Light Of My Life (1/3)
Title: Light Of My Life
Rating: R
Length: 2, 403
Fandom: One Direction
Characters: Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Anne Cox, Eleanor Calder, Liam Payne,
Ships: Louis/Harry
Notes: Based off of the novel Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. (the next few parts will be much longer)
Summary: Harry, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul...
Harry, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Har-ry. The long worn out syllables making your jaw ache, such a sweet sound. He was Haz, plain Haz in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. He was Hazza in slacks. He was Curly at school. He was Harold on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Harry. Did he have a precursor? He did, indeed he did. In point of fact, there might have been no Harry at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial boy-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Harry was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. Was I so wrong in thinking that I could love this boy, change this boy? Maybe that’s what led to our inevitable downfalls.
In the summer of 1955 Louis was sick of Eleanor, he was sick of her domineering mother and the insistence he would get from his own family that he needed to get a move on with his family. Eleanor was barren, she could give Louis nothing, and at this point in time, a barren woman was a useless woman. However she was humble, quaint, and very kind. She denied him nothing and provided him with most of what he asked for. She never even asked why he would park outside the schoolhouse every Wednesday. And she would certainly never ask why he would spend so much time with the young boys he had made friends with. She always knew, though, these boys couldn’t be just friends. Still she never asked, and Louis was thankful for that.
He had made a call to a young Miss Anne Cox. She was recently left by her fiancée, such details Louis found irrelevant but allowed her to babble on to him anyway, and currently residing with her young son and the host of an empty room. Ramsdale was small and picturesque but Louis was pleased with it because it was quiet and he wanted to focus on his writings. He planned to make a living on them, but he had lost so much inspiration during his loveless marriage to Eleanor. He explained this to Anne and she understood immediately and promised him solitude and a quiet environment.
He arrives at the house on a Saturday in late June. It’s a white painted house, two stories, with a lovely green garden. Louis takes his baggage out of his car and is greeted by Anne almost instantly. She has shoulder length jet black hair, soft blue eyes, and a tall curvy figure. Louis smiles at her and she envelopes him in a welcoming hug.
“Here at last!” She exclaimed, offering to take his bags.
“Oh no, it’s quite alright, Miss Cox I-“
“Please!” She practically yells. “Call me Anne! It’s so lovely to have a boarder finally; my son and I have been quite lonely since my fiancée left.”
Louis rubbed his jaw awkwardly and cleared his throat, “Yes, I’m quite sorry about that. It’s a shame to have to raise a child by yourself.”
She nodded enthusiastically and rolled her eyes, “Especially Harold, my God, is he a handful.”
Louis must have given a look because she added quickly, “But you needn’t worry, he’ll leave you alone, I’ll make sure of that.”
And Louis wasn’t sure if he wanted this young boy to leave him alone but he nodded to Anne his understanding and followed her into the house. She showed him the downstairs, and then led him upstairs and showed him to his room. It was small, but it was what Louis needed. He smiled at the desk over by the window, thanking Anne profusely. He had never really had his own desk before.
But what was most distracting was the photograph above the desk. It had to be of her son, Harry; he had curly hair and dimples. His green eyes were lifted slightly and he looked so young and full of life. He was even cuter than Louis imagined, and his cock gave a throb of approval.
“Would you like some lemonade?” She interrupted his thoughts.
“Oh, yes, sure,” Louis stuttered. “That would be great.”
“You’re welcome to wait for me out in the garden, I like mine freshly squeezed.”
Louis wanted to slap himself silly; he couldn’t fuck this up for himself. He wouldn’t let himself. Anne was nice, what if she managed to figure out what Louis thought of her son. He’d be out on the streets faster than he had time to collect his things. And it was almost a sick trick of fate, for when he looked up there Harry was. He was lying in the grass, his mouth, cherry pink lips, wrapped around a lollypop. Louis licked his lips without thinking; he was even more beautiful in person. He had his nose buried in a magazine, giggling every now and then and flashing off his magnificent dimples. He swung his scrawny legs back and forth; brown from being kissed by the sun. Finally when Louis had almost had enough, Harry looked up at him.
