Louis barely gets out a "How was tour—" before Harry drops to his knees. Okay, it's not entirely unexpected, what with Harry pulling him into the airport bathroom and stationing security on the other side of the door. He's the kind of famous that requires a security guard now, and if that weren't enough to get Louis hard, having Harry kneel casually and press his mouth into his crotch would have sufficed. Also the fact they haven't seen each other in a month, the longest they've been apart since they met two years ago.
"Was nice, lots of fun. Do you wanna talk about it or do you want your dick sucked?"
Louis wants both, to be honest, but his hand is already fluttering down Harry's tan face, pressing down on his full lips. Fuck, he missed him so fucking much. "Whatever you want."
Harry looks up at him with a smile, and unzips his jeans. "I wanna suck your dick. And hear your voice."
"Not like you haven't heard it, you know."
"Not the same," Harry huffs, tugging both his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. "I missed you a fucking lot."
Louis knocks off Harry's stupid hat and buries his hands in his hair. "You talking to me or my dick?"
Instead of clearing it up, Harry kisses the tip of his cock and starts swirling his tongue. Louis's hands tighten in his hair slightly and he sighs for a long moment. Right, his voice. "Well, I had a nice time too. Got a bit bored after, like, a day."
Harry nods for him to go on, but he keeps making it difficult by just licking along his cock like they've got all the time in the world. Or like Louis had any satisfying orgasms while Harry was away, and won't just come on his cheek if he keeps it up for longer than a minute. He figures now is as good a time as any to drop the bomb. "Started a workshop out of the backroom of The Craic. Good money."
"Yeah?" Harry asks, breathing wetly over his cockhead. "Like Zayn's design workshop?"
Louis grabs better hold of his hair, patience growing quite thin from hearing Harry's deep voice. "Not quite. It's a BDSM thing."
Harry actually pulls back and looks up with a frown. Right, okay, this is why Louis didn't tell him in the first place. He sort of had a niggling worry that Harry wouldn't like it, and if he'd been right and Harry had tried to talk him out of it, Louis would have had to remind him that he didn't veto Harry leaving him for a month to go to America, and then they would have fought over Skype and it would've been awful. So Louis just didn't bring it up at all. Harry probably doesn't see the logic in that right now. "You had someone else sub—"
"No, Jesus, I didn't do demonstrations, except with tools," Louis huffs, pleasantly surprised by Harry's immediate concern. "It's mostly talking, you know I'm good at that." He leads Harry's mouth back to his cock. A wave of satisfaction rolls over him, either from Harry's jealousy or Harry's lips finally wrapping around him. "I did show them pictures of you, though."
That gets Harry going. He sinks down the shaft and tightens his lips, makes Louis throw his head back and bang it on the wall. "Didn't think—yeah—didn't think you'd mind. The couples were very impressed with you. Wonder what would've happened if they'd recognised you, hmm? If I didn't just show them your back and arse after a good session. If a fan knew what you got up to with your 'brunette hottie'." It was the most flattering title he's gotten since Harry came out. Maybe one day they'll actually use his name. Harry's taking him deep now, and Louis hasn't let up on his hair, knows he's feeling the burn he likes in his scalp. "Just made me miss you more, though. Can't feel your mouth through Skype."
It was more than that—it was the missed calls and the time difference and the fact Harry's an international superstar and Louis's a shopkeeper and the bickering that led to—but none of that matters right now. Harry's here, skin tanner and hair longer but he's here and he's his and he's intent on sucking Louis's brains out through his cock.
"Did you miss me too?" he asks, even though Harry already said. Harry hums again and reaches up to grab Louis's arse, subtly pulling him closer, further in. Louis takes the hint and starts pumping his hips, shallow little thrusts that make Harry's eyes flutter closed. "Bet you did. Surrounded by so many people, with no one to fuck you but me. Won't be surprised if you're wearing a plug right now."
Harry's response is to bury his whole cock down his throat, which both convinces Louis he guessed right and makes his knees buckle. Harry's always been good at this, his mouth is definitely not just for singing, but right now it's special, it's after a month and it's in an airport toilet, and that makes Harry extra eager. Louis moans loudly and tangles his fingers in Harry's curls so he can keep him right where he wants him. "Got a surprise for you too, love."
Harry's jaw slackens even further, and his hands stop squeezing Louis's arse just for long enough to trail a finger between his cheeks and push curiously against his hole. He doesn't find a plug, but they both forget about it after a moment because Louis comes hard in his mouth.
Harry stays on his knees for a few minutes after Louis yanks him off his cock and watches him swallow gleefully. Louis's leaning heavily against the wall and they're just staring at each other in wonder. He's still half-convinced he's going to wake up in their empty bedroom again. His heart aches a little, like it's grown too big for his chest just from seeing Harry again. It's kind of good to know that the ridiculous amount of love he has for this ridiculous boy hasn't diminished during their time apart. He's just petting Harry's hair gently now, playing with him. "Sometimes I feel like I'm living in one of your sappy love songs."
Harry's grinning so wide he has to hide it in Louis's thigh. "You say the sweetest things after you fuck my mouth," he replies, voice all scratchy and hot from said mouth-fucking.
Louis tugs on a few curls. "How am I so in love with such a dickhead?"
He can actually feel Harry blushing. "The songs are all for you, y'know. Doesn't matter who I'm performing in front of. Idiot."
"Aw, darling," Louis coos, tugging again but this time to pull Harry to his feet. "Why don't you keep saying sweet things to me while I return the favour?"
It's kind of hard for Harry to talk, especially when Louis turns him around to pull out the plug and eat him out, but between his moans and curses he does choke out a few "so good" and "love you more than fucking anything". It's nice and sweet. Even more when Louis doesn't let him come into his hand, so he ends up marking the wall.
If they didn't have a month of downtime, Louis would make him clean it with his tongue, but for now he swipes some toilet paper over the mess while Harry's clinging to him, his head buried in the crook of Louis's neck. Louis flushes it away and just hugs Harry back, holding him tightly and breathing him in. They're mumbling, talking over each other, anything to get the words out because they're too overwhelmed not to (I'm so happy to have you back I thought I wouldn't make it never leave me again).
"Let's go home," Louis whispers eventually.
Harry nods automatically, even while he says, "Wait, um. You mentioned a surprise?"
Louis's stomach feels suspiciously fluttery when he strokes Harry's hair one last time and gently pushes him away. Harry scopes out his whole body, making Louis roll his eyes self-consciously. "It's not a sexy surprise."
Harry pouts, probably at being caught. "Not like I expected your dick in a box."
"I watched you use the clone-a-willy I made, don't pretend you don't like my dick in a box."
Harry smirks at him, like he's either going to sing the song or make an awful joke. He surprises him by doing neither. "What's the fucking surprise, then?"
Louis sighs and, very slowly, shucks off his sweatshirt so he's standing in his tank top. Harry furrows his brows. "D'you finally get your nipples done?"
He rolls his eyes, and then turns around and hitches up his vest. Harry audibly slaps a hand over his mouth, but it does nothing to conceal his shocked gasp. "Louis Tomlinson. What have you done?"
Louis bites his lip so as not to grin too smugly. "Couldn't resist."
"You can't just... get a surprise matching tattoo," Harry accuses, his voice actually a bit choked up.
"I can't be a good boyfriend, Harold?"
Harry makes a frustrated sound and Louis can feel him getting closer, but still he doesn't touch the new tattoo on Louis's lower back. "When?"
"A week ago? Bit after I saw yours. That was permission to touch, by the way."
Harry doesn't need telling twice. He runs gentle fingers over both laurels, from his waistline to the flare of his hips. They're smaller than Harry's, framing the dimples of his back. They're fresh enough that he still has to put ointment on them, that it's not completely painless when Harry touches them, but it also feels really good. Particularly when Harry breathes hard into his hair and says, "They're beautiful."
Louis feels a bit flushed, awkward under Harry's stare. It wasn't the prospect of surprising him that kept him from telling Harry; it was how completely pathetic it was to get a matching tattoo this large just because he felt a bit vulnerable without Harry at his side. "Of course you'd say that, they match your design."
Harry tuts at him and properly buries his nose in Louis's nape. "You're beautiful. I can't believe you went and—shit, if I—" He presses up against Louis, crotch-to-arse so their tattoos are probably aligning. He curses again. "They're gonna touch, you know, when I fuck you from behind."
Louis nods, trying his hardest not to let Harry's words affect him. "Yeah."
"Is that why? I mean, why you got them? Because you like it when I do?"
"No, Harold, I got them because you kept sending me pictures of yours, branches coming out of your fucking crotch, and I wanted to feel closer to you somehow because I swear to god that month felt like three years. So get your mind out of the gutter." He grinds back against Harry for emphasis.
Harry doesn't say anything sappy in return, which is a bit of a relief, until he moves back and Louis can't feel his heat anymore. And then Harry drops to his knees, again, and his fingers hook in Louis's waistband and his tongue is tracing the laurels, wet and insistent and Louis's starting to lose control. It's truly a blessing that Harry knows to ask before doing anything. "Can I?" he mumbles into Louis's spine.
"No," Louis decides. He steps forward and turns around, back to square one, which is Harry kneeling in front of him. "Get up. Wanna touch yours now."
Harry stands clumsily and unbuttons his plaid shirt, revealing smooth, tan skin instead of an undershirt like a normal person. Louis doesn't ask him anything before he reaches out and grabs his hips, pressing his thumbs into the tops of the branches and making Harry gasp.
Louis's seen dozens of pictures, on his phone and on gossip blogs, but it's nothing like actually touching a new tattoo for the first time, feeling the sensitive skin under his hands and picturing—everything. Harry riding him and Louis gripping his hips and pressing his thumbs into the tattoos, Harry stretched out on his back with his legs thrown over Louis's shoulders and Louis holding him down so hard he's leaving marks on the pretty art, blowing Harry and licking his way down his long, lean body and sucking bruises into the lines, eating Harry out for hours until there's come over bruises over ink. "Jesus, love."
"Fuck me," Harry says, sounding just as breathless as Louis. "Please, right now, it's been so fucking long. Look, I've got—" It looks like it pains him to step away from Louis, but he does and he picks up his silly hat and—produces lube and condoms out of it.
Like all the tension in the room has been drained at once, Louis completely forgets what they were doing and doubles over laughing. "Did you just—how—for fuck's sake, Harold."
Harry's face is a mix of embarrassed and smug, the way he is when Louis finds anything he does funny, even if it's at his expense. "There's like a ribbon inside, I tucked them under it. Thought you'd find it funny."
Louis just launches himself at him, makes him drop the hat again and grab him instead. "You're the most ridiculous person in the universe," he declares into Harry's neck.
"Who you have four—five matching tattoos with. And a house and stuff."
"Unbelievable. How the mighty have fallen."
"In love," Harry hums, and suddenly Louis feels like screaming from how much he adores him.
"Let's go home, I don't care about your kinky magician's hat. I wanna fuck you for hours in our bed."
Harry isn't opposed to that plan. Neither is his bodyguard, who must have felt a bit awkward blocking the entrance to the loo so they could reunite. The fans make it a bit harder, as eager to greet Harry as Louis had been, but no one is too rude to Louis or overzealous to Harry.
They're going home.
The thing is, they're a really sweet couple. Like, unbearably clingy, never focused on anything else, always rattling on about each other's magnificence. They do it in public (like, really public, Harry doesn't stop talking about his amazing boyfriend whenever the press brings it up), but they do it in private, too. Stuttering compliments while they're balls-deep in each other, which has been pretty much non-stop since Harry came back. After, Harry spooning him, their matching tattoos lining up between them, and Louis's half-asleep and all he can think is that he never ever wants anyone else's arms around him, he'll never feel this way with anyone else, so he lifts Harry's hand to his mouth and kisses his rings and murmurs I love you and Harry's fully asleep but he still nuzzles into him.
The point is they're cute little shits. Except for the times Louis fucks Harry up.
It started a month into their relationship, when everything was still new and cautious and Louis didn't want to bring up anything that might make the hot guy he was dating uncomfortable. Niall Horan was the instigator, as he often is. The three of them snuck into a hotel and were chilling by a pool and then Niall splashed Louis, all down his front. Louis hates getting wet, particularly when he's innocently sunbathing and not paying any attention to Harry and Niall chicken fighting. So he got up, yanked out the fuzzy belt of his hotel bath robe, and whipped Niall while chasing after him.
When his outrage had dissolved, he found Harry sitting cross-legged by the pool chair. He looked up at him with a deep blush and bright eyes, and asked breathlessly, "You seem good at that."
Louis answered, bright-eyed and breathless himself, "I am."
If they're good at the relationship stuff, they're excellent at the BDSM stuff. It's not full-time, but they need it often, get off on it best, and miss it when they can't. Currently, Louis's losing his mind with how much he craves it. It's been a week since Harry's returned, making it five weeks since their last scene, and Louis's buzzing.
The problem is they can't find the time. Harry's got all these people he has to meet with, even though he swore to Louis up and down he'd have downtime after the tour, and Louis has to do respectable shop-owner things. There's also the anticipation and frustration building up expectations. Louis knows he can deliver, it's the one thing he knows he's good at, but…
There's this tension between them now. It's buried deep under the surface, but Louis feels its jagged edges when they're not together. The long-distance sniping that never really got resolved, the constant fear that Harry'll be off again sooner than expected. It's been so long that Louis's afraid they're out of sync, and if he's not confident, he's not going anywhere near that territory. He'll fuck Harry as hard as he asks for it, but he won't dom him.
Like most good things in his life, the solution comes from Niall Horan. "Sounds to me like you're just stuck in a rut, bro," he gives his professional opinion, while sucking on a joint and losing spectacularly on FIFA.
"What are you talking about? We fuck all the time. We fucked three hours ago right where you're sitting."
Niall doesn't even flinch. He's pretty jaded about this stuff, probably because he'd been running a sex shop for two years and then moved on to actually making the products at a fancy Adult Toys company called One Thing. It's one of the reasons Louis loves him more than 95% of the general population. Not the career part—though that definitely worked out in his favour, both in inheriting the shop and in getting to try out prototypes with his ever-willing boyfriend—but the fact Niall will listen to him talk about practically anything. Sometimes he'll even be helpful. "You've been fucking but you haven't been fucking, y'know? And the longer you're stuck in a rut the harder it'll be to get out of it, and I don't think I can live in a world where you're not a couple, so you better sort that shit out. Spice things up, isn't that what we tell people?"
Louis glares at him so hard he's surprised the spliff doesn't relight itself. No one's ever told him to spice up his love life. He is the spice, has been domming people since he was old enough to get into fetish clubs. Niall doesn't seem affected in the least by his glaring, so Louis just deflates on his own. "How am I supposed to do that? We're pretty fucking spicy, you know."
Niall just does the inconceivable and drops his controller mid-game. Louis pauses it quickly and turns to yell at him, but Niall's got a spark in his eye that has nothing to do with the weed. Probably. "I'd say you're asking the right fucking man. Give me a list of kinks you both like and I'll make you something."
Louis quirks an eyebrow. Taking advice from Niall is always a gamble, since his ideas range from lighting up his own farts to a hot pink St. Andrews Cross. Louis takes a hit and decides to trust him this once. He's got nothing to lose. "You want it alphabetically or in order of severity?"
Niall rolls his eyes, and by Saturday morning Louis's got the perfect solution in the palm of his hand.
Extreme Sex Dice—For Crazy Mofos
Louis kisses Niall squarely on the mouth, and then kicks him out of the house. He's promised himself he won't actually open the box without Harry, so they could share that too, but something tells him Niall hit home with this. It's perfect because it's fun and playful, because two dice mean thirty-six... spices, and because Louis's a competitive motherfucker. When he plays something, he plays to win. If he has to, he'll lock Harry in the house for however long it takes him to find a way to win at sex dice.
It's just the edge he needed. They have a mission now, and they're not called The Dream Team for nothing. He's confident.
There's a spring in his step when he strolls back to the bedroom where he'd left Harry to go answer the door. He spares maybe a minute or five to gaze at Harry sleeping like an angel, and then throws himself on the bed and elbows Harry awake. Harry grunts and blinks at him miserably, so Louis makes sure to kiss his sleepy face and sing You Are My Sunshine until Harry's giggling and tackling him back on the mattress for a kiss.
"Why are you even awake?" Harry asks into his chest, voice raspy as sandpaper from sleep.
Louis wriggles a little just hearing him. "Niall came by to drop something off for us."
"You already smoked up all the shit he brought on Wednesday?"
"No, idiot." He rattles the box over Harry's back. "Something from the Batcave."
Harry's head snaps up so fast his fringe flops over his eyes. "Oh. What is it then?"
