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Fake you're full and feel tomorrow

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i. Lewis Fray

Louis is one of the “creative ones”. It’s not that he can’t pull off sophisticated, it’s just that he likes to have his fun as well and being the Rose to some boring Cal isn’t his idea of entertainment. Zayn’s good at that kind of things, he likes discussing politics, criticising art, pretending to care about environmental issues. He’s one of the “cerebral ones”, all cheeky smiles, sharp cheekbones and intellect.

That’s why they work so well together. Their interests rarely overlap and when they do, Liam makes the final call or they just have a threeway. It’s as simple as that.

Generally, though, the division is very clear. Thirty seven year old divorcee who owns a successful law firm? That’s Zayn’s territory. Middle aged Star Trek fan who wants to dress up as a vulcan going through his Pon Farr? That’s Louis’ last Friday. You could say he likes the kinky ones and you’d be absolutely right.

It’s not just that, though. It’s the game, the show. He loves playing his part, dressing up, putting on fake accents and delivering a convincing performance. Say what you will about his choice of a profession, but you can’t deny he stops at nothing to satisfy his clients.

When he was a teen, not that long ago, he had high hopes of becoming a star, just taking Britain by storm and working on huge productions for the Beeb or ITV. Benedict Cumberbatch who? He dreamt about winning BAFTAs, becoming The Doctor, being a guest judge on The X Factor. To this day he still kind of wants all of that: the Chatty Man interviews, the red carpets, the designer clothes, spots on The Chaser. Ah, and he would be so damn good at it too. He was born to be the centre of everybody’s attention and it’s a bit hard for him to deal with alone time. He likes being wanted, desired and what better than being a successful artist to gain that sort of admiration? At first glance you wouldn’t notice he’s so driven by ambition… but truth to be told, at first glance you wouldn’t notice anything about him, except exactly what you expect him to show you. Louis is a chameleon, a truly talented actor and a fantastic lover. Whatever you want him to be, that’s precisely what he’ll become during his time with you.

And he doesn’t complain. Yes, it’s deeply troubling for him to accept he is not going to star alongside Catherine Tate any time soon, but he does enjoy his life. Although not every single day is out of this world, he gets to do what he likes, he makes great money out of it and he has fun. Where’s the conflict? He even looks forward to working.

It’s not a bad job nor a bad life. He knows what a bad life is and this is fucking Heaven in comparison. It’s not like he’s working the streets, living off unclean dicks and cocktails of badly mixed drugs. No, he fucks rich guys (and the occasional woman that’s gagging for it enough to be willing to pay an actual fortune), he visits all sorts of exotic places, he gets expensive gifts on a regular basis and his weed is practically aristocratic. It’s Royal Weed, Pro Weed, Weed Advanced, The Weed Who Lived. No shitty coke for Louis, no. The best clothes, the best cars, the best drugs, all in exchange for the best blowjobs in the known world.

ii. The Circle of The Arse

The first thing you have to know about Louis is that everyone wants to fuck him: friends, enemies, straight men, lesbians, Pope Francis. No one is immune to his charm, his sparkling blue eyes and, you know, The Arse. Louis is dazzling and he knows it, which is why he doesn’t just fuck anyone. If you want Louis, you have to earn his affections.

Yes, he’s a call boy, of course he fucks for money, but hear this out: he makes money even when no fluids are exchanged.

Here’s how this works:

- Step 1: His services are exclusive. That means you need an invitation to access his website’s content. Regular clients can gift up to three invites and you can also ask for one, but that puts you on a pending list.


This system makes his clients feel special. They think they’re part of a secret society of sorts. Louis likes that, it’s a nice thought, a whole cult dedicated to worshipping his arse. Yes, it’s all good.

However, it’s not that easy. In other to apply you have to meet the following requirements: you have to be clean of all sorts of STDs, you must be willing to sign an NDA, you can’t have a criminal record and your income must give Louis’ bank account a boner.

It’s all very organised and secure. Liam runs background checks on every potential client and makes sure his two boys are safe.

- Step 2: Once you’re welcomed into his exclusive group, you can send him three offers a month. Louis himself goes through them and chooses the ones that interest him the most. To submit an offer you have to pay a small fee and only then you’ll be taken into consideration.

Three times a month is the perfect recipe to keep you interested. If he gave you the chance of being with him all the time, there would always be the risk of you getting bored. Too much of a good thing, right? Three times a month means you’re never fully satisfied and you always want more.

The sad part is that you could very well submit three ideas and not be picked even once. No worries, that’ll just make you even more eager, your submissions will get more outrageous and Louis loves outrageous.

Some clients, however, like the rejection, so they don’t modify their submissions. They get off on the thought of not being good enough for Louis. They like him having so much power over them. And who is Louis to deny them such simple pleasures?

- Step 3: If you’re selected to be his next lover, you first have to make a donation to homeless and animal shelters, and then you have to pay for the encounter in advance. Said payment covers transportation, the outfits that you want him to wear (if anything at all), food, hotel accommodations and, of course, his ministrations. Kinks are paid extra and if they involve pain, they cost twice as much.

Louis is very open-minded and willing to try new things. Nonetheless, he will not dwell into certain fetishes. When you’re admitted into his circle, you can access a list of topics that are out of question.


Anything else is game and it’s a damn expensive one at that.

- Step 4: Both Louis and you sign a nondisclosure agreement before you get to the good part.

Clients appreciate that aspect of his services because it allows them to let him know exactly what they want out of him and they don’t have to worry about him divulging that information. No matter how dirty things get, Louis guarantees them absolute privacy and confidentiality. Louis is always predisposed to go the extra mile to make his clients feel safe and at ease with him.

- Step 5: As previously stated, anything’s game and Louis doesn’t shy away from being your doctor, prince, princess, archnemesis, baby, daddy, striper, favourite character. Whatever you want from him, that’s exactly what you will get.

You need not worry about what he wants. He’s a method actor in this sense. No matter what you throw at him, he’ll very likely end up enjoying it. Still, he does have his own fantasies, of course. No, he’ll not share those with you. His mind is off-limits to his clients.

- Step 6: If Louis’ satisfied with your performance, chances are he will continue to pick you over others and you will become one of his regulars. Those are his unquestionable favourites and he cares a great deal about keeping them happy. Occasionally he even likes them.

His number one regular is without a doubt Nick. He’s been around for about four months now and he always comes up with the most ridiculous scenarios. His offers are insane and Louis always anticipates them with great thrill. Their last adventure involved raw meat and an imaginary camel. It was beyond bizarre and Louis truly enjoyed himself.

If only all of his regulars were as fun as Nick…

His least favourite one is by far Ben. Ugh. He puts out with him because it’s really good money and Ben isn’t hard to please. He just has to tell him repeatedly that he’s the best fuck he’s ever had and that always works like magic.

Still, none of his regulars have ever meant anything to him. He only connects with them physically and it’s never anything other that. It’s great, obviously. His life would be a mess if he kept falling in love with his clients, but there are times he wishes that were the case. It usually happens when he’s asked to pretend to be in love. He’s great at it, he sells the hell out of his performances. No one does fake romance better than him. The sweet kisses, the pet names, the songs. He’s so convincing.

A part of him wants that for real. He wants to hold someone in his sleep, get morning blowjobs, share all the pretty things his money can buy and just… spend time with someone that matters to him.

Sometimes he wants to quit. It’s always a spark that only lasts for half a second; he thinks “this is it” and regrets it right away.

The fact is that he likes sex. He just does. What’s so wrong about it? He likes fucking and being fucked, he likes the burn, the toys, the marks. He loves doing what does.

If he weren’t an escort, he’d still fuck his way through life. That is his truth. Flying to remote places, trying new things, pleasing or withholding pleasure, dressing up… Yes, he’d still want to do all of that. He just hasn’t found the person that wants to do those things with him. The real him, not Lewis Fray.

Lewis Fray is wonderful.

On moments like this he certainly wishes he could really be him because Lewis Fray is fearless and bold, and he never feels lonely at night. Lewis Fray always has somebody by his side, he’s always wanted.

Nobody wants the real Louis.

Until someone does.

iii. The snooze button

I’m willing to do anything. I want you to play out all your fantasies with me. Basically, I want to do your job and pay you for it.

Well, that’s new.

Louis’ puzzled. How did this kid bypass his security? You’d think he’d recall accepting such an usual application. Yet, here he is, this Harry Styles individual, somehow being able to submit his three offers. How?

He goes to his Admin Panel on his website and checks the newest members list. Ah, there he is and his profile indicates he got an invite by none other than Nick. Right. He should have figured he’d be somehow involved in this.

Louis doesn’t get many seventeen year olds on his exclusive circle… no, actually, up until this moment his youngest client was twenty four. Seventeen is a whole new universe.

Under normal circumstances, Louis would discard the offers. Whenever his regulars invite someone that he’s positive will never hold his attention, Louis doesn’t even bother reading their offers.

He should proceed the same way this time. Seventeen is too young to be hiring first class hookers; especially because the five photographs the boy submitted clearly show he’s very handsome. If he has enough money to pay for his services, he’s attractive and he’s got youth on his side, then there must be something really wrong with him and Louis doesn’t want another Wagner. He’s all for weird kinks that he hasn’t outlawed, but he has his limits. He wants odd sexual themes, not odd sexual partners. It’s simply not safe. He doesn’t judge anyone, but he doesn’t want to spend time alone with potentially dangerous people.

The kid doesn’t look dangerous, though. Looks can be deceiving, yes, but… God, he is cute, alright. He’s smiling on his headshot and he’s a got dimple. Louis would love to cover it with come and then lick it off. His dickshot is pretty impressive, as well. He doesn’t have the heart to reject a dick like that.

But he should reject it.

I’m afraid I only have one offer: me. Do whatever you want with me. Please. I’m willing to do anything. I want you to play out all your fantasies with me. Basically, I want to do your job and pay you for it.

He’s never gotten an offer like this. No one has ever asked him what he wants. This is almost as peculiar as Nick’s most outlandish ideas. What if it’s all part of some major plan that Nick’s cooking up for him? It’s the only reasonable explanation. Why would a good looking, well endowed young man, who (let’s hope) is not mentally unstable want to spend a ridiculous amount of money on a call boy? With a face like that, he could have anyone he wanted for free. Besides, he’s only seventeen. He should be reading comics and playing FIFA, not being creepy.

He’s Nick’s friend, though. A certain level of creepiness actually adds up.

He goes over his profile again and bites his lip. He chuckles at the thought of his seventeen year old self trying to hook up with a professional prostitute. He was so naive back then. He thought moving to London would solve all his problems, that he’d make it in a matter of months. He never saw it coming. He had always thought that, in some way, poor people were responsible for being poor. He had always been quite poor himself, so it’s not like he was judging those that he believed to be beneath him or anything like that. It was just an idea. If poor people tried harder, they’d make their lives more pleasant. His mum could have done so much better than working at the diner. He himself could have made more of an effort to change his luck. Instead of studying and thinking about his future, he threw his education away, never giving a damn about it. Every single job he got, he lost just as quickly. He never showed up in time, he never followed orders. A lousy student, a lousy worker, a lousy life.

So when he got to London he figured things would be different. This time he was actually gonna give his all, so that was it, right? If you give your best, you must at some point get what you want.

He didn’t.

He ran out of money, no one wanted to hire him and soon enough he found himself living on the streets. He realised that no matter how much he wanted not to be in that situation, there was nothing he could do about it. He had nothing to eat for days and he had always imagined that movies and series were a bit over the top about it. Yes, sure, not eating must suck, but it can’t be that bad. At some point you must get used it. You don’t. It’s like having a rock crushing your stomach and every time you think it’ll yield, it only pushes harder.

And then there was the cold. When he was a kid he used to watch “The Day After Tomorrow” whenever he caught it on the telly. He’s wanked to Jake Gyllenhaal more times than he’d care to admit. On his third night sleeping outside he remembered that bit about the newspaper keeping you warm when you live on the streets. He’d always assumed it was more likely he would have to face a tsunami or a new ice age than something like this, but life decided to surprise him and it was all beyond his control. He felt utterly hopeless.

The first week went by and he finally got the guts to ask someone to lend him their mobile so he could call his mum. He had avoided that idea because he was so embarrassed. It seems so silly to him now, but at the time that was his mindset. He was such a failure that he couldn’t even afford a phone call or a meal. He cried for a couple of hours before he approached the first passerby he saw.

Everyone rejected him, told him to stay away, threatened to call the police.

He had walked those streets countless times. He had been approached by homeless people and he had felt like a good person whenever he gave them a pound or the last bits of a sandwich that he didn’t want to eat anymore because he was so full. He never once thought he wasn’t really helping them. It was like… snoozing the alarm. It solved nothing.

To have it happen to him was a very real and very useless wake up call.

And then someone finally stopped and looked at him. “You’re pretty,” the other man told him. “Bet you’d clean up nice. Are you hungry?”

That was how he met Simon and how it all started.

“I’ve got to be honest with you, this won’t pay much at first. But I think you have potential. With a bit of training you could be very successful.”

The first three months or so weren’t that great, but there was no way in hell he’d ever complain. He had food, a bed, people to talk to. He was fine.

His clients, not so much. Most of them were dirty, like actual dirty. They smelt and Louis had to pretend he didn’t mind it. Their dicks tasted like piss and their arseholes were unclean and he still fucked them with a smile. The more disgusted he felt by them, the louder he’d moan. He wanted them to get off as quickly as possible.

Simon was so proud of him. All his clients were very pleased with him and as it turns out, he was good. He was really good. He got promoted quickly and his clients upgraded with him. The new ones smelt great and Louis didn’t hate them. He was still loud and vigorous, and they loved him.

