars pass by them on the road. Harry places both of his thumbs gently on Louis’ bottom lip, pulling it down.

“Hey,” Louis mumbles, his words muffled.

“I just wanna see them,” Harry says, staring down at Louis’ fangs. Shit, Harry’s never seen a pair of fangs up close before. Like, he knows that he shouldn’t be surprised because Louis is a vampire and this kind of thing is expected, but vampire fangs only come out when a vampire is starving or ready to attack, which is like. Huh. “You’re hungry,” Harry says, more of a statement than anything.

“You should get off me now,” Louis replies.

And yeah, but. Harry’s hard and it’s snowing and they’re sitting in a freezing cold car at the side of the bloody road, and Louis is hungry and he’s hurting and Harry doesn’t want Louis to hurt anymore.

“Harry, you should get off me now,” Louis says again, but this time Harry just shakes his head, pressing his thumb down onto Louis’ chin gently, making Louis’ mouth drop open with a groan.

“You’re alright, Lou,” Harry says, moving in to lick a small stripe across Louis’ bottom lip. Harry giggles when Louis hisses, and then he swallows Louis’ sounds as he kisses him again, their noses pressed together as Harry breathes out into Louis’ mouth. Louis groans and Harry smiles against his lips, blood burning like dead stars, and then he’s licking into Louis’ mouth and pricking his tongue against one of the fangs there, drawing blood.

Louis hisses, sharp like he’s in pain. “What the fuck—”

Harry grins, sticking his tongue out at Louis. He can feel the blood hot on his bottom lip and Louis’ watching his tongue like he’s in pain, but Harry doesn’t feel bad because he’s not teasing this time. He’s offering something.

“Lick my tongue,” Harry says, words muffled as he speaks around his tongue. Louis makes a face and Harry smiles shyly, so turned on that he’s dizzy with it. It’s bloody freezing in the car and it’s painful as hell the way the steering wheel is digging into his back, but he doesn’t mind, not really—not when he’s sitting over Louis’ lap with his legs on either side of him. Louis’ still just staring and Harry rolls his eyes, moving in closer. “You’re probably starving, Louis, come on.”

Louis shakes his head, eyes still on Harry’s tongue. “Stop that.”

“What?” Harry asks, smiling as he swipes a finger across his tongue. “Consensual blood drinking isn’t exciting enough for you?”

“It is exciting for me,” Louis replies, his voice low as a pair of headlights pass over his face from outside. The blizzard has gotten worse, snow looking like a white sheet of nothing against the pitch black sky, and even though Harry’s teeth are chattering, he feels all warmed up. Grinning, he rolls his eyes when Louis says, “That’s the problem.”

“Shut up and lick my tongue, pal,” Harry laughs, glancing down at the blood on his finger. It’s red, bright red, and for a moment Harry wonders what it tastes like. With his eyes on Louis, he places the finger on his throat and smears the blood there, becoming shy as Louis keeps on watching him. “Stop staring at me,” Harry says, but he’s smiling because he can’t help it. “You want some?”

Louis says nothing, just keeps watching him, and there’s something terrifying about the way he looks right now, electric and bright, his pupils blown out and ringed in blue—blue like ocean water, blue like blood before it touches air. The headlights outside make his face into a dream, and Harry’s having trouble breathing but he’s smiling anyways, so done for Louis that it’s almost pathetic.

“Come on, bite me,” Harry says, tilting his chin up a little and smiling shyly when Louis’ eyes flicker down to the hollow of his throat. “I bit your neck, it’s only fair.”

Louis laughs at that, but his fangs are sharper than before.

His face looks hot and flushed and he’s still laughing, but the sound trails off when Harry places a finger on Louis’ bottom lip, the blood looking bright against his pale white skin.

“Don’t,” Louis hisses, but Harry just grins and slips his finger onto Louis’ tongue, and he’s so turned on that he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. Louis’ mouth drops open, his whole body jolting, words muffled as he says, “Harry, don’t.”