Louis frowns. "You don't seem so excited, maybe I should open it with Zayn or—"
"Please, baby, I wanna see, let me see," he whines, putting his chin in his hands and batting his lashes at Louis. He should've gotten rid of him while he still had the chance. Harry will be the death of him.
He holds the box up in front of Harry's face. "Surprise!"
Harry just raises an eyebrow. "Sex dice?"
"Yup. You know the ones we sell, one die for a body part and the other for an action to perform on that… part."
"Isn't that what old married couples buy from you to spice things up?"
Louis frowns and opens his mouth to tell Harry off, but then he catches his absolutely dreamy expression and can only laugh. "Yes dear, we're just like any middle-aged married couple. Except for the fact that we're in our twenties and have a box full of bondage gear under our bed. And aren't married."
"Yet." Harry ducks his head to kiss Louis's chest tattoo sweetly. "Does that mean we'll play?"
"That's generally what you do with dice," Louis says, tangling his fingers in his hair.
Harry scrapes Louis's nipple with his teeth. "I mean, play-play."
He sounds cautiously excited. Louis wonders if he's looked forward to this half as much as Louis has. "Yes, sweetheart. I mean, I hope. I actually have no idea how he put the Extreme in Extreme Sex Dice, I haven't opened it yet."
Harry's eyes are definitely glittering with excitement when he rolls off of Louis and sits cross-legged beside him. "D'you have anywhere you need to be today?"
There were vague plans, but he can't remember a single one of them when he looks at Harry, sleepy-soft and dishevelled and eager and naked next to him. "Absolutely nowhere. You?"
"Nope." He doesn't even hesitate, bless him. Louis's fingers are jittery already.
"Let's see what he cooked up then."
He upends the box on Harry's abs, and out come two dice and a piece of paper with "Instructions" bolded at the top. Normally he'd be very speculative, think about the product's value, potential popularity, gender/orientation-inclusiveness. Right now, staring at Harry's butterfly tattoo and the fact there's a die with the word "Spanking" on it, his brain is pretty much blank. Harry notices the die's face at the same time and gasps, making his abs jump and the die to turn again. Landing on Lingerie. All fucking right.
The other die seems to be a normal one, one through six, which makes him finally pick up the instruction sheet. Harry's less curious than him, content just staring at the dice. "He really made these just for us?"
"Well, I asked him to, yeah," Louis answers distractedly, smiling to himself when he sees exactly how personalised this is (the page is lined with ropes and anchors, and the font is, horrifically enough, Comic Sans). His inspection is interrupted abruptly when Harry pokes his head directly in front of his face and pecks his lips. Louis opens his mouth to ask what that was for, but Harry takes the chance and starts kissing him fiercely, pinning him back against the headboard and crumpling the page a bit. When he pulls back, Louis's out of breath and blinking rapidly. "You okay?"
"Brilliant. We can, like... pick up where we left off. Before." Harry pauses, then gives Louis a crooked smile."'S brilliant."
"Stop distracting me then, you twat," he says, pushing Harry away so he can straighten out the instructions."Oh, okay, so we roll both dice at the same time. The one with words is called the action die, and the normal die is the number die. Very creative of Nialler, I'll say."
"So like, what happens if I roll lingerie and five? It's five pairs of panties?"
Louis snorts at the thought. "No, it says that the number die corresponds with like, instructions that are on this page. So there's something special for each face of the die. Maybe he is creative, then."
"He's bloody amazing, and we're gonna send him very expensive shoes, Louis," Harry insists, pout in his voice. "Can we start already?"
"Fine, but I'm rolling."
Harry just nods, clapping his hands excitedly. Louis kisses his forehead and then the dice. He's going to win, he can feel it.
He lands on Edging and 2, which makes them both gulp and then grab the page at the same time, nearly tearing it. Louis manages to wrestle it out of Harry's grabby hands, but it's not particularly insightful.
If the action die lands on EDGING, the number die signifies the timeframe within which the roller must keep their partner on the edge of orgasm.
And he rolled… Two. Oh. That's no challenge, is it? Harry will manage to last two hours just fine. Louis huffs, wondering if he could get away with a redraw because clearly the surface of the blanket was uneven. Before he can suggest it, Harry says, "That's a bit much, isn't it?"
Louis arches an eyebrow at him. Harry waves his hands aimlessly. "Two days."
Oh, that… changes things. Louis instantly brightens, mind coming up with ten plans per second. Two days is a long time to play. "It could also be two hours," he says, in fairness. Knowing Harry, though, he won't back down from the challenge. "Which do you want it to be?"
Harry curls up in thought and taps his fingers over his mouth. "I'm guessing we won't just be eating chips and waiting for the time to pass?"
Louis grins mischievously at him and just shakes his head. Harry flushes and pushes his hair back. "Days," he decides.
"There's my good boy," Louis says and drops a kiss to Harry's shoulder, incredibly pleased with him. Harry leans into him immediately. "D'you want two days or two nights?"
Harry actually shivers against him. He's so keyed up already, it's amazing. Louis's a genius. A sexual savant. A relationship guru. "We'll see how I feel tomorrow?"
Louis nips Harry's shoulder sharply. "You know I don't like that."
He might be spontaneous, mischievous and, well, reckless, but when he plays he doesn't do it by ear. This isn't something to fuck around with, no matter what they do in particular, especially since… Louis's been in the scene for years now, while Harry was completely unfamiliar with it before they met. He's racked up two years of experience by now, but Louis being his first and only dom puts all kinds of responsibilities on Louis. What if one day he'll suggest something and Harry will just agree because Louis said so? The only way for Louis to consider it without hyperventilating is to set hard limits before they even touch each other. Like now. "It's just noon now, innit? We'll start now and finish tomorrow night. Almost two days. Does that sound okay?"
Harry nods excitedly and kisses Louis's forehead. "Perfect."
"You know what, I think I'll put an alarm for us. Tomorrow at nine. So we'll know." He's mostly speaking to himself. Harry doesn't really care about the logistics, he knows Louis will take care of him. A thought occurs to him, and he tries to sound very casual when he says, "Actually, the instructions don't say you, like, have to sub for this. Do you feel like it?"
"Yes," Harry answers immediately. "I... I don't think I could without. Um. I think we need it."
He's getting more flustered by the minute, pressing his knees up to his chest and leaning on Louis more. Louis wraps an arm around him and rubs circles against his arm, even as relief threatens to drown him. "All right, baby." That gets Harry's attention. He perks up and looks at Louis from under his lashes. "Let's take a good long shower and then I'll spank you to get us in the mood, yeah?"
Harry's got something in his eyes that tells Louis he's already in the mood. It's always so easy for him to fall into him, trusting and lovely to a fault, even more so after five weeks without. It's going to be two long days.
"Please, more," Harry moans, rocking back even before Louis lifts his hand back up.
Louis gives him one more, a slap that rings around the room and makes his arse jiggle a little. He's a vision. "Are you going to come, baby?"
Harry's panting heavily, needs time to mull that over. Or maybe he's waiting for Louis to spank him again. (He doesn't.) "Yeah."
Louis smiles to himself and cups Harry's flaming cheeks in both hands, squeezing and petting and making him tense. Clearly playing with him in the shower had been a good idea. Louis can't always tell how Harry's going to take a spanking—sometimes he asks for it and doesn't even get hard, just wants the pain and... submission. Today it brought him right to the edge, and that's precisely where Louis wants to keep him. It's all coming back to him like no time had passed at all; what to do or say to wind Harry up, how to dominate him just the way he likes.
He stands up and shakes out his hands, both wrists a little sore. It's welcome, though, it's beyond welcome, another week and Louis would've asked Zayn if he was in need of a good spanking. Harry moves back a little as if to follow him, but he doesn't actually stop sprawling on the edge of the bed. "We're done," Louis tells him. Harry slumps, his muscles visibly relaxing. Louis smiles at his boy, wants to soothe his red cheeks with his tongue. Instead, he grabs the lotion bottle from their dresser.
He hops on the bed and leans on the headboard, gets comfortable before opening his arms. "Come here, love."
Harry scrambles instantly, crawling into Louis's lap and settling with his knees on either side of him. It's not that Louis's forgotten how Harry responds to this, what a perfect boy he can be, but it's still a bit overwhelming to experience after so long. His cock is hard and thick between them, obvious, but Harry's clearly trying not to bring attention to it. Louis has to nod before Harry buries his face in the crook of his neck and wraps himself all tight around him.
Louis pours some lotion into his hands and fits them over Harry's arse, petting and rubbing. "That's it, darling. You feel so lovely for me. Took it very well."
Harry's nodding for him to keep talking, but he's not really relaxing into Louis's arms like always. He's still keeping himself in check, body taut like a spring waiting to snap, so Louis grabs better hold of his sore arse and tugs him close, until he's suddenly grinding against his cock. Harry gasps sharply and drapes himself over Louis, starts biting his shoulder when Louis gets his wet hand between them so the friction isn't so bad.
But when it's not bad it's good, and Harry can't seem to handle "good" right now. His hips keep bucking and he brings himself even closer to Louis, like he's trying to lose himself in him. "Please, can I?" he whispers, nails digging into Louis's back.
Louis brings both his hands back to Harry's arse and he starts kneading his hot skin, rutting his hips up, sliding just right against Harry. "No."
Harry pants even harder. "Please, I need to come, I have to."
"You don't," Louis says simply. Harry still seems doubtful, so Louis starts bringing his hands closer together, until his fingers are just brushing his crack. Harry's knees clench around Louis, probably mirroring the way he's clenching inside. Louis wants to find out so much, but he's still teasing him, barely fluttering over his hole and grinding against him even harder.
"Oh god, please, Lou," Harry whispers, providing the perfect opportunity. Louis slides two fingers into him and Harry moans right in his ear and trembles so bad Louis has to secure his other arm around him to make sure he doesn't squirm off. "Fuck, fuck, Lou, I can't."
"You can," Louis tells him, screwing his fingers in deep and closing his eyes at how tight Harry is, always inviting. "You can do it, baby, I know you can hold it for me." He wants so much to use the word already, wants to ratchet the heat even higher, but he needs to hear it from Harry first. He knows that he's almost there, not from his twisting hips, not from his rock-hard cock, but from the way he's whispering nonsensically into Louis's shoulder. "Who's gonna come, Harry?"
"You," he says on a whimper, surrendering completely. Louis wants to kick himself for keeping them waiting a whole week—this is exactly what they needed to get over the infernal month apart. Louis doesn't even know what they are when they're apart, what role he plays in Harry's life when he's performing in front of thousands in New York City and Louis's selling dildos in Manchester. Right now, he knows exactly what his role is, what the steps are. He knows that Harry needs him, and Harry knows that he's being good for him, and it probably means more than it should. But it's them. Playing like this snaps them right back into their place.
"Won't happen on its own, baby," he comments, sounding as indifferent as he can in his current state. Harry suddenly gets all stiff in his arms and tight around his fingers, his mouth wet but voiceless against Louis's skin. For a moment Louis thinks he pushed him too far, that Harry's coming barely an hour after they rolled the dice. He wants to kick himself again; fingering Harry was supposed to take the edge off, not make him come faster.
Only, Harry doesn't. Just as soon as he seized up, he recoils, melting into Louis again like... like the spring finally snapped. "Yes, Daddy."
There it is. Fuck, Harry says it so softly and—it's probably his favourite kink of Harry's, just hearing him makes Louis fuck into him harder and push him closer to his cock.
Now that he has a mission, Harry is somewhat less of a useless mess. He starts grinding against Louis more purposefully, clenching around his fingers and moaning. He's everywhere, over and around and on him, breathing hard in his ear and smelling like sweat. Louis can feel how much Harry still wants to come, because half the reason the friction between them is so good is that Harry's stiff cock is leaking like crazy. "You're doing so well, baby. Wanna come so bad, don't you?"
Harry nods miserably, his teeth sinking into Louis's skin again like he can't help it. Louis groans and pounds his fingers so deep that Harry's jostled forward and harder against his cock. Harry whimpers again and fuck, Louis loves that. He talks dirty to wind Harry up, but it's not like he remains unaffected. Just hearing Harry agree so easily to Louis's complete control over him, it's mindboggling in the best way possible. "You're gonna wait like a good boy, aren't you? Have to settle for getting your daddy off again and again. Think that'll make it even harder? Bet it will, I know how much you love getting me off."
"I do," Harry whispers, probably can't contribute anything more to the conversation. It's okay, talking is Louis's thing. He used to operate a phone sex line before he started working at the shop. (Louis's been leading a very dark, provocative life, really. When they have kids they're going to finish school and get master's degrees and make every decision Louis didn't.) It's okay because Harry doesn't need to talk as long as he keeps working his hips in tight circles over him, fucking back on his fingers. Louis suddenly wishes he could see his face, but he can't bear the thought of not being wrapped up in him like this.
Louis's so close he feels too hot, trapped in Harry, and he can't imagine how Harry feels. If it weren't for the dice Louis would've made him come twice by now, once from the spanking and once with his hand wrapped around them both. Fuck, Louis wants that. "Baby, I want your big hand around me. Get it between us and jerk us off, can you do that for me?"
Harry muffles a whimper in Louis's neck and ruts up against him like he can't help the subtle twitch of his hips. "Daddy, what if I—"
"You won't," Louis assures him confidently. It's the tone he knows could make Harry believe the sun rises in the West. "You're my good boy, aren't you? Took the pain so well, I know you can take the pleasure." It's not even his faith in Harry being good, it's the clear knowledge that as soon as Harry gets his hand around them it'll only take two pulls. It's been too long for Louis to last.
Harry holds his breath when he snakes his hand between their stomachs. Louis takes one hand off Harry's arse and grabs his hair instead, yanking his head back and giving him a kiss. It's sloppy and filthy, teeth biting hard and tongues meeting halfway. It distracts Harry enough to let his hand slip over their slick cockheads, and then he gets a good grip and strokes down.
It's as good as Louis thought it would be. Harry's big hand is tight on them, they're too caught up in it not to be, and their cocks are pressed as close as they can be. They moan into each other's mouths and Louis gets careless, thrusts into Harry more purposefully than he should be, his instinct to make Harry feel good overriding everything. "Yeah, there you go," Louis whispers, bucking his hips so Harry bounces a little and gasps. "Gonna make Daddy come so good."
Harry pumps them faster and gets quiet, probably trying to concentrate. Louis nuzzles over his cheekbone until he reaches his ear and then bites hard on his neck. When he comes, Harry's louder than him, whimpering needily and freezing his hand. Louis can't blame him for not milking him through it—the feeling of Louis's come over his cock probably makes not coming himself near impossible.
But he manages not to, because Harry Styles is a genius when it comes to keeping himself in check for Louis, and he's so proud of him the praise just spills out. "You can let go now, did such a good job, I'm so proud of you."
Harry sighs happily and raises his hands like he wants to wrap them around Louis's shoulders. There's nothing Louis wants more than for Harry to snuggle in, but when Harry spots the come streaking his hand he looks from it to Louis hesitantly. Louis nods.
It's a marvel to watch, still pleasantly turned on. Harry brings his hand up to his mouth and starts to lick it clean, lapping up Louis's come meticulously. He moans around his fingers like it's all he'll ever need in his mouth, and Louis's so overwhelmed he almost can't look. He's never had a thing for come before Harry, and even now it's not the jizz itself—bitter and sticky—but the marking and the claiming and all the good stuff Harry goes crazy for. He's turning himself on, the idiot, starts wriggling and gently reminding Louis that he's still got two fingers in him. Louis wants to shove him back and throw his legs over his shoulders.
Jesus, when they rolled the dice on edging he thought this would only be difficult for Harry. He was an idiot. He craves for Harry to come untouched between them, or all over his own laurel tattoos, or down Louis's throat, or inside him. He doesn't know when he started drawing his own pleasure from Harry's, probably a soulmate thing, like his orgasms don't really scratch the itch if Harry doesn't orgasm himself. It's quite unsatisfying, but just thinking about Harry losing his shit tomorrow has his toes curling in anticipation. Perseverance is key here.
He kisses Harry once and then withdraws his fingers, making Harry whine a little. He ignores him and grabs Harry's hips, pushing him off of him. "Daddy?" Harry asks timidly.
Louis pretends that doesn't affect him at all. He stands up and stretches out, barely sparing Harry a glance. "I'm going to shower."
Harry crawls to the edge of the bed and puts his feet on the ground, but he doesn't stand, unsure if he's invited or not. Good. He's not. He seems to struggle to ask the question, so Louis just tells him. "You're gonna stay here and wait. On your knees." He debates leaving it at that, but the involuntary groan Harry makes convinces him not to. If all Harry does is kneel on the floor and wait, he'll work himself into a frenzy. Louis wants both of them to cool off for half an hour at least, or they're not going to make it at all. "I want you to wipe yourself down with something, change the sheets, open the blinds, put a pillow on the floor, kneel on it and wait."