“Your work is always on the money, Louis. The first time I saw you I knew there was something special about you, but in the last couple of weeks, you’ve really surprised me. My mind is telling me that’s it’s still too soon, but my heart is saying that you’re ready for it. You’re a natural. I have no doubt you will perform wonderfully.”

His second promotion was life-changing. He was introduced to the “specialists”, as Simon calls them.

You see, Simon controls everything and he knows everyone. Instead of letting his pupils outgrow him and abandon him, he makes sure to keep them perfectly happy working for him. He assures them a steady job, which they might not get working independently.

He divides his best boys in categories, pairs them up and assigns them a manager. Louis is one of the “creative ones” and his partner is Zayn, a “cerebral one”. Liam is their manager, he sets up their dates, he watches recordings of their sessions and gives them invaluable advice that helps them improve. They make a great team and over the years they have become very close to each other.

Louis set up his personal set of rules back in 2011 and he had Simon’s full support because if there was anyone that could pull off such ridiculous standards, it was definitely him. Simon loved the aspect of charging people for merely submitting ideas. It was scandalous and Simon deemed him a proper genius.

They get along great. Louis knows Simon’s not all that he seems and that he’s probably up to no good, but he’s willing to turn a blind eye on that because there could be a worse villain. Simon is nice to him -to all his boys, actually- and he helps people out. It might not seem that way but he knows better. He knows what it’s like to be truly desperate and to have someone offer him a way out. No one else did that for him. Simon might be a snake that controls pretty much every sector of the entire United Kingdom’s homosexual prostitution scene, but at least he saved his life. It’s more than can be said about the government. No, he’s not going to go all Guy Fawkes on David Cameron’s arse. Not everything’s terrible and besides he’d never do anything that could jeopardise the BBC licence fee and the future of “Doctor Who”.

The point is that Simon’s alright and he runs an honest business. No one’s forced to work for him and anyone can leave whenever they want. He in fact actively tries to snatch sex workers that don’t live in the same conditions as his boys.

Glamorising prostitution is not what Louis’ about. There’s nothing glamorous about being bought like a piece of meat. But the fact is that prostitution exists. It has always existed and it will always exist. There’s no demolishing the world’s oldest institution, so the only thing left to do is to make it better. Make it fully consensual, safe, healthy and, why not?, fun. Once you achieve that, where’s the harm? It’s consenting adults getting what they want, nobody gets hurt (unless they’re into that) and everybody’s happy.

In order to maintain that balance, there has to be limits. There are personal limits such as not involving bloody grasshoppers because last time that went very wrong and then there are general, universal limits, such as not involving kids. Simon has no gripe with turning someone over to the police if he even suspects he’s a phedophile.

Of course, Louis’ fully aware of the fact that getting turned on by a seventeen year old is not even close to pedophila, particularly considering he’s only twenty three years old himself, but there’s still a part of him that thinks it’s wrong.

It’s not illegal, it’s not frowned upon by Simon nor Liam, but… seventeen. He was seventeen when he lost everything, that was the darkest time of his life. He’s afraid he won’t be able to commit to this completely. His mind will be adrift, there’s no way he’ll be able to focus on the task at hand. He’ll also be far too distracted by the boy himself. Why is he doing this? Why does he want this? Him? He should be not studying, he should be goofing around with his friends. What’s wrong with him?

He feels bad just thinking about it. There must be something fundamentally wrong with a seventeen year old that writes something like that. It wasn’t a “I’m horny and think about sex 24/7, so, hmm, yeah, fuck me”. No. It’s a seventeen year old that doesn’t care about his own fantasies. Someone who wants to please him, even if they don’t even know each other.

It’s fucked up.

I’m afraid I only have one offer: me. Do whatever you want with me. Please. I’m willing to do anything. I want you to play out all your fantasies with me. Basically, I want to do your job and pay you for it.

He wants to give himself completely to a stranger. God. Louis could do anything to him. He could hurt him or even kill him. He wouldn’t, of course, but the point is that the boy doesn’t really know that. What if Louis rejects him and he just turns to someone else, someone that takes advantage of him? Do whatever you want with me. Please. He could get himself in serious danger.

Louis could discard his offer, yes, but wouldn’t that be just like snoozing the alarm? What if he wakes up tomorrow to a headline that reads “Seventeen year old found dead in a depraved BDSM dungeon. (Page 3.)” He could never forgive himself.

So he accepts the offer.

No matter what’s wrong with that poor boy, he’ll do whatever he can to help him.


i. Pending

There’s nothing wrong with Harry.

Okay, yeah, he might be a tiny bit weird, but he’s got it under control. He can stop being weird whenever he wants.

“I’m not a creep. Stop saying that,” he tells Nick and throws a nacho at his head. He’s pouting. “Why can you hire him and not me?”

“Because you’re twelve.”

Harry sticks his tongue out, quite possibly proving Nick’s point.

But he’s not twelve. He’s seventeen and he’s so left out. It’s almost as though everyone else is fucking around him and he’s the only not invited to the party. Whenever Niall starts talking about Nadine, he feels out of the loop. It’s not that he doesn’t get enough opportunities to just… do it. It’s that he doesn’t want it to be meaningless.

He’d always thought sex had to be all about the other person, about pleasing them and making them happy, otherwise it was just enhanced masturbation. Now, he has no problem masturbating nor any shame about doing it, but he wants more.

“You could fuck one of your mates, like a normal person.”

Nick doesn’t get it. It’s not about having sex itself, it’s about being with someone, doing something that feels great but that it also matters. He wants his first time to mean something. That concept and paid hooker might be at odds to most people, but not to him.

During the last four months, Nick has mentioned Lewis quite a few times and he has shown him pictures, even though he wasn’t supposed to because it’s against his NDA.

Slowly, Harry has become more and more interested in the other boy, not only because he’s incredibly attractive, but also because he’s incredibly attractive. And Nick assures him he’s also funny, witty and totally wild in bed. He’s got the looks, the money, the personality. Why is he doing this?

He doesn’t want to judge anybody. Prostitution is a necessity for loads of people that have nowhere to go. It’s also slavery more often than not and that has to stop, of course, but at least it’s normal. It sucks, yeah, but well, it’s just reality.

But Lewis isn’t part of that reality. Given how much he charges his clients, he could surely afford to quit doing this and he’d never have any financial worries. It’s not a necessity and he doesn’t appear to be forced to do this, so why? Why would someone so handsome and interesting do this? There must be something really wrong with him if the only comfort he finds is in the arms of strangers that don’t even care about him. It’s so sad and Harry feels a lump in his throat just thinking about it.

So here’s the thing: he wants to have sex, he needs to have sex, but he doesn’t want it to be a solo act emotionally. He wants to connect with somebody, he wants to offer something in return for all the pleasure. Is that so mental?

“How old is Lewis?”

Nick doesn’t answer right away. He shifts in his seat and plays with the hem of his shirt for a couple of seconds before adventuring a quiet: “Twenty, maybe? I don’t know. He’s probably older, but he looks young. Just a tad older than you.”

Harry nods and then unconsciously bites his knuckles. It’s already been seven hours. Why’s this taking so long? Lewis should accept him or reject him and be done with it. He can’t keep him waiting forever.

“Stop stressing about it and finish your sketch.”

Right. The sketch.

Harry is Nick’s assistant and they work together as part of the crew of EastEnders. Their work isn’t actually related to the episodes, which is why they haven’t had to move to Hertfordshire. The production is rebuilding an entire new set to make it look more realistic than the current one. It has to reflect the most important aspects of east London and it’s Nick’s job to make small scale models of houses and buildings that will be incorporated into the set. Harry helps him brainstorm and choose designs.

They met about a year ago, when Harry was an intern in Strictly Come Dancing and Nick was still working for Doctor Who. He left the show on great terms after Matt Smith passed the torch to Peter Capaldi, and he started working for EastEnders right away. As much as he loves Downton Abbey, not that he’ll ever admit that, the BBC is his true home and Harry figures he’ll never leave it.

“What did you submit?” Nick’s playing Candy Crush on his mobile, clearly not too concerned about the deadline that’s looming on the horizon. “I told you it had to be fun or he won’t do it.”

Admittedly, Harry’s one single offer is probably not the most enticing idea out there, but he trusts Lewis will be interested. His heart starts racing the second he allows himself to think about the prospect of Lewis saying yes. He feels cold all of the sudden and his mouth is dry. There’s no logical explanation for him to be so excited about this. The having sex part? Yes, it makes sense he’s looking forward to that. The fact that it’s very likely going to happen with Lewis is also understandably stirring because he’s just hot. The rarity is that he’s thrilled by the thought of Lewis using him to get what he wants. He wants to be at his mercy, to do anything he asks. That’s his fantasy: to be someone else’s fantasy. He knows it’s absurd and it makes him feel a little ashamed, which strangely enough for him, it turns him on even more. He gets palpitations just considering the possibility of Lewis thinking he’s a freak. That would be so embarrassing… and he would be so hard.

When his phone buzzes inside his pocket, his dick twitches and all he can do is close his eyes and try to remain calm.


i. Profiler

“Hi!” The boy walks into the room and hugs him before Louis even has time to react. “It’s so good to finally meet you.” He breaks his hold of him and steps back a bit. “Um, sorry. Is this like… against protocol or something? I suppose you don’t hug cashiers at Tesco when you buy something… Not that I’m buying you! You’re a sentient being, not a box of Jaffa Cakes. I know that.”

Louis giggles. Actually giggles.

“I can be a Jaffa Cake or any other type of biscuit if you want me to.”

The other boy scrunches his nose and says: “They’re not biscuits and I don’t, thanks. I’m Harry, by the way. Hi.”

They shake hands and Louis can feel how sweaty Harry’s are. He’s clearly trying his best to come across as nonchalant, but he is deadly pale and his lower lip is slightly trembling.

“I hope you don’t mind meeting me here” he says to try and make him feel more comfortable. “As much as I’d love to spend your parents’ money on some posh hotel room that I don’t even like, I figured you’d prefer this. What you think? Is it okay?”

He never brings his clients to this own flat, but this is an unusual encounter and so it calls for an unusual setting.

The boy looks around the place before dignifying an answer and Louis appreciates the fact that he didn’t outright say “yes”, like anyone else would have. He wants to check his surroundings and then make an informed decision. If he doesn’t like the flat, Louis’ certain he’ll say so.

“Yes, it’s okay. I really like your curtains” Harry finally replies. He traces long slender fingers across the fabric and then settles for the lower edge of the curtain, tugging it gently, very much in the same way a small curve is tugging at his lips. “They’d make great shirts.”

“Too young and too cute to be into floral patterns. Wait till you’re old.”

“I’ll still be cute when I’m old, though, so I might as well start liking them now.”

His dates never start out like this. This is casual, it’s silly banter with no sexual connotations whatsoever and it doesn’t foreshadow what’s going to happen. He’s not used to this. He’s usually pretty straightforward with his clients: he flirts a bit, makes sure they have made their deposits, instructs them to take a shower, fucks them and then they leave. Easy. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to handle this scenario.

“So… um, what do you like… um… like?” Harry asks him. His face is crimson red and yet he’s staring at him with open intensity. It’d be so in keeping with his somewhat shy behaviour to actually glance away, to keep his eyes on the floor or the ceiling. He’s not doing that. He’s blushing, playing with his colourful bracelets and although he comes off as fucking nervous, he’s intent on keeping eye contact. “I mean in bed, obviously. Not in general. I mean, we can talk about that, too, if you want. How do you honestly feel about raccoons? I love them, but… I think that… um, I think they shouldn’t be trusted, you know? Would you like to tie me up now?”


“I thought I called the shots today” he answers, purposely ignoring the other boy’s question.

“You do, that’s why I asked you. What do you want to do to me?”

Louis does not in fact know what to reply. Yes, he wants to tie him up and fuck him senseless. He’s probably never been had; all brand new and shiny, just for Louis. Ah, he’d love to eat his arse for hours, make him spurt come over his stomach time and time again. He’d probably look so pretty, all wrecked and used. And he might turn out to be a screamer, too. His voice is so much deeper than he had expected and he bets it’d sound even lower while being fucked. Or maybe not. Maybe it’d get all needy and high. Either way, Louis’ true inclination is to find out, but not yet.

“I want you to-” he stops himself an instant before falling into his routine. ‘I want you to take a quick shower and touch yourself thinking about me.’ Not this time. “I want to watch you.” He settles for another curiosity of his. “You’re going to do whatever I ask of you” he states, just before licking his lips. This is all calculated, he has practised his expressions in front of a mirror thousands of times. He knows what to say and what to do to get the reaction he wants. He expects Harry’s breathing to hitch up, an eager nod and blown-up pupils. That’s not what he gets.

“Don’t do that.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, almost indignant. What? “What?”

“I don’t want a script,” Harry explains. He turns his back on Louis and walks over to the sofa. “I want to hear you talk. Like, what you really think.” He sits down and messes with his fringe, probably waiting for him to approach him. Louis doesn’t. “Today you play by my rules, remember? You have to do what I want because I’m your client and what I want is to do what you really want. Okay?”

“I already told you what I want. I want to watch you.”


Is he real? Is this a joke? ‘Why?’ ‘Why?’

Louis clicks his tongue and goes over to the sofa. He sprawls himself over the cushions and places his legs on top of Harry’s lap. “Because it’d be hot. Do I really need any other reason?”

The boy is not paying attention anymore. He is staring at Louis’ legs, that are draped in black jeggings that accentuate his curves, and a mere inch or two from touching his dick through the fabric.