Everywhere, all over, the world is pitch black.

It’s like being at the bottom of the ocean where everything is soft and dark and rainbow-tinged, the colors blooming out of the dark, the colors blooming out of nowhere as the headlights pass over them in bars—watery white lines stealing over the walls of the car, thick flurries of snow spinning like static against the pine trees outside.

Harry says, “Suck it, come on,” one more time, and Louis does.

“Shit,” Harry breathes, his mouth dropping open slightly as Louis sucks slowly on his finger. Every feeling seems to shrink down to fit in the tip of his finger, and they watch each other as they sit there like that, Louis’ breath coming out sharp as he sucks. And Harry’s heart is beating so loud he thinks it might sound like a thunderstorm to Louis, but he can’t stop it, he just can’t, and he’s hard as hell. “Louis,” Harry says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Louis’ cheeks are hollowing out around Harry’s finger and fuck, that might just be the hottest thing that Harry’s ever seen, really.

It’s a moment before Louis pulls away, his head leaning back against the headrest again, and he stares up at Harry with a hooded blue gaze. His mouth is red with blood. “Thanks,” he says, voice pained.

“No worries, vamp,” Harry mumbles, eyes still on Louis’ mouth, and then he’s pulling Louis in by the beanie and kissing him, their teeth clicking together as Harry moans, every thought spinning away from him and turning into dust. Louis kisses him back, and then there’s a split second before Harry’s suddenly on the other side of the car, pressed back up against the passenger window with Louis crowding in against him, with Louis’ hands on his throat.

And shit, alright, he’s sort of scared now—

Louis’ hovering over him, eyes blown out as the moonlight edges him in silver, and his teeth look sharper than Harry’s ever seen them.

But his fear is being clouded by something else, something bigger—the color red and the way his heart is beating on his tongue, the way his tongue still stings from being pricked by Louis’ tooth.

And in the end, Harry just wants Louis to touch him.

He wants Louis to touch him but he’s frozen in place, staring up at Louis as Louis stares down at him—hair tucked back beneath his beanie, fangs sharp, body bundled up in gloves and a sheepskin jacket. The storm is heavier now, and it’s quiet in the car as the wind howls outside, but Harry’s thoughts are loud as hell, a string of Louis, Louis, Louis that doesn’t make any sense.

“You don’t—” Louis starts, pausing after a moment like he’s thinking about it. When he speaks, his voice is strained, almost like it takes an effort. “You don’t have to afraid of me, yeah?”

“Shut up, Louis,” Harry says, trying for a laugh, but the sound ends up dizzy and breathless. “I’m still thinking about your teeth on my neck.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Louis asks, watching Harry carefully. The headlights brighten up the car again, snow-shaped shadows moving across the walls. “The thought of my teeth on your neck?”

“No,” Harry says, and then a moment later, “alright, maybe a little.”

“Good lad,” Louis laughs, and then he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to Harry’s neck, kissing softly in a way that makes Harry’s head spin, that makes his whole body feel electric. “’Cause I could hurt you, you know,” Louis murmurs, kissing Harry’s neck again as Harry’s breathing picks up. “I could make you cry.”

Harry feels like he should say something, something about how Louis couldn’t hurt him even if he tried, but his tongue has turned into smoke and all of his thoughts are just echoes of what they could’ve been. Louis’ kissing his neck and there’s something so ridiculously hot about that, about Louis moving between his legs, hips circling slowly back and forth, the front of their jeans catching as Harry locks his feet around the backs of Louis’ thighs, pulling him closer.

“Bite me,” Harry says, moving his face so that he’s speaking against Louis’ forehead, his lips blue and shivering as Louis kisses his neck.

Louis nods, kisses Harry’s neck again.