He leaves as soon as he said it, trusting Harry to start. The shower feels like heaven as he washes off the sweat and mess. He thinks about what they should accomplish during the edging, but that's not exactly soothing so he tries not to think at all. Which means he's thinking about Harry. With how mean he is to him in bed—with how mean Harry wants him to be—they probably shouldn't be this co-dependent.
He comes out after a long time, long enough that when he sees Harry kneeling, he's wondering how long he's been there for. Harry's so tense he's shaking, but his dick is soft, so at least it worked. Louis steps right up to him and ruffles his wavy hair, muttering "good boy" automatically. Harry drops his head and nudges it against Louis's hipbone. Louis smiles helplessly and scratches behind his ear, curling his hair around his fingers. "Aren't you sweet?"
He feels Harry smile shyly against his thigh. "I waited."
"You did. Look at you." Louis also checks and sees that Harry changed the sheets to a freshly-washed set. It takes maybe half a second for the compulsion to get them dirty to set in. "Up you go."
Harry stands up on wobbly knees and bends over a little to work out the kinks in his back and yeah, Louis knows what they're doing next. "Your arse is still a bit red, love. Why don't you lie down and I'll make it better?"
He's lying through his teeth—they didn't go nearly that hard, not after five weeks of no spankings at all—but Harry either doesn't know or doesn't care. He gets on the bed and lies down on his front, assertively putting a pillow under his hips so his arse is pushed up. Harry's intuitive like that. Louis takes the long way around, grabbing both the lotion and the lube. Just in case.
As soon as Louis strokes a finger down his spine, just a barely-there touch, Harry turns to putty. He spreads his legs so Louis can sit comfortably between them and not on them, folds his arms under his head and sighs like a contented kitten. Louis tries not to laugh.
He feels indulgent, so he makes good on his word and actually puts some lotion in his hands. However, he doesn't rub it in gently. Right from the start, Louis's squeezing Harry hard, kneading and pinching until Harry's happy sighs turn into pained little moans. His arse isn't bright red anymore but it must still be sore, oversensitive. Louis can't stop touching him, hoping he's making it worse.
He's even tempted to start spanking him again, but then he notices. For every squeeze, Harry, very subtly and minutely, rocks his hips forward, away from Louis's rough hands and into the soft pillow. Okay, new plan. Louis grabs a painfully tight hold on his arse and pushes down, until Harry grunts loudly and rubs his face into the mattress.
"Yeah? Like that?" Louis asks, moving his hands from Harry's cheeks to his hips so he can pull him up and then shove him back down. There's no doubt in his mind that Harry's hard against the pillow, might've been this whole time. Harry doesn't answer. Louis makes him bear down harder. "Want you to grind, Harry. Hump the pillow like a little boy who can't help himself."
"Fuck," Harry moans and starts right away, his hips snapping fast. Louis takes his hands off of him and just stares, mesmerised. Harry rolls his whole body into it, his thigh muscles clenching and his shoulder blades popping. It's almost as hot as the sentiment, really, the idea that Harry's so desperate to come he'll just hump something while his boyfriend watches. He'd spill right on the pillow he sleeps on.
He knows Harry's well into it now. It's not even the daddy thing, it's the fact that he doesn't ask to come anymore, just tells Louis that he's close so Louis can decide what he wants to do next. Louis's so hard the decision is made for him. "Stop," he says calmly, and Harry obeys instantly, though his body still recoils because of how hard he's been riding the pillow.
Louis wipes the lotion off on the sheets and then takes the lube, instead, pouring some out on his fingers. Harry can't see him, and Louis doesn't feel compelled to give him a warning. He puts his dry hand on one of Harry's arsecheeks and pushes until his pink hole is exposed. Easy as breathing, Louis pushes a finger into him, sliding right in. Harry groans and tightens up around him, but he's still a bit loose from earlier and even if he weren't, Louis knows he loves the pain. "Continue," Louis says.
It takes Harry a moment to even understand what Louis wants, and then he shudders under him and slowly starts to rock his hips, back against his finger and forth against the pillow. It's not even close to the rhythm he had before, but Louis guesses there are extenuating circumstances. So he adds another finger. People always tell him he's difficult. At least he's fucking someone who can rise to the challenge.
He's not even thrusting in or stretching them, lets Harry do it all. Harry's got no leverage spread out like this and it's making him work harder, makes his muscles flex and his breathing pick up. The faster he fucks himself on Louis's fingers the louder he gets when he falls back on the pillow and grinds his hips. He's sweaty and beautiful and tight.
Other than pulling out his fingers, he doesn't give Harry a warning before he positions himself behind him and starts pushing in the head of his cock. It also means he neglected to tell Harry to stop pumping his hips, so he doesn't, he fucks back and forth and back and forth until he's got half of Louis's cock in him without Louis even moving. Christ.
Louis thrusts in the rest of the way and hunches forward, careful not to collapse on Harry. He doesn't think he could ever get enough of this feeling, this first slide into Harry's body, tight and hot and incredible. And Harry keeps squirming on him. Louis straightens back up, grabs Harry's hipbones, takes a deep breath, and starts fucking him slowly.
Harry's sweet little moans fill the air between them, and he's still grinding, making it impossible for Louis to focus. It takes them forever to synchronise, but finally by some miracle everything just clicks. Harry pushes into the pillow when Louis pulls back, and then they both pump their hips toward each other so they meet with an audible slap, nearly drowned out by their heavy breaths and groans.
They keep it up, blissfully enough, Louis managing to hold the steady pace while making subtle changes to the angle of his thrusts. Harry freezes up suddenly, abandoning the relentless humping in favour of a shocked gasp. "Oh, close, Daddy, close-close-close fuck—"
Louis slips out of him and rises on his knees. He grabs Harry's hips and hoists him up with him, until his back is curved obscenely. How Harry manages to look so comfortable slumped on his front with his arse up in the air is a mystery. A glorious, sexy mystery. That doesn't matter right now. What's important is that he doesn't get friction on his cock, nothing like the pillow at least, so Louis feels pretty safe to line up and ram home.
He keeps his thrusts short and deep, like he can't bear to pull away. Harry's as accommodating as ever, making destroyed sounds every time Louis fucks into him just right. It sounds like he's winding up again, but Louis's too far gone to stop, knows he needs to get off before Harry says he's close again. "Doing so well, baby."
He spreads a hand on Harry's lower back and looks down, drinking in the sight of his cock pounding into Harry's tight little arse. Every time he hits Harry's spot Harry clenches so hard around him he can't breathe, can't keep his eyes open anymore. He chases that feeling until finally he comes, filling Harry up and curving over him, still pumping in and out weakly.
Harry's whining wildly, probably only cares about coming too, but Louis's got enough wits about him to remember the point of this whole thing. He pulls out of him and helps straighten him out, until Harry's lying on his back. He hasn't seen his face since he told Harry to lie down in the first place, so the wild look in his eyes makes Louis gasp in surprise. "Poor baby," he coos instantly, lying down as well and kissing his neck and chest soothingly. "I think it's time for you to shower and cool down."
Harry opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a high-strung sigh and Louis can see his cock twitch. Fine, he'll keep talking.
Eventually he manages to bring Harry down enough to get him on his feet. He makes sure not to touch him too often for the rest of the day, leads him gently from the bed to the shower to the living room, where they watch telly and nap all curled up.
They decide to have an early night, having kind of worked hard all day (on their relationship), but Louis only gets a few hours of sleep before something startles him awake. Harry's a heavy weight all around him; somehow they ended up spooning, and—yes, that's what woke him. Harry's grinding slowly against the curve of his arse. "H," Louis whispers, tapping on his arm, but Harry doesn't stop and Louis realises that he's asleep. Jesus, he's hard as iron behind him. Louis's own breathing picks up just feeling him.
"Babe," Louis says loudly, pinching him.
There's a loud snore and then suddenly he feels Harry freeze up behind him. He immediately unwraps his arms from around Louis and shuffles away, leaving Louis cold and confused. He musters up his will power and assumes a disapproving expression. He's got a hunch about how this is going to play out, and it doesn't involve him being turned on by Harry trying to get off on him in his sleep.
He turns around so he's facing him, and Harry looks mortified. He's cupping his cock and squeezing his eyes shut like he could just pretend this isn't happening and go back to sleep. Louis's stumped for a moment, wants to comfort him so much the words are just on the tip of his tongue, but he's not sure what Harry's in the mood for.
Until Harry whispers in a sleep-rough voice, "Daddy, I'm sorry."
Louis knows what to do from here. He tuts like Harry actually offended him. "That's not very good, is it, Harry?"
Harry shakes his head frantically. "No, I'm—sorry, I just. Feels like I'm on fire."
Fuck. "How do you even manage when you're touring in another fucking country?"
Harry shies away from Louis farther and curls in on himself. "Doesn't feel like this when I'm not around you."
Louis was about to say something harsh—Harry begged him to be mean way too many times for it not to stick—but suddenly he forgets what he was about to say. That hit a bit too close to home, is the thing, so soon after getting Harry back. He decides to be kind, for once. He rolls closer to Harry and runs a hand through his hair. His voice softens automatically when Harry turns his face into it and settles. "I know, baby. I'm sorry, I think I might be going a bit crazy myself. Let's go back to sleep, yeah?" He kisses Harry's forehead sweetly. "You're gonna come so hard tomorrow."
It was meant to be comforting, but Harry makes this tortured sound and buries his face in the pillow, limp and miserable. The moonlight is playing tricks on his sweaty skin and Louis can see all the strong muscles of his back and arms go taut from the effort to stay still. Louis wants to push but he still feels a bit shitty from his slip-up so he just turns away from Harry. He even rolls closer to the edge of the bed, so he doesn't touch him accidentally.
But neither of them can really fall asleep. Harry's tossing and turning and whimpering behind him, muffled by the pillow but too loud to be unintentional. He wants Louis. Well. He wants Daddy.
Louis hisses and turns to Harry, making sure to appear unimpressed. Miraculously, he maintains that expression even when he sees that Harry's lying flat on his back and his cock is so hard there's pre-come beading at the tip. "Quiet down already, I'm trying to sleep."
Harry only gets louder in response, his hips twitching. He has to bite down on his knuckle to keep the whining in, but even that doesn't work. Louis doesn't know why Harry thought it would—he loves being bitten too much. There's this tiny puddle of pre-come pooling on Harry's abs where his cock is curving, like he's too full up to keep it all in. It's not even been a day.
Louis's own cock starts hardening just from seeing Harry so flustered. Time to start. "I said, stop whining, or I'll have to make you."
To his credit, Harry does try. He throws his arm over his face and bites on the inside of his elbow, and it works for a while, but Louis thinks he's well aware of the fact they're both waiting for him to fail. He can see it in the way he's all stretched out and inviting. Maybe Louis's projecting, though. God, he wants to fuck him already.
The only course of action is to pretend to go back to sleep. As expected, barely a minute after he shuts his eyes Harry lets out a soft whine. Louis immediately props up so he's kneeling over Harry with a deep frown. Harry stays incredibly still and looks up at him with huge, guilty eyes. His lips are bitten red when he releases them from between his teeth, and Louis can't stop watching them as Harry starts babbling. "I'm so sorry, Daddy, I tried, I'm just so hard all the time—"
Louis slaps a hand over Harry's mouth and, finally, Harry falls completely silent. Louis looks right into his glassy eyes and presses down, just barely teasing at the possibility of covering his nose as well. Harry's pupils are completely blown and he looks at Louis unblinking for so long his eyes start watering. Louis frowns harder, doesn't want him crying yet. "I told you to stay quiet, didn't I? I told you to get a hold of yourself because I thought you could, Harry. Then I wake up to you humping me like a fucking animal, and you won't even shut up?"
He's being harsh again. Maybe if Harry would stop squirming so much he'd stop pushing him. Still, he deserves a chance. Louis lifts his hand abruptly and shoots Harry a stern look. He's not really sure himself how Harry will play it, but then Harry sort of… goes boneless, melting into the bed with his eyes closed and his mouth firmly shut. Perfect.
"What're we gonna do to keep you nice and quiet, hm?" Louis asks, not really expecting an answer. It's not that he likes the sound of his own voice; he knows the rhetorical questions help Harry stay connected. He comes closer to Harry and then throws a leg over his shoulders so he's straddling his chest. Harry's eyes snap back open and he looks at Louis's body like he's hungry. Louis buries his fingers in Harry's hair and clenches a fist. "Open up."
Harry does, opens wide and lets his tongue loll out, fully anticipating Louis to shove his dick inside. Louis instantly disapproves. He doesn't like it when Harry anticipates; he goes so much deeper when Louis keeps catching him off guard. He gets up on his knees again, and Harry raises his head with bright eyes, but Louis doesn't give him his cock.
Instead, he spins around and plants his arse in front of Harry's face. Harry doesn't make a peep, he's being so good Louis feels all warm with pride. He does grab the sheets so hard they scratch Louis's knees. Louis arches his back and doesn't hear a sigh, but he feels Harry's laboured breaths hit his skin. He looks over his shoulder and sees Harry flushed bright red and, more importantly, with his mouth still hanging open and his tongue out.
Louis keeps supporting himself on one elbow and reaches for Harry behind him. Only when he finds Harry's hand and gets it in a firm grip, does he grind back slowly on his face. At first he just feels Harry's hot breaths on his crack. Since Harry can't use his hands to spread Louis open, he has to actually dig in to get anywhere, and Louis's stomach twists when he feels Harry move his whole face into it, shoving forward with his cheeks and nose to make way for his mouth.
It's something they started doing because Harry wanted to figure out how to give a submissive rimjob, and Louis will never in his life turn down a rimjob. "No hands" for Harry means giving up all the control he has when he's licking Louis out slowly and makes him cry for it. For Louis, it means he has to focus. He can fucking lose it when he gets eaten out, but when they're playing, losing it isn't an option. Especially when he's sitting on Harry's face and can actually choke him. That's why he stays slightly elevated, so Harry can always rest his head back on the pillow to take a breath. (Not that he would. Louis doesn't understand how Harry buys it when Louis calls him out on being bad; Harry cannot be anything but a good boy. He was programmed that way, practically made for him.)
When Harry's tongue finally finds his hole Louis bears down and moans, his back curling. Harry starts to happily sweep his tongue back and forth over it without actually fucking inside, but it's hardly unsatisfying. Louis keeps thinking about the fact Harry's getting his cheeks and chin all messy with spit, the fact he's trying so hard to show his daddy a good time. Louis squeezes Harry's hand once and finally Harry strains his tongue forward and licks into him. Louis just. Collapses forward on Harry's thigh.
There's nothing like it. It's heavenly, Harry's tongue is long and flexible and so wet going into him, swirling and jabbing and uncoordinated. He squeezes Harry's hand again and then grinds back finally, feels Harry get deeper, feels Harry's teeth press indentations into the sensitive skin around his hole, feels his lips tighten on him when he tries to suck around his tongue. Louis feels twisted into knots again, knows he's making sounds that probably confuse Harry right now. He feels so hot, and every time Harry's tongue screws into him particularly fiercely it's like an electric current to his cock.
He wants more, needs more friction so as not to give into this helpless feeling of pleasure. He slumps over Harry's body and reaches back with his free hand. He's lucky Harry's devastating height is all legs—it's not a problem to find Harry's head behind him and tug until he's buried even more persistently in his arse. He knows he's cutting off Harry's air, not because Harry squeezes his hand but because Louis can see his cock spurt pre-come right next to his head.
He starts to really ride his face then, hand twisted tight in his hair. He feels everything, from Harry's tongue fucking him deep to Harry's nose bumping into him, and he can't stop thinking about how Harry's going to look afterwards, his whole face wet and red. His beautiful boy, his sunshine boy, doing him so good. He's probably saying it aloud, and it gets Harry excited enough to work even harder, keep his tongue stiff when Louis fucks himself on it.
His eyes flutter open in a daze when he feels Harry actually brush close to his spot. His breath hitches when the first thing he sees is how hard Harry is, his cock flushed so red and dripping. Louis really fucking wants it in his mouth. Harry could take that, couldn't he? Louis's going to shoot off soon enough, he won't have enough time on Harry's cock to make him come. Probably.
The opportunity presents itself soon enough. On a particularly harsh stroke Louis yanks on Harry's hair and bucks his hips back, and he hears it, hears his perfect boy misbehave right when he wanted him to. He hears him moan. Louis yanks on Harry's hair so hard he (moans again and) detaches from Louis's hole, and is left breathing incredibly hard on his arse. "Harry," he hisses, thanking years of practice for keeping his voice demanding and not wanton. "Why are you doing this?"