Louis smiles and moves one of his legs up, prompting Harry to touch him. Things started out a bit awkward, but that’s alright; he’s had his fair share of socially inadequate clients and he’s always managed to find some common ground. If he can’t get them to relax, then he starts acting like them and they’re weird together. Either way, it always ends well.

Since Harry isn’t taking the hint or maybe he’s still too self-conscious to make the first move, Louis slowly shifts positions until he’s straddling him on the sofa. “You look so hot like this” he tells him. “I’d love to ride you. Would you like that, bad boy?”

“Do your clients actually like this?” Harry’s monotone voice pinch twists the scene and all its possibilities float away like a disinflated balloon. “I mean, no one can really get off to this. I thought you were the best. Nick said you were like a sex God and you’re just… um… boring. Are you always like this or are you just having a bad day?”

“Ok, this isn’t working” Louis says abruptly, ending all contact and stepping away from the sofa. “You either want me to fuck you or you want to play The Weakest Link. You can’t have it both ways.”

Harry bites his lower lip and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks so little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just like… It’s like watching Indiana Jones IV.” He doesn’t expand on it, as though it were a perfectly reasonable explanation for his behaviour.

Louis might hate this kid almost as much as he hates Indiana Jones and the bloody Kingdom of the fucking Crystal Skull. Ugh. Worst movie ever. He fucking loves the other three. Actual unadulterated love. You could make him choose between having a threeway with David Beckham and Chad Michael Murray, and having an Indy marathon and let me tell you, he’d probably choose the movies. He’s so hardcore when it comes to Indiana Jones that he couldn’t sleep the night before the premiere of the fourth movie. He made it to the theatre completely spoiler-free and full of hopes, so confident he was going to be mind-blown. He should have learnt from the scars Star Wars had left on his soul.

The movie was bad. It wasn’t just the over the top ending, the fridge scene, the fake accents… It was that it didn’t meet his -or anyone’s- expectations. It didn’t live up to the original trilogy and he left the cinema feeling as though his cat had died. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t want a refund, he was just disappointed. He had expected so much more and…


“Anyway, um, you’re not what I was looking for. Sorry for wasting your time.” Harry stands up and just stays there, next to the sofa, with his pigeon-toed stance and slumped shoulders. “It was nice to meet you and your curtains, though. I’ll see myself out.” He makes the move to leave, but Louis grabs him by the arm and pushes him back down on the sofa.

Harry attempts to get up again, but stops when Louis gets down on his knees in front of him and says: “You talk too much.” He removes Harry’s belt with quick fingers and he can sense the other boy beginning to tense up. When Louis finally looks up at him, Harry literally stops breathing for several seconds. He’s holding onto the cushions so hard his knuckles have turnt white, his pupils are already blown up, he’s agitated and blushing furiously… And Louis hasn’t even done anything yet.

“I want to suck your dick. Would you like that?” His mouth is mere inches from Harry’s crotch and he keeps licking his lips on purpose.


How can anyone’s voice crack on a monosyllabic word? Why does Louis find that so endearing?

He leans forward and can see the outline of Harry’s cock through his trousers. Smirking, he lifts an eyebrow and then stands up. “Afraid it’s not your lucky day, kid. Turn around.”

Harry complies right away and shifts on the sofa, kneeing on the cushions and turning his back to Louis, who immediately ties his hands together with the brown leather belt. The knot is tighter than it needs to be and it will certainly leave marks on his wrists.

Louis grabs him by the neck and makes him bend over to his left. The boy’s knees are now pressed to his stomach, his chin rests on the armrest and his tied up hands are holding the back of his own purple t-shirt tightly. Far from complaining, he simply waits for Louis’ next move.

“You look so pretty like this, baby. So vulnerable. You like that, don’t you?” Louis stands next to the armrest, his own crotch in front of Harry’s face. “You’re not allowed to talk anymore. I’m going to fuck your mouth and make you choke on my cock. And then you’re going to swallow. Yeah?”

Harry nods eagerly. His eyes are already watering down and his mouth is hanging open, expectantly. He looks both frightened and turnt on. Maybe being afraid turns him on.

“Actually,” Louis smiles. “I think I just changed my mind,” he continues, sounding a lot lighter and chipper than moments ago. “This sounds really scripted and since you deem me so boring, we should try something different. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on my dick, babe.”

Harry closes his mouth and presses his lips together, he blinks rapidly and Louis can tell he’s disappointed. Nonetheless, the boy remains quiet, still so very obedient.

“My fantasy,” Louis proceeds with ease “is to fix myself a cup of tea, check my mails, watch some telly. That’s what I want to do. As for you, I want you to just stay right where you are, just like this and… yes. Yes. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves the room for a second and rushes to his closet. He opens the second drawer and spends a handful of seconds rummaging through his toys to find the right ball gag. He decides the pink and speckled one is perfect for this boy. When he goes back to him, he’s pleased to notice he really hasn’t moved at all. Good. Carefully, he stuffs the ball behind the boy’s teeth and secures the straps around his head.

“And… forty-six minutes to go. Enjoy yourself.”

Now, he doesn’t despise the kid for real. Of course not. But he can’t really be blamed for feeling annoyed by the entire situation. This is more than a job to him, it’s his life, so he couldn’t help taking it to heart when he was told when wasn’t good at it. That’s pretty much the equivalent to being told he’s failing at life in general, which, rude. He’s come so far, he has achieved so much and he is good. Sometimes it takes him just a tad longer to get into the right mood, but he never fails to read his clients correctly just in time.

He made a mistake by thinking this boy would be into the usual crap, but here he is, not even fifteen minutes later and he already knows what he’s all about. Harry’s about the same size as him, perhaps a bit taller, and he could have offered resistance when was being tied up. He didn’t. He didn’t even complain. Instead, he let Louis do whatever he wanted and he’s sure that if he had gone through with his fake plan, Harry would have gladly let him fuck his mouth. He would have gagged on his cock, his lips would have turnt the right shade of red and he would have swallowed every last drop of come. But that would have been too easy.

Louis grabs his mobile and goes to the kitchen to put the kettle on. While he waits for the water to reach the perfect temperature, he goes through his mails and his face lights up when he sees he has nine new offers.

The fifth one is interesting and it could turn out to be a lot of fun. Who could say no to a Medieval setting. You’ll be the prince and I’ll be your filthy slave. Halfway through the scene, I will reveal myself as a warlock and curse you by turning you into a wolf. I want you to fuck me in your wolf form, bite my neck and howl? Genius.

He returns to the living room, holding his warm Iron Man mug close to his chest, and he slumps back into the sofa cushions.

He pays no attention to Harry and while he feels somewhat guilty about it, he knows he has nothing to worry about. He understands his type well. They like being told what to do, being rejected and ignored until the right moment. Harry’s brain is surely going nuts right now, thinking he’s not good enough for Louis, blaming himself for not deserving him. At some point, he’ll start crying.

Rejection is fundamental, but it has to be handled with loads of care.

Louis will let him feel miserable for a while longer. He’ll make him feel unwanted, worthless, undesirable, and then, about fifteen or twenty minutes before his mobile’s alarm goes off, he’ll prove Harry wrong and give him what he really craves: attention. He’s going to be so worked up by then, than a few touches could make him come. However, Louis is a merciful and giving soul, so he’ll do a lot more than that. He’ll pet Harry’s hair, caress his sweet, sweet face, tell him he’s beautiful and such a good boy for waiting so patiently. Harry will be so pleased, he’ll feel so loved. And then Louis will drop tender kisses all over his face, his neck, his chest, he’ll make sure to make him feel worshipped. “You don’t have to worry about anything, love. I’ll take care of you” he’ll say with a smile, right before taking Harry’s cock in his mouth, sucking hard, whilst entangling their fingers together. After the boy comes, he’ll lick him clean and reassure him he was amazing, the best boy in the whole world.

Subs are beautiful creatures. It’s very easy to give them what they need, but you have to be very careful with them or you could break them.

As a rule, they’re all lovely, but Louis is not too crazy about them because he finds them predictable and too fragile for his taste. Yes, he likes being in control, that’s great, but it’s difficult to fully enjoy himself when he feels so… alone.

Not all his subs reach subspace and even when they do, it’s always a different experience. Still, he finds them… empty and distant. It’s like they’re never really there with him and he can’t follow them wherever they go.

Subs are like mirrors, they reflect his own image and having nothing else to offer him. They’re quite boring.

He knows how to deal with them and doesn’t mind taking care of them afterwards (he’s great at it, which they all appreciate and depend on), but they do nothing for him.

It might have something to do with the fact that he doesn’t truly get them. He understands them, he can read them, he knows how to manhandle them, but he doesn’t know what makes them tick. As much as he has tried, he can’t relate to them and he can’t figure out how their minds work. What do they really think while they’re being dominated? Do they really stop existing for a little while? Do they actually give themselves completely to their dom? How do they dissociate their minds from their bodies so easily? It’s terrifying. Subspace sounds like a scary fucking place.

And he feels so nasty when he fucks them when they’re far away from reality. It’s like fucking a corpse or a baby. It’s so wrong. Physically it feels fantastic and you can do anything to them and get away with it, but it’s so lonely. You feel so isolated. It’s like you’re not even that important, you’re just the syringe and they’re getting high without you.

Plus, it’s a lot of responsibility and he hates anything that forces him to be a responsible adult.

He sips the last remains of his tea and checks his mobile. Twenty minutes left.


He clambers to his feet and takes a couple of steps towards the left side of the sofa. Harry looks so peaceful, subs are so lovely and… Harry is asleep. He is asleep. For real. Bad sub!

Louis scoffs and throws his hands up in the air. What is happening?

“Harry… Harry. Hey!” He shakes the boy’s left shoulder. “Come on, wake up.”

Slowly, Harry lifts his eyelids and blinks a couple of times, trying to adjust his eyes to the light, even though it’s dim. He still has the ball gag inside his mouth and there’s spit all over his chin and the armrest. His hair is out of control and his fringe is pressed to his forehand.

Shaking his head, Louis sighs and removes the ball a bit more forcefully than necessary.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” He shouldn’t say anything and he certainly shouldn’t get mad at his own client. Clients always walk all over the NDAs and talk, and he doesn’t need to gain a bad reputation. “And it was very stupid of you” he continues because he can’t help himself. He knows he sounds high, indignant and ridiculous, but he is simply so offended, damn. “I could have killed you, you know?”

“At least you would have done something.”

He doesn’t look like the kind of lad that talks back and yet… Well, maybe Louis read him all wrong.

“I thought this was what you wanted” he admits, beginning to question everything. Is the sky even blue anymore? What’s the point of living if he can’t fuck people right?

“A nap? Yeah, I always want those, but I usually take them at home, for free and I only use gags on Thursdays, so this is totally against my schedule.”

He’s such a little shit.

“If you weren’t okay with this, you should have said so,” Louis slurs, struggling to release the boy’s wrists. “You should have told me this wasn’t working for you.” How did he manage to fuck this up so bad?

“But…” Harry begins, as Louis finally gets rid off the belt. The boy slumps back against the sofa cushions and massages his wrists. “You told me not to talk… But you didn’t say I had to stay awake.”

Louis is so frustrated with his rogue slave right now.

He has never been in the position to consider offering a refund, but perhaps that is exactly where this is headed. How dreadful. He hasn’t felt like such a failure since the last time he threw the teabag in the sink and the spoon in the bin.

“You’re fine” the boy’s deep drawl brings him back to the harsh and cruel reality. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re just not what I want. Sorry.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably in his seat and asks: “Can I leave now?”

Louis wants to cry. Really. This is so unsettling and so not on. The worst part is that Harry is still so nice. It’d be so much easier if he were miffed at him, if he demanded to get his money back. Instead, he’s perfectly lovely… and perfectly disappointed. Who knows what he really came looking for? What’s important is that he didn’t find it here. Louis let him down.

“Yeah, yeah, of course” he forces himself to reply. “And you can get your deposit back if you want.”

Harry looks at him through his eyelashes, a gentle smile curling up his cherry lips.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault I’m an unpleasable weirdo.”

Louis returns the smile and adds: “You’re not a weirdo, love. I’m just not… all that, I guess. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. Goodbye, Lewis.”


i. Curiosity

Louis hasn’t slept in three days.

Last night, even in his “wolf form”, he kept thinking about stupid, stupid Harry Styles.

Harry Styles, with his ridiculous rock star name, his sexy dimple, his big cock and those impossibly pink lips. He hates him.

His medieval and magical scene was almost ruined because of that boy, which is probably a heavy handed metaphor for what he has done to his life.

A week ago everything was so easy. Louis’s life had order. It was a bullet-pointed kind of life. He knew what his clients wanted, he knew how to give that to them, they followed the rules. Everything was balanced and perfect.

And then Harry Styles happened to him.

“Why don’t you just see him again? Ask him he how wants to be fucked, fuck him and be done with it.”

“It’s not that simple, Zayn,” Louis snaps through gritted teeth. “He is not normal, okay? He’s evil and I don’t want to see him ever again.”

“Is that why you’re stalking him on Facebook?”

“Fuck off.”

He’s not stalking him. He’s simply… reading… stuff… about him. It’s totally innocent. Besides, nothing bad could come out of knowing he likes Harry Potter, The Hunger Games and Lord of the Rings, right? And that he seems to be a huge Mick Jagger fan is hardly classified information. This is in no way worse than having access to his medical record and dickshots.

Besides, most of the stuff he posts is silly and/or nonsensical.


Harry Styles posts picture of Star Wars ducks.

Niall Horan: wtf hahaha

Sandy Beales: see u tomorrow!

Grimmers: Check your mails, princess.

Matt Bellassai: (Picture of Harry with Leia's hair)

Matt Bellassai: Let me be your Han.