Louis bites down on Harry’s neck, and Harry gasps—

The pain is sudden and sharp and out of nowhere even though it’s something that Harry should’ve been expecting, and he bites down on Louis’ shoulder to muffle the cry. It’s like all at once, he’s feeling everything—Louis’ teeth piercing through his skin, Louis’ thumbs bruising the jut of his hips. Harry can hear his blood swimming in his ears and he can feel his heart beating on his tongue, but his body keeps moving, his body just keeps moving—

He’s rutting up against Louis’ without even thinking, it’s like he just needs more, even as his thoughts begin to float away, turning into dandelion dust and then into nothing at all, nothing but the feeling of teeth on his neck, of blood leaving his body, the heady remoteness it, the dizziness of sharing himself so literally with someone else.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his head falling back with a thud.

Suddenly it feels like there’s freezing rain falling in through a window that’s been left open somewhere, but Harry knows all of the car windows are shut—and this, this doesn’t feel like blood being drained from his body, this feels like being kissed by the sun. His heartbeat echoes from somewhere behind his ribs and he fists his hands in Louis’ hair, their bodies moving together, circling slowly, slowly but speeding up.

Harry’s cock is hard and pressed against his thigh, and it’s getting harder to keep his breathing steady.

“Fuck,” Harry says again, and Louis laughs against his neck.

And all of a sudden it’s like he’s seeing everything, every time and everyone—he’s seeing meadows of spring flowers blooming out into the dark, he’s seeing flowers that look like snow, he’s seeing frosted pine needles and blood, blood on skin, on hands, on teeth. Red. Red bleeding into white and into black. The images move across his vision like pictures being stacked, grainy and washed out by a sun that hasn’t come up yet, and Harry moans softly as Louis kisses his neck, right over the place where his teeth just were.

Harry’s dizzy as fuck and all of a sudden he’s seeing himself staring back at him. The words float towards him, distorted and stretched out like they’re travelling through a tunnel, through memories.

“Hi, I’m Harry,” someone says, and Harry realizes that he’s looking at himself through Louis’ eyes, he’s looking at himself the way he was the night they first met. There’s music trickling out from inside the house, and the air is hot and prickly with summer as Harry watches himself sit down beside Louis on the porch, nudging their shoulders together with a grin. “I heard you’re a vampire.”

He can feel the warmth that Louis felt for him in that moment.

“If that’s what you’re calling it these days, sure,” Louis says, but he didn’t smile even though Harry knows now that he was smiling on the inside.

In the memory, everything is blurry with blue smoke and the sound of laughter but still, the warmth is clear. And Harry can see himself smiling up at Louis, tilting his head to the side, exposing his neck. “Do you want a bite?”


And then the image is shifting and Harry’s back in the car, and Louis’ not kissing his neck anymore—instead, Louis’ down between his thighs, nipping gently at the inseams of Harry’s jeans, and it’s something that makes Harry’s nerve endings light up like a firework explosion.

“Hey, why didn’t you bite me?” Harry asks, his words sounding slow and hazy as he smiles. “When we first met. I asked you to bite me.”

“You’re such a baby,” Louis grins, staring up at Harry from between Harry’s legs. They watch each other for a moment, blue eyes locked on green, green eyes looking back, until Louis shrugs, says, “And I don’t know. Just felt like keeping you around, I suppose.”

Harry nods, and all of a sudden he wants Louis closer.

So he says, “C’mere,” and Louis does.

They move against each other like shadows, like smoke. Harry moans as Louis kisses him roughly, and he doesn’t mind knowing that there will be bruises all over his body in the morning. He likes that they’ll be in the shape of Louis’ thumb, of Louis’ teeth.

He keeps his feet locked around Louis’ thighs, and it’s strange to think that Louis could break him in half, that Louis could break him in half without even trying—but he doesn’t. He just kisses instead.

“Lou, I want—” Harry pants, his voice shaking.

“Don’t say it,” Louis mumbles, tongue flicking over Harry’s neck again. Harry moans and then suddenly he feels Louis’ hand on the waistband of his jeans, freezing cold against the warm skin of Harry’s belly as he pulls down Harry’s jeans, gentle, gentle, so very slow. “Sit on my lap,” Louis says, and Harry just swallows.

