Louis kneeled just before the doorway, the harsh hotel room carpet singeing the rough of his kneecaps, but he didn’t fully mind. The scuffling of feet that shattered the deafening silence of the room sent Louis’ heart racing, pounding thunderously in his ears. The light that peeked beneath the bathroom door switched off in an instant, and just as suddenly, it opened.
Harry looked good tonight, Louis reckoned, although he could only see Harry’s freshly polished, pointed oxford shoes from where he sat with his head bowed. It was the ultimate display of submission; Louis’ hands clasped firmly behind his back, offering the expanse of his torso to his boyfriend, a small smile forming on his lips when Harry hummed in approval.
“So pretty, Lou,” Harry said, his voice low and dark as his eyes scanned the kneeling boy in front of him.
His eyes first fell upon obscenely red lips, Louis’ only feature visible from beneath his fringe. The idea came to Harry when he had passed the makeup counter in an American department store, the curvaceous female attendant’s lips a deep, savory red that Harry knew he had to see on Louis. He stuck the tube of lipstick (along with a vial of mascara that promised obscene eyelash length) into the bag that he would give to Louis later that evening with instructions to dress himself in the bag’s contents. All of them.
It should not have delighted Harry as much as it did that his boyfriend obliged his unspoken request, because they both knew that if Harry wanted something, Louis would go to the ends of the Earth to achieve it for him, and that went without saying.
Louis’ collar bones were jutted forward in this position and Harry licked his lips at the thought of marking them, sucking a mess of bruises into the thin layer of flesh. His eyes traveled lower, trailing his gaze down a ladder of abdominal muscles that flexed beneath his eyes with each bated breath, as if his stare held tangibility. And then lower even still. A footpath of fine hairs disappeared beneath the waistband of a pair of black boy shorts that bore crimson accents along the waistband and leg holes with a small, innocent bow in the least innocent of places; just above where Louis’ hardening cock was already beginning to strain against the lace material.
“Stand up,” Harry commanded, although Louis never saw it as much of a command. Harry’s voice was soft, yet stern. He didn’t rely on force to get his way; he simply spoke and Louis complied without hesitation.
Louis stood, his knees tinted pink from the rug burn he’d experienced. His head remained bowed and his hands stuck behind him as Harry placed a gentle, yet firm, hand to his upper back and led him out into the main expanse of the hotel room. The suite was almost horrendously swanky; gold and platinum adorning nearly every surface, from the doorways to the high thread count of the comforter on the king sized bed that Harry was aching to fuck Louis into.
He led Louis over to the full-length mirror that stood before an enormously large walk-in closet. “It’s ridiculous,” Louis had said when they had first entered the room that afternoon. “Who brings their entire wardrobe with them on vacation? And who the fuck would take the time to hang it all up?” But that was where any trace of criticism stopped, because Louis just could not pretend to dislike the lavish hotel suite. He absolutely loved it when he and Harry spoiled themselves, indulging on shopping trips and expensive vacations and hotels, even though each of the pair were both completely well-off in their own right. Louis had expensive taste, admittedly taking a liking to practices of the sort of getting fucked after a pricy dinner, his body covered in glistening champagne that Harry poured down his torso, and the curly haired boy licking up the sweat, alcohol, and come that pooled on his stomach minutes later while Louis was flushed, collapsed onto to the bed after a particularly intense orgasm.
Harry allowed Louis to look into the mirror, the sight staring back at the pair causing the older boy’s raw knees to shake a little. Harry was dressed in a dress shirt and tie with his sleeves pushed up, revealing tanned, toned forearms , as it was common for Harry to dress up solely for their escapades, feeding into Louis’ hunger for decadence. He stood behind Louis, his huge hands placed where the elder’s shoulders met his arms, gripping possessively, yet gently. He planted a kiss to the crook of Louis’ neck, meeting his gaze through the mirror and allowing the slightest smirk to form on his lips when goosebumps erupted over Louis’ body with a shudder.
Harry couldn’t keep himself from staring, eyebrows furrowed, at Louis’ iced blue eyes, his thick, black eyelashes practically fluttering each time he blinked.