He adds him as a friend on his work account. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about it. Lewis Fray has plenty of friends, a lot more than Louis Tomlinson, actually.

Harry doesn’t add him back right away, which clearly means he hates him and whatever, Louis doesn’t even care… and then Harry accepts his request and now they’re friends.

Great. Now what?

Facebook is useless, innit?

And this was an idiotic move. He should block him or something. Why did he even do this? He doesn’t want to talk him again.

His work mobile buzzes when a new text arrives and thankfully Zayn doesn’t even react. He surely assumes it’s Liam or Simon.


Client #78: Are you stalking me now?

Why does everybody think that? Instead of trying to explain his motives in detail, he sends out a simple No and then changes the contact name to “Evil Non-Sub”.

Evil Non-Sub: I just checked and you don’t follow Nick, which means you don’t follow every client.

Why are you following me? What do you want? 

I already took a nap today *Winking emoji*

Four hours go by and Louis doesn’t answer. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t insist on it.

However, Louis can’t stop thinking about it. What does he want? He doesn’t want to befriend the boy nor arrange a new meeting. Maybe it’s something as simple as wanting to understand him better. It makes sense that he wants to find out exactly what went wrong. In a way, it’s a sensible business decision. What if he gets another client like Harry? It’d be great if he were prepared to deal with someone like that and he can’t do it if he doesn’t know what they wants. It’s such a basic notion, really. He can’t please his clients if he’s not sure what they’re looking for, and he can’t maintain his reputation and lifestyle if he doesn’t please them.

Staying in touch with Harry to gather information is nothing more than a field study that will improve the quality of his services.

Around 10 pm he sends out a new text to adventure a simple question: What did YOU want from me ?

Whether Harry’s fast asleep or wants to keep him on the edge, Louis can’t know for sure and he waits for forty five minutes until he yields and writes to him again: I want to know what i did wrong so i doesn’t happen again. Help a poor escort out, will ya?

It’s past 2 am when he finally gives up and goes to sleep. Too tired to move over to his bed, he lies down on his sofa and turns on the telly, so it’ll keep him company and help him shut down his brain. One of his last conscious thoughts is that his curtains are indeed very pretty.

He dreams about Harry and him finding themselves stranded on a deserted island. When his dream self approaches the other boy to offer him a blowjob, Harry turns into a giant Jaffa Cake and tells him he’s not allowed to eat him.

Louis wakes up very confused and disoriented, and strangely turned on by Jaffa Cakes. When he rubs one off in the shower, he can’t stop his mind from wandering off to that imaginary island in which Harry Styles prances around naked. He can picture the way the sun reflects its light on his curly locks and it’s beautiful. He’s without a doubt the prettiest boy Louis has ever met… and also the one guy he didn’t manage to get off.

Far from losing his hard-on, he focuses on the memory of Harry’s fair skin, so warm and soft to the touch. He wishes he had touched him a lot more than he did. He thinks about coming on his full crimson lips and rubbing his cock on his face while grabbing onto his luscious hair, and that’s what does it for him. He spurts come all over his hand and sighs as its washed away by the shower’ steady spray. He rests his head against the wall for a second and realises this is the first time he’s ever wanked to thoughts about one of his clients. He’s had them all and they don’t hold his interest in any way, but Harry… He doesn’t know what Harry’s come tastes like nor what his face would look like if he fucked him. He sucks in a breath at the prospect of being inside of that boy and hates himself for it. Being this affected by a kid he didn’t even touch is so unlike him, so… unprofessional.

Harry is beautiful beyond words, but that’s it. That’s all there is to this. He feels attracted to him because he’s hot. There’s nothing unusual about these circumstances. Even if it were odd, it would only be so due to the fact that he didn’t get to do anything with him. He’s curious as to what it’d be like to fuck a gorgeous boy. Big deal!

He can’t let this get to him. Since when is he so self-conscious about his sexual needs? He has a date later today and he’ll very likely end up tied up to a bed, spanked and pretending to be in his headspace. How is jerking off any weirder than that? Harry has the most fuckable plump lips he has ever seen. It’s like he was born to suck cock. Louis only wants to help him fulfill his destiny. This is fine.

Except it’s not. It’s not fine.

He hasn’t heard from Harry and he’s feeling jumpy and nervous and ridiculous and why? WHY? It’s driving him mental.

What were u expecting? what did I do wrong ?

He hopes it doesn’t sound too clingy. At least it’s better than the dozen mock-up texts he didn’t send.

He’s concerned he might have scared the boy off.

ii. Harry Styles

Nick’s not having a great day and unfortunately for Harry, he’s the only one who has to deal with him right now.

Usually, Nick’s pretty laid back, he never gets angry, he never raises his voice, but every now and then he gets stressed by his job and that turns him testy and high maintenance.

Harry doesn't take it personally because he knows Nick’s great, a total sweetheart, and that everyone's crazy on the studio when Christmas is approaching.

“Do you need help with that?” he asks him across the room and Nick’s head snaps up so fast it’s a miracle he didn’t kill himself.

“I have to finish this by 8 and the only way that’s likely to happen is if I steal a fucking TARDIS.”

Harry chuckles and places a finger on his temple, as if in deep thought.

“Well, I’m no Time Lord, I’m afraid, but maybe I can help you speed things up a bit.”

“As long as you don't draw half as slowly as you talk…”

“Hey! I’m the best at talking.”

Nick’s entire demeanor improves when Harry shows him the final draft of the Church, and he even gets him to agree to take a break to sleep for half an hour and then eat something.

“You’re right. I’m sorry for being such a dickhead about this.”

“Don’t worry. You take your nap and I’ll go fetch you a sandwich or something. Then we’ll stay here working until we finish it, ok?”

“You’re the best Mrs. Hudson I’ve ever had, darling.”

Harry points a finger at him. “Not your housekeeper.” He lets out a grin and adds: “I’ll be right back.”

He heads off to the cafeteria and waves at several people on his way over, including Caroline, who seems to be in bit of a rush. Everyone’s so busy lately. Still he loves this place and appreciates the fact that he’s not working on location. He has told Nick that if they eventually make him relocate, he won’t be able to follow him. He breathes for London and wouldn’t leave it for the world. Besides, Paul assured him he could always go back to Strictly Come Dancing. “Or I’ll put in a good word for you if you want to transfer to another show.”

Paul is so lovely. He’s a longtime family friend and he took him under his wing when Harry left Holmes Chapel behind. He had never met Paul in person, but his dad had been absolutely correct about him: Paul is just fantastic, not only as a person, but also as an employer. Harry had the best time working for him and he’d love to do that again someday.

Still, he didn’t move to London to be an intern or somebody’s assistant. That’s all great for now, but he’d love to have the chance to do what he truly wants: to join one of the BBC’s Creative Departments.

Nick’s told him a lot about his time on Doctor Who and Harry’s positive he’d be willing to sell his soul to get to work on that show. He wants to come up with crazy concepts and wow the rest of the team with his designs. He knows it’s silly to care so much about other people's opinions regarding his abilities, but that’s just the way he is. He can’t just shut out people’s expectations, he can’t pretend he doesn’t care about being judged. He wishes he could be the kind of person that doesn’t care about what other people think, but he’s just not that guy. As it is, he wants acceptance, he wants to be told he’s good at what he does. Yet, there's a part of him that genuinely doesn’t want to conform to that ideal. Why should he put so much weight on other people’s thoughts? He’s talented, he knows what, so why shouldn’t that be enough? Who cares about external validation?

“Hi, Harry. What do you need today?” Jade’s melodic voice disperses his musings and he smiles at her.

“Hi! Nick needs a sandwich. The same as usual... Please.”

As the girl nods and turns around, Harry’s phone buzzes inside his pocket. He grits his teeth in anticipation.


Lewis Fray: I just want to know for professionl reasons. I’m not a creep I promise

Harry’s had about it with the annoying messages.

He’s refused to tell Nick anything about his disastrous encounter with Lewis because he felt it had all been his fault, but now he’s not so sure anymore. And he thought he was insecure and silly for wanting other’s people’s validation... Lewis is a whole new level of desperate for approval. Talk about needy.

All these months of pseudo-obsession had amounted to nothing but sheer unmet expectations. Lewis isn’t interesting nor witty. He’s just a pretty boy playing pornstar for a lot of money (that Harry regrets not taking back. Why did he think asking Nick to loan him so much money was a good decision? Why is his brain allowed to think?).

Harry doesn’t want anything like him. He doesn’t judge porn or pornstars but they don’t have any effect on him, really. Porn is so… mainstream and broad. He wants personalised attention. That’s what he thought Lewis would be: a customised fantasy, just for him and nobody else. And he had thought Lewis didn’t enjoy his job, that he never got to do what he wanted, which is why he was so adamant about the idea of satisfying his needs for a change.

Now he knows better: Lewis doesn’t do anything but what he wants. There’s nothing wrong with that and it obviously works for his other clients. Good for them.

What Harry wanted was a different kind of experience. He wanted to lose himself completely, to drift away and fly, only to be brought back by Lewis.

It’s such a shame it wasn’t possible.

Still, the texts have got to stop. Harry’s nobody’s lab rat. What does Lewis want from him? Does he seriously expect he’ll tell him all his deepest sexual desires via text messages?

He had the chance to figure out what Harry’s into and he blew it… And that’s kind of mean, actually. Harry’s a fervent believer that everybody deserves a second chance, except people who harm children or animals. Lewis did neither, so maybe it’d be okay to… go gentle on him?

He texts him back and gets a reply less than a minute later.


Lewis Fray: I just want to know for professionl reasons. I’m not a creep I promise

Me: I can't answer this properly on a text.

Me: I don't know if I can answer this properly at all, but I can send you a mail if you want.

Me: Not right now, though. I'm at work and a friend is having an EastEnders related crisis.

Lewis Fray: I want to be the only to read it so don't submit it ok ? Send it to

Harry’s not entirely sure what he means by that, but he assumes Liam, the man he talked to arrange the date, reads all the mails that are submitted through the website.

In a way, it’s better knowing this will be between him and Lewis exclusively.

iii. What


Hi. Ok, I don’t know exactly what you want to know, but I hope this will help you get me better.

Well, hmm, I haven’t had sex with anybody. To be honest, the idea is a bit scary to me and to be even more honest, I kind of like that. I like being a tad freaked out about it. Still, I’m not sexually inexperienced. I know my body pretty well, I know what I like and what I want to have done to me.

Since you’ve been stalking me on Facebook, you probably know that I’m a Bukowski fan. I started reading his works about three years ago. I don’t always agree with his views on life and people, but his words just get to me, you know? Even if I think he’s wrong, I still understand his thought process, I guess. I won’t ramble about this too much because it’s not what you need, but what I need is for you to understand that Bukowski just… like speaks to my soul, in a way. If you think I’m ridiculous, then I’m genuinely sorry for you. I sincerely hope you have at some point read something that just blew your mind, that challenged everything you thought was right or real or just helped you shape your vision of the world. 

JKR, Wilde and Bacon have done that for me and I hold their creations dear to my heart. As far as talent goes, I think Bukowski’s works have nothing on theirs, but he still affects me more.

I suppose you thought this would be a kinky mail about how I want to be handcuffed and blindfolded and call you daddy while you fuck me. Yeah, I could write that, I could even attach embarrassing doodles and everything, but you asked me WHAT I wanted, not HOW I wanted it. How is the part that most concerns you and I’m sure you’d handle it just fine, but what… What is more complicated. What is everything I’ve been thinking about since I was 14. What is who I am.

This is me:

“Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.

For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's much better to be killed by a lover.”

iv. A second beginning

How is he even supposed to respond to that?

Yes, he was in fact waiting for a kinky mail about handcuffs and blindfolding and… daddy? Yeah, why not? But this? This he wasn’t expecting and that actually makes perfect sense, considering he’s totally oblivious when it comes to this boy.

He’s still trying to come up with something to say when he gets several texts in a row.


Evil Non-Sub: I've told you my story. Now tell me yours. 

Why couldn't you let this go? Your other clients are clearly happy with you, so why do you want to change?

Do I make you want to change?

Are you ignoring me now?

Mean. (Kitten picture)

Me: you didn’t even give me enough time to answer and a kitten? really, styles? that’s playing dirty

Evil Non-Sub: But dirty is not a problem for us. Isn't that the whole point?

They continue messaging each other until three in the morning and Louis doesn’t fail to notice how easy it is for them to talk now that Harry has sent him the unsexiest mail of all time. He still hasn’t replied to it, but he plans on doing so tomorrow, once he’s had enough time to process what it truly means.

Regardless of the mail, this is nice. Talking to Harry is nice. Normally the last texts he receives before he goes to sleep are from Zayn being excited because of random reasons, such as buying lamps, finding a weirdly shaped apple or sending him pictures of his new bongs. This is nothing like that. This is Harry telling him ‘I’m a kitten’ and that ‘flowers are actual wizards’, nagging him about his curtains and just being a cute weirdo with him. It’s sweet and Louis is not used to this, so gives himself a free pass when he drifts off to sleep overtaken by the inability to stop smiling.

v. Nebula

It’s 7 pm, his throat is sore and he’s so tired he can’ be arsed to use the microwave or at least order something greasy and unhealthy to eat. He might die, which is why he’s crosslegged on the middle of his bed, staring blankly at his laptop. If he’s about to die, he has to make sure he replies to Harry first.

Harry, who has been texting him since dawn.


Harry Styles: Good morning, Sir Fake Name. You still haven’t said anything.

Harry Styles: Is it because I didn’t attach any doodles and you got bored?

Harry Styles: I apologise. I shall soon bury your inbox in porn sketches.