Harry stays completely quiet, and Louis rolls his eyes even though Harry can't see him. "To keep your big mouth busy. But here you are, still whining." He almost tacks on an endearment, but he thinks it might throw Harry off. They had so many discussions about dirty talk and limits; Louis's practically got it all scripted. When Harry wants him to be disapproving, he can't be affectionate. But Harry doesn't have to pretend to be cross with the person with the sweetest face on the planet, so Harry will just have to forgive him a few sweethearts and darlings.
Harry's getting desperate, struggling against Louis to get at his arse again and show him how good he can be. Louis lets him. It allows him to feel the vibration of Harry crying out when Louis punishes him by wrapping his lips around his cock. He's incredibly hard and fills his mouth as perfectly as ever, and Louis starts rolling his whole body back and forth, grinding on Harry's face and then taking his cock deeper.
Harry's mad with it. He can't focus enough to fuck into Louis so he ends up just lapping and sucking around him, making everything wet and sensitive and amazing. Every time he goes over his hole Louis's mouth just goes slack, and he takes another inch, practically slobbering over him. Sometimes when they 69 it's like a race of who makes who come first, but this time the odds are drastically skewed. Harry isn't allowed to come.
Harry manages to stay remarkably quiet, probably due to the arse in his face, but Louis doesn't need his voice to know he's dangerously close. Louis pulls off, left panting on him when Harry reacts by sinking his teeth into one cheek. "Want you to make me come now," he says. He hates that his voice is all soft and wavering, but since Harry's the one making him so shaky, he deserves to hear it.
Harry's hands fly to Louis's arse and he spreads his cheeks properly, and finally starts to lick into him in earnest, fast little flicks that make Louis dizzy. "More," Louis orders, and then sinks back down on Harry's cock, taking more the better Harry gives it to him. He lets up only when he feels the familiar heat build low in his gut, and he focuses solely on pushing back against Harry's tongue and chasing the feeling.
He comes hard and moaning on Harry's cock, brain completely blank apart from Harry's tongue still in him. His fist tightens in Harry's hair and he holds his head while he rides his face through it, sweet aftershocks pulsing through him. Harry stays quiet and still and just lets Louis use him, fuck, doesn't that just makes it more intense.
When he's done he can only scoop up whatever's left of his brain to do three things: roll off of Harry; lie down next to him; and open his arms to let Harry cuddle in. They end up with Louis as the big spoon, so he can hold Harry as tightly as he likes and still not touch his cock. He's still so hard, Louis can only stare in astonishment over his shoulder even as he whispers in his ear. "Do you know how good you make me feel? My lovely boy, just perfect for me. I love you so much."
Harry's trembling in his arms but it's not with an edge, it's not his aching need to come. He's just unbearably happy. That's without a doubt the best part about BDSM for Louis. Not the control, not the amazing orgasms, but making Harry shine with bliss when he knows he's been a good boy. Louis wants nothing more than that. He gets him some water and keeps petting him and kissing his hair until Harry passes out, sated and peaceful for now.
Louis has to physically lock his phone in a drawer to keep from asking Harry more questions. There's so much cataloguing to do, but he can't focus on anything. He's been spacey ever since the moment he woke up to Harry's lips around his cock (apologetically). He was late for work, hasn't actually gotten anything done, and now he can't wait to get back home. He needs a new employee like air.
From the way Harry was in the morning, and the unhappy texts he keeps sending him, Louis's gathered that Harry's still in a rather vulnerable state. "Need so much I can't think," Harry whispered in his ear this morning, grinding hard against Louis's new tattoos. "I can't breathe."
There's really nothing he can do for him from afar. He keeps sending him little tasks to do around the house, so Harry isn't just climbing the walls. He hopes Harry gets that sense of accomplishment he craves when Louis texts him "good boy". He has no idea if it's even taking the edge off or not. (He kind of hates it, really. He knows it's working for Harry, that he's getting off on the anticipation and being denied, but Louis's always been shit at waiting and not getting what he wants. And being away from Harry. It's kind of. A Problem.)
He breaks when Harry sends him a picture. It's not even a dick pic, it's a selfie of Harry pouting ridiculously and rubbing a jumper of Louis's against his cheek. It's sweet and silly and Louis can definitely finish cataloguing tomorrow. These spreader bars aren't going anywhere. Actually… No, another time. He sends Harry a pouty selfie of his own, rubbing an anal plug against his cheek. It's not as romantic (though it kind of is, since it's the same brand Harry's got in him right now, per Louis's instruction from an hour ago), but Harry sends him back a laughing emoji, so it's something.
When he opens the front door Harry's on him like he's just come home from war. He drops his bag and keys and just wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders, endlessly relieved. Harry's clutching his middle, got his face buried in the crook of Louis's neck and he's breathing him deep. "Daddy," he whispers, so softly Louis might've missed it.
It's amazing to know, how just seeing Louis drags Harry right back into that delicate state of mind. For some reason that relaxes Louis more than anything. Knowing they're going to play right away makes the shitty day Louis’s had more bearable, because when it comes down to it, there's nothing he loves more than taking care of Harry. All the control isn't a heavy responsibility or a burden, it's as freeing for him as it is for Harry. He's at his best when he does it. He thinks ten steps ahead and knows Harry will follow him. That's a powerful thing to have between them. "Sweetheart, did you miss me?"
Harry nods frantically against him and holds him even tighter, bringing their hips flush together and Jesus, if Harry's been packing that all day, no wonder this is Louis's welcome. "A lot. It was awful."
Louis's heart clenches. He just wants to make everything better. Well, he's going to make things a lot worse because Harry's still got four more hours before he can come, but it'll be his kind of worse. The sexy kind. He digs his fingers into Harry's bare shoulder blades. "Let's go to the sofa. Wanna kiss you."
Instead of scampering off, Harry just fits his arms under Louis's arse and picks him up, easy as anything. Louis laughs and wraps his legs around him. Harry bumps into four different objects on the way, but eventually he finds the sofa and collapses on it, Louis sitting comfortably in his lap. He doesn't waste a second, attacks Harry's mouth faster than he can breathe.
Harry slumps into the sofa. He's kissing back eagerly, obviously delighted, but he's just following Louis's lead. Soft when he wants, hot when he wants. He's pliant and giving and wonderful. "You're wonderful," Louis tells him between kisses, nipping gently on his full lips until they're nice and puffy. "Thought about you all day."
Harry mumbles happily to himself and cuddles Louis closer, kissing him deeply. Louis buries his hands in his thick curls and moves his head any which way, kissing him slowly and soothingly. Comforting. Harry's clad only in his black briefs and he's almost feverish to the touch, his breaths coming out ragged on Louis's lips. It takes Harry surprisingly long to grab Louis's arse and try to reel him in against his hard cock. Louis slaps his hands away in response. "Not yet."
Harry makes a wounded sound, like he didn't expect to have to wait even after Louis came home. He drops his hands to his sides in defeat and Louis tries not to laugh. "We need to pace ourselves, love. Let's start on dinner."
Harry frowns but doesn't actually protest, too far gone. Louis isn't inconsiderate. "I could feed you. Would you rather kneel, or maybe I'll sit in your lap?"
"Lap," Harry says quickly. "Don't wanna stop touching. I missed you so much."
Louis isn't supposed to swoon, he should be the mean scruffy daddy type right now, but Harry just brings all this ridiculous fondness out of him at the most inappropriate times. He kisses Harry carefully, gently, a sigh-worthy romance novel kiss. "Missed you too, darling. Let's go."
Harry handles himself really well despite how much Louis's touching him, and Louis keeps touching him for handling himself really well. Harry sits down on the kitchen chair carefully, trying not to show Louis how affected he is by the plug resting inside him. He's still being hopelessly obvious, squirmy and flushed, but Louis decides to play along. "Did you do everything I told you?"
Harry runs his hands over his thighs and ducks his head, probably flustered by Louis bringing up the plug. He wonders how much he's already played with himself. "Yeah, I, um, went out to get the food, and downloaded Game of Thrones, and fucked myself a little, and made plans with Gemma to come see the baby."
Louis smiles broadly and kisses Harry's cheek. "Good boy," he decides, and then goes to fix them up some toasts. He's not even hungry, but it's something to occupy Harry while he figures out his next move. It's kind of counterproductive, though, since Harry gets really intense when Louis feeds him. Sitting on him while he does makes Louis feel that energy being transferred somehow, like all that matters is giving Harry his next bite and letting his sticky fingers linger on his lips.
Eventually he can't take it anymore, tells Harry to carry him to bed and undress him. They're both naked in no time, Louis back in Harry's lap. He's kissing him slowly and playing with the end of the plug, tapping on it, pulling and pushing. He only stops when Harry starts gasping. "Oh god, Lou, I'm close."
Louis arches a brow. "Yeah? Just from this?"
Harry nods, face flaming. "Could come just watching you. Fuck."
He can't help but smile, feeling extremely good with himself. "Let's give you something to watch, then."
"Louis," Harry warns, chest heaving. It's kind of distracting. Louis attaches his mouth to one of his nipples and starts sucking on it, sweeping his tongue over it as it hardens. Harry's hips buck violently under him and Louis snorts a laugh.
"Relax. We'll use the ring, yeah?"
"Oh," Harry says, and Louis's not sure if it's a reaction to what he said or to his hand twisting his other nipple. "The leather one?"
"Sure. You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you, baby?"
Harry nods. "I remember the rules. We take it off if it gets uncomfortable or numb or over thirty minutes."
Louis smiles wide. "That's right, love. Why don't you get it yourself?"
He rolls off of him so Harry can get up and fish through their box. In the meantime Louis searches for the lube they chucked somewhere last night. When they're both back in bed, Louis decides to sit on Harry's thighs instead of between them, so his legs are clenched and the plug's tucked deep in him.
He strokes Harry's cock with lube-slicked hands and then pulls the ring over him, checking for any sort of negative reaction. Harry's face doesn't show anything, so Louis kisses him and then looks down and... feels kind of faint.
The cock ring always makes Harry so stiff, practically pulsing in his hand, and he's covered in lube and Louis's got two fingers inside himself before he even makes the decision to get fucked. Harry probably saw it coming, since he doesn't seem too shocked, just kind of miserable because he knows he'll have to struggle more than ever not to come. Louis leans up to kiss his furrowed brow, spreading himself fast because he wants on. "Is it worse than yesterday?"
Harry nods weakly. "Feels… hotter. Couldn't focus on anything. Just stopped trying to."
Louis kisses him again sympathetically. "But you can take it, can't you?" When Harry doesn't answer, Louis corrects himself quickly. "I won't make it easy on you. I'll pin you down and ride you so hard the plug will be the least of your concerns. But you'll take it, because when I come and you don't, you'll be doing so well. You'll be so good, show me just how far you can go for me. You want that, don't you? To make me proud?"
Harry whimpers, his hands clamping on Louis's circling hips. "Yeah."
Not good enough. Louis adds a third finger and jerks in Harry's grip. "Don't you?"
"Yes, Daddy," Harry whispers, sounding even more destroyed. Louis shivers and has to draw his fingers out now.
"Good boy." He grabs Harry's shoulders and shoves him down hard, well aware of the fact that every slight motion shifts the plug in him just a bit. He takes Harry's hands and holds his wrists together, stretched over his head. He doesn't want Harry to touch him and distract him.
He kisses him one last time and then props up on his knees, aiming Harry's cock under him. He keeps eye contact with him while teasing himself, rubbing the slick head over his entrance without actually sinking down yet. Harry stays impressively still, doesn't move his hips despite how he's quivering with the need to thrust up into Louis. Louis gives his cock an approving squeeze and then finally bears down.
He shuts his eyes and breathes hard, trying to get used to the pressure of Harry's thick head in him. He starts to wriggle his hips slowly and take more of him in increments. It's probably driving Harry insane, but he's keeping it together like the good boy he is, and Louis tries to focus on that, draw pleasure from Harry's obedience while his body adjusts.
When he reaches far enough he pulls back up instead of down, getting some friction instead of overwhelming pressure. He tightens his hands on his own thighs and starts grinding back and forth, fucking himself on Harry's cock until—"Oh, that's it"—it gets good.
He makes it all the way and just rests for a moment on Harry's hips, so full his whole body's tingling. He's just rocking, getting comfortable, but the wait is making him restless. His hands are jittery, fixing his hair and playing with his own nipples and pressing down on Harry's newest ink. Then Harry flashes him this hungry look and Louis's cock perks right up. Okay, he's back in the game.
He clutches his thighs again and smirks at Harry, starting slow. He raises his hips teasingly, just a couple of inches, and then he takes him in deep again, landing hard enough to make Harry jolt. Probably the plug again.
He finds his rhythm soon enough, long, languid movements that rub him just right. Harry makes a pathetic sound but doesn't actually complain, knows this isn't for him. Harry enjoys it, bites his lip and clenches his hands in the sheets. "Like it when I use you to get off?" Louis asks while clenching around Harry and riding him into the mattress, making him toss his head back prettily. "Think you're better than the vibrators I used when you were halfway across the world?"
"Daddy, please," Harry whispers.
Louis bounces on him a couple of times before answering, alarmingly breathless, "Please what?"
He takes that to mean keep talking. So he does. "I'd watch you. Look up pictures and interviews like any one of your preteen fans. But they can't wear your clothes. Use your shampoo so the pillows smell like you again." He's disgusting himself, to be honest. Harry didn't ask for sappy. "I fucked myself so hard, baby, looked at you humping a fucking mic stand and pushed your favourite dildo all up inside me." He's working himself up now, starts to ride Harry faster. His thighs ache but it only makes him clench tighter, sweat more, fall harder on Harry. "It was hard to get off without you, though. Think you can relate?"
Harry definitely can, his whole body trembles just from Louis saying the words "get off". "Yeah Daddy," he chokes out. His hips start to push up a little, but Louis doesn't reprimand him. It's so fucking good, Harry stretching him so open, big and impossibly stiff in him, like the friction will never end.
"Yeah? You wanna come, baby? Wanna fill me up?" He's still breathless to his own ears, not his most authoritative, but it affects Harry all the same, makes him fuck better. He stretches his legs all out for leverage and thrusts up when Louis comes down, making both of them moan. It's answer enough. Louis takes in a huge breath to steady himself, at least enough to say, "Tell Daddy if you're too close, or I won't stop." It's a warning, not an offer or a temptation. Harry wants to make it to the end even more than Louis wants him to.
Louis plants his knees on the bed and lets Harry do more of the work, pump his hips faster and faster until he gets a good enough angle that Louis gasps and sits back, gives back. Oh god, it's even better like this. Louis leans forward over Harry's torso and just swivels his hips, keeps Harry deep and there, brushing his spot with every stuttery jerk. "So good for me," he moans, barely hears his own words with the way his heart's pounding in his ears, rushes of heat coursing through him.
He does hear Harry's broken gasp and tiny, "Close."
Louis moves fast, rises on his knees until he's empty again and Harry arches up and sobs, his eyes shiny. To be honest, Louis thought it would happen sooner. He crouches forward and kisses Harry viciously, gives him something real to cling to when he's floating. Harry's still got his hands clasped above his head but it's like his whole body is thrumming under him, trying to cling. "You're so good, baby," he says again, kissing away tears from his temples. "Told me like I asked you to. I'm so proud of you, my precious boy. Couldn't love you any more."
Harry releases another wet whimper and blushes so hard his skin feels hot under Louis's lips. He always does when he cries, gets embarrassed by how overwhelmed he is. It scared Louis the first few times, but by now it's pretty common when they play hard. This is hard. Louis peppers his whole face with kisses before coming up for air, and god, he feels like weeping himself when he sees how gorgeously wrecked his boy looks. He can feel pre-come dripping down his dick. He can't even grasp how Harry's coping.
He moves back and spreads Harry's legs, settling between his thighs. He grabs the lube and spreads it on himself, has to bite his lip to keep from coming right on him. Harry opens his eyes for long enough to see what Louis's doing and he moans and hitches his hips up automatically, then moans again when the plug slides deeper into him. Louis frowns, irrationally upset with the plug for making Harry react like that. Whatever, he's too turned on to be rational. He tugs the plug out none-too-gently and fucks right into Harry, making him keen. That's more fucking like it.
He grabs Harry's hips and fucks him as hard as he rode him, short thrusts that make Harry arch and whimper daddy, daddy, daddy like it's the only word he knows. Harry starts clenching around him, maybe even involuntarily, and that's it, Louis's flung over the edge, so hard he shakes. He keeps pounding into Harry until he's completely soft, and he just can't close his eyes, can't stop watching how Harry's being pushed up the bed helplessly from the force of his thrusts alone. He's out of it, doesn't whine or cry anymore. Suddenly Louis's afraid he'll come without noticing, so he pulls off the cock ring as quickly but carefully as he can. At least it won't hurt if it happens.
