“Fuck, Lou. Please, need it,” Harry begs, hoping that his boyfriend will have some sort of mercy on him. Harry already feels his head starting to get fuzzy, his wrists being held to the bed using a some sort of spell Louis somehow knows, which means that Harry can’t even touch himself to get any sort of relief. He knows he probably looks fucked out given that Louis has been edging him for the better part of half an hour, getting him ready.
“You’re not open enough for me yet, baby,” Louis responds, the fact that his voice is just a touch higher the only give away that he is just as affected as Harry. Well that and the very prominent erection straining against his Quidditch trousers. He doesn’t mention the fact that Louis has been taking his sweet ass time getting Harry ready for him, not wanting to be punished. He is hoping Louis will let him come before his upcoming Quidditch match in just under an hour or so. Harry has kind of lost track of time at this point. He whimpers when he feels Louis add a third finger, stretching his hole in the most perfect way that only Louis seems to be able to accomplish.
“Don’t even think about coming, or you won’t get my dick after the match like I know you want. You love seeing me all sweaty afterwards, practically gagging for it when I fuck you under the stands,” Louis tells him, the harsh words going straight to Harry’s neglected cock. Harry just nods in response, moaning again when Louis begins scissoring his fingers. Harry feels like if he doesn’t get Louis’ cock soon, he may actually explode. He knows what Louis is saying is true, though. If he’s bad, then Louis won’t fuck him after the match like Harry loves. Just something about seeing Louis zooming through the air on his broom, attempting to catch the Golden Snitch gets Harry going. He has never been into sports much himself, not even when he thought he was just a muggle, but fuck does he love watching Louis play.
“Please,” Harry cries out, tears pricking his eyes with need. It’s not with the need to come; he just really wants to feel full with Louis’ thick cock. He feels like he may die without it. He fists his hands, digging his short nails into his his own flesh to stop himself from crying out again, knowing he can’t be too loud even though the Room of Requirement is fairly sound proof. He whimpers when Louis removes his fingers. Louis just gives him a stern look before he grabs his hips firmly, flipping him over on the bed without a word. Harry’s bound wrists are now over his head, forcing him to lay face down on the bed, his arse high up in the air on display. He knows Louis is looking at him, so he wiggles it a bit, moaning, trying to entice the Slytherin.
“You know,” Louis starts conversationally, his tone barely giving a hint of arousal away. Harry thinks he does it to cover up the sound of his zipper, but he can’t be sure. Harry wiggles his arse again, hissing when a firm hand comes down on it, connecting with a loud slap that reverberates throughout the room. Harry is almost as addicted to the sound as he is to the pain. “I think I’m gonna fill you with my come, then plug you up. Not let you come until after the match is over. Would you like that, baby? Sitting through the whole match with my come in you? Where everyone can see how fucked out you really are.”
“Yes. Fuck. Please,” Harry moans, the very idea sending a shock of pleasure down his spine and into his aching cock. He loves it when Louis lays claim to him in someway, marking him as his own, since they can’t be open about their relationship. The idea of sitting through a game with Louis’ come in him while watching Louis on a broom does something to Harry. He could probably come untouched at the very fucking idea. He cries out when Louis’ small hands tangle in his sweaty curls, yanking his head up from the mattress hard. His back bows as Louis’ lips come in contact with his ear, kissing it lightly.
“My parents may even see you,” Louis whispers straight into Harry’s ear, and Harry almost comes. A part of Harry wants Louis’ parents to see, so that they finally know about his relationship. Nobody knows about their relationship, though, not even Harry’s best friend Liam, nor Louis’ best friend Zayn. Harry hates it being a secret, but they don’t really have a choice with Harry being a muggleborn and Louis’ being a pureblood, not to mention that they are in two houses that hate each other. Nobody can know, but Harry wants Louis to mark him so that everyone knows . It is an issue really.
“Please,” Harry begs, even though he doesn't know what the fuck he is even begging for. Maybe for Louis to fuck him, or maybe he just wants everyone to know who he has been dating for two years, ever since their fifth year at Hogwarts. Harry still doesn’t know how it happened. One day he went from despising Louis for his existence to fucking him in every dark corner they could find. When Louis discovered the Room of Requirement last year, though, all bets were off.