Louis’ red lips parted, the pink tip of his tongue darting out momentarily to run across the waxy lipstick on his top lip. He looked so curvy and smooth like this; so much more graceful and feminine. He was Harry’s princess, spoiled and pretty and the perfect little slut.
Harry’s hands drifted lower as his mouth left more wet, hot kisses along his boyfriend’s neck and shoulder, moving to the other side when his fingers ghosted over the lace of the underwear, just trailing along the waistband, barely coming into contact with the sensitive skin that lay just above it. His hands, guided by the red lace, traveled back to cup Louis’ bum, the older boy letting out a content sigh. Harry chuckled, placing another kiss at the base of Louis’ neck. “Close your eyes,” Harry instructed, smiling softly as Louis did so.
“I’ll be right back, Princess,” Harry murmured, slipping away from him and walking to the dresser across the room, pulling the bottom drawer open.
Louis could hear the rustling of a plastic bag and the clunk of the drawer as Harry slid it shut, the sound echoing through the large room. Within moments he could feel Harry’s warmth behind him again, his arms reaching around Louis. Louis felt the scrape of what could only be the underside of leather grace the prickled flesh of his neck, his suspicions secured with the snap of a button and Harry telling him to open his eyes again. Louis nearly moaned when he and his smirking boyfriend came into view. His eyes were drawn to the leather collar, the way the blackness contrasted the paleness of his skin. A thick, shining silver ring hung from the collar, and just as Louis’ eyes settled upon it, Harry attached a chain leash to the ring with a click. “Mine,” Harry muttered into Louis’ feathered hair, the chain wrapped once around his knuckles and held securely in his hand.
“Yours,” Louis echoed, his jaw going slack as the fingers of Harry’s unoccupied hand ghosted down his side and back up again, blunt nails skimming his skin as Harry’s gaze remained fixed on the mirror.
Harry hummed in approval, his hand leaving Louis’ soft skin.
“C’mere, love,” Harry instructed with a light tug to the chain, signaling to Louis the direction that he wanted him to go. Louis managed to pull himself from his swimming thoughts adequately enough to obediently follow Harry’s lead and settle himself on his knees atop the pristine, wrinkle-free comforter of the bed, glancing up at Harry expectantly. Harry let his thumb trail over Louis’ cheekbone, absolutely entranced by this beautiful boy, by how pliant and trusting he was of Harry, and how he was truly and fully his. His crimson lips parted from his closed-mouth smile and Harry gained a deeper appreciation of just how full and plump Louis’ lips looked when he wore lipstick—almost obscenely so. His cerulean eyes locked on Harry’s sea greens and Harry could see the want behind the blown pupils. It was killing the older boy, surely, for his cock to be resting thick and heavy against his thigh, straining against the lace material of his lingerie, begging for relief. But he would never ask for it.
Harry’s thumb traced Louis’ plump lower lip and they parted even farther. Harry mused that his thumb was stained with red that would never quite leave his porcelain flesh, but he could not bring himself to care. He pressed his thumb farther and Louis complied, his mouth engulfing the digit and his lips wrapping around it happily. His tongue slid over the pad of Harry’s thumb with a groan and Harry smiled a bit, muttering a soft, “Good boy.” He retracted his thumb from the older boy’s mouth and his cock twitched in interest at the sight, his thumb slick with spit and ringed with pink.
“Gonna suck me off now, Princess,” Harry said, to which Louis replied with an eager nod. Guided by the leash, Louis sank down onto his knees on the abrasive carpet once more, eyeing the bulge in Harry’s jeans hungrily. The younger lad popped the button and pushed both his boxers and jeans down to his knees, settling down onto the foot of the bed. Louis’ small hands splayed over Harry’s thighs, whose pigment shined soft and pale in comparison to his own sun-kissed fingers, the tips of which were pressing rivets in the river of porcelain.
Louis rushed forward to take him in, but was stopped by Harry’s firm grip on the leash. His glance flashed up at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed in distaste and a pout forming on his lips. Harry hummed a bit of a chuckle, gripping the base of his cock and giving it a stroke, watching Louis’ eyes as they followed the motion of Harry’s hand. The younger boy pressed his cock to Louis’ bottom lip and the elder parted his lips to allow Harry’s cock inside, but he was again stopped from moving his head by the choker he adorned. This time a whine sounded from his throat and Harry had to bite his own lip to keep from smirking down at Louis, loving how eager he was.