Harry Styles: A little preview:

Harry Styles: (Terrible doodle in which Harry says “Spank me, daddy!”)

There’s no logic behind the fuzzy sensation Louis gets whenever he receives a new text from the boy.

He groans and pouts at the screen. Would it be rude to say nothing else but “thank you for your help. Best regards”? Yes, yes, of course it would be. He wouldn’t best-regard even his worst enemies, so it’s a given he can’t do that to Harry, who was sweet enough to take the time to try to explain something that Louis’ mind is apparently incapable of deciphering.

”Let it drain you your all.”

Yes, well, no, thank you. Why would someone want to feel that way? So vulnerable, so… helpless. It makes no sense. Nobody wants to be weak.

”Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.”

Eventual nothingness. No. There’s no such thing. It’s simply not possible to shut down your thoughts that way. No matter how far gone you are, you still think.

He’s been high quite a few times and he definitely wouldn't describe any of his experiences as a dark abyss or something like that. If anything, being high stimulates his brain. He might think dumb shit, but he never feels as though he has stopped existing.


Tommo: You can never truly turn off your mind. Nothingness is death. U can’t die and then just come back.. It doesn’t work that way 

Hazza: It’s not about turning off your mind. It’s about putting your will on pause and just letting go. 

PS: You don’t know that. I might have horcruxes.

Tommo: Horcruxes prevent you from dying, idiot 

Hazza: It could be argued that Harry’s body died temporarily, he had a chat with Dumbledore and then he decided to come back.

Tommo: What ? no. You can’t have a chat if you’re fucking dead.

Hazza: Why not?


Hazza: So?

Tommo: so when was the last time you saw a corpse having a jolly good chin wag with one of his mates?

Hazza: When was the last time you saw a real flying broomstick? Your life needs more magic, you muggle.

Tommo: Your life needs less acid trips

Hazza: Nothingness is not a bad thing if you know you won’t be stuck there forever. You can stop existing for a little while and then you come back. You might even appreciate life more.

Think about it this way: if you could, wouldn’t you like to go to a distant planet? Somewhere really far away, past Andromeda, past Star Wars’ credits. Somewhere no one else knows it exists and only you can go. 

Imagine what that would be like. Picture landscapes that don’t exist on Earth and that have never been captured by a satellite. Picture yourself alone in a magnificent and vast part of the universe, feeling as though you’re the only being alive. 

And then picture yourself missing Earth, feeling lonely, being scared and then someone coming out of nowhere, grabbing our hand and bringing you home.

How different things would be after seeing all that impossible beauty, so wonderful and so out of reach. It would change you forever.

Tommo: If it were really that great I wouldn’t want to come back

Hazza: Why wouldn’t you want to come back? Being alone in that incredible world would turn sad and lonely pretty quickly. It’d be like living inside a painting. Lovely at first, but confining and static after a while. Why would you want to be trapped on a pretty but lifeless frame, Lewis?

Tommo: I don’t even… What… This is…


I swear youre the only person I know that would ever describe something like an asphyxiation kink as walking around on some alien nebula in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, wtf?

Louis spends the rest of the night thinking about this and just as he’s about to go to sleep, he decides to reread the first mail.

I sincerely hope you have at some point read something that just blew your mind, that challenged everything you thought was right or real or just helped you shape your vision of the world.


vi. King and kittenheart

The last few days have been out of the ordinary.

Ever since he came to London, he hasn’t been Louis Tomlinson as much as he has been Lewis Fray.

Louis is friends with some of Simon’s boys and he tries to keep in touch with his Donny lads. Whenever he gets the chance to go back home, he spends plenty of his time having a laugh with them, getting pissed and playing footie. The only one who knows what he really does for a living is Stan because Louis would never want to lie to him, especially about something that’s so important to him. The rest of them think he’s a frustrated drama teacher that’s dating a hippie photographer who works at his school as the assistant PE teacher. It sounds bloody lovely… but it’s all for show. Her name is Perrie and she’s actually Zayn’s girlfriend. They take pictures together from time to time so he can post them on his personal Facebook and pretend he’s leading a “normal and respectable life”.

His family is also in the dark about his hookerness and Louis plans on keeping it that way. It’s not like he’s going to stay in this business forever. He’s already made a shitload of money and he could stop any minute now.

Thing is that if he were to stop right this second, he’d have to face the fact that he’d no longer have a valid excuse not to pursue his dreams.

Or maybe he’ll never get to be fully rid of the biggest excuse of all.

He’s likely to never land a job as a serious actor because there’s no way he could completely hide what has been going on since 2009. He’d have to like… hire a team to delete all the evidence and that sounds royally exhausting.

This is fairly easy. The next Doctor isn’t going to be a former call boy with no formal training. He has to accept that.

And if he can’t do what he truly wants, then why bother stopping so soon? Being Lewis Fray is fun… but not as fun as being Louis Tomlinson has been for the past two weeks.

Aside from his mates, his family, Zayn, Perrie, Liam and Simon, Louis doesn’t interact with that many people. He has no idea what his neighbours are called, he doesn’t strike up conversations with people at his favourite Starbucks, he’s not a student, he doesn’t have co-workers.

He has a Harry now, though.

For some ungodly reason, they just can’t stop writing to each other. It’s beginning to be a problem.

Yesterday he could barely focus on Ben because he was certain Harry was texting him.

Harry always texts him around 4 pm, when he takes one of his breaks. Louis should have remembered that when he okayed Liam’s schedule.

From now on, no more dates at 4… or at 7… or at 10… or during the morning or… fuck.

He can’t let their conversations affect his work. He has to learn how to deal with his stupid anxiety. It’s pathetic that he can’t survive an hour without his messages.

It’s just that they are so silly and charming and they remind him of the first kitten picture Harry sent him (he has sent him loads more since then). He wants to cuddle Harry, bring him tea, knit him a jumper and that’s fucked up. He can’t even knit. What’s happening to him?

It was better before they started talking. Louis could feel sexually attracted to him and it was no big deal because Harry is the prettiest thing on Earth, so everyone probably feels attracted to him.

But now he’s pretty and fun. Pretty and fun is never okay. Pretty and fun is dangerous.


Harry: I just found a leaf that looks like your face.

Harry: I'm going to keep it, so that whenever I look at it, I'll think about you.

Me: that's..sweet

Me: your such a sap

Harry: (Picture of ugly leaf that does NOT look like Louis)

Me: fuck you

Harry: Heyyy! No need to be rude.

Harry: It has feelings.

Harry: Apologise to the leaf.

Harry: Please.

Me: no

Harry: (Picture of a sad kitten)

Me: sorry leaf

Harry: (Picture of a happy kitten)

Me: god i hate you

Louis is so screwed.

vii. Closeness

When you’re one of Louis’ clients, you’re guaranteed his undivided attention. For that entire hour -or however long you hire him for- he’s all yours.

He makes you feel special and wanted, and you can’t help wanting to keep coming back for more.

Lately, however, Louis’ been unfocused. He no longer looks forward to his dates and he’d honestly like to cancel his entire working schedule, give everybody a refund and spend all his days talking to Harry.

He fixes himself a cuppa and drags himself back to bed, where his mobile is waiting for him. He smiles and his eyes crinkle when he sees Harry’s sent him another cute picture.


(Picture of Harry)

It’s been three weeks and they still haven’t sent each other nudes or anything too provocative. Although he wants to send him a few naughty pictures, he doesn’t want to freak him out. If Harry wants to keep this perfectly vanilla for now, Louis has to accept it. When he tried to do things the “normal way”, everything backfired. He doesn’t want to risk upsetting Harry. If he’s the only seventeen year old guy in the entire world who prefers sending him selfies with fruits instead of sexting, so be it. Louis can’t bring himself to deny he loves his stupid pictures and messages.

Harry: Hey, Fraycakes. Can I ask you something?

Me: anything, Stylesies.

Harry: Who are you really?

It takes him by surprise and he almost drops his cup over his lap.

It was bound to happen eventually, but he was hoping it would take at least a few months longer. He doesn’t consider himself ready to reveal his real identity… which is silly, really, because it’s not like Harry would ever use that information against him. He wouldn’t find his mum on Facebook and tell her that her son is a dirty cocksucker who fucks for money. No. Harry is lovely and he’d never do anything of the sort.

So what’s the big deal?


Harry: It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.

Harry: Are you mad at me?

Me: No, kitten, of course not

Me: it’s just a delicate subject for me

Me: if I tell you, then… I dunno. The world might end ?

Harry: How would it end? You have to pick one cause: aliens, zombies, dinosaurs, solar flares.

Me: what? solar flares can’t end the wolrd 

Harry: Don’t spoil it, Lewis. And you still have to choose.

Me: None of the above. 

Me: Daleks would end the world.

Harry: Daleks are aliens…

Me: No, theyre tiny shiny gods with blue eyes

Harry: Feeling identified?

Me: a tad. I’d make a good dalek.

Harry: No, you’d make a terrible Dalek because you’re too sweet and you’d never hurt anybody. You’d be a nice alien, like a Vulcan, but short.

Me: HAHAHA. Fuck you Like you’re so tall

Harry: Only 17. I can get taller.

Harry: And then I’ll carry you around in my giant pockets.

Me: I’ll set your trousers on fire

Harry: Well, then I guess I’ll just have to be naked all the time and carry you in my arms.

Me: That sounds hot. What else will you do then?

Harry: I feel a little shy writing it.

Me: it’s ok, love. we can go slow

Harry: But I can show you if you want.

Me: Yeah, yeah, show me everything

Harry: (King Kong manip)


Me: Don’t ever talk to me again

What he likes the most about Harry is that he doesn’t take himself too seriously and they can be total idiots together and never worry about what the other one is going to think or say.

Yet it’s not all jokes and laughter. Louis feels genuinely comfortable talking to him and he doesn’t mind boarding more serious topics. Although, he’s kept everything pretty vague and nameless, he has told him a lot about his family and in return he has learnt that Harry’s from Cheshire, he has a sister and his parents got divorced when he was little, which prompted Louis to ask him if that’s why he has “daddy issues”. Harry, of course, decided to send him another utterly unerotic and pretentious mail to explain himself better.


“Daddy” is just a word that turns me on because of its sexual connotations. Every word has been assigned a meaning by society. Words on their own are useless if they don’t evoke a particular significance. What does “apple” mean if it doesn’t make you think about the fruit itself? Words are tools, Lewis.

In the context of a D/S relationship, “daddy” has no connection to an actual father figure, unless that’s what the involved parties are interested in. 

If you were to call someone “baby” while fucking them, your partner would be hard-pressed to infer you’re thinking about an infant and that the idea of fucking one gets you off. That’s because “baby” is perfectly acceptable as a mainstream way of expressing affection and/or lust towards another person.

“Daddy” is in many ways a synonym for “Master”. It’s not always like that and it kind of depends on each person. Personally, I don’t expect my daddy to teach me how to ride a bike or how to shave. I expect my daddy to fuck me raw, call me pretty names and make me feel wanted. I DO NOT want that kind of attention from my father.

“Daddy” is just a hot concept.

Some people relate it to their actual parents and well, whatever floats their boats. For me it’s not about that. For me it’s about playing Beyoncé in the background while I gag on a cock.

My family is definitely not invited to the scene.

Harry has this innate talent to make Louis second-guess everything he thinks he knows.

After all these years of being several of his clients’ “daddies”, he never once stopped to think what that was really about. He just assumed they all had had traumatic childhoods or some shit and that they had secret boners for their fathers. He’s pretty certain that’s the case for some of his clients, but now he’s open to the possibility than the rest are probably just turnt on by the word. How insane is that?

Still, it kind of makes sense. Whenever Louis reads anything even remotely porn he gets all worked up and they’re just words…

One way or another, what’s important here is that he feels somewhat relieved that this is Harry’s personal stance on the subject. Albeit he wouldn’t have thought any less of him if he had told him anything other than this, it’s good to know that if anything ever were to happen between them, Harry wouldn’t be thinking about his dad in the process.

Contemplating the idea of something happening is enough to make his cock start getting hard.

He lets out a long breath and tries to calm down.

The more they text each other, the more Louis wants to see him in person again. Things went wrong the first time because they didn’t know each other well, but it’s a brand new world now. Louis gets him a lot more and better yet, he wants to keep learning more about him. He’s not at all like he had imagined at first. He’d figured he was some dumb boy that’d let anyone walk all over him. Someone timid and boring that wanted to be dominated so that he wouldn’t have to be an active participant in their fucking.

He got it all wrong.

Harry’s anything but timid. He’s confident in his own skin, he’s not afraid to be a goofball and he’ll say the most outrageous things at the least expected times.

He does have a more vulnerable side and has admitted to him that he’s not immune to negativity.

Louis can’t for the life of his comprehend how anyone would ever say anything negative about or to Harry. He is so precious. How could anybody not adore him?

And he’s not weak at all. He’s bloody brilliant for knowing what he wants and not shying away to admit it. It takes real guts to be willing to surrender yourself completely to someone else. As far as Louis’ concerned, there’s nothing braver than that.


Me: “I don’t want to like discuss this further and please dont ask any questions buy I just want to tell you that I think you’re amazing and I’m glad we met.

Harry: (Picture of a blushing frog)

Me: I’m Louis.

It just slipped from his fingers and he sent it before he even realised what he was doing. Perhaps being ready for something is not about thinking whether you’re ready or not, and it’s something that just kind of happens.

Harry: It suits you. It’s a beautiful name, so gentle. You look like a Louis. I like it. Thank you so much for trusting me.

Harry: You shouldn’t have, though. Now that I know your real name I can control you and make you do stuff.

Me: kinky stuff?

Harry: Yes, but also something else.

Me: Like what?

Harry: Like telling me why you do this.