“Don’t make me use the invisible gagging spell on your pretty little mouth again, Harold. I remember how hard that was for you to explain-- well mime-- to Professor McGonagall during your Transfiguration lesson last week.” Harry can hear the smirk in his voice, and he kind of wants to hex him. He would if he had his wand, and he wasn’t incredibly turned on. Harry may or may not have a bit of a humiliation kink, to go along with his exhibitionism kink. He has more, but he can’t concentrate on that right now, not with Louis tightening his grip on his hair, pulling harder to make his back bow even more. Harry doesn’t cry out this time, preferring to actually be able to use his voice during the match. It would be hard to explain that one to Liam again.
“Good boy,” Louis praises, running a small hand down Harry’s spine as if to pet him. Harry preens at the attention, almost purring with it, but keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to disobey. He mostly just wants to come, but his own release wasn’t in Louis’ outlined plan from earlier. He won’t get to come until after the match.
“You know I could conjure a mirror so you could watch, or I could blindfold you,” Louis offers, probably to distract him because not even a second later, Harry feels Louis’ thick cock agaisnt his hole, pushing in hard and fast, just the way Harry likes it. Harry bites his lip, hard, to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of his own blood on his tongue. It stings from the quick entrance, but Harry likes the pain, the endorphins going straight to his brain, making his head feel even more fuzzy. Louis stills himself, probably giving Harry a chance to adjust, not wanting to hurt him too much, but Harry just wants him to move.
“Want me to move, baby?” Louis asks, from behind him. Harry can’t see his face, but he knows he is smiling. The bloody bastard. Harry just nods, silently begging Louis to have some fucking mercy. He is going to have to with Louis’ match starting sooner rather than later. Louis is the bloody captain. He should probably be giving his team a pep talk right now instead of fucking Harry into oblivion. Priorities. When Louis starts moving from behind him, he can’t stop himself from releasing a low moan, his cock bobbing heavily between his legs, untouched.
“Fuck, Lou,” Harry says, feeling the harsh material of Louis’ Quidditch trousers scraping against the sensitive skin of his bum where Louis’ had slapped it earlier. Louis didn’t even undress at all, the only item of clothing that has come off are his gloves, and that was only so he could finger Harry open. That fact makes Harry impossibly harder, loving the idea of being completely naked while Louis is still fully dressed, in his fucking Slytherin Quidditch robes no less.
“We’ve gotta make this quick, baby. You’re so fucking tight for me though, so it shouldn't take too long for me to fill you up with my come. Do you want that? Want my come in you?” Louis asks, his fingers digging into Harry’s small love handles on his hips, leaving bruises where the laurel leaves are tattooed into his skin. Louis smacks his ass, hard, and Harry cries out, not sure what he did to deserve it. Louis answers his unspoken question a few seconds later though. “Answer me.”
“Y--yes! Please, fill me up. Need it. Need your come in me so everyone knows I’m yours,” Harry responds as his eyes beginning to sting with unshed tears, feeling as though all of his senses are overloaded. Louis growls at his words, gripping into his flesh harder, as if he likes the idea of everyone knowing. Harry knows he does. It turns them both on, the idea of being out to people. It is a stupid thing to get them going, but when they have had to hide their relationship and pretend to hate each other for two years, it becomes a turn on for people to know.
“Shh-- baby. It’s alright. You’ll get my come. I promise,” Louis soothes, fucking harder into Harry, his cock hitting his prostate with every thrust, hurtling Harry even closer to the edge. He can’t come though. He can’t. He’s not allowed, and he is a good boy.
“Please, Daddy,” Harry begs, letting the word fall from his lips, knowing it will drive Louis crazy. The term started off as a joke, but now Harry finds himself saying it more often than not during anything sexual with Louis, sometimes when things aren’t sexual even. Louis growls again, thrusting in to him so hard, Harry is being pushed up the bed. He uses his bound wrists to brace himself, straightening his arms so that Louis can’t push him anymore, making Louis go even deeper.
“What was that, baby?” Louis asks, voice finally reflecting his arousal. Harry knows that only happens when Louis is getting close. Thank Merlin because Harry is fucking close. He needs Louis to come, or he is fucked, and not in the way Louis is currently doing.