He took the lollypop out of his mouth, and his lips curled into a toothy smile. Louis grinned back, unsure if Harry could even really see him, what with the sun being in his way. Anne came to the rescue of Louis’ dirty mind with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. They sat by side on the porch swing overlooking the garden. But Louis was really watching Harry.
“So where are you from anyway?” Anne mused. “That accent and all, you’re a foreigner.”
Louis grinned and looked down at his lap, “Yes, I’m from Britain, actually.”
“What are you doing all the way over here then?”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Louis began. “Basically my ex-wife’s parents were really close to mine, so we decided to move out to be close to them.”
“So it was kind of an arranged marriage?” She pressed.
“Well, uh, sort of,” Louis scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Not exactly. We just kind of fell for each other really. We were friends as teenagers but it just kind of happened.”
“That’s sweet,” Anne smiled serenely. “Harold’s dad was my high school sweetheart.”
“Your ex-husband?” Louis inquired, wanting desperately to steer clear of questions about himself.
“No,” Anne shook her head. “That was my husband before my fiancée.”
“What happened to him?”
Anne gulped and fiddled with her hands and spoke solemnly, “He was killed in the war.”
Louis bit his lip, unsure of what to say to her, “I’m…I’m awfully sorry.”
“It’s quite alright,” she waved him off. “I found someone better, well, who I thought was better. Turns out he’s just as awful as the rest of them.”
But later that night after dinner Louis was contemplating why he was so infatuated with Harry. It had to of been because he resembled Liam so much. Liam, he could remember Liam distinctly. Liam with the soft hands, the rosy red lips. Liam was his. They had been Harry’s age, 12, scared to tell anyone how they felt for one another. Liam would press his mouth, firm and sticky with candy, against Louis’ and murmur words he thought would be erotic. Liam had such a beautiful body; he didn’t look 12 once he was standing in front of Louis with no clothes on. His hands, the hands Louis could never quite forget. Stroking up and down his length, unsure and unsteady, but so soft. Liam was so pure, and Louis felt he had ruined him. He was killed, however, in an awful automobile accident with his older sister. Ever since Liam, Louis couldn’t move past the feeling of those lovely soft hands, the shy wrapping of the lips around his tender cock.
And just then when Louis thought he had dodged him, Harry was there. Almost nose to nose with Louis, unbearably close and his eyes were fixated on Louis’ diary, which Louis closed immediately.
“Hi,” Harry’s voice was small and barely entering puberty.
“Hello,” Louis nervously countered back.
Harry pulled out another lollypop out of his back pocket and carelessly tore of the wrapper and tossed it on the floor. He inserted it in his mouth, and Louis could see his pink tongue darting across the candy. He squirmed in his seat, fighting the disgusting urges that were coming in waves throughout his entire body.
“Are you from England or something?”
Louis chuckled, “Yes, yes I am.”
“What are you doing all the way in this dump?” Harry kicked the edge of the desk.
Louis paused, unsure of what to say, “Well, I just needed a quiet place to focus on my writing.”
“What’cha writing?” Harry persisted.
“Just some short stories that I’ll probably turn into a novel someday,” Louis replied.
“That sounds boring,” Harry stated.
“Oh really?” Louis shot back. “What isn’t boring, then?”
“Anything but writing,” Harry grimaced. “I absolutely hate it. They always make us write stupid stuff in school.”
“I love it,” Louis smiled.
“I wanna see,” Harry said suddenly.
He sat on Louis’ lap without warning, and Louis felt his eyes widen and his whole body stiffen. Harry snatched at the diary before Louis could even think.
“No, you mustn’t!” Louis reached around Harry trying to grab for the diary.