Louis himself pulls out of Harry slowly, fascinated by how Harry keeps squeezing and clenching, how his own come drips out of him. They only stopped using condoms a few months ago, and it's proven itself every day since. He considers plugging him back up, but with how his cock is twitching Louis doesn't want to risk it. They're so fucking close, just an hour to go.
He cleans himself up and leaves Harry dirty, knows he likes it. He comes up next to him and helps moving him until he's lying on his side. Harry's more useless than he's ever been, it's nice. He keeps making soft sounds and clinging to Louis like he'll fall off the face of the Earth if he loses him for one second. Louis won't let that happen. He wraps an arm around Harry's chest and presses his face to Harry's sweaty curls, kissing his nape and nuzzling his ear and whispering sweet words Harry drinks in.
They drift off until precisely 9 PM, when the shrill alarm Louis's forgotten he even set up starts ringing. From the second it stops, it's like Harry turns inside out. "Daddy," he groans, sounding completely delirious. "Please please please."
Louis's heart swells with pride and he stops cuddling Harry, instead pushing him down on his back and looking at his long, eager body without touching. He'll shower him with praise later. God, he's going to come so hard. "What do you want, baby? Your choice. Reward."
Harry looks up at him with huge helpless eyes and his hips pumping up into air. All right, Louis needs to recalibrate. Harry's in no position to make any decision. "D'you want me to fuck you? Fuck you hard and good, just the way you like."
Harry shakes his head desperately, his knees rising and falling and spreading and closing. “Won't last, won't—please, Lou."
Christ, he's starting to get restless himself. "What if I eat you out, hmm? Get you all clean. Give you some of my come from earlier, would you like that?"
"Oh, I'd—oh god, Louis-Louis-Louis, I—" He trails off in whimpers and thrashes around a little. It suddenly hits Louis what he's trying to tell him. That… well, they could never manage that, but maybe now they could. Seeing Harry so devastated, he's hopeful.
He slithers up, making sure not to touch Harry at all, and presses his mouth to Harry's ear. "You did so well, my beautiful boy. Made Daddy so proud. I want you to come, now, come for me."
Harry does. Holy fuck, he just comes without Louis even laying a finger on him. He convulses and cries out and comes and comes and comes, so hard it hits Louis's shoulder, so hard he blacks out for a few scary seconds. It's possible Louis's breath will never slow. It's definite he'll never forget this moment. He's on Harry immediately, wrapping him up tight in his arms and stroking his hair, his back, whispering baby and come back to me.
Harry starts reacting after what feels like hours, but is probably seconds. He's sluggish and speechless, but he moves into Louis's soft touches. "Christ," Louis mumbles, betraying how stunned he is. "That was insane, wasn't it?"
Harry opens and closes his mouth wordlessly for a while, before something comes out. "Best. I never… Best, Daddy."
Louis holds him so close he might be crushing him. There's so much come between them, Jesus. "You're the best. My god, Harry, you just came on command. I can't believe how good you are, all for me. How did I get so lucky, hmm? To find the most amazing boy in the world?"
Harry nuzzles into him indulgently, beaming like he's so happy he could burst. Louis can't stop praising him, not when it makes him glow, not when Louis's this blown away by him. "I love you more than I thought anyone could love," he whispers into his hair, closing his eyes. "I'm never letting go of you. We won't even leave this bed. How nice would that be? Shh," he gentles him when he feels Harry getting teary again, sobbing quietly into his chest. "It's okay, baby, I've got you. You're all right."
They'll build up on this. They'll keep practising until the only way Harry can come is with Louis's say-so. They'll roll the dice again.
But right now they tangle in each other like vines and fall asleep peacefully.
Harry wakes up Saturday morning to the sound of Louis swearing.
“Fuck,” Louis says loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Harry rolls over and reaches out for Louis’s side of the bed reflexively, but finds it empty. “Lou?” He sits up and rubs his eyes.
Louis is sitting at the end of the bed, rocking back and forth a little and holding his foot in his hand. “Hi,” he says with a strained voice, looking over his shoulder at Harry. “Hi, good morning, fuck.” He winces as Harry blinks slowly, not fully awake yet.
“I’m surprising you with breakfast in bed,” Louis says, gesturing with his elbow to the breakfast tray sitting next to him on the bed as he massages his foot. “Or at least I was before I broke my toe.”
“Love.” The surge of affection Harry feels every time he wakes up next to Louis threatens to render him speechless. He shakes his head a little, trying to tame his smile. “Do you think you really broke it or are you just whining?”
Louis doesn’t answer except with a huff as he looks down at his foot and pouts. Harry’s eyes focus on the tray sitting next to him. There’s a banana on a plate, a cup of tea that’s half sloshed into the saucer, and a glass of orange juice that’s already spilled out all over the bottom of the tray. Harry picks up the tray and moves it to the side table, careful not to spill the juice out onto the mattress, then settles down in its place next to Louis, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his shoulder.
“You okay?” he mumbles, tucking his chin over Louis’s shoulder and looking down at where Louis’s cradling his foot.
Louis sighs. “Yeah, it’s—“ Louis shrugs slightly, making Harry’s head bump against his. He keeps massaging his big toe, only wincing a little. Then he shakes himself. “Surprise?” He nods over at the tray on the table. Harry grins into the back of his neck.
“Thought you had work today.” His hands wander down to Louis’s stomach, rucking up his (that is, Harry’s) shirt a little and splaying out over his waist.
Louis hums. He puts his foot back on the ground and leans back a little into Harry’s embrace. “Took off,” he says as Harry kisses the nape of his neck. “That’s the other surprise.”
“Yaaaaay,” Harry says sleepily, placing little kisses down the slope of his shoulder. “A Louis is my favourite surprise.”
Louis hums as Harry squeezes his arms around his torso. “Thought we could—you know.” Harry makes a questioning sound and kisses the back of his neck again. “Play, if you’re up for it.”
Harry pulls his arms out from around Louis and soothes them over his shoulders. “‘M up,” he says, enjoying the way Louis’s warmth seeps through his shirt to his hands. Louis turns and Harry smiles widely. “Definitely, definitely up.”
“After your gourmet breakfast, of course,” Louis says solemnly, with a nod at the bedside table.
Harry glances back at the ruined tray, at the sad, lonely banana on a plate, and quirks his eyebrows.
“I was gonna make you pancakes,” Louis explains, turning so he can kiss Harry’s cheek, “but then I remembered I love you.”
“You’re so thoughtful, bringing me my breakfast.” Harry sits up on his knees and kisses the top of Louis’s head. “Makes me wanna do something for you, too.”
“Hmm.” Louis closes his eyes while Harry breathes in the scent of his hair deeply. He’s already showered, smells clean and citrusy. “Like what?”
“Like make you pancakes.”
“Thank god.” Louis laughs. He winces a little as he stands, stepping gingerly on his injured toe, then pulls Harry up by the hand. “C’mon, I left my tea in the kitchen.”
If Harry was happy to be home, he’s been in some kind of drug-like haze of ecstasy since he and Louis started playing again. He keeps stopping in the middle of chopping bananas and mixing batter to give Louis dopey kisses all over his face. They had talked rather a lot while Harry was away (enough that Harry’s PA had started making a face every time he overheard love you, Lou) and fucked rather a lot since he’d been back, but for the two of them, nothing says I love you better or makes them come harder than a really good scene. Here in their kitchen, with the dice rattling around in Louis's hand as he rambles on about the crossword, knowing Louis's going to fuck him up a bit later, Harry already feels way less fucked up than he did while he was away, and way more at home.
After a hearty breakfast (Harry doesn’t like to let his mother’s pancake batter recipe go to waste), a shower, and lingering kisses over cups of tea, Louis pulls out the dice.
“You want to do the honours?” Louis holds out the little pieces of plastic and Harry smiles, taking them into his hand. He hooks his foot around Louis’s under the kitchen table as he rolls the action die.
“Coming,” Louis reads off the die. He frowns a little, then looks down at the instruction sheet and scans over it for a moment. “I’m not sure—ah, here it is.” He smirks and glances up at Harry. "If the action die lands on coming, the number die signifies the number of orgasms the roller has to give their partner, before they can orgasm themselves."
“That’s not so bad.” Harry runs his foot up and down Louis’s leg. “It could be just one.”
“Or it could be six.” Louis takes Harry’s hand in his and kisses it, watching Harry carefully. “I could hide it from you. Keep you guessing. If you wanted.”
“I—“ The other die feels heavy and hot in his hand. Harry weighs it carefully, thinking, then says, “I think I want to know.”
“Okay.” Louis gestures with his hand. “Give it a roll then.”
Harry closes his eyes and shakes the die in his hand for a minute, not sure if he’s rooting for a one or a six. When he lets the die go, he holds his breath, but relaxes a little with the knowledge that it’s out of his hands.
It’s a three. Harry exhales slowly. Three is doable, he knows. He smirks a little to himself. Before he's met Louis, he never would have thought he’d be relieved to hear he would have to bring his boyfriend off three times in one go.
“All right,” Louis says, a little distantly, like he’s planning something in his head. After looking at Harry for a moment, he snaps back into focus. He takes Harry’s hand in his and cocks his head a little to the side.
“What if…” Louis trails off for a minute, looking blankly at Harry’s face.
Harry squeezes his hand. “Yeah?”
“What if instead of making you wait, like last time,” Louis says slowly, “we—make it so you can’t?”
A pang of arousal hits Harry in the gut. “With the cock ring, you mean?”
“Or—“ Louis pauses, looks down at his and Harry’s entwined hands, and strokes the ball of Harry’s hand with his thumb. “Um. We mentioned, once. Milking?”
Harry blinks, then. “Oh.” God, it’s a good thing Louis gets him, doesn’t question why the idea of Louis milking the come out of his prostate makes Harry’s dick twitch, because Harry doesn’t think he could explain it if he tried. “Yeah, I. I think I like that.”
Louis smiles, a bit of the tension fading from his face. “Thought you might.”
Harry swallows. “Then you could—order me around, maybe,” he says, his voice feeling small. “Like. While I couldn’t—“ Shit, he shouldn’t be getting this turned on just talking about it. He pulls his hand out of Louis’s grip so that he can scoot closer to him, and looks down at their feet as he continues, “So it’d be all about… making you happy.”
Louis puts his arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him to his side, and Harry exhales. “When you say ‘order around,’” Louis says slowly, “do you mean…?” He swallows. He’s already half-hard. Harry’s head is already starting to swim. “What do you mean?”
Jesus, he needs to focus. “Like…” Harry glances up at Louis’s kind eyes before ducking his face into his shoulder. “You know I like when you don’t make it easy,” he mumbles.
“Okay.” Louis looks like his mind is working a thousand miles an hour. “Okay.” He squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “A milking’s going to have you unable to come for… four hours at least, maybe more like six or seven. Do you think you can handle playing that long, after everything this week?” Harry hums shortly against Louis’s shoulder. “I mean. You know we can always stop, whenever, but do you want me to drag it out so you can try to come at the end? Or just stop after you’ve made me come?”
“I think—I want to try.” Harry looks up and grins at Louis shyly. Louis kisses him quickly. He makes Harry feel like he could try anything in the world. “I can tell you if it’s too much.”
“Or if it’s too—anything.” Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s and his hand on his cheek. “Right?”
Harry nods curtly. “Right.” He closes his lips over Louis’s in a kiss, but Louis pulls back, shuffles away from Harry a little, rubs his temples like he’s concentrating. Like he does when they’re getting ready to play. Harry straightens his shoulders, folds his hands in his lap, and waits.
When Louis looks back at him, his eyes have gone a little harder. “Three times in six hours,” Louis muses. He gives Harry an appraising once-over, making him shiver. “Think you can handle that?”
Harry bites his lip as Louis raises his eyebrow at him. The thought of Louis dragging it out, teasing him again for hours and hours, makes Harry exhausted, but in a good way, like coming back from a run and sinking into a favourite chair. “Y-yeah.” Harry nods. “You—you know I can.”
“A little presumptuous, aren’t you, H?” Louis’s shoulders are stiff, his eyes insistent and hard as they bore into Harry’s. “How do I know you can?”
“I.” Harry blushes and looks down at his hands in his lap. God, Louis knows what it does to him when he acts all… authoritative. Daddy-like. “I did,” Harry says, his voice high-pitched, already feeling like a shell of itself. “I have. Before.”
Louis hums, like he isn’t convinced, and keeps his eyes trained on Harry for a minute while he squirms in his seat, his cock starting to feel heavy against his thigh.
“I need to go to the shop,” Louis says after a moment, standing up. Harry looks up quickly.
“Now?” Harry pouts. Louis’s been half-hard since before they even rolled the dice. Harry had figured he would have him the rest of the way there in two minutes. Louis, though, is picking up his keys from the bedside table. Apparently they’re not going to start right away.
“Need supplies,” Louis says shortly. Harry lets out a hmmph and crosses his legs, settling his chin in his hands and trying to stop his mouth from watering as he watches Louis adjust his trousers.
“You mean the whole inventory of the shop isn't in the box under the bed?” Harry keeps watching Louis’s bulge as his keys jangle in his hand and he sighs.
“Harry.” Harry looks up and Louis looks—not angry, but exasperated. “Do you have to be so—“ He gestures his hand vaguely off to the side and shakes himself in frustration.
Jesus, they’ve definitely started, then. The tingling in Harry’s spine should have been a clue. He straightens his shoulders and looks down at Louis’s feet apologetically. “Sorry, Daddy,” he mutters.
Louis softens, crossing the space between them and settling both hands on Harry’s head. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair and rubs his scalp lightly. Harry hunches forward, presses his cheek against Louis’s warm chest and inhales deeply, smelling fabric softener and Louis’s new musky cologne. “Even the very best boys are naughty sometimes. And you are my best boy, aren’t you?”
“Daddy.” Harry exhales shakily as Louis tugs a little on his hair. “Yeah, I’m.” Louis scratches behind his ear and his eyes flutter shut. “I’m a good boy.”
Louis untangles his fingers from Harry’s hair and starts to move away, but Harry nuzzles against his chest for another moment and Louis stills. “Why don’t you clean yourself up while I’m gone?” he says kindly.
“Did already.” Harry pouts. He can barely remember the last time he showered without tacking on a more thorough cleaning. His hands ache to pull Louis down on top of him, but he hasn’t been given permission to touch. He keeps breathing in Louis’s scent as deep as he can, like a kind of stolen prize.
Louis’s chuckles resonate against Harry’s skull. “Of course you did.” Louis pats his cheek. “Always want to be ready for your daddy.” Harry nods twice, pressing his nose into Louis’s jumper. Louis pulls away and Harry frowns. Louis kisses his forehead. “I’ll text you when I’m ten minutes away,” he says. “Want you naked by the door with your gem plug in when I get back. Okay?”
Louis smiles down at him proudly, and Harry closes his eyes. “Yeah.” He inhales deeply again just at the thought of presenting himself to Louis like that, naked and open and ready to be taken any way Louis wants. “Good.” He can feel Louis smile against his forehead before he kisses him again.
“I love you,” Louis says, in an undertone that hits Harry somewhere even deeper than the place he goes when they’re playing, somewhere buried in his stomach. “You make me very, very happy.” He kisses Harry’s head once more and moves away.
Harry watches Louis check his pockets for his phone and grins dopily. “Love you too.” He straightens his legs and swings them over the side of the bed as Louis heads to the door. “You make me very, very horny.”
Louis snorts. “Idiot.” He glances back over his shoulder when he’s halfway out the door. “Use lots of lube.”
Harry frowns a little—he’d worn a plug almost as many days as he didn’t, while he was away, and he knows how much lube to use. Before he can ask what Louis means, though, he’s out the door.
Unsure of how long Louis will be, Harry takes his time taking his clothes off, folding them into a neat pile on the chair in the corner, and getting the plug out of their box of toys under the bed. It’s not their biggest, by far, but it’s one of his favourites, even though it doesn’t vibrate: four inches of deliciously heavy steel topped off with a pretty pink gem that Louis once spent a whole afternoon photographing at different angles while Harry squirmed and whined through his gag. He plays with it in his hands a little, warming the cold metal, before settling down on his back, spreading his legs, and lubing up his fingers.
There’s this tension that knots in Harry’s stomach, sometimes, when he goes dizzy with all the love he has for Louis, so overwhelmed he’s not sure how to express it. Slipping into the role of Louis’s good boy is the only proven way Harry knows to make that tension dissipate, at least for a while. It makes them closer than ever, which is exactly what Harry needs after feeling so far away from Louis he wasn’t sure he was himself, anymore.