He moves quickly, fumbling around with his pants pulled down half past his bum, and then he’s sitting on Louis’ lap, his head resting on Louis’ shoulder as Louis starts to move his hand, slowly.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathes, his whole face flushing red as the feeling racks through him, his bones filling up with stars, hollow, so easy to break. “Fuck, Louis.”

And he can feel Louis hard against him too, is the thing.

He didn’t even know that vampires could get hard-ons, but they can apparently, so Harry starts grinding down against Louis as Louis jerks him off, because he can’t do anything with his hands right now and it seems only fair.

“We should, like, shag in a coffin next time,” Harry teases, almost breathless as he watches Louis’ hand moving over his cock, slow like he’s making sure he doesn’t break anything.

“You’re such a freak,” Louis says, but he’s kissing Harry’s temple, and that’s nice. That’s really bloody nice.

“That’s quite rich coming from the vampire,” Harry laughs, turning his face to ask Louis for a kiss. And Louis does kiss him—Louis licks over his bottom lip and Harry bites back in a way that does nothing but make Louis laugh, shake his head like Harry’s being hilarious.

“You’re a kitten, are you?” Louis grins, and Harry licks his mouth to shut him up.

When Harry comes, his whole body jolts with the feeling, and the sounds he makes are muffled as he moans into Louis’ mouth, glad that Louis’ fangs are gone now, even if they did make him hard as hell. It’s kind of nice, just kissing, two boys stuck in a blizzard.

Louis pulls back, eyes wide. “Did you just—”

“Yeah,” Harry says dreamily, smiling shyly up at Louis as the passing cars make his face into a dream. “Now kiss me, you fool.”

Later on, when they’re sitting upright again and the whole world is quiet enough that Harry can hear his heart beating into the silence, they sit facing each other in the small space—Harry with his back against the passenger window, Louis with his back against the driver’s side—and Harry takes out his phone and plays a song, a different one this time.

The words fall out into the car, and the silence catches them.

For a moment, Louis watches him before his mouth quirks up, blue eyes fond. “And what’s this one called, then?”

“The Creature,” Harry grins. “By Kurt Vile. Really good stuff.”

“So original, mate,” Louis compliments, for the second time tonight.

And suddenly Harry’s laughing, dizzy and breathless as Louis kisses him again—he laughs and he laughs as the snow outside turns into rain, millions of raindrops pelting against the windshield and making the blinding beams of headlights outside into nothing but a blur.

This winter, this whiteness, this vampire blood.

Louis laughs too, he laughs into Harry’s mouth, making Harry see stars, and Harry thinks the whole car is going to split from the sound.

The night breaks itself in two and Harry watches with tired eyes.

Rain falls down in sheets, lightning brightening the sky in flashes, and Harry sighs as he presses his forehead down against the passenger window, his breath frosting up the glass.

“You alright, mate?” Liam asks suddenly, his voice floating over from the driver’s seat as he turns his key in the ignition, the car engine humming to life.

“Yeah, m’alright, thanks,” Harry says, turning his face towards the passenger window and letting his breath frost up the glass. Zayn’s asleep in the backseat because apparently a two hour drive was too much for him, and Harry’s cold again—he’s cold and he’s watching Louis, Louis who’s standing at the side of the road with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on Harry as the rain falls down in sheets, soaking through his hair and through his clothes.

But of course, he probably doesn’t feel a thing.

“What are you doing?” Harry says, his voice small as he watches Louis. The storm is loud and the windows are all rolled up, so Louis shouldn’t be able to hear him—but Louis’ a vampire, see, and so he hears everything.

Almost like an answer, Louis shows his teeth.

And then Liam’s starting to drive, faster and faster as the traffic folds away, and Louis’ jogging alongside the car, smiling at Harry as Harry smiles back.

When he disappears into the woods, it’s faster than a burst of light.