”He watches as Harry jogs onto the field with the rest of the team, his glove tucked casually against his shoulder. The outfielders are sprinting by, and in the center of it all Harry climbs up the little hill and begins to dig his toes into the dirt in long lines. Harry’s legs are … a work of art. A picture flashes in Louis’ mind of those legs tangled with his, Louis’ hand running over the thickest part of the thigh, feeling the heat and heft of the muscle underneath the tight-fitting baseball pants. Louis clears his throat, and takes a gulp of his water. He shifts his focus away to the outfield, where players are stretching and settling into their spots. He tries to concentrate out there, or at the umpires who pace along the sidelines. But Harry’s agile, graceful movements on the mound keep drawing Louis’ gaze like a magnet.” - Just Tell Me The Song, And I’ll Sing It