He lets himself just play with his puckered hole for a few minutes, slick fingers dancing over the rim, pushing in and out only slightly. On tour, Harry hadn’t had a lot of time to enjoy the feeling of tight wet heat around his fingertips, the maddening press of not-quite-enough inside him. Especially with how most of his free time (and a fair portion of his working time) had been spent teasing himself per Louis’s texted instructions. Louis doesn’t plan to leave Harry alone long now, either, because after no time at all he’s texting to tell Harry to be ready.
It always makes Harry’s brain go a little haywire, when Louis gives him a task to do—he gets loopy so easily, making it hard to focus on anything but what Louis asks of him. He doesn’t even try to find his spot as he plunges his fingers into himself quickly. This isn’t about you, he tells himself—only it’s Louis’s voice in his head (isn’t it always), and Harry finds himself nodding fervently into the sheets as he fucks himself open roughly—yes, no, it’s all for him, for Louis, for Daddy. Harry doesn’t touch his cock even after he slips the plug inside him, barely even wants to, unless Louis says.
He dabs some more lube around his opening, as an afterthought, and even though he’s used to the feeling of the plug in him by now, the way it slides against him as he goes to the foyer makes his face go hot and his nipples perk up. He settles on his knees by the door, looking straight ahead with his shoulders pushed back, and just hopes that the sight of Louis standing over him won’t make him clench so hard that the plug will shoot out of his slippery hole. Harry doesn't much mind being embarrassed, as a matter of course, but that's one thing he doesn't feel the need to experience again.
Then again, Harry thinks, maybe that’s what Louis wants. God. He thinks of Louis smirking in satisfaction while Harry makes a mess of himself at his feet, and part of his brain switches off, the articulate part, the part that knows how to say thing other than yes and please and Daddy, yes. Harry shifts on his knees as his cock twitches against his belly, and keeps his eyes trained on the door.
Louis comes home a few minutes later, with a long, thin package under his arm and a plastic bag in his hand. He doesn’t even look at Harry at first, distracted by trying not to drop the package as he shuts the door with his hip. Harry knows he’s already fully sunk into his role by the way a shiver runs down his spine when Louis’s eyes meet his, and he feels simultaneously like he should and he can’t look away while Louis’s eyes rake over his body critically. He clasps his hands more tightly behind his back and purses his lips.
“Good,” Louis says, almost absent-mindedly, after he drags his eyes away from Harry. He sets down his keys and jerks his head towards the living room. “Come.”
Harry puts his palms on the ground and starts to push himself to his feet.
Louis makes a displeased sound. “Did I tell you to get up?”
Harry freezes. “N-no.” He shifts his weight onto his hands and stares down at them in mortification, not sure he could stand to see the disappointed look on Louis’s face. It gets him off like nothing else, when Louis is cross with him. Everything feels ten times more intense when he knows good boy isn't just an empty phrase. That it's something he earned, that he had to work for. It's almost too much to handle, how badly he wants that—he's had to beg Louis to be cruel to him like that while they’re playing, in the past—god, he wants it so much that he can't even look Louis in the eye while Louis gives it to him, or he might cry.
“What do you say?” Louis prompts.
Harry’s heart feels like it might actually pump out of his body. “Sorry, Daddy,” he says to the floor, and Louis hums, then turns towards the living room again.
Harry crawls a few paces behind Louis, keeping his head down as the rough carpet rubs against his hands and knees. The heat feels good, like a penance, like making his daddy happy. Harry’s cock grows harder as it bounces against his thighs. Louis places the package and the bag on the sofa, then turns to Harry, sitting back on his haunches with his hands folded in his lap.
Louis leaves the room again and Harry stays perfectly still, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. When Louis comes back, he has—Harry’s breath catches in his throat—Harry’s collar in hand, the simple black collar with the little silver buckle that Louis had bought for him for their first anniversary.
“Are you going to be good for me?” Louis rolls the collar over in his hands a few times while Harry nods, opening his mouth to speak only to find no words.
Louis hums shortly, then leans down and fastens the collar around Harry’s throat. As he pulls the leather through the buckle, even though he’s sure to leave it plenty loose, Harry feels like he can’t breathe.
“Arse up,” Louis says, taking a step back, his eyes fixed on the collar around Harry’s neck, “legs spread.”
Harry turns quickly so his pretty bejewelled arse is facing Louis, then presses his chest to the ground and opens his legs as widely as he can, arms over his head, anchoring him. He closes his eyes and tries not to let the carpet tickle his nose as he hears Louis get something out of the bag behind him.
“Is that as far as you can spread?” Louis asks, annoyed. Harry whimpers and tries to splay himself out wider for Louis.
Louis doesn’t say a thing, but the way he strokes over the plug poking out of Harry feels fond. Harry’s back arches, involuntarily, and he gasps as his spine twinges in pain, but Louis hums his approval as Harry’s arse is thrust up higher and that’s the only thing that matters to him. Harry is more than fully hard by now, but already so, so satisfied.
Harry bites back a sound as Louis fastens leather cuffs around his ankles. Jesus. He’s never had his ankles chained before—Louis’s always said he prefers him with his legs spread—but as he feels Louis attach him to something that isn’t his other ankle, he realises with a start that maybe they don’t have to choose between those things.
“Hands between your legs,” Louis says, and as Harry moves to comply, he can’t keep himself from shifting his legs and moaning as he finds he can’t close them a centimetre more. His whole body spasms when he pushes his hands down between his legs far enough to run into the metal bar that’s keeping his legs splayed open. God. That’s—a spreader bar. That’s notsomething they keep under their bed. Harry moans a little at the thought of Louis handling these at the shop and thinking of Harry spread out like this in front of him, and tries to stick up his arse even farther, but it’s awkward, with his legs spread open so wantonly—his chest is mashed against the carpet and his back is at an odd angle, his neck strained while he keeps reaching down as far as he can with his hands, turning his face into the carpet while his legs start to ache already.
Louis hums in approval, fastens more soft leather cuffs around Harry’s wrist, then chains them around the bar. Harry feels more exposed than he maybe ever has, hopelessly bound with his arse and his hard, dangling cock on display, but Louis pets at his hips kindly and that’s everything, isn’t it? Blood rushes to his head as he strives to keep his position. Pleasing Louis is everything. He wishes he could look over his shoulder to catch Louis’s eye, but he can’t bend that way, like this, and really, that just feels right, being denied, if it’s what Louis wants. He whimpers as Louis pulls the jewelled plug out of his arse, exposing the very last inch of him.
“Good thing we kept you up on your yoga while you were away, hmm?” Louis says. His finger dips inside Harry easily and Harry shakes in his restraints, tries to make himself a little more comfortable reflexively, but he can’t. “Kept you all bendy and ready for it.”
“Ready,” Harry repeats. Louis’s crooking his fingers inside him without preamble, searching for his spot, and Harry latches onto the word even as he can’t stop his body from shaking. “Ready, Daddy, ready.” He cries out when Louis presses two hard fingers against his prostate, trying to curl in on himself but only managing to thrust shallowly back against Louis.
“Relax,” Louis says, his voice a little softer than before as he pats Harry’s arse gently with the hand that isn’t inside him, rubbing gentle but insistent circles around his prostate. “Just need to make sure you aren’t going to come before you finish being good for me.”
“Oh,” Harry chokes as Louis teases his balls with his fingertips, “oh god.” The pressure against his prostate is incredible, and he pumps his hips forward almost involuntarily, gasping as his cock grazes against his stomach and he fucks back onto Louis’s fingers, making himself full full full.
“Harry,” Louis warns. He pulls his hand away from Harry’s balls and Harry very nearly starts to cry into the carpet, fucking back onto Louis harder until Louis slaps his arse soundly.
“Already know you’re a slut for it,” Louis says, “need you to focus.”
Harry swallows. His knees might collapse, they’re shaking so bad, except they can’t. “S-sorry Daddy.” He groans as Louis returns to his relentless circles around his prostate. “Feels—feels so good.” He shakes harder than ever with the effort not to buck his hips as Louis runs his knuckle up and down his hard shaft.
“I’ll bet it does.” Louis takes the head of Harry’s cock between his fingers for a moment and Harry throws his head back with a choked-off moan as he quickly moves away, going back to stroking his balls. “Nothing gets you off like being good for me.”
“Yes,” Harry says, his voice straining as he tries not to sob, “yes, yes, good, ‘m good, please.”
“But this isn’t about you getting off, is it, Harry?” Louis rolls Harry’s balls in his hand, scratches them impossibly lightly, and it’s so much, Harry’s so full, he bites his tongue so hard he almost screams. “It’s about you getting me off.”
“Daddy,” Harry gasps, he’s so close, he’s never felt so close so fast so full in his life, just from the circling of Louis’s fingers and his teasing hand darting light touches up and down his rock-hard cock, dragging little drops of pre-come down the side of his shaft. “Daddy, gonna—“
“No, you’re not,” Louis says sternly, but at the same time he gives Harry’s cock a harsh, perfect tug and that’s—Harry’s so—he’s gripping wildly at the bar holding his legs open for Louis just for something to hold, shaking so hard he thinks his bones might snap. Louis pulls away, doesn’t touch him anymore except hard against his spot.
“Please,” Harry begs, throat already feeling sore and spent as he blinks away tears, “it’s too, Daddy, Daddy, I’m—“
“Don’t,” Harry hears Louis say over the rush in his ears, but it’s too late, Harry’s spasming out of control, shooting come onto the carpet even as he sobs for Louis’s hand on him again, spurt after spurt of it pouring out of him while Louis keeps the pressure up on his prostate, like he's pushing it out of Harry. Harry couldn't stop coming or crying to save his life.
It’s probably the most unsatisfying orgasm Harry’s ever had—they’d talked about milking, before, how Louis could literally drain the ability to orgasm out of him, and he’d liked that, the feeling of being so thoroughly denied, but this feels less like denial and more like something has been yanked out of his gut, leaving him breathless and overstimulated and on edge. The second it’s over, the second Harry feels like the slightest touch on his cock would be torture, Louis tugs it, slowly, making a few more drops of come dribble out of Harry and onto the carpet. Harry’s chest heaves against the floor as Louis pulls his fingers out of his arse and doesn’t touch him. Harry feels ruined.
“Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” Harry can hear Louis wiping his hand on the carpet but he can’t see Louis’s face and it’s so, so much worse than any disappointment he might find there, just the cold knowledge in his gut that he came when Louis told him not to.
“Daddy,” Harry whines, sniffling against the floor, “I’m—I’m sorry, Daddy, sorry, oh god, I—“
“Always making it about you.” Louis gives Harry’s arse a backhanded slap and he rocks forward, crying, overwhelmed and undone.
“N-no,” Harry stutters. He tries to shake his head but probably just gets rug burn all over his cheek. It hurts, a little, but god, he deserves it, he was so bad, he needs to make it up to Louis, he has to. “No, no no please I’m sorry let me, let me—“
Harry struggles a little in his restraints. Louis sighs.
“You were supposed to make me come three times,” he says, “and now you’ve come once and I’ve not at all. What am I supposed to do with you?”
“Fuck me.” Harry moves to spread his legs but there’s literally no farther he can go, no more he can open himself up for his daddy, and that makes him frantic. “Please, p-please, I’ll be, please I’m good I’ll be so good I’m sorry.”
“After what just happened, you expect me to do all the work?” Louis’s voice sounds so far away, it feels like ages since Harry’s seen his face, and that makes him keen and cry a little more but he deserves it, he deserves this, he was bad.
“N-no,” Harry whimpers. He swallows several times, wiping his tears off onto the carpet. “I can. I can suck you.”
Louis hums. Harry opens his mouth to beg but no words come out, he just slumps onto the carpet and shakes a little with his cries. After a minute, he feels a tug on the chain between his hands.
Harry stays still until Louis says, “All fours.” He rolls his shoulders a little and brings his hands out from between his legs, wincing as he brushes over the puddle of his come on the floor beneath him. He straightens up and looks straight ahead, desperate to see his daddy but even more desperate not to misbehave again.
Louis tugs him onto his knees by his hair and Harry doesn’t even whimper, just shakes a little and tries to keep himself from saying sorry again. He still keeps his eyes straight ahead, towards the empty blue wall, as Louis pulls him backwards, so that he has to shuffle back on his knees (an awkward feat, with the bar still spreading him open).
Once he’s backed up almost into the sofa, Louis releases his grip on Harry’s hair and pushes him down lightly.
“Lick it up.”
Yes, Daddy, Harry thinks but doesn’t say, too certain he’ll start to cry again if he tries to speak. He bends down and shivers as the smell of his body’s betrayal washes over him. He licks out tentatively at the individual spots dotting the forest green carpet, first, then closes his lips around the milky puddle of his spunk. There's so much of it. Harry may have been bad by orgasming, but with everything Louis managed to milk out of him anyway, he knows he won't be coming again anytime soon, and that's the only thing helping him keep it together even a little bit, knowing that he's getting what he deserves. He slurps the bitterness into his mouth while his arse clenches because of everything it means.
Louis doesn’t say anything, while he’s bent over, just pushes the plug back inside him roughly. When Harry’s licked up as much as he can, he stills. He hears Louis sit down behind him.
“You can suck me off now,” Louis says, almost indifferent.
Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He stumbles over the bar as he rushes to crawl between Louis’s legs. Louis’s still fully clothed in his jeans and t-shirt, so Harry has time to start up a chant of sorry, Daddy, sorry sorry I’m sorry while he undoes Louis’s zipper and mouths at the tip of Louis’s full, thick cock through his jeans while Louis lifts his hips just enough for Harry to slide his jeans and pants down over them. Harry sighs with relief when Louis’s cock bobs up, red and hard, into his face. He immediately licks a long stripe up the shaft and inhales the musky scent of Louis greedily. This is something he knows he can do right for his daddy.
“Hands behind your back,” Louis says gruffly, still sounding far away even though he’s right in front of Harry now, and Harry whines a little as he complies, looking up at Louis for approval with his lips parted against the tip of his cock, already starting to leak a little.
Louis doesn’t thread his fingers through Harry’s hair, like usual, doesn’t whisper how good he is. Instead, his arms are spread out over the tops of the sofa cushions, and—and he turns on the telly.
The sound of football fans jeering overwhelms Harry for a moment, and he mouths at the head of Louis’s cock like it’s a question, blinking rapidly as he searches Louis’s impassive face for some expression.
Louis watches the telly for a few moments, turning up the volume, before glancing down at Harry between his legs. “Thought you’d know your way around a cock by now,” he says, only the deepness of his voice betraying that he’s affected by Harry between his legs at all.
Harry swallows and nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy,” he says in a small voice. He licks up the shaft a few times, sloppily, getting it wet, before tacking on another sorry and filling himself up with Louis.
It’s odd enough, these days, for Harry to take Louis’s cock at his own pace, without Louis pushing his head down into his groin, fucking up into his mouth deliciously hard and always just skirting the edge of too much, but now—Harry’s staring up at Louis while the tip of his cock starts to graze the back of Harry’s throat, blinking through his tears carefully, just like Louis trained him to do, saying love to see you when you’re stuffed full of my cock, but Louis is barely even paying attention to Harry now, his eyes fixed on the television screen in a slight frown. Louis isn’t making a sound, but hundreds of footie fans are groaning as Harry swallows around Louis’s cock and then bobs his head down, retaking Louis again quickly, keeping the suction of his lips around his shaft tight. Louis didn’t mention anything about a match today, Harry knows it’s nothing important, and it’s driving him mad to be so close to being so good without being quite enough, so he squeezes his eyes shut and redoubles his efforts, fucking Louis’s cock into his throat roughly, sputtering but not coming up for air, breathing hard and swallowing around him with his head nestled against his groin, until finally, finally, Louis starts to thrust back shallowly. Harry very nearly hyperventilates, tears springing into his eyes anew as he tries to push himself down farther, whimpering around Louis’s cock while his arse clenches hard around his plug.
After a particularly hard swallow, Louis’s hand comes down hard on the back of Harry’s head and Harry moans loudly, bobbing his head so Louis’s cock fucks down his throat, but Louis doesn’t push him down any farther—instead, he pulls Harry off his cock roughly, by his hair, in time to come all over Harry’s flushed cheeks and his wet, trembling lips.
The footie crowd erupts in cheers. Louis keeps looking down at Harry, thumbing at his cheek while Harry licks the come off his lips greedily, panting. “Look good with come on your face.” It’s the closest thing to praise he’s gotten in what feels like ages, and Harry absolutely preens.
“Daddy,” Harry nuzzles against Louis’s hand and smiles at the roughness with which the word works its way out of his fucked-out throat. “Let me—again, wanna please you again.” He tightens the clasp of his hands behind his back and leans down, rubbing his face along the side of Louis’s wet, softening cock.