Harry let out a loud laugh, “Calm down, I’m just messing with you.”
“Harold!” Anne’s voice cut sharp, interrupting Harry’s fun instantly.
He sighed and turned around to face his mother, and her nostrils were flaring and her eyes wide. Louis was waiting to be scolded. He was waiting to be told he was a dirty pervert with no morals and that he needed professional help. But instead she stomped over to Harry and tugged him off of Louis’ lap.
“You do not interrupt Mr. Tomlinson when he’s trying to work, do you understand me?” She reprimanded.
“Yes, mother,” Harry huffed.
“Leave him be,” She gave him a soft push out the door and turned to face Louis with an apologetic look.
“Oh my god, Mr. Tomlinson, I’m so sorry about Harold. He’s such a little devil sometimes; he has no respect for anyone or anything around him.”
Louis just shook his head and smiled, “Anne, really, its fine. He’s a young boy. He wasn’t really bothering me anyway.”
“He bothers everyone,” Anne snapped before shutting the door and leaving Louis with his ever growing erection.
And Harry was rude, over the next couple of weeks he would randomly just barge in on Louis writing. He would lie down on the rug and read his magazines and loudly sucking on the lollypop. He never seemed to run out of them, Louis would think. He would roll his eyes every single time Anne came screaming up the stairs looking for him. He’d toss Louis a mischievous look and put his pointer finger against his lips and duck under the bed or inside the closet.
One time in particular Louis was working and Harry was reading his magazines as usual. When Anne came stomping up the stairs yelling that Harry better not be interrupting Louis working. Harry hadn’t given himself enough time and quickly rolled underneath Louis’ desk. Louis’ eyes widened as he felt the back of Harry’s head against his upper thigh, not wanting to think about the heat and the soft brush of his curls.
“Have you seen Harold?” Anne looked around the room warily.
Louis shuddered as he felt some part of Harry’s body brush against his growing erection. He shook his head at Anne, insisting that Harry had never been in here. Anne sighed and walked out of the room, and Harry peeked his head between Louis’ thighs and smiled and whispered a quick thank you before dashing out of his room.
But Harry grew more comfortable with Louis, often sitting on his lap while reading magazines. He would cuddle up to Louis and lay his head across Louis’ lap. Louis let out a sigh of relief every single time Anne would come out and scold Harry rather than Louis. He was always prepared for the worst but it was Harry that Anne was after. She would scream at Harry for every little thing the young boy did. While Louis always felt a pang of joy at the scolding, he felt overwhelming sympathy. Harry was just a little boy and he was just behaving how little boys do. But Louis never dared to intervene this wasn’t his child.
That’s why the sudden decision to send Harry to summer camp hit Louis like a ton of bricks. His precious Harry was being shipped off like some Russian peasant. Louis had just woken up, he had come downstairs to make himself something to eat, but ran frantically back up the stairs, his hunger fading immediately. Anne walked outside screaming at Harry to hurry up and get his things together. Harry was about to slide into the backseat of the car when all of the sudden he glanced up at Louis’ window and saw Louis’ shadowy figure staring back at him.
Without hesitation he sprung from the confines of the car and dodged his angry mother and Louis gulped. He was surely coming to say goodbye, he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. He heard the clomping of Harry’s shoes on the stairs and a smug grin spread across his face. His door was swung open and Harry leapt into Louis’ waiting arms. He curled his legs around Louis’ back, his hands buried in Louis’ unruly hair. He pressed a hot, sticky mouth to Louis’ dry lips. He was sloppy, his tongue circling Louis’ teeth and the tip of his tongue. But it was erotic, even, just how inexperienced Harry really was. And then just as suddenly Harry was gone. He gave Louis a long, wondering look before he disappeared down the stairs again. Louis pressed his hand against his stomach, his cock was almost uncomfortably hard and his eyes were watering. He couldn’t stand the idea of this being the last time he saw Harry. It couldn’t be. He had so much to show him.