“Gotta slow down, baby,” Harry murmured, running the head of his cock over Louis’ now-sealed lips. “We’ve got time. Wanna drag this out for you.”
Louis swallowed thickly when he felt a bead of precome bubble up from Harry’s slit and deposit itself on his lip, desperately wanting to dart his tongue out and lick it up. He considered it for a moment, but then he rationalized that obeying Harry meant getting his cock and if he opened his mouth, Harry would pull him away and punish him.
The head of Harry’s cock moved over Louis’ lips forcefully from one side to the other, smearing the red lipstick as he went. He decided not to stop there and brought the red beyond the boundary of the corners of his mouth, smearing it over Louis’ cheeks. Louis frowned, eyes falling shut as Harry ruined his perfectly lined lips, feeling the liquid dry on his face. His partner’s cock twitched at the sight of it, knowing that this was just the beginning of the wrecking of Louis’ makeup, which was so perfectly applied that Harry suspected that he’d had practice at doing it before.
“So pretty,” Harry hummed, his cock making one more swipe across Louis’ lips. “Open.”
And Louis did, his lips parting as Harry guided his cock into Louis’ waiting mouth.
His obscenely red lips wrapped around the head of Harry’s cock, his eyes falling shut as he finally had the stretch of Harry in his mouth, as if he had been pining for him all day. Sometimes Harry wondered if Louis put this on for him, if he exaggerated a bit, but those thoughts would cease as immediately as they had appeared, because Harry knew that Louis truly got off on this, on putting others before himself. One would never guess that the oldest One Direction boy would be so pliant and agreeable in the bedroom and Harry liked that, he supposed. It was their own patch of sacred intimacy; the only secret that they had full jurisdiction over keeping hidden in a world where privacy was just short of nonexistent for the couple.
Sometimes Louis felt bad for enjoying that Harry pushed him to the limits of his psyche, to the absolute abyss of pain and pleasure where the two were completely indistinguishable from one other. But the sweet relief of, for once, not having to control everything, of not having to worry about what to say, or keeping everyone's attention on him; of being told what to do and simply doing it, completely giving himself to Harry and expecting nothing in return, would always shake it from him. Because that was what it was about, really. It was all about Harry.
Louis gripped the base of Harry’s cock for a moment to hold him steady as he took him into his mouth more, Harry’s hand guiding his head as it bobbed. “So pretty, baby,” Harry muttered, causing Louis’ heart to flutter, fueling his desire to take Harry even farther. Louis clamped both hands behind his back and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, taking Harry a bit farther with each bob of his head. He decided to go for it, eventually, forcing himself to take Harry’s cock to the hilt. Harry kept him there for a moment, feeling Louis’ throat spasm around him and watching as his eyes welled up with tears as he fought the reflex to gag, staring desperately up at him, showing Harry just how hard he was working to be good for him. Harry let out a shaky sigh and allowed Louis to pull up, continuing his pattern of bobbing for a while, before taking Harry back down again.
"Such a good little Princess for me," Harry mumbled, eyes falling shut as he gripped the older boy's hair tightly. "So good at taking my cock."
Louis knew Harry was getting close by the quickness of his breaths and the strain present in his tone, so he sped up, trying to quickly take as much of Harry's cock as possible with each downward motion of his head.
"Gonna come on your pretty little face," Harry murmured, standing from the bed and taking his spit-soaked cock into his hand, the other gripping Louis' leash tightly. The older boy frowned when he was pulled away from Harry's cock, reaching forward to try and continue his work, but Harry's grip on the leash stopped him. Out of instinct, Louis’ parted lips fell open; his jaw following suit, and his tastebuds tingled in anticipation of the bitterness that would soon grace his tongue.
