"You look so cute when you pout," Harry said, walking back to the sofa with two fresh beers. Karl took his drink, glared as Harry sat down. "Men don't pout." "You're pouting right now," Harry smiled, leaning in to kiss a jutting lower lip. "Hmph," Karl replied, taking a small sip of his beer, eyeing Harry over the bottle. "Don't think kissing me is going to get you anywhere." Harry only licked his lips and grinned. "So cute." "Men also aren't cute." "You are." Harry leaned in for another quick kiss. Karl thwapped him with a pillow. "Stop that," Karl said. "Jesus, you malign my manhood, expect me to be all kissy with you?" "I didn't malign your manhood, cricket," Harry smiled, flopping back on the cushions. He set his beer down on the coffee table, propped his feet beside it. "I merely pointed out that you're cute when you pout." "Right. Maligning my manhood." Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want to call it." Karl crossed his arms, beer dangling loosely in one hand, and lowered his brow. "Look, I'm a man. I'm rugged. I'm handsome. I'm dark and dangerous. I can even be beautiful, if I so choose. But I will never be cute." "Except when you pout." "Gah!" Karl turned back to the telly, intent on ignoring Harry. A few minutes later, he turned his head to find Harry, still slouching in the same spot, just looking at him. "What?" he grumbled, still annoyed, setting his bottle on the table next to Harry's. "I was just wondering something," Harry said, cocking his head a bit. "What?" "If I was ever going to get tired of looking at you." "Oh, no you don't," Karl replied, even though his soul just...sighed. "You're not going to get back in my good graces that easily." "Wasn't trying to," Harry shrugged. "Just wondering." "And what conclusion have you drawn?" Karl asked, voice already low and intimate, in spite of his best efforts to continue being annoyed. Never worked, didn't know why he really bothered anymore. Except that he and Harry wouldn't have it any other way. Harry leaned forward, cupped Karl's cheek with a chapped, calloused hand. He ran his fingers over the soft skin of Karl's lower lip, and his smile was one of infinite tenderness. "It's not in man's nature to ever get tired of looking at beauty." Now Karl's soul melted, even though he knew it was the worst sort of romantic prattle. "God, Sin..." He never finished the sentence. Harry's lips were on his in a soft, gentle kiss, offering love and passion in warm lips and tender hands. Karl sighed into the embrace, into that heavenly mouth on his, into the fingers stroking his throat, snared by the depth of his love for Harry, the way he always was. Harry stretched out on the sofa, pulled Karl on top of him. The sounds of the game on the telly were only broken by murmurs and soft groans of endearment as they continued to kiss, savored each other with wet tongues, open mouths and exploring hands on partially clothed skin. It was a very long time before Karl lowered his head to Harry's chest, listened to the steady heartbeat of the man under him, felt the rise and fall of each breath as though it was his own. "Still annoyed with you," Karl said, kissing Harry's collarbone. Harry smiled, kissed the top of Karl's head, splayed his fingers across Karl's back. "Not surprised." "Still not cute." "Only when you pout." Onto Icing On the Cake
|