Rating: R
Length: 2, 403
Fandom: One Direction
Characters: Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Anne Cox, Eleanor Calder, Liam Payne,
Ships: Louis/Harry
Notes: Based off of the novel Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. (the next few parts will be much longer)
Summary: Harry, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul...
Harry, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Har-ry. The long worn out syllables making your jaw ache, such a sweet sound. He was Haz, plain Haz in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. He was Hazza in slacks. He was Curly at school. He was Harold on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Harry. Did he have a precursor? He did, indeed he did. In point of fact, there might have been no Harry at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial boy-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Harry was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. Was I so wrong in thinking that I could love this boy, change this boy? Maybe that’s what led to our inevitable downfalls.
In the summer of 1955 Louis was sick of Eleanor, he was sick of her domineering mother and the insistence he would get from his own family that he needed to get a move on with his family. Eleanor was barren, she could give Louis nothing, and at this point in time, a barren woman was a useless woman. However she was humble, quaint, and very kind. She denied him nothing and provided him with most of what he asked for. She never even asked why he would park outside the schoolhouse every Wednesday. And she would certainly never ask why he would spend so much time with the young boys he had made friends with. She always knew, though, these boys couldn’t be just friends. Still she never asked, and Louis was thankful for that.
He had made a call to a young Miss Anne Cox. She was recently left by her fiancée, such details Louis found irrelevant but allowed her to babble on to him anyway, and currently residing with her young son and the host of an empty room. Ramsdale was small and picturesque but Louis was pleased with it because it was quiet and he wanted to focus on his writings. He planned to make a living on them, but he had lost so much inspiration during his loveless marriage to Eleanor. He explained this to Anne and she understood immediately and promised him solitude and a quiet environment.
He arrives at the house on a Saturday in late June. It’s a white painted house, two stories, with a lovely green garden. Louis takes his baggage out of his car and is greeted by Anne almost instantly. She has shoulder length jet black hair, soft blue eyes, and a tall curvy figure. Louis smiles at her and she envelopes him in a welcoming hug.
“Here at last!” She exclaimed, offering to take his bags.
“Oh no, it’s quite alright, Miss Cox I-“
“Please!” She practically yells. “Call me Anne! It’s so lovely to have a boarder finally; my son and I have been quite lonely since my fiancée left.”
Louis rubbed his jaw awkwardly and cleared his throat, “Yes, I’m quite sorry about that. It’s a shame to have to raise a child by yourself.”
She nodded enthusiastically and rolled her eyes, “Especially Harold, my God, is he a handful.”
Louis must have given a look because she added quickly, “But you needn’t worry, he’ll leave you alone, I’ll make sure of that.”
And Louis wasn’t sure if he wanted this young boy to leave him alone but he nodded to Anne his understanding and followed her into the house. She showed him the downstairs, and then led him upstairs and showed him to his room. It was small, but it was what Louis needed. He smiled at the desk over by the window, thanking Anne profusely. He had never really had his own desk before.
But what was most distracting was the photograph above the desk. It had to be of her son, Harry; he had curly hair and dimples. His green eyes were lifted slightly and he looked so young and full of life. He was even cuter than Louis imagined, and his cock gave a throb of approval.
“Would you like some lemonade?” She interrupted his thoughts.
“Oh, yes, sure,” Louis stuttered. “That would be great.”
“You’re welcome to wait for me out in the garden, I like mine freshly squeezed.”
Louis wanted to slap himself silly; he couldn’t fuck this up for himself. He wouldn’t let himself. Anne was nice, what if she managed to figure out what Louis thought of her son. He’d be out on the streets faster than he had time to collect his things. And it was almost a sick trick of fate, for when he looked up there Harry was. He was lying in the grass, his mouth, cherry pink lips, wrapped around a lollypop. Louis licked his lips without thinking; he was even more beautiful in person. He had his nose buried in a magazine, giggling every now and then and flashing off his magnificent dimples. He swung his scrawny legs back and forth; brown from being kissed by the sun. Finally when Louis had almost had enough, Harry looked up at him.