“Need your come, Daddy. Please. Need you to fill me up with your come, Daddy. Fuck.” Harry cries out when Louis unexpectedly grabs his hair, pulling his entire body up so that Harry’s back is aligning with Louis’ chest. He can feel Louis’ heart beating against his skin, even through the thick layer fabric. They are definitely going to have to do the Scourgify charm after this. Hopefully it will remove the come stains from Louis’ trousers this time, not wanting Madame Hooch asking if Louis had spilled something on him during potions again.
Louis keeps one hand fisted in Harry’s hair, holding him up, with the other digging into his hip to keep him in position as he fucks his hips up into Harry, his hard length dragging against his spot with every thrust. Harry thinks he may actually fucking die if Louis doesn't come within the next few minutes. He doesn’t need an Avada, all he needs is Louis to fuck him and forbid him from coming. Louis’ hips stutter when he comes, pumping his release into Harry, biting the spot between Harry’s shoulder and neck with sharp canines. Harry screams from the sensation but doesn't come. Somehow. He should get a fucking award.
Harry collapses when Louis releases him, careful not to allow Louis to pull out of him completely, knowing Louis’ plan. He can’t help the whimper that escapes from his parted lips with a pant when Louis does pull out, quickly replacing his cock with a magical butt plug. Yes, it’s magical. Louis had found it somewhere, and Harry doesn’t ask questions. Just allows Louis to explain how each toy works when he first gets them in a nondescript package from his owl, Kevin. Where Louis got the name Kevin from, Harry is unsure. Harry moans when the plug is nestled in, pressing against his prostate with each breath. This is a new one that they haven't used before, but Harry likes it’s girth not to mention the deep scarlet colour to match his own house.
“There, now I will be inside you the entire time,” Louis tells him, rubbing his back, helping Harry stay anchored. He turns over, blinking up at Louis with sleepy eyes, and Louis smiles down at him, a fond look taking over his sharp features. He listens as Louis does a few Scourgify spells to clean them both off as much as possible before he glamours his own tattoos and the marks on his neck so that his parents won’t see and ask questions. He does this every single time his parents come to visit, and Harry hates that Louis feels the need to hide that part of himself. Hide every part of himself from them it seems. Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t care. Most people at the school seem to think him some type of ladies man that has dipped his cock into every girl in school, even though he has never touched a girl in a sexual way, let alone had sex with one. He isn’t sure how he even got the reputation.
“Princess? Are you still with me?” Louis asks, his voice soft as he traces over the tattoos on Harry’s chest with the tip of his wand. It tickles, but Harry is currently to fucked out to move. Harry nods, but that doesn’t seem to be answer enough for Louis. “I need your words, baby.”
“I’m here,” Harry answers. It’s mostly true. He hasn’t gone completely off the deep end. He still feels present, albeit slightly floaty. He has gotten used to the sensation of the plug though, so that’s a plus.
“Good boy. Remember, all you have to do is say your safeword and the plug will vanish back into our collection under the your bed. Do you remember your safe word?” Louis asks voice still soft, now running his hands up and down the inside of Harry thighs. Harry concentrates on the feeling, using it to help him focus on Louis’ question. Right. Safeword. He totally remembers their safe word. Niffler. They decided on it because Harry thinks Nifflers are adorable, and Louis can’t say ‘no’ to Harry. A fact that he knows and uses to his advantage.
“Yes, Daddy,” Harry responds, nodding his head a few times to show Louis that he is, in fact, paying attention to his words. Louis smiles down at him, and Harry preens. It feels like the sun is shining on his skin which is something he doesn’t get very often given that the castle is situated in the highlands of Scotland. He watches with dark eyes as Louis gets off the bed, locating his his leather Quidditch gloves.
“Okay. I’ve gotta get to this match. Is my little Gryffindor Princess going to cheer me on in the stands? Hmm?” Louis asks, giving Harry a questioning look as he pulls on his gloves.
“Liam will definitely be there.” Harry laughs at Louis’ offended expression. As far as Liam is concerned, they both still hate one another. Louis and Liam don’t really get along. Louis thinks Liam has a broomstick up his ass, Louis’ words not Harry’s, while Liam thinks that Louis is far too immature and doesn’t take magic seriously enough. It’s all very annoying, and Harry is positive that Louis and Liam could be good friends if they would just fucking have a civil conversation for once instead of exchanging glares, harsh words, and mean quips. “Of course I will be there to cheer you on, love. You’ve gotta beat the robes off the Puffs,” Harry amends, maneuvering his body to his knees on the bed to give Louis a chaste kiss on the lips, Louis gloved hands automatically come to hold his waist as Harry feels a smile.