Louis doesn’t answer. He sets his phone on his nightstand, grabs one of his beanies and leaves his flat for what feels like the first time in centuries. Maybe it’s because he’s dressed as himself and not as Lewis.

He doesn’t stay out for long because he’s not intent on running away or hiding. He simply wants to clear his mind a little bit.

There’s a Starbucks two blocks away and he doesn’t feel like drinking or eating anything, but the smell of fresh coffee makes him feel warm, even though he’d never drink it because it tastes disgusting to him.

He doesn’t enter the coffee shop and chooses to wander along the sidewalk, with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches the sky turn darker and wonderful. Finally, he leans against the side of the building, thinking about that distant planet that’s only his and waiting for him. The air is clap cold and it burns his skin. The streets are decorated with all sorts of ornaments and Louis feels so little all of the sudden. He can’t believe there used to be a time in which he thought Christmas was an extension of his own birthday, that the world was so happy he existed that they all decided to throw huge celebrations in his honour.

Christmas is next week and he couldn’t care less. His mum has called him a couple of times to officially invite him over and he told her he couldn’t yet confirm whether he’d be able to make it or not. Despite missing her, Dan and the kids, he’s not sure he can get through another family dinner in which he has to lie to their faces.

His chest feels tight when the idea of coming clean flickers inside his mind. No. He could never do that.

He couldn’t stand to see their disappointed faces. It would all be too reminiscent of that ghastly phonecall he didn’t get to make because Simon found him first.

He doesn’t want to let his mum down and although he’s sure she’d never openly reject him, deep down she’d never look at him the same way.

Who could possibly know what he does and not judge him?

Harry. Right. Harry, who wants to know who he is, who accepts him the way he is. Harry, who’s so fantastic.

For a brief moment he pictures himself taking Harry to Doncaster with him so he can introduce him to his family. Wouldn’t that be nice? Spending his birthday and Christmas together, making each other laugh until they cry and just being content in their own silly way.

He makes his way back to his flat and saunters over to his bedroom. His mobile is exactly where he left it, waiting for him expectantly.


Harry: I hope I didn’t offend you.

Me: You didn’t, pumpkin. I just don’t have a good answer.

Me: Why do I do this?

Me: I guess I just don’t know what else to do

viii. Clueless

Now that Harry knows his real name (after he told him his surname they had a three-hour long chat about why Fray was a better option than Script), they have taken a liking to tweeting and DMing each other almost as much as they text.

Harry’s new crusade is to “know every single thing about you” because that’s not creepy at all.



Harry: What’s your favourite flower?

Harry: Do you like coconuts?

Harry: Star Wars or Star Trek?

Harry: If you could have any eye colour, which one would you choose and why? Are colours important to you or are you soulless?

Harry: I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re not soulless either way.

Harry: I like your ears. Do you like mine? Sometimes I think they’re too small.

Harry: Ears are nice. They should have names.

Louis: OMG! Desperate much? Give me a second kitten

Louis can state beyond a shadow of a doubt that Twitter became 999% more interesting the second he followed Harry.

Tweet: Pins.

Tweet: Shower curtains deserve respect.

Tweet: Why is the Sun called the Sun? Why isn’t it called Humphrey?

Tweet: Fireflies are my friends.

Tweet: “You’re my favourite kitten”

Tweet: Heart&Arrow

Tweet: (The Fray lyrics: You've begun to feel like home. What's mine is yours to leave or take. What's mine is yours to make your own.)

Tweet: The theme tune of The Archers is stuck in my head and I can’t hear my own brain anymore.

Tweet: Mellifluous

Louis doesn’t understand half the things he posts and yet he’s so very, very charmed by him.

Although he hasn’t told him his birthday is in two days, he warned him he was going back home for Christmas and that he’d likely be too busy to text him as often as usual.


Harry: That’s unfair. I deserve to be texted properly and regularly.

Harry: Are you texting someone else behind by back, Lou?

Me: You know I will still text you a lot

Harry: Yes, but it’s not like it used to be. You never tell me I’m pretty anymore.

Me: You’re the prettiest and there’s no one I’d rather text than you

Harry: Aww.

Harry: Too bad you actually text anyone but me…

He really, really doesn’t, though. Not anymore. He hasn’t had a date in four days and not working is starting to take a toll on his right hand. He can’t muster up enough energy to care. In all sincerity, he’d rather wank thinking about Harry than see his clients any time soon, no matter how incredible their suggestions sound.

Me: I’ll be staying at mum’s until the 27th.

Harry: Don’t you forget about me.

Me: Never. Even when we don’t talk, Harry Styles, you’re always in my kinkiest fantasies.

Harry: And here I was hoping you’d say something romantic.

Me: Happy dicks are romance at its finest.

Harry: Well, yes, but it’s not enough to know you wank thinking about me. I want you to miss me. 

Me: I will.

Harry: Really? You promise?

Me: Yeah

Harry: I’ll miss you, too. I always miss you when we don’t talk. And I want to see you again. 

Me: I’d love that. There’s something I really want to do to you

Harry: Tell me.

Me: (Tied up King Kong saying “Daddy!”)

Harry: Ah.

Me: Come on Hazza! bongage kink kong. tis funny

Harry: Ha.

ix. Honey and tea

Harry: Facebook just told me it’s your birthday! Why didn’t you tell me?

Me: Cause Peter Pan.

Harry: Lou…

Me: I was worried you wouldn’t like me anymore now that I’m old and decrepit.

Harry: No, you’re not. You’re a young, beautiful, lovely and tiny man, and I would never not like you. I like you a lot, actually.

Me: Like you too.

Harry: No, but I like you a lot, Louis. A lot. Do you understand what I’m saying?

Me: Yeah, of course.

Harry: Great. The minute you get back, I want to see you again. You can come to my flat. Niall really wants to meet you. Or I could go to yours. Location is not important.

He’s about to answer when the twins and Felicite attack him in the form of a group hug. They all end up giggling and tickling each other the floor.

“Can’t you stop texting Perrie for one second? You’re both so clingy,” Fizzy says as she tries to get back on her feet.

“Oh, right, about that… Well… Perrie and I broke up.”

He hadn’t planned on saying that, it just came to him naturally and he went along with it.

“What happened?” Phoebe asks him with a frown on her face. They’re traces of a little pout, too.

“We weren’t meant to be, I guess,” he answers reluctantly.

The three of them hug him again, this time more gently.

“Please tell me you don’t hate each other now” Felicite implores. She adores Perrie and looks up to her. This is probably devastating news to her and Louis clearly didn’t think this through.

“No, don’t worry. We’re still friends.”

This is the right time. Come on. He has to break it to them that he’s not into women at all. He can even spin it as the cause of their break-up and then hint that her friendship with Zayn is what helping her move on. Taking advantage of their shock, he has to mention that he’s met this guy and they get along great and… No. His words get caught up in his throat and by the time he’s ready to talk again, he’s already at the table, eating cake. The moment’s gone. Next year, maybe?

He’s not too crazy about getting older. His childhood lasted forever and he misses that feeling, that years are too long, that school is too boring and never fucking over. Now years go by so quickly he barely even notices it and he stops for a second to think about it, he realises he stopped being a kid a long time ago and that’s not cool.

They all go to bed past 2 am and Louis has to sleep on the couch because his old room has been turnt into a nursery for Ernest and Doris. The couch is uncomfortable and no matter how many blankets he adds, he’s still cold. He even put on socks to sleep, for fucks’ sake. Slowly but surely, his body starts to give in to exhaustion and he lowers his eyelids on the same instant his mobile phone starts buzzing. It doesn’t stop right away, so it isn’t a text, a mail or a tweet… It’s… Oh, God. He clears his throat twice, tries to blink his nerves away and with shaky hands he answers the call.

”Happy birthday, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis closes his eyes involuntarily and a shiver runs up and down his spine. He thought that only happened in books.

Harry’s voice is so much lower that he remembered it, yet there isn’t a trace of darkness there. It’s warm and inviting, and it makes Louis feel cozy and chuffed. Harry’s voice is like tea.

“‘Oh do, Harry? And thank you.”

“I had forgotten how chipmunky and adorable you sounded.”

Louis laughs out loud and covers his mouth with his fist to drown the sound. It wasn’t even funny.

“Fuck you. I sound unique.”

“Yes, you do and it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Are you flirting with me, Stylesies?”

“That’s all I ever do. Pay attention.”

He wishes he weren’t so sleepy right now and he despises himself big time when he lets out a rebel jawn.

”Were you sleeping, Lou?” Harry’s slow drawl makes him sound like a fluffy pillow and Louis wants to fall asleep listening to it.

“Trying to.”

“Sleeping Louty, then.”

“Why are you so stupid?”

“Shush, now, love. I’m rather beat, too. Not feeling too wick, but I wanted to hear your voice.”

Louis smiles so hard he thinks he’s going to permanently damage his jaw.

“Anyway, I’m going to be busy too during the next few days. Gems, mum, dad, well, you know. But I mean it, Lou, the minute we’re both back in London, I want us to meet again, okay?”

This is the point in which Louis’ positive taking this call this late at night was a bad idea.

He wants to see Harry, he absolutely does. He wants to hear his voice in person again, touch him, kiss him. Not even a whole month has passed yet and there’s no room for arguments: Harry is pretty much all he thinks about.

And it’s bloody scary, alright? Because Harry is only seventeen and Louis is a whore, and it could never work and his brain is hyperventilating.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I have a lot of dates planned,” he rushes to say, knowing a longer pause would be suspicious. “I’ll definitely let you know whenever I’m free.”

“Hmm, okay. Well, I think I’m gonna try to sleep, too. Happy Christmas, sweetcheeks.”

“Happy Christmas, babe.”

Just before he nuzzles on his pillow and drifts off, his phone buzzes again.


Harry: (Harry with a sign that says “Happy birthday, Louis!”)

Harry: I’m going to dream about your voice, Lou. You sound like honey and flowers and I never want to stop listening to you. I miss it already.

Harry: And you. I miss you and I can’t wait to see you.

He wants to reply, but his pillow’s feeling more comfortable by the second and he simply can’t keep his eyes open any longer. He falls asleep to the memory of Harry’s raspy voice and the pleasing thought of being missed by him.

x. The specialist

The beginning of the year isn’t going so great.

Harry keeps on saying that they should see each other and Louis keeps coming up with excuses not to.

What they have is too good the way it is and he doesn’t want to fuck it up again.

To add to the injury, his dates have been getting progressively worse. He gets so bored when he’s with his clients.

He keeps counting the minutes till he can leave and he thinks they’re starting to notice he’s not as into their games as he used to be.

He’s just really anxious all the time. Whenever he gets a little break, he practically runs to get his mobile and see if Harry has written him anything. The times in which there’s nothing but radio silence are the worst because he’s hyper aware of the fact that Harry can text him any minute now.

And there’s also the slight mental breakdown he’s trying to avoid. He’s giving his all to be chill about it, but today he’s particularly nervous because he barely even slept thanks to Harry’s last nighttime text. Apparently, he’s planning on “trying again”. He said he asked around (around fucking where?) and there’s a guy who specialises in D/S. He showed him a picture and Louis recognised him right away. His professional name is Adrian Woods and he’s one of Simon’s best boys. Louis has only seen him in person once, but he’s no stranger to his sexual prowess. Everyone knows Aiden’s got a huge dick, great cocksucking skills and he can probably give Harry what he wants backwards and in heels.

He knows that Aiden won’t really hurt him, but… what if something goes wrong? What if he’s not good at the aftercare? Louis’ not the most knowledgeable person when it comes to domination, but he has done his research over the years and he’s been involved in so many scenes that if he put them together, they’d certainly last longer than the entirety of Doctor Who and Star Trek.

And he is damned aware that things can in fact go wrong, regardless of Aiden’s experience.

Harry’s special, he might need something else. Aiden doesn’t know him as well, he isn’t posted on Harry’s unique snowflakeness. What if he doesn’t prepare for their encounter properly?

He can’t shake the vision of Harry curled into a little ball, sobbing against a pillow, feeling lonely and afraid.

Fuck. He’s freaking out.

And that is a good thing. It’s champ that he’s so concerned about Harry’s well being that he’s too busy to think about that other thing that’s narking him about this affair. That thing, you know… That thing he doesn’t want to say, but that he’s pretty certain that he feels. Yeah, well, that’s not important right now.

Regardless of his clearly non-existent relationship with Harry, the cold hard fact is that he is going to let Aiden fuck him.

Louis has to do something about it.

xi. The snowflake

Liam gets him Aiden’s number and doesn’t ask any questions. Louis is so grateful for that.

Usually, he doesn’t hide things from Liam or Zayn and they don’t either, which is why they get along so well and work seamlessly.

Up until over a month ago, Louis would have never hesitated to tell Liam whatever was happening. It’s Liam. He tells him everything.

Not this time. A lot can happen in a month and this thing, whatever it is, he has going on with Harry is private. It’s the only private thing he has. He sells his body for money and displays his fake life on Facebook, but this? This is his. Harry is his.

Except he’s not.

Harry’s going to let Aiden fuck him. Aiden is going to know what he looks like when he comes, he’s going to feel his little body tremble underneath him. Harry’s eyes will get glassy, his voice will shake, he’ll feel so needy and desperate, and Aiden will be there for him. Aiden will be the one pleasing him, taking care of him.

Do whatever you want with me. Please. I’m willing to do anything.

Aiden is going to have Harry, not only physically, but emotionally, which is what Harry wants. He wants a real connection.

Being a fucking D/S specialist, of course Aiden knows how to establish that kind of relationship with his clients. Harry’s going to love his touch, his reassuring words, his toys.