Louis pushes him away. Harry gapes, biting his come-salty lip into his mouth, and almost starts crying again as he takes in Louis’s impassive expression.
Louis doesn’t sound angry when he speaks again, though. “Need a break, love.” He pushes his jeans and briefs down the rest of the way off his thighs and kicks them off his feet, leaving them puddled by Harry’s knees. “If I untie you, will you get me a beer?”
Harry blinks in confusion, glancing between Louis’s face and his trousers. “I—“
Once again, a chorus of groans from the telly. Louis glances up at the screen, frowns, then looks back down at Harry. “Let me put it another way,” he says. “I’d like very much for you to get me a beer.” Louis settles deeper into the couch, kicks Harry’s thigh lightly. “Kneel by my side while I catch up on some things, be a good boy. Can you manage that?”
“I can,” Harry says quickly, nodding fervently before he even really understands what Louis’s saying. “Whatever you want.”
“Turn around, then.”
Harry stumbles over again as he tries to turn, presenting his arse to Louis as he positions the cuffs on his feet closer to Louis. Louis undoes the hooks connecting the leather straps to the bar between Harry’s legs, but leaves the straps on. Harry flushes a little as he realises he’s got leather cuffs on all his wrists and ankles, around his throat, like he’s ready for Louis to chain him up in any position at any time. And he is, he is ready, but—that’s not what Louis wants, right now.
What he wants is for Harry to get him a beer.
Harry stays still for a minute after Louis unchains him, not really sure what he’s supposed to do next. After a long moment, Louis lets out a humph and presses the jewelled end of the butt plug hard, startling a yelp out of Harry as it brushes against his still-oversensitive prostate.
“No need to crawl,” Louis says, withdrawing his hand and bumping the back of Harry’s thigh with the side of his foot. “As I’d rather you didn’t try to carry it on your head.”
Harry nods, feeling dazed. He almost falls over while getting to his feet, his legs sore and overworked from the bar. It feels—wrong, standing over Louis sprawled out half-naked on the couch while Harry’s still wearing his come on his chin, so he moves quickly to the kitchen. He stares at the fridge for a long moment before opening it, pulling out one of Louis’s favourite beers, and turning back around to head into the living room.
Louis’s lost his shirt by the time Harry comes back. He’s got one leg crossed over the other, his cock hanging limp and apparently uninterested between his thighs as Harry gets back down on his knees in front of him, offering the beer up awkwardly with two hands while he bites his lip and looks down at his knees.
Louis pulls his gaze away from the telly long enough to regard the beer in Harry’s hand, then shakes his head slightly. Harry’s stomach turns in circles.
“Open it,” Louis says, looking back at the telly.
Harry’s hands shake as he opens the can, so badly he almost drops it. God, his face must be beet-red by now with embarrassment. Louis’s given him so many chances to be good for him, easy things, but Harry keeps messing up.
He’s not discouraged, though. If anything, he’s more determined than ever to show Louis that he can be good for him, that he deserves him. When he presents the opened can to Louis, he’s sure to position it so Louis can pick it up and sip without having to turn it.
That’s exactly what Louis does. He doesn’t look down at Harry, instead picking up the remote and flipping the channel. “Thanks, pet,” he says, just before he sips again.
Harry kneels at his feet, his breath picking up. Louis flips through a few more channels without giving Harry any more instructions. Harry doesn’t turn, doesn’t care what’s on the screen, can’t focus on anything but Louis’s hands, wrapped around the beer can, his perfect, silent lips framed with scruff.
After a while, Louis sets down the remote, apparently satisfied with the channel he’s found. Harry swallows.
“Can I—can I do anything?” he asks. He shifts his knees slightly and feels the plug shift inside him, reminding him of the edge Louis brought him to and shoved him over, the hopeless arousal settled in his gut. He hasn’t been hard since he came, and somehow that’s what he’s most ashamed of as Louis turns to take in the sight of him at his feet. Louis should know how much Harry loves to please him. Harry always wants him to know. He bites his lip.
“Can you do anything,” Louis muses. “Well.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Could use a place to rest my feet.”
Harry nods quickly, getting on all fours again and offering up his back to Louis as if he’s done it a thousand times before, or—or like he’s been waiting for this forever, like nothing could ever be more natural than contorting his body into whatever Louis needs, whatever Louis wants him to be. Harry practically sighs in relief as Louis’s heels settle against his spine, the pressure of his feet and the perfect submissionof Harry’s stance feeling like he’s found home in the midst of slightly unfamiliar territory.
Harry rests his chin against his chest and closes his eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbles, almost to himself.
Louis seems to hear him, though. “Hmm?” He lowers the volume on the telly for a moment. “What was that?”
Harry blinks his eyes open, the green carpet seeming to swim in front of him as Louis strokes his spine with his heel. He struggles to remember what he’d said for a moment, then clears his throat. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Louis hums noncommittally, but rubs his heel in little circles on the small of Harry’s back for a moment. Harry closes his eyes again with a contented hum and lets himself sink into the feeling of being useful, being used.
After a while, when Harry’s knees are starting to ache a little, Louis settles the beer can on his shoulder blade. It’s still nearly full, and sweating cool drops of water that quickly fall onto Harry’s back. Harry trembles, partly at the sensation, but mostly at the trust, and does his very, very best to stay completely still, so as not to tip the can. Not very long afterwards, Louis picks the beer up again and takes his feet off Harry’s back.
“Up,” he says.
It takes a minute for Harry to blink out of his fuzzy headspace enough to process the command, but when he does, he’s scrambling up onto his knees again, shivering as cold condensation from the beer can drips down his back.
Louis’s expression is hungry as takes in the sight of Harry at his feet, more obviously full of desire than at any point since they’d started playing. He licks his lips and parts his legs slightly. His cock is already curved hard against his stomach, and that makes Harry so deliriously happyhe could cry, might already be crying, who knows, all that matters is that he’s done well, that Louis wants him, in spite of his earlier missteps.
Louis pats his thigh. “Up,” he says again, and this time Harry doesn’t hesitate a moment before crawling into his lap, straddling Louis’s thighs and settling his hands against his own thighs as he stares at Louis wide-eyed, waiting for his instruction.
Louis stares back at Harry for a long moment in something like amazement as he gropes his arse. Harry may never have been happier in his life.
After a minute, Louis closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. His hand stops massaging Harry’s arse and goes straight to his hole, pulling out the plug in one long, slow motion. Harry shivers as his rim stretches around the widest part of the toy, but otherwise stays still as Louis quickly replaces the plug with three of his own fingers.
“Still so wet.” Louis plunges his three fingers deep into Harry quickly, scissoring them, making Harry’s mouth drop open in a silent moan at the delicious stretch. Too soon, Louis pulls out, and Harry can’t help a small whimper. “Do you need more lube to ride me?”
Harry clenches and feels some slick lube dripping out of his hole. He shakes his head.
“Well,” Louis says, his voice returning to its previous airy, disinterested state, “let me know.” Louis places the plug on the side table and spreads his arms out over the back of the couch. Harry bites his lip and waits for further instruction. Louis just raises his eyebrow.
“Go on.” Louis looks down at his cock and raises his eyebrows at Harry. “Your turn to do the work, remember?”
Harry nods quickly. “S-sorry, Daddy.”
Louis doesn’t say anything as Harry leans forward, balancing himself with one hand on the sofa above Louis’s shoulder, and with the other hand takes Louis’s cock, slick with his spit, and positions it over his hole, whimpering a little as the head rubs at his entrance. Harry moans as he breaches himself with Louis’s cock, squeezing his eyes shut while he fills himself up with it slowly, inch by inch, guiding it with one hand until Louis is almost all the way in him. As he gets closer to the base, Harry pauses to fuck back and forth a little, his hole stretching and burning, but feeling so, so good, even in the absence of Louis’s usual whispered encouragements in his ear.
Louis is silent the whole time, but finally grunts as Harry settles against his hips and clenches. Harry throws his head back and parts his lips in a sigh. Not even Louis’s thick cock inside him feels as good as making Louis happy. His whole head goes entirely fuzzy with it, the absolute satisfaction of knowing he’s taking Louis into him in every way he can. He’s vaguely aware of himself grinning dopily as Louis squeezes his arse.
The illusion is shattered when Louis speaks.
“Trying to watch a programme here,” he says gruffly, jutting his chin into Harry’s shoulder. “Could you budge up?”
Harry’s eyes flash open. Louis’s looking at him in pointed dismay, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat. Louis thrusts up into him shallowly as he bumps his chin against Harry’s shoulder again, and Harry’s whole world is spinning. He wasn’t good. “S-sorry, Daddy,” he manages to choke out again, stuttering partly with pleasure but mostly with guilt at feeling pleasure when he’s not doing what Louis wants. Harry wants, wants so much to be good, so he hunches his shoulders and ducks his head down to Louis’s neck, so that Louis’s chin is just over his shoulder. He pauses, not sure if he’s done well, but when Louis puts a reassuring hand on the small of his back, he whimpers quietly and starts to focus again on the cock splitting him open.
Harry moves his hips in little fits and starts. It’s hard to move at this angle without Louis popping out of him or blocking his view of the telly—let alone hit a good angle for himself—but this isn’t about him, wouldn’t be, even if every brush against his overstimulated prostate didn’t feel like he was being thrown against a brick wall. Nevertheless, even limp and overstimulated, Harry can’t stop himself from letting out a guttural moan as Louis snaps his hips up to meet Harry’s thrusts, as if by instinct, pushing Harry to fuck Louis into his arse faster, harder, while he pants against Louis’s golden, perfect shoulder.
“You’re so loud.” Harry’s spine shivers as Louis speaks against his neck, but that’s wrong, too, because Louis is annoyed with him, and he’s enjoying himself.
“Sorry,” Harry squeaks. He can’t even focus enough to berate himself, though. He feels every inch of Louis acutely—Louis’s thick, strong thighs underneath him, Louis’s warm, hard torso pressed against his, Louis’s perfect cock splitting him in half. Harry doesn’t deserve it, any of it, he could never be good enough for that, in any universe, but Louis gives it all to him anyway, and it’s all Harry can do to circle his hips while Louis’s all the way inside him and try not to disturb his programme.
Harry can tell Louis is close by the way his breath goes a little shallow and his hand settles on Harry’s arse, squeezing one of his cheeks in time with Harry’s thrusts. Then he’s pulling out of Harry entirely, making him whimper, and coming in warm pulses all over Harry’s hole.
Being denied Louis’s come inside him physically hurts Harry, makes his shoulders shake and his breath come out in hysterical pants. Whether Louis notices that, or whether it was his plan all along to push some of his come inside Harry with his fingers before pushing the plug back into him, Harry doesn’t know, but either way, when Louis holds up his fingers for Harry to suck, he’s so grateful for the taste of Louis’s come he lets out another loud, low moan.
“That was great, babe.” Louis pulls his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and pats him on the arse, like they’ve just finished a round of footie or something. Harry licks his lips and buries his face in the dip of Louis’s collarbone, taking advantage of Louis’s momentary generosity to soak in as much of him as possible. “Why don’t you go make us some food, now? Bit peckish.”
“Yes,” Harry mutters against Louis’s skin, even though he’s not sure he can focus his eyes, currently, let alone boil water. “Yes, Daddy, anything.”
“Two sandwiches.” Louis scoots up, sending Harry a little off balance, so that he straightens up in his lap. Harry bites down a whimper as he clenches around the plug. It’s nowhere near as good as Louis inside him, but it is keeping Louis inside him, even as he elbows Harry out of the way so he can see the telly again. “Whatever you feel like making, I don’t care.”
Harry frowns. “I—“ What goes in sandwiches? Bread?
Louis seems to notice Harry’s stricken expression, even as he’s shaking Harry out of his lap. “Cheese on toast is fine. In the press, don’t use the stove.”
Harry takes a minute to process those words, sitting askance next to Louis on the couch. Then he nods. “I can,” he says, voice small, but confident. “Anything, I can.”
Louis hums, then turns up the volume on the telly. Someone is reporting on… something. Somewhere in the world. Harry doesn’t care. He trudges into the kitchen, one hand trailing down to poke at his plug, the wetness of his thighs. He shivers, but doesn’t move to clean himself, just stares at the cupboards for a while in a daze before remembering they keep cheese in the fridge. He’s got this, totally. He’s good.
Louis comes into the kitchen just after Harry puts the first sandwich in the press. He puts his arms around Harry’s waist before Harry’s even registered he’s there, and he releases his grip on the sandwich press in shock, stepping back into Louis’s warm, naked body and melting faster than the cheese.
Louis presses down on the sandwich press without pulling his arms from around Harry and Harry pushes his arse up against Louis, but Louis just chuckles into his ear. “You want to eat now?” Harry can feel Louis’s words against his neck, resonating through his torso. “Or after?”
Harry’s forgotten what he was doing, too distracted by the feeling of Louis wrapped around him. “I—“ He frowns as he looks down at Louis’s hand on the sandwich press. “What do you want?”
“I want you to eat.” Louis nips at Harry’s ear, and Harry moans openly, baring his neck for him. Louis kisses it briefly. “But not if you’re gonna be sick on the carpet.”
Harry blushes, remembering how he’d nearly been sick all over himself the last time they played before tour, after Louis fed him two dozen cherries. “After,” he mumbles.
“Okay, babe.” Louis nuzzles against his neck and Harry’s just. It’s just everything Harry wants in the whole world. “You can keep my cock warm while I eat, then.”
“Yes.” Harry sighs as Louis splays a hand out over his stomach, playing with the fine hairs there. “Y-yes.” Louis kisses his cheek and Harry whimpers, Daddy.
Louis exhales heavily against Harry’s neck. “You’re so…” Louis trails off and squeezes his hip. Harry moans and tries to step back farther into his touch, but the timer on the sandwich press goes off and Louis steps back suddenly. Harry blinks, then sighs.
“Lovely,” Louis mutters after a long pause, in an undertone. Then he clears his throat and continues, louder, “Why don’t you let me do the cutting and then I’ll let you bring me my plate at the table?”
Harry frowns. “Daddy…” His eyes flit over to the knives on the counter. “Daddy, I can.”
“I know, baby.” Louis sounds—amused, more than anything, and Harry pouts because he doesn’t understand what’s so funny. “You’re so perfect for me. But let Daddy take care of this one, all right?”
Louis takes the sandwich out of the press and puts it on the plate Harry had arrange next to it, then cuts it along the diagonal, like Harry usually does for him. Harry’s hands twitch. Louis puts the knife in the sink and brushes his fingers over Harry’s hip before he goes out to the dining room. Harry glances at the uncooked sandwich as he picks up Louis’s and feels a twinge of disappointment in himself, for not finishing what Louis told him, but. Louis told him to do this now. Louis. Harry’s hands shake as he carries the plate out to where Louis is sitting with his hands folded in his lap at the dining room table. They don’t stop shaking until he sinks to his knees.
Louis takes a bite of the toast and chews carefully for a minute, looking thoughtful. Harry makes a strangled noise in his throat at the thought of Louis being displeased with it. After a moment, though, Louis smiles.
“Good boy.” Louis scratches behind Harry’s ear and he preens, another wave of hazy arousal settling over him. “Can have my cock now, as long as you promise not to suck.”
“I won’t,” Harry promises quickly as he crawls under the table. “Thank you, Daddy.” He can hear Louis pick up the sandwich again, but his senses are overwhelmed as soon as he picks Louis’s soft cock up gently in his hand and feeds it slowly into his mouth, his nose settling easily against his pubic hair. He fights the impulse to suck on Louis’s musky length, forcing himself to simply enjoy the weight of it on his tongue.
One of Harry’s favourite things is kneeling by his daddy’s side, being fed from his daddy’s plate with his fingers. But there’s something beautiful in this, too, the way Louis can’t even see him under the table, but he can feel Harry’s mouth warm and loose around him while he eats the food Harry made for him. It’s like he doesn’t even need to see him to know that Harry is there, ready for him, whatever he wants or needs from him, and Harry loves it so much it almost hurts to keep himself from sucking greedily on Louis’s cock right then and there. But he won’t do that. He’s a good boy.
He still whines a little when Louis pushes his chair back, pulling himself out of Harry’s mouth just as his cock was starting to fill between his lips.
Louis stands up. “Come to the bedroom when you’ve finished the washing up.” He doesn’t even wait for Harry to emerge from under the table before he leaves the room.
The re-emergence of Louis’s cruel streak after his sweetness has Harry’s spine tingling as he brings his dish into the kitchen and places it in the sink. He runs the water over it for a minute or more before he shakes himself into sponging off the crumbs. He’s never been sure what it is about Louis that makes him want to… submit, this way, but being so attuned to his mood makes Harry feel closer to him than ever, his head spinning with the possibilities of where Louis might take him.