He took the lollypop out of his mouth, and his lips curled into a toothy smile. Louis grinned back, unsure if Harry could even really see him, what with the sun being in his way. Anne came to the rescue of Louis’ dirty mind with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. They sat by side on the porch swing overlooking the garden. But Louis was really watching Harry.
“So where are you from anyway?” Anne mused. “That accent and all, you’re a foreigner.”
Louis grinned and looked down at his lap, “Yes, I’m from Britain, actually.”
“What are you doing all the way over here then?”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Louis began. “Basically my ex-wife’s parents were really close to mine, so we decided to move out to be close to them.”
“So it was kind of an arranged marriage?” She pressed.
“Well, uh, sort of,” Louis scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Not exactly. We just kind of fell for each other really. We were friends as teenagers but it just kind of happened.”
“That’s sweet,” Anne smiled serenely. “Harold’s dad was my high school sweetheart.”
“Your ex-husband?” Louis inquired, wanting desperately to steer clear of questions about himself.
“No,” Anne shook her head. “That was my husband before my fiancée.”
“What happened to him?”
Anne gulped and fiddled with her hands and spoke solemnly, “He was killed in the war.”
Louis bit his lip, unsure of what to say to her, “I’m…I’m awfully sorry.”
“It’s quite alright,” she waved him off. “I found someone better, well, who I thought was better. Turns out he’s just as awful as the rest of them.”
But later that night after dinner Louis was contemplating why he was so infatuated with Harry. It had to of been because he resembled Liam so much. Liam, he could remember Liam distinctly. Liam with the soft hands, the rosy red lips. Liam was his. They had been Harry’s age, 12, scared to tell anyone how they felt for one another. Liam would press his mouth, firm and sticky with candy, against Louis’ and murmur words he thought would be erotic. Liam had such a beautiful body; he didn’t look 12 once he was standing in front of Louis with no clothes on. His hands, the hands Louis could never quite forget. Stroking up and down his length, unsure and unsteady, but so soft. Liam was so pure, and Louis felt he had ruined him. He was killed, however, in an awful automobile accident with his older sister. Ever since Liam, Louis couldn’t move past the feeling of those lovely soft hands, the shy wrapping of the lips around his tender cock.
And just then when Louis thought he had dodged him, Harry was there. Almost nose to nose with Louis, unbearably close and his eyes were fixated on Louis’ diary, which Louis closed immediately.
“Hi,” Harry’s voice was small and barely entering puberty.
“Hello,” Louis nervously countered back.
Harry pulled out another lollypop out of his back pocket and carelessly tore of the wrapper and tossed it on the floor. He inserted it in his mouth, and Louis could see his pink tongue darting across the candy. He squirmed in his seat, fighting the disgusting urges that were coming in waves throughout his entire body.
“Are you from England or something?”
Louis chuckled, “Yes, yes I am.”
“What are you doing all the way in this dump?” Harry kicked the edge of the desk.
Louis paused, unsure of what to say, “Well, I just needed a quiet place to focus on my writing.”
“What’cha writing?” Harry persisted.
“Just some short stories that I’ll probably turn into a novel someday,” Louis replied.
“That sounds boring,” Harry stated.
“Oh really?” Louis shot back. “What isn’t boring, then?”
“Anything but writing,” Harry grimaced. “I absolutely hate it. They always make us write stupid stuff in school.”
“I love it,” Louis smiled.
“I wanna see,” Harry said suddenly.
He sat on Louis’ lap without warning, and Louis felt his eyes widen and his whole body stiffen. Harry snatched at the diary before Louis could even think.
“No, you mustn’t!” Louis reached around Harry trying to grab for the diary.
Harry let out a loud laugh, “Calm down, I’m just messing with you.”