Harry will finally get what he has been looking for during the last three years. He’ll get it with somebody else.

Just thinking about it makes Louis want to slip into eventual nothingness. He wants to get lost in a faraway planet and never come back, so he doesn’t have to face this.


This shouldn't be so complicated. It’s pretty clear what he has to do.

He sits on his living room floor, with his back pressed against a wall, and lets his fingers play with the curtains that Harry loves so much.

He takes a deep breath and calls Aiden.

“Hello? Who’s this? How did you get my number?”

“Hi! This is Lewis Fray. Hmm, Louis? Simon’s Louis.” He tries to sound as casual as possible.

“Ah, yes. Hi.” Aiden’s tone mutates immediately. He can be very awkward and self-aware when he’s nervous or confused, but once he’s comfortable, he’s an easy going lad. “How are you, Louis? How can I help you?”

Louis fidgets with his hands and starts mumbling. “Well, there’s this… Ah… Does the name Harry Styles ring a bell to you?”

He hears Aiden breathing through the line and he’s not sure what he wants the answer to be.

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.”

“You’ll hear from him soon. He’s-” Louis stops himself. What? He’s what? “He’s a friend of mine and he wants to hire you for a date.”

“That’s great. Tell him to contact my manager. Do you have Matt’s number or do you want me to give it to you?”

Louis closes his eyes and decides not to open them until this dreadful conversation is over.

“Ah, no, I think he already has it. He’s been checking your website. I’m sure he won’t have any trouble contacting you.” He pauses for a second, trying to regroup his thoughts. “Look, Harry’s different, okay? He’s a bit of a weirdo.” He chuckles at that and thinks about all the strange things they’ve talked about so far. Harry’s so silly and so delightful. Beautiful little freak. “The usual stuff might not work on him, so maybe you could like ask him a billion questions before you fuck him? You know, just to make sure you understand what he wants.”

“Don’t worry about it. I always inquire a lot before I fuck them. It’s routine for me.”

Louis shivers at that. Routine. Harry’s first and most special time is going to mean nothing to Aiden. It’s so unfair. Harry… Harry shouldn’t be routine. He should be cherished.

“Okay. Just… just hug him a lot afterwards. He always says he loves cuddles. And be careful with him. Give him what he wants, but make sure he’s okay. Please.”

Aiden doesn’t say anything for a long time and Louis wonders whether he’s still there at all.


“Yes, yes. Don’t worry, Louis. I’ll take proper care of your… friend.”

They hung up shortly after that and only when Louis opens his eyes does he realise that at some point he got a bit teary.

Getting emotional over… Evil Non-Sub. Who would have thought?

xii. The distant planet


Harry: Hey! I've got news!

Harry: I've set up the date with Adrian. I'm meeting him tomorrow after work.

Me: happy for you pal

Me: adrian's great. You'll have a sick time with him

Harry: Yeah. Ok.

Harry: Thanks, pal.

Aside from the early morning messages, Harry’s hasn’t been texting him back all day.

The upcoming date must be keeping him busy.

Louis could use something like that right now. He’s got nothing planned for today and he hasn’t gotten out of bed yet. He doesn’t even need to pee or eat or anything. Harry Styles has stolen his will to live.


Me: I'm watching Doctor Who reruns and you're totally right. Paloma Faith looks exactly like Billie Piper.


Me: I'm watching Doctor Who reruns and you're totally right. Paloma Faith looks exactly like Billie Piper.

Me: Hey i forgot to tell you i bought a new dildo yesterday.

Me: it's all sparkly

Me: you named all my other dildos so you should name this one too 

Me: (Picture of dildo)

Me: I think he looks like a Jamie. What do you think ??

Me: If you dont name him he'll be the Dildo That Shall Not Be Named

Me: (Picture of Dildmort trying to kill Harry)

Me: why wont you talk to me? your making dildmort sad

He sends one more text before he goes to sleep.

Me: why wont you talk to me? your making dildmort sad

Me: I missed talking to you today. Have fun tomorrow !!

Seeing as Harry doesn’t reply, Louis is glad he didn’t send him the text he had written originally.

Unsent text: I miss you


i. Cold

It’s 4:16 pm and in about two hours Harry will get out of work and meet with Aiden who knows where.

Is this what it feels like to have hundreds of tiny and really pointy needles pinching your body? He wishes he knew how to stop them.

He thought he and Harry were on the same page, that they were into one another, but just getting to know each other better and not rushing into things.

It meant so much to Louis.

He’s the guy who jumps into bed with anybody who offers him good money and a bit of fun. He’s never been the guy who’s invested in the other person.

Nothing’s the same since he met Harry.

”Do I make you want to change?”

The fact that Louis was willing to not sleep with him should have given him a clue that what they had was special, that he wasn’t just anyone to Louis.

Of course he would have eventually agreed to see him in person again and they would have been able to do everything they had been thinking about for the past few weeks.

Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time that he had been wrong about Harry.

Maybe it was all in his head and Harry has never been interested in him for anything other than sex. After all, he’s the seventeen year old who hires high class prostitutes, instead of meeting a guy at a bar or something else that’s “normal”.

It is what it is.

Harry’ll definitely get what he wants with Aiden, he’ll stop paying attention to Louis and everything will go back to the way it was before. By this time next week, Louis’ gonna find himself in a tight dress, pretending to be Elsa, while one of his clients is balls-deep into his arse and calls him “baby”.

That used to be enough for him, so it’ll be a matter of getting used to it again.

ii. Only one offer

It’s an hour later and Louis is not in any way closer to accepting that reality.

He was wrong about Harry when they first met, yes, that much is certainly true, but that was then, this is now and now is Harry. Now is Harry. He wakes up thinking about him, he buys food and smiles to himself imagining Harry cooking it, every song he hears is about Harry and the ones that are not are wrong and should be about Harry, too. Late at night, when he knows Harry’s resting because he has to wake up early for work, Louis wonders what he looks like when he’s asleep. He hates himself for not paying attention the one time he saw that in person. If only he could go back in time to bask in the details… or to just kiss him and give him what he had come looking for. Harry’s sent him him all sorts of pictures, but never one in which his eyes were closed. Do his eyelashes cast ridiculously long shadows on his cheeks? Is his hair messy when he wakes up? Does he snore? Does he hug his pillow?

Harry’s on his mind every minute of the day and Louis’ a blinking nutter if he can truly believe for a second that will ever change. He doesn’t want to stop thinking about him. He wants to be with him. God. He fucked up again. He should have told Harry ages ago that he’s crazy about him, that he feels…

Is it love? How is he to know? How do you measure emotions? How do you determine a certain amount of several particular emotions qualifies as love?

Louis has never been in love, so he has nothing to compare this to.

What he does know is that Harry makes him happy and most importantly, he wants to make Harry happy in return and he thinks he can do it.

He can’t have been wrong about everything. If anything, Harry probably got tired of waiting for him and reckoned he’d be better off giving someone else a chance. He could have anyone he wanted. Why bother with somebody like Louis when he could have someone better?

But here’s the thing: Louis is not bad. He’s not bad at all. Nothing you say to him will ever make him believe he doesn’t deserve love just because he doesn’t have a 9 to 5 job and an office. What he does for a living is his choice and it shouldn’t define him. Besides, it doesn’t hurt anybody and he’s not less of a human being because of it. He deserves love as much as everybody else.

So yeah, there are better people out there, but he can’t imagine Harry dating Mother Teresa 2.0. That bitch wouldn’t be into handcuffs and collars. He doesn’t have to be worthy of being a Nobel Peace Prize winner or anything. He just has to be good enough for Harry.

And he is good enough for Harry. He fucking is. They are so good for each other.

Harry’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life and Louis isn’t sure how he’s supposed to handle it. He can’t and won’t tell Harry what to do. If he wants to be with Aiden, fine. It’s his decision.

However, he can’t just sit around and do nothing because he’s sure Harry will have an epiphany mid-orgasm and he wants to spare him the trouble of realising a little too late that being with someone else isn’t right.

Why isn’t it right, though? Just because it makes Louis jealous, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. For all intents and purposes, Harry is single and he can do whatever the hell he wants. Even if he weren’t, at the end of the day, it’s just sex. He can separate sex from feelings just fine. But can Harry? Considering he’s all about sex being meaningful, there’s a fair possibility that he could end up feeling some sort of permanent attachment and Aiden’s not the kind of guy that could reciprocate. How many clients must he have rejected so far?

He can’t stand the thought of Harry being rejected and heartbroken.


Louis is at home, biting his nails and drowning his sorrows in tea, and he has two clear options:

1. He can let things flow. If Harry and him are meant to be, they will find each other again.

2. He is indeed a big believer in fate but his destiny isn’t going to serendipit its way towards him. He has to get out there and chase his good fortune. He has to talk to Harry, tell him that he wants to be with him and let him decide.

It’s not even a choice anymore, it’s a plan.

Harry gets out of work in less than an hour but what if he asked Nick to leave earlier to prepare for his date? Louis cannot waste a single valuable second by doing sensible things, such as getting dressed or summat. He’s going to go tell Harry he’s his potential soulmate and he’s going to do it in his Spiderman pajama bottoms and fluffy slippers. If Harry wants him, he’ll have to accept him the way he is.

He dumps his mug into the sink and doesn’t even flinch at the possibility of it getting damaged by his recklessness. He feels wild. He could throw away a Penguin wrapper before looking at the joke and he wouldn't even care. He’s so outrageous.

Harry and Nick work on the central part of South Bank and that’s okay because England as a whole is tiny and ferocious, just like Louis. No driving for sixteen thousand hours and all of that shite. No. England is a pocket country with midget cities and Louis appreciates that more than ever. He can totally get out of The Square Mile and make it to the studio in time.

He grabs his wallet and his keys, puts on his warmest coat and wraps a scarf around his neck. He might die of hypothermia, but that's the least of his worries right now.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door and… Harry. He finds Harry.

“Hi” the boy tells him. He bites his bottom lip and waits for Louis to say something.

Louis can’t say anything because Harry’s here and he’s so Harry looking, hiding his precious mop of curly hair underneath a pink beanie. He’s got on a long brown overcoat that hugs his body just in the right way, black jeans and a pair of white Converse trainers. He’s a fashion disaster and Louis could not be more enthralled by him. He wants to buy him expensive designer clothes and fuck him while he’s wearing them. But this mess will do for now. It’s not like he can’t pull it off. How does he even do that? And why is he here?

Because he is here. He’s really here and he brought along his puffy lips and rosy cheeks and Louis wants to cry for a decade because he’s so pretty. The street cold is probably still hanging onto his bones, inciting him to go somewhere warm and cozy.

Louis’ flat is somewhere warm and cozy. It has loads of blankets and pillows and tea and potential cuddles, and Harry would fit right in.

Harry… Harry, who is still standing on the doorway, staring at him and smiling. He’s like a cat and he can sense Louis’ inner agitation.

“Going somewhere, Louis?”

“Yeah” he breathes softly. “Was gonna win you back.”

“In your moose slippers?”

Louis looks down at his feet, the tension slowly slipping away from his shoulders. He smiles. Harry’s here.

“Just so you know, it would have worked” Harry assures him, taking a step forward. “Can I come in?”

Louis nods and says “no” simultaneously. He makes a pause and looks at Harry in the eye. “What about Aiden?”

Harry rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “God, you’re so stupid. Why do I even like you?” He grabs his hand tentatively and squeezes it gently. Louis squeezes back. “I was just trying to make you jealous and want to go find me in your… Spiderman pjs and slippers, apparently.”

Louis does indeed feel very stupid right now and he couldn’t care less if he tried.

“Well, it worked” he admits defeat with a grin.

“Of course it did. I’m a genius mastermind, remember?... Well, me and Niall… and LiamandZaynandPerrie.”

“Wait, what? How do you even-? What?”

Harry shrugs innocently.

“Liam called me a few days ago and told me that Zayn and him were worried about you, that since you came back from Yorkshire you were acting all weird… And we started talking about you and us and it just kind of happened.”

“Those meddling fuckers. I’ll have them killed.” He so wants to be mad. So mad. But he’s not even a little bit mad. He’s embarrassed that his friends had to jump in to the rescue. He’s an idiot, not only for not dealing with his feelings for Harry right away, but also for keeping them from his boys (and not even doing a good job, clearly). Agh, he sucks.

Harry evidently doesn’t care about his suckiness and they stare at each other for long seconds that feel timeless. Maybe they’re suspended in time and nothing else exists. This is their own private nebula.

Harry giggles all of the sudden and Louis wants to tattoo this moment on his brain. Harry’s all dimpled up and letting out the most darling noises Louis has ever heard.

“What’s so funny?”

“Last time I was here, I hated you a bit and now all I wanna do is kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

There’s nothing stopping them and when Harry steps closer to him, Louis’ heart rate speeds up and all he can hear is their irregular breathing. Their lips slot together and a sweet little moan escapes from Harry’s mouth, Louis squeezes his eyes shut and places a hand on the nape of Harry’s neck to pull him closer and play with his soft curls. They kiss lazily and softly. There’s no need to rush, they have all the time in the world… until they don’t because Harry draws back a bit and mutters “I needed this so much. You. Needed you.”

His words go straight to Louis’ groin and suddenly all the sad lonely wanks that had become a part of his life are on their way out. Harry doesn’t want Aiden or anybody else, he wants him and Louis can finally take up on his offer and do it justice.

They’re kissing again and Louis doesn’t the waste the opportunity to slid his tongue inside Harry’s mouth. It tastes minty and Louis wants to make it taste like come.