Once the dish is drying in the rack, Harry walks to the bedroom slowly, his plug nudging every delicious place inside him with each step. When he gets to the doorway, he finds Louis sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on one hand and scrolling through his phone. He barely glimpses at Harry before he says, “Knees.”
Harry nods, slightly, to himself, before falling to his knees with a soft thud on the carpet. Louis puts his phone down and beckons with one finger. Harry crawls to him, whimpering from the friction of the plug, until Louis holds up a hand.
“Sit up,” Louis says, and Harry complies, folding his hands into his lap neatly and keeping his eyes trained on Louis’s knees. Part of him wishes he could spend the rest of his life like this, moving his body into simple shapes at Louis’s command. It’s so easy to be so good for him like this.
Too easy, if the slight frown on Louis’s face is anything to go by. “Get hard for me,” he says, after a bit of a pause.
Harry nods, keeping his head hung low, and starts to move his hands to his cock, but freezes when Louis tuts.
Harry swallows. His hands fall to his sides loosely and he squeezes his eyes shut and imagines, as vividly as he can, his cock springing to life, doing what his daddy wants, but the milking seems to have taken so much out of him he can’t even manage that. After a few minutes, Louis sighs loudly, and it’s all Harry can do not to fall at his feet and say sorry sorry sorry.
“Hands behind your back.” Harry blinks at the command, not daring to lift his gaze, but after a moment clasps his hands behind his back.
Louis shuffles around on the bed and a moment later is kneeling behind Harry, fastening the leather cuffs around his wrists to each other. Harry tests them when he’s done, mouth open in a silent moan when he finds himself unable to move his arms. He closes his eyes again and tries with all his might to channel the arousal pouring over him into his cock, and he feels it twitch against his thigh.
Louis stands up and surveys his handiwork. He grips Harry by the hair and tugs him forward a little. Harry hunches over easily, with a gasp. “Why aren’t you hard yet?” Louis clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Chin up.”
Harry straightens up, letting out a garbled moan as his hands twitch in their restraints. “S-sorry, Daddy.” He glances down at his half-hard cock, growing but sensitive. “Trying.”
Louis sits back on the bed and crosses his legs, letting out a loud sigh. “I guess you don’t really want to fuck your daddy at all.”
“Do,” Harry says desperately. He hadn’t even been thinking it, but of course that’s what he wants, if Louis wants it of him, Jesus. “I do, Daddy, wanna.”
“Got myself all ready for you,” Louis continues, as if he didn’t hear Harry at all. He reaches behind himself and touches his hole, like a reminder. Harry’s mouth starts to water. “Figured you deserved a treat, for being so good, but here you are, not even wanting what I give you.”
“No,” Harry says, shaking his head roughly, his collar feeling tight as he swallows hard, “no, Daddy, I do, please, please, it just,” he pushes his hips forward slightly, trying to get friction on his cock from his thigh, “it hurts, I’m trying, Daddy, please.”
“It hurts?” Louis says incredulously. He grabs a bottle of lube from the bedspread and pours some onto his hands before getting on his knees and squeezing Harry’s cock hard. Harry chokes out a gasp as Louis starts stroking him roughly, covering him with lube. “Are you complaining about your milking, Harry?”
“N-no,” Harry half-moans, shaking his head, his whole torso, making his arms swing uselessly behind his back. Louis’s hand is so rough and so much, bringing him to full hardness so quickly he feels lightheaded, like all the blood is rushing out of him to fill his cock. Harry’s back arches with how oversensitive he is, tears springing to his eyes. “I—my fault, Daddy, sorry, please, please.”
“Please what?” Louis drops Harry’s cock as suddenly as he’d grabbed it, and Harry shakes all over with a cry, feeling dizzy, not knowing if he wants Louis to keep jerking him off or let him go. “Are you gonna make me do all the work again?”
“No,” Harry says again, his voice finally breaking on an incoherent sob as Louis gives his cock one more, harsh tug.
“Then fuck me already.” Louis turns, getting on all fours, and looks over his shoulder like he still doesn’t trust Harry to get the picture.
It’s nearly impossible, with his hands chained behind his back, for Harry to scoot forward and position his cock anywhere near Louis’s lube-slick hole, but fortunately Louis’s annoyance fades a little as Harry’s cock slides against his thighs, and he contorts himself into a good angle, even reaching behind himself to guide the tip of Harry’s cock to his entrance. It hurts, already, a sharp burning where usually there’s only hot white perfect pleasure, but Louis lets out a soft little sigh, almost by accident, and Harry’s body relaxes a little, awash with content.
Even if Louis is pleased with him, though—and the heaviness of his breathing would suggest he is—once Harry’s cock finally glides past the magnificent tanned curves of Louis’s arse, there’s absolutely nothing Louis can do to help Harry’s overwhelming sensitivity. It makes it impossible to thrust without his thighs starting to twitch reflexively, and is made much worse by Harry’s total lack of leverage in his bound position. If the way Louis clenches tightly around him and lets out a bored sigh is any indication, Harry doesn’t think he’s very interested in helping Harry anyway. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and pumps his hips forward a few quick times, before the sensitivity in his cock makes him pause and cry out.
“Are you even trying?” Louis puts his head against his forearms, sighs, and clenches tightly around Harry again. “Or do you not see the point, since you’re not going to come?”
Harry’s ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t know how he can hear anything, but Louis’s words cut him to the bone. “No.” He thrusts in weakly again before doubling over and trying breathlessly to rabbit his hips forward. “D-daddy, no, I’m—“
“Faster,” Louis says shortly, thrusting back hard against Harry’s cock so that his arse bounces against Harry’s hips. Harry chokes on the air in his throat, and Louis does it again. “Come on, do better.”
Harry sobs, his chained hands clanging as he slumps over in exhaustion, trying to pump his hips into Louis even as the pain drags him out of his mind. Louis sighs and picks up his phone from the bed, toying with it in his hands like he’s that bored. “Maybe I should just get myself off,” he says, and if there’s a slight breathless quality to his voice, it’s not enough to override the abject failure Harry feels flushing his face.
“P-please.” Harry says, his voice roughened by his sobs as he slows to a halt inside Louis, balls-deep. Even just the tight pressure of Louis around him is too much, but he still keeps begging, “Please, let me, Daddy, Daddy.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Louis snaps. He slams his phone down on the ground. “Slow and hard, if you must.”
There’s just no way Harry can keep going, not with his cock aching like it is and the terrible leverage imposed by his restraints. He can’t bring himself to say it, though, can’t make himself say Daddy I can’t, so he just keeps garbling the word please and rocking back and forth ever so slightly until Louis snaps again.
“Stop.” Louis knees forward, and Harry’s cock falls out of him with a wet pop, bobbing painfully. Harry moves his mouth wordlessly—whether in relief or apology, he doesn’t know. Louis shakes his head. “Just stop.”
“Please,” Harry says again, feeling another sob rise in his throat, “please, please, Daddy.” He barely knows what he’s begging for, just knows he needs Louis to—give, or take, something.
“Stop whining,” Louis says, and Harry tries to straighten up, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to, at least, sit up straight for him, but his face is a mess and his throat is sore from crying and he can’t make his shoulders stop shaking. When he’s still letting out small, helpless sounds a minute later, Louis tsks, then grabs Harry’s chin and says, “Open.”
Harry can barely feel his face, let alone hear over the buzzing in his head and the sound of his own laboured breathing, but when Louis gives him a command, his body follows, almost of its own will. Which is how Harry finds himself surprised by the ball gag shoved into his mouth, even though he’s the one who opened for it.
Harry chokes a little and moans as Louis positions the gag in his mouth. Louis pauses for a minute, holding Harry’s face in his hand. Harry’s eyes blink open as he bites down on the gag and he starts a little, when he sees the thick black dildo attached to the other end of the gag. Louis strokes Harry’s chin for a moment until Harry nods, the weight of the dildo making it a small, awkward motion. Louis fastens the gag around the back of Harry’s head.
“On your back.”
Harry doesn’t even consider how uncomfortable it will be, with his hands bound behind him, until he’s already splayed out on the floor for Louis. The hard metal part of the cuffs is digging into his back and his arms already ache but Louis looks pleased as he kneels over Harry’s head.
“Kick up if you need me to stop,” he says, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry hums and nods before he’s even finished speaking, biting down on the gag as the dildo sways over his lips. “You hear me, H?” Louis asks, a little louder. He runs his thumb over Harry’s lower lip, a little wet with drool, stretched over the gag. “Do what I just said if you understand.”
Harry kicks his right foot up weakly, and Louis seems satisfied. He straddles Harry’s chest, facing away from him, balancing himself with his hands on Harry’s abs. Harry’s still half-hard, and he twitches at that, whining a little as the stress on his arms strains his shoulders. Then Louis’s round, glorious arse is coming down over Harry’s face and whatever part of Harry’s brain hasn’t yet switched off goes, and he closes his eyes and just focuses on letting Louis use him.
The dildo slides into Louis easily, prettily, making Harry go a little dizzy with how slick and open and close Louis is as he rocks back towards mouth with the black length disappearing inside of him. The dildo is smaller than Harry’s cock, but Louis still makes a show of moaning loudly as it enters him, pushing the gag farther back into Harry’s mouth. Harry sputters, bobs his head slightly as he tries to get a better grip on the gag with his teeth, and Louis moans, the curve of his arse thrusting back so it’s only one tantalising inch from Harry’s face.
“Come on, H,” Louis says, then moans again as he circles his hips with the dildo inside. Harry whimpers, the sound trapped in his mouth by the gag and seeming to echo in every part of him. “Know you can do better than that. You’re not gonna make me touch myself, are you?”
Harry tries to stretch his arms, balling his hands into fists, and nods, bobbing the dildo inside Louis. As he does, Louis gasps a little, like he can’t help it.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice higher, a little breathless. “Know what you can do with that mouth.” Harry swallows and bobs his head again, drawing a soft grunt out of Louis. “Make me come.”
After Louis says that, Harry’s head starts to bob up and down of its own accord, fucking Louis with the dildo even as it makes him choke on the gag. Louis moans encouragingly, and as Harry works the thick plastic cock to a steady rhythm in Louis’s arse, Harry feels like he’s floating, like the strain in his shoulders and his neck and his arms has pushed him out of his body and the only things tethering him to the world are Louis’s little gasps and the visible clenching of his arse around the toy. Louis starts impassive, having Harry do most of the work, but after a few minutes, when Harry starts to slow down as the ache of his muscles washes over him, Louis works back against him quickly, insistently, not scolding him but instead moaning wantonly and clutching Harry’s hips hard, and when Louis comes wet and hot over the butterfly on Harry’s stomach, Harry’s body is so overworked and overstimulated the slightest touch might make him cry but he doesn’t want it to be over, he wants to live in the moment Louis clenches and moans and comes all over him because it means he’s good, Harry’s done good, he and it and everything is perfect.
When Louis climbs off Harry’s face, his expression has totally changed. Instead of looking peeved, or angry, or on edge, he looks sleepy and soft and so, so fond as he helps Harry back up to his knees and pulls the dildo gag out of his mouth. Harry gasps fresh air as he does, feeling all the aches that he’d pushed his mind past hitting him at once.
“Harry, sweetheart,” Louis is saying quietly, “you did so well for me, baby.” He undoes the chain linking Harry’s arms together behind his back and Harry exhales heavily, rolling his shoulders as his hands fall to his sides. “Did everything I asked perfectly,” Louis continues, stroking Harry’s cheek. Harry whines, speechless, and rubs softly against Louis’s hand. “Do you think you can come now, baby? You deserve it, you made me so happy.”
It takes Harry a minute to process the words, and even longer to remember how to speak. Louis runs his fingers through his hair, tugging just hard enough for Harry to shiver. “Don’t know,” Harry whimpers after a minute. His voice feels small and weirdly high-pitched for how utterly fucked he feels. “I don’t know, Daddy, I—oh.” Louis wraps a hand gently around Harry’s cock, still a little hard and wet from earlier, and Harry’s probably one tug from crying again.
“My lovely boy,” Louis mutters against Harry’s cheek, between soft kisses. He strokes Harry gently and Harry gasps, throws back his head, tears pooling in his eyes. “My darling, my beautiful boy, want you to come, you’re so pretty when you come for me, so perfect, so good.”
Harry winces as Louis tugs on his cock gently, making him hard again. “Hurts,” he mumbles, but it’s not really a protest, and Louis knows that, can read it in the way Harry keens when he swipes his thumb over his dry slit.
“I know, you already gave me so much.” Louis’s finger runs through the mess of his come on Harry’s chest, and Harry opens his mouth greedily to suck it in, loving the way Louis’s fingers feel against his tongue and the salty taste of Louis’s come. “But you’re gonna give me more, aren’t you, baby?” Louis pulls his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and Harry sighs.
“Daddy.” Harry spreads his legs slightly, breath hitching a little in surprise as he feels the metal plug shift inside him. “Wanna try.”
Louis kisses Harry’s temple and smoothes over his hair. Harry whines as Louis tightens his fist around his cock. “Fuck my hand, sweetie,” Louis whispers in his ear. “I know you can.”
Harry doesn’t know that he can, really, but when Louis says that his hips pump forward automatically, like Louis’s words bypass his brain entirely and his body just follows. And Louis doesn’t stop, keeps on whispering in Harry’s ear how wonderful he is, how far he’s come, how much he loves him, and his fist is warm and wet and just tight enough for the friction to pull Harry closer to a peak he hadn’t dared to think of before now. His cock hurts, it really, really does, not just from the fucking but like Harry’s been overstimulated from this whole—everything, without his dick even being touched for most of it. He whines and collapses forward against Louis’s frame, his shoulders shaking, his ears buzzing, his cock twitching, and suddenly—or maybe not so suddenly at all—he’s flying.
Harry can feel Louis’s body against him, Louis whispering things to him, Louis rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders, and he knows it’s important, that if Louis were to let go he might crash, but he can’t focus his eyes or his ears on him, can’t figure out quite what Louis is doing, but all that matters is that Louis is there and they’re together but Harry is also somewhere else. Somewhere he can chase the colours popping up behind his eyelids. Somewhere warm and easy and home. Somewhere that starts to flit away when he starts to wonder where exactly it is.
He’s not sure how long it is before he comes back, before he goes from swimming in the fact that Louis’s touching him to actually seeing him next to him, but Harry seems to have blacked out for some of it. They’re on the bed now, though, and Harry’s uncuffed and wrapped around Louis like he’s a giant teddy. Louis’s smiling at him. Harry smiles back weakly.
“Babe?” Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You with me?”
“Good,” Harry mumbles, in response to something Louis maybe asked a long time ago. He closes his eyes and hums against Louis’s chest. “Really, really good.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Louis says into Harry’s ear, a twinge of something like awe in his tone. “I gave you so much, and you did it all so well.”
Harry hums. Louis strokes his hair, then tilts the water bottle to his lips so he can drink. He starts to feel a little less fuzzy, even if it still feels like his blood is pulsing through his veins at half its normal speed. He feels like he’s at the stage of sobering where he realises how drunk he was, and he blushes, curling tighter around Louis like some kind of defence.
“I came,” he mumbles against Louis’s chest. “At the start. I—“
“Figured you might,” Louis says. “I know you said you wanted to try milking but it’s really intense. Think coming put you even further under, as it were.”
“Yeah.” Harry cuddles closer into Louis’s side. “I—good. Liked it.” Harry swallows thickly. “Like… I got to be good all over again. To prove it.”
Louis’s silent for a minute. “You never had to prove to me you were good,” he says, into Harry’s ear while he squeezes his knee. “You just are. Everything about you is good.”
Harry isn’t sure that’s true—he’s come down enough from his high to remember he’s only human—but Louis makes him feel that way, and that might be more important than anything. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” Louis kisses his temple softly, then smirks. “So, do I still get to feed you if you’re up?”
Harry butts his forehead against Louis’s and smiles wickedly before opening his mouth wide with an ahhhhhh. Louis laughs into his shoulder before picking up the sandwich Louis had darted to the kitchen to retrieve while Harry was down and placing the corner in Harry’s mouth. Harry bites down and chews neatly with a satisfied grin, then opens his mouth up again, sticking out his tongue.
This time Louis tries to shove the whole thing in his mouth at once. Harry squawks and elbows him in the ribs, and for a while they dissolve into a pile of giggles and kisses and crumbs, until Louis ends up sitting in Harry’s lap, picking up the half of the sandwich that hasn’t been thrown onto the ground, and feeding him again, for real this time, kissing Harry’s forehead while he chews.
They’re always taking care of each other. Sure, they show it in different ways—sometimes because the dice tell them to, sometimes because they need different things—but playing like this always reminds them of what it means.