At times, Harry couldn’t believe how positively obedient Louis was. Such as, at the current moment, where Louis sat with his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his mouth open wide, half-lidded cerulean eyes practically begging to feel Harry’s come streak his cheeks. There was a wanting evident in his expression that Harry had etched into his memory and that delightfully haunted him each time he and Louis would interact in the public eye. Harry and Louis would lock gaze across the stage and all Harry could see is Louis on his knees, begging for his come, or underneath Harry, begging to come, and he almost wished that the world could see this side of Louis because then it would all make sense. It was the missing puzzle piece to the impressive enigma that was Louis Tomlinson and Harry was almost reluctant to be its sole keeper. Almost.
Harry forced his eyes open as he came with a low groan, the first streak of come shooting off and falling over Louis’ eyelashes. Veins of black from the mascara mingled with the white of Harry’s come as it slid down his cheek and Harry was so consumed by the image that he didn’t even think to try and keep the rest of his come focused on Louis’ mouth. The next few spurts were less powerful, one falling on Louis’ opposite cheek, slipping into the hollow of his cheekbone, and the rest into and around Louis’ mouth.
Louis knew by now that he wasn’t to swallow until Harry told him so, so he remained perfectly still, the warmth of Harry’s come seeping into his pores. Harry almost couldn’t believe the sight in front of him, realizing that it was perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. He took a moment to let it all sink in, the way charcoal and crimson swirled with white and stained Louis’ tear-soaked cheeks and pooled in the crevices of his incredible bone structure. Harry let a small smile sneak onto his lips as he tucked himself back into his jeans, giving Louis permission to clean himself up.
Which he did happily, licking up the come that streaked his lips and the puddle atop his tongue, swallowing it eagerly. He scooped up the rest with his thumb and brought it to his mouth, letting his red velvet lips wrap around it and suck, his black ringed eyelids drooping dreamily. He already looked so positively fucked out and Harry was just getting started with him.
Harry had to gently ease Louis’ thumb out of his mouth and that was when he fully realized that the smaller boy had shifted into that place in his mind where the only thing that mattered was pleasing Harry, no matter what Harry threw at him. Harry found it so honoring and, likewise, hopelessly erotic, that Louis was able to enter that space just for him, where he could please his little Princess just by letting the boy please him.
“What do you say, Princess?” Harry asked, knowing that there was no need to clarify because he and Louis had been doing this for so long that they’d nearly developed their own language between them, be it sexual or not.
“Thank you, sir,” Louis murmured, his voice a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat, his tongue momentarily licking over his lips again. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Harry used to claim that daddy kinks were too strange for him, but one evening when Louis was tied to the headboard of the bed in their old flat, the top of his head just nudging the wood as he was drilled into the mattress, it slipped out of the older boy’s lips as he begged to come, and Harry came as well at that very second.
“Good boy, Louis,” Harry praised, though his mouth had gone dry from the use of the nickname, reaching a hand up to run it through Louis’ hair.
“Stand up for me. Let Daddy look at your bum in those knickers.” Harry commanded, settling back on the mattress a bit and giving Louis more slack on the leash, watching Louis expectantly as he older boy rose from the rough carpet, his knees shaking a bit from being in that position for so long. Louis could feel his cheeks tinge pink when Harry referred to the boyshorts as knickers, knickers for his pretty, effeminate little princess.
Louis turned around, the rough leather of the collar dragging along his neck as the ring moved to the nape of his neck. He folded his arms behind his back, mindful to keep them above his bum, at the small of his back, and couldn’t help a bit of a smile as Harry let out a satisfied hum at how the legs of the boyshorts rode up and allowed just the slightest but of his arse to stick out, and how the soft material clung to the obscene curve like it was made for him.
“Such a beautiful arse,” Harry said, his hands moving up to cup it. “And it’s all mine.”
He pressed a quick kiss to the curve of Louis’ back and smiled as Louis shivered, no doubt having felt the cool metal of the leash brush his sensitive skin.
Harry stood from the bed and Louis’ eyebrows raised when he heard the click of the leash being released from the hook.
“Go clean up. Get yourself all pretty for me again.” Harry murmured, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to the crook of Louis’ neck.
He watched, a bit dazedly, as Louis’ trembling legs propelled him forward into the bathroom again, the door closing with a click that resounded through the silent room, though he could tell that Louis was trying, as he always did, to be gentle.