They trip over their feet and stumble inside the room, making their way over to the sofa. They stand right next to it, unable to stop touching each other. Harry’s hands are burning spots into his skin and his mouth is flat out sucking on his tongue. He can feel just how desperate he is for it and it’s contagious. They’ve been dancing around in circles for too long, so now that they get to be together, they can’t waste another second.

“I need you to fuck me right now” Harry groans against his lips, a simple “Please” getting lost between their eager tongues. “Fuck me, Lou, fuck me. I need it.”

Just hearing him say it is enough to make Louis’ last coherent thoughts leak out of his head and he extricates from their tight embrace by grabbing Harry forcefully by the wrists and dragging him to his bedroom, where he instructs him to sit on the bed and strip for him.

Harry unwraps himself like a present and peers up at him through his lashes.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful” he tells him, so captivated by his body. Harry preens at the compliment and Louis just can’t wait to get his hands on him.

There’s just one thing he has to do first.

iii. Baby

When Louis returns, Harry’s on his hands and knees, already opening himself up with two fingers.

Louis raises an eyebrow and all Harry can say is “Oops?” Yet, he doesn’t stop. “I couldn’t wait. I’m not sorry.”

He’s been waiting for this for far too long and if Louis didn’t want him to touch himself, then he shouldn’t have bottles of lube everywhere. He swears there’s more lube than tea on this flat and that’s impressive.

“This is unacceptable sex decorum, Styles.”

They smile at each other and Harry would bet his arse that this is the first time Louis has ever been genuinely amused in a situation like this. He is not one of his clients. He is his.

“Fuck, Harry… You look so pretty like this.”

Louis’ voice is getting raspier by the second. Harry’s wanked countless times to the thought of it but there’s no comparison between fantasy and reality. The real thing makes him flustered and he pushes his own fingers in deeper. He screws his eyes closed at the moment it hits him that soon he will have Louis’ cock buried inside of him, stretching his hole, burning his skin, filling him up completely. He’s letting out little whimpers and getting lost in the sensations when he feels fingers digging into his skin. He releases a contented sigh. Yes, yes, yes. He wants to be touched. He always wants to be touched by his Louis.

“You’re so needy” Louis mumbles into his hair. He’s next to him, tracing leisured patterns along his back. “Do you want my cock, Harry? Do you need it?”

Fuck. He could come just from that. His cock is painfully pressed to his stomach, dripping at the tip, and he wants to touch it, but that would entail removing his fingers from inside his arse. He’s supporting his weight with his other arm, which is starting to ache, but he doesn’t mind the pain, he wants to be full.

Louis seems mesmerised by the way his fingers disappear inside himself, swirling and scissoring their way in. He adds a third one and that’s when Louis stops him. Harry whines at the sudden loss, but lets himself be maneuvered into a sitting position. Louis’s breathing just above his shoulder when he says “You’re going to take everything I give to you.”

Harry nods quickly, leaning back into Louis’ chest. He wants to take everything.

Louis takes both of hands in his and Harry feels a harsh, cold piece of cloth being brushed over his wrists. His heart skips a beat and his cock spurts out a glob of precome when Louis uses the cloth to tie his hands behind his back.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth and make you choke on my cock,” Louis whispers in his ear, a grin present in his voice, and Harry smiles so broadly his lips hurt. This time he actually is going to fuck his mouth.

Louis lines his cock up with Harry’s lips and pushes in slowly. He is thick and heavy on his tongue and he tastes bitter and sweaty. Harry’s eyes flutter shut and he feels his mouth stretching wide to fit the cock in. He hollows out his cheeks to suck hard and it must feel good for Louis because he bumps his hips forward, forcing him to take him deeper. Harry can’t stop himself from moaning and he feels his own cock pulsating. He can’t do anything, except rub his hands together in frustration. They’re tied really tight and it hurts him to shift them even a bit, but he does it anyway. He hopes there will be marks on his skin tomorrow, so that everyone will know he let himself be taken like this, he let himself be fucked and he loved it.

Louis twists a fistful of Harry’s hair in his hand and pulls hard. Harry groans. He is so pleased. His mouth is stuffed full of Louis’ cock and all he wants is more of it. He opens his eyes, looks up at Louis and there are tears clouding his vision. He moans, sending vibrations through the man’s cock.

“You want more, don’t you?”

Harry hums in agreement and blinks away a few tears.

Louis tugs at his hair again and begins thrusting into his mouth. Harry keeps moaning and tries to relax his muscles, so he can take him all in.

“This is what you wanted,” Louis grunts as his cock nudges right up the back of Harry’s throat. He pulls back and goes in again, fucking his mouth steadily. “You’re a cockslut.” He pushes his hips forward to guide his cock all the way in and holds Harry’s head to keep it still. “You need this.”

Harry’s having difficulty breathing through his nose and he starts feeling light-headed. When he can’t take it anymore, he gags and Louis pulls out for a second, just to pull right back in, harder. He sets up a quick pace and Harry lets him, stretching his lips just for him. For Louis, his Louis, his Daddy. He… He’s so full of his Daddy.

He’s digging his fingernails into his palms and keeping his eyes shut again. Louis is fucking his mouth at a brutal rhythm, telling him he’s taking him so well, and Harry can barely hear him anymore.

He gags again and when Louis pulls all the way out, Harry licks the head and traces a path along the underside with his tongue, but he feels empty. He wants to be full again, so he begs for more. Although there’s a distant ringing in his ears, he realises he sounds different. He sounds hoarse and wrecked and he can’t wait for everybody else to hear him, to know that he had his throat fucked by his Daddy. He wants it back inside so badly he starts tearing up.

“Please, Daddy. I need more. I want it in me,” he breathes out through his tears.

“You don’t deserve it,” Louis tells him. “You fingered yourself without my permission. You were so bad, Harry. You can’t have my cock anymore.”

Harry can’t stop crying. He didn’t mean to disappoint Louis. He just wanted to be ready for him.

“I’m so sorry. Just wanted… take you… feel good, Daddy,” he manages to say. “Sorry. I’ll be good. Promise.”

“It’s too late.”

Louis moves away and Harry can’t see him anymore. No. He can’t be this upset. He has to come back.

Harry shouldn’t have started without him and now he won’t get to feel his cock in his arse and he needs to feel it. He’s had dildos inside before but they’re not… They’re nothing. He needs Louis’ cock. He needs Daddy.

He feels a shift in the mattress and a warm breath caressing his arse cheeks.

“You should have let Daddy do this for you.”

Yes. Yes. He’s here and he’ll take care of him now.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me, Daddy.”

Louis forces him to lie down on his stomach and holds his cheeks apart so he can lick a long stripe over Harry’s hole.

Harry moans louder than ever before and arches his back to stick up his arse more and allow him better access to him.

In return, Louis flattens his tongue and licks deep, sending shivers down Harry’s spine and directly to his cock. He’s being eaten out by his Daddy and he feels tears streaming down and wetting the mattress. He needed this so much.

A slick finger slips inside of him and opens him slowly. He feels so ready. He needs Daddy’s cock inside.

Daddy adds another finger and his nails scratch his skin, making Harry yelp. His cock spurts more pre-cum into the wet puddle that’s pressed between his stomach and the mattress.

Fucking him open with his fingers, Daddy starts licking his hole again, swirling his tongue inside of him. It feels so warm and it burns so much that Harry never wants him to stop.

“What would your friends think if they knew I’m eating you out, Harry?” Daddy’ voice is so far away and yet, it’s the only thing Harry can hear. It’s the only thing that matters.

“Are you embarrassed by how much you like this?”

He tries to answer, but he can’t talk or move. He’s numb everywhere and he can only feel his leaking cock and the spots Daddy is burning and twisting with his fingers.

“Is this what you need?”

Yes. Yes. All he needs, all he wants.

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy. Yes. Thank you.”

Talking hurts his jaw and words are so… He… He needs to come so bad.

Daddy fucks his arse with his tongue and his fingers and Harry feels his entire body shake when Daddy blows cold air over his hole.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, Harry.”

Harry’s toes curl and he moans louder and louder.

“Come for Daddy.”

And he does. He cries out and comes all over the mattress, moaning “Daddy” over and over again. He feels floaty.

“I think you’re ready to take me now.”

iv. Daddy

Harry’s totally wrecked and Louis hasn’t even fucked him yet. His boy might slip away any second now and Louis is not freaking out. He actually wants him to drift away to a distant planet. He wants to be the one that makes him feel that way.

He grabs a condom from his nightstand, puts it on and slicks his cock up with lube. Gripping Harry’s arse hard, he angles the head against his hole and pushes in. Seeing his cock slowly disappear inside Harry’s body makes his mouth dry. Harry clenches tight around him and continues moaning non-stop. His voice is destroyed and he sounds even lower than usual and a lot raspier. He pushes all the way into Harry, spreading his cheeks with his hands to fuck him deeper.

“Got my whole cock inside, baby,” he grunts. “Fuck, Harry, you’re taking me so well. I’m so proud of you.” He picks up the pace, slamming up into him and holding him still by the hips. “You’re so full of cock. Full of Daddy’s cock.” He squeezes his eyes shut and fucks him harder. He would have never thought this would do it for him, but it does. Fuck, it really does. “Daddy is fucking you so hard, baby. You feel so good, princess.”

“Daddy” Harry whines, doing an effort to push back to meet Louis’ thrusts and fuck himself on his cock.

Fuck, yeah. Yeah, that’s good. He pulls out of Harry with a wet sound and hears him whimper. So needy. So needy for him.

He pulls Harry to his knees and looks at him. His pupils are pinned up and his mouth is hanging open. He’s so blissed out. Louis is so happy.

He kisses him if only for a second and the helps him sit on top of him, as he lies down on the mattress.

“I want you to fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Do this for me. Do it for Daddy.”

Harry slams himself down on Louis’ cock and throws his head back, rocking his hips slowly. Louis grips his thighs and starts thrusting up, meeting him halfway. They slap their bodies together and all that can be heard is Harry’s constant moaning and the slick sound of his baby’s arse getting pounded.

Harry tightens around his cock and shakes as he spurts come all over Louis’ chest. Louis smears it on his fingers and then feeds it to Harry, who groans and licks his fingers clean.

Even though Louis’ limbs ache and his thighs tremble from the effort that it takes to do this, he keeps going. He needs Harry to take him.

The boy’s barely even moving anymore, so Louis shifts positions and traps him between his body and the mattress. He feels so warm, so tight, and Louis gives it to him at a devastating pace, knowing he’ll leave him sore for days. Good. He wants Harry to feel him afterwards. He nuzzles his face in the boy’s neck and sucks a lovebite as he keeps pounding him.

Harry’s stopped moaning at some point and Louis misses the sound. Now there’s only his grunts being drowned by the wet noises his body makes as it slots together with Harry’s.

He can feel his orgasm approaching, so he pins Harry’s further into the bed and fucks him even faster. He slams his arse so hard it hurts him, too.

And he’s so close and Harry’s so far away. He’s so far away because he loves his cock so much, because he needs what Louis is giving to him. And he’s taking it. He’s taking all of it and he’s so fucking strung out from it.

Louis’ thrusts are getting more uneven and erratic, so he pulls his cock out, removes the condom and grips his cock to jerk off next to Harry’s mouth. The boy tries to lick the tip, but he’s too far gone. Louis caresses his cheek and strokes himself faster.

“Harry. Harry. Fuck…” He squeezes his eyes shut and spills inside Harry’s mouth, filling him with his come. He milks his cock until the last drop and collapses onto Harry’s chest. He stays that way for a couple of seconds and then he remembers that Harry’s arms are tied up behind his back, so he’s probably hurting him a lot.

He pushes himself up and cups Harry’s face in his hand. His come is dripping from his mouth and his chin is all messy. He licks it off him and swallows it.

“Harry” he whispers gently. “Harry, baby. Are you okay?” He pets his damp hair and places kisses all over his chest. “You were so good. I love you so much.” He keeps kissing him and touching him and it’s several seconds later that he actually realises what he said. He smiles and looks up at Harry’s face again. He’s not asleep, but he’s not exactly awake either. He’s not sure whether he can hear him at all yet, but he talks to him all the same. “I was afraid this was going to freak me out,” he admits to him. “It didn’t. I’m so glad you wanted me for this, love.” He kisses his lips and moves him gently to his side. He unties the piece of curtain that he ripped earlier and massages Harry’s wrists. He spoons him and nuzzles on his neck again, telling him how much he loves him and he proud he is.

Slowly, Harry begins moving again. He’s letting out little whimpers and Louis’s so relieved he seems to be okay.

He untangles himself from him and Harry rolls over to his left and opens his eyes.

“Hi, love,” Louis murmurs, softly. “You were so great.”

Harry smiles. “Dizzy” is all he says and that’s okay. Dizzy is okay as long as they’re together.

“I’m going to get you some water and then I’m going to cuddle you until the end of time” Louis promises him.

He keeps that promise.


i. Three years later

Haz: They liked my idea!!!!

Haz: (Picture of a happy kitten)

Me: I'm so happy for u love! I told you they'd like it! I'm the master of everything. Bow before me!

Haz: Oh, I will. I'll probably be home a bit late, though. Sorry. I have to finish this, you know?

Me: Dont worry about it. I'll be late too. Memorising lines is hard. I miss dicks. 

Haz: Heyyy! What about my dick? Still yours.

Me: Dick Supreme doesnt count, I'm talking about lower dicks. The third class of Titanic of dicks

Haz: If mine is Dick Supreme, what's yours?

Me: The God of the Dicks.

Haz: You're an idiot.

Haz: See you later, Daddy.

Me: Only if you can afford me..

Haz: I'll pay you with blowjobs and a home cooked meal

Me: You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Haz: (Picture of Harry & “I love you”)

Me: I love you too. So fucking much.

The End.