“I love you, and I will see you after the match. Okay?” Louis asks after pulling away just a bit. Harry can still feel his breath on his lips with the words, and Harry almost wants to say ‘fuck the match’ then snog the life out of Louis however this is important to Louis. Quidditch is important to Louis, so he bites his lip and nods.
“I love you, too,” Harry responds, and with one final squeeze of Harry his hips and a kiss on the cheek, Louis is gone. Harry waits exactly ten minutes, their agreed upon amount of time, before he gets dressed and leaves the room, too, suppressing a moan every time the plug presses against his spot. He is still incredibly hard, and thank Merlin and Godric Fucking Gryffindor for their robes being fairly loose, making it easier to conceal a hard on. Maybe sitting in the cool spring weather will help Harry’s situation, given that his slow, long walk to the Quidditch pitch is most definitely not.
Harry has never hated the no apparition rule on campus so much as he does in this very moment. It feels like the pitch is fucking days away, each step sending Harry further and further in the air, closer to orgasm. He can’t come, though. That would be bad. It would go against a direct order that Louis gave him, and Harry has to be good. He wants to be rewarded later.
“Harry!” He hears Liam exclaim from somewhere behind him once he exits the castle. Fuck. He was hoping he would be able to watch the game without Liam. Liam is already curious as to where Harry disappears to, oftentimes in the middle of the night past curfew. It hasn’t been much of an issue since Harry became Headboy and therefore has a dorm to himself. They still prefer the Room of Requirement though because it always has things that they need, and they don’t have to worry about unexpected visitors. Louis still spends most nights with Harry in his dorm, sleeping in his bed, consequences be damned. They have had more than one close call this school year.
Before this year started, Harry had become a pro at sneaking around the castle at night, disillusionment charms are his and Louis’ best friend, after all. Being a Prefect and now Head Boy has had it perks, no one questioning him as much when he is out of bed after hours. Louis is a Prefect too, so they will even sometimes be assigned to roam together, which usually ends with them fucking in an empty classroom or corridor. Harry shakes his head, trying to clear it a little bit before he turns to find his friend walking toward him, smiling at him.
“Li! Hey!” Harry greets plastering a smile on his face, hoping he doesn't looked as fucked out as he feels. Then something odd happens. The plug in his ass vibrates. What the actual fuck? If Louis bought a magical vibrating plug, Harry may just fucking murder him. He knows he is a bit fucked out and spacy, but he is almost positive he felt it vibrate. It could be a figment of his horny imagination, the need to come taking over every other thought, but he doesn’t think it is.
“Y’alright, H?” Liam asks, dark brows deepening in concern. Fuck. He’s not as convincing as he thought. Louis would tease him for being a Gryffindor right now, not being able to come up with a convincing enough lie on the spot, however, Harry would like to see Louis fucking do it with a plug is his arse while he is as hard as one of Severus Snape’s infamous potions exams before his death. No, Harry isn’t alright, but he can’t exactly say all of that to Liam.
“Yeah. ‘M fine. Just decided to go to the match after all,” Harry responds, starting to walk again. He tries to make his steps and pace as normal as possible, but it’s hard when the plug moves with every single one. He is barely suppressing moans and hisses as is and that was when he was able to walk at a slower pace. Liam will get even more confused if he is walking slow, too. So he grits his teeth and tries to match Liam’s strides. Thank the gods that his legs are longer than Liam’s, so it’s not as fast as they could be going.
“Oh. I know Quidditch isn’t really your thing. You much prefer books and studying. I don’t know why the Hat didn’t put you in Ravenclaw,” Liam jokes, and it is something that Harry has been hearing since the very beginning of his time at Hogwarts. He has always been a bit of a bookworm even when he went to a muggle school, choosing reading and writing over hanging out with friends. Harry bites his lip on a moan, closing his eyes for a second and pauses his steps because the damn thing vibrated again . He definitely did not imagine it, and he may or may not be plotting to kill his favourite snake. He opens his eyes slowly to find Liam looking at him worriedly, probably thinking that Harry is offended over his joke. Fuck. Harry needs to recover. He needs to think of something to say to ease his best friend’s mind.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Harry waves off, attempting a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. That may not be the most fluid response, but that works for now. Liam looks relieved that he didn’t hurt Harry’s feelings. The Hat had had a conversation with him while on his head and decided he would be best fit for Gryffindor, and Harry wasn’t about to argue with an ancient magical hat. He was still flabbergasted that an ancient magical hat even existed in the first fucking place. Harry, though, strongly believes that everyone has a little of each house in them, so he probably would have fit in anywhere, even Slytherin if he wasn’t a muggleborn. Even though their house has been a lot better about their prejudices since the Second Wizarding War. Harry may or may not have read Hogwarts: A History no less than seven times, sue him.