“Harold!” Anne’s voice cut sharp, interrupting Harry’s fun instantly.
He sighed and turned around to face his mother, and her nostrils were flaring and her eyes wide. Louis was waiting to be scolded. He was waiting to be told he was a dirty pervert with no morals and that he needed professional help. But instead she stomped over to Harry and tugged him off of Louis’ lap.
“You do not interrupt Mr. Tomlinson when he’s trying to work, do you understand me?” She reprimanded.
“Yes, mother,” Harry huffed.
“Leave him be,” She gave him a soft push out the door and turned to face Louis with an apologetic look.
“Oh my god, Mr. Tomlinson, I’m so sorry about Harold. He’s such a little devil sometimes; he has no respect for anyone or anything around him.”
Louis just shook his head and smiled, “Anne, really, its fine. He’s a young boy. He wasn’t really bothering me anyway.”
“He bothers everyone,” Anne snapped before shutting the door and leaving Louis with his ever growing erection.
And Harry was rude, over the next couple of weeks he would randomly just barge in on Louis writing. He would lie down on the rug and read his magazines and loudly sucking on the lollypop. He never seemed to run out of them, Louis would think. He would roll his eyes every single time Anne came screaming up the stairs looking for him. He’d toss Louis a mischievous look and put his pointer finger against his lips and duck under the bed or inside the closet.
One time in particular Louis was working and Harry was reading his magazines as usual. When Anne came stomping up the stairs yelling that Harry better not be interrupting Louis working. Harry hadn’t given himself enough time and quickly rolled underneath Louis’ desk. Louis’ eyes widened as he felt the back of Harry’s head against his upper thigh, not wanting to think about the heat and the soft brush of his curls.
“Have you seen Harold?” Anne looked around the room warily.
Louis shuddered as he felt some part of Harry’s body brush against his growing erection. He shook his head at Anne, insisting that Harry had never been in here. Anne sighed and walked out of the room, and Harry peeked his head between Louis’ thighs and smiled and whispered a quick thank you before dashing out of his room.
But Harry grew more comfortable with Louis, often sitting on his lap while reading magazines. He would cuddle up to Louis and lay his head across Louis’ lap. Louis let out a sigh of relief every single time Anne would come out and scold Harry rather than Louis. He was always prepared for the worst but it was Harry that Anne was after. She would scream at Harry for every little thing the young boy did. While Louis always felt a pang of joy at the scolding, he felt overwhelming sympathy. Harry was just a little boy and he was just behaving how little boys do. But Louis never dared to intervene this wasn’t his child.
That’s why the sudden decision to send Harry to summer camp hit Louis like a ton of bricks. His precious Harry was being shipped off like some Russian peasant. Louis had just woken up, he had come downstairs to make himself something to eat, but ran frantically back up the stairs, his hunger fading immediately. Anne walked outside screaming at Harry to hurry up and get his things together. Harry was about to slide into the backseat of the car when all of the sudden he glanced up at Louis’ window and saw Louis’ shadowy figure staring back at him.
Without hesitation he sprung from the confines of the car and dodged his angry mother and Louis gulped. He was surely coming to say goodbye, he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. He heard the clomping of Harry’s shoes on the stairs and a smug grin spread across his face. His door was swung open and Harry leapt into Louis’ waiting arms. He curled his legs around Louis’ back, his hands buried in Louis’ unruly hair. He pressed a hot, sticky mouth to Louis’ dry lips. He was sloppy, his tongue circling Louis’ teeth and the tip of his tongue. But it was erotic, even, just how inexperienced Harry really was. And then just as suddenly Harry was gone. He gave Louis a long, wondering look before he disappeared down the stairs again. Louis pressed his hand against his stomach, his cock was almost uncomfortably hard and his eyes were watering. He couldn’t stand the idea of this being the last time he saw Harry. It couldn’t be. He had so much to show him.