“So, who do you think will win? The Snakes or the Puffs?” Liam asks, and Harry almost answers Slytherin right away, but he doesn’t want to seem suspicious. He pretends to think about it as they climb the stairs to their desired seat. Thank fuck they are almost there. Walking is fucking torture when you have something nudging against your prostate. Harry knows a thing or two about sexual torture, he and Louis learning their way through it together. Always together.
“Tomlinson’s got his eye on something because he is zooming across the pitch.” Louis barely registers the voice of Ed Sheeran acting as commentator as he flies after what he hopes is the Golden Snitch. Two point three seconds ago, he saw what he thought was a yellow streak right around the goal posts being currently guarded by his teammate. Louis first looked around to see where the other seeker was, happy to note that he was scoping out the other side, before he took off, his broom flying through the air. He doesn’t pay attention to anything around him. Not the crowd going crazy. Not Jesy hitting a bludger that is coming right at him. Not the announcer screaming into the tannoy. All of his focus is on the Snitch that he is getting ever closer to.
Louis glances over his shoulder, seeing the Hufflepuff seeker gaining on him. He silently commands his broom to move faster, feeling the wind rushing through his brown hair, the cool air stinging his face around his goggles. Once he gets close enough, he reaches out for it barely touching it with his fingertips when the Hufflepuff seeker hits him hard in the side, knocking him off balance and his path. He hears the ‘oohs’ of the crowd, knowing that Harry is probably worried about him. He knows how much Harry hates that he plays the sport, always worrying that Louis is going to get knocked off his broom and fall to his death, never mind the logical explanation that the professors would never allow a student to get seriously injured. Harry is terrible at concealing his emotions; he is a Gryffindor after all.
Louis hits the other seeker hard, sending him spiraling through the air and out of the competition for the Snitch for the time being. Louis then refocuses his attention on the glittering object in front of him, reaching out again, urging his broom to go faster. He cries out in victory when his hand closes around the small golden sphere, holding it firmly in one gloved hand. He hears a horn go off, Ed and the crowd going wild all at the same time, too many sounds to focus on just one. He moves his broom in a circle, waving his possession to the crowd triumphantly, finding Harry and staying there to look at him.
Despite the fact that Harry is pretending to be upset over Slytherin's win, Louis can see the pride in his eyes. He also looks even more fucked out than he did when Louis left him in the Room of Requirement. His pupils are still blown, and it looks like he has chewed his red lips to the point of bleeding. His hair is messy and wind swept, the dark curls surrounding his head like a lion’s mane. Fitting really if Louis cared to think about all of that symbolic shit. Louis knows that the vibrating plug has been torturing him since the match started two hours ago, the thought making his own dick hard during random moments of it, which isn’t good considering they needed to win the match. He pulled it out, well not literally. He has never pulled out with Harry.
He uses his free hand to sign to Harry, telling him to meet him in their spot in five minutes. They developed the sign language last year when they wanted to communicate in the Great Hall during meals without everyone knowing. It doesn’t seem like anyone has caught on, even though Zayn has sent him a few confused looks from his spot at the Ravenclaw table. Thankfully no one in his house has had the balls to even so much as question him for always sneaking out of their common room late into the night. He waves to his parents as he descends, shaking hands with the captain of the Hufflepuff team as is customary. He spots his mum and dad coming right at him, so he quickly walks off the pitch towards the underside of the wooden bleachers where he waits patiently for Harry.
A few minutes later, he is being pressed against the wall by a very desperate Harry who has attacked his lips and is whining into his mouth. Louis flips them easily, so he that Harry’s back is now slammed against the wall as Louis’ moth on his neck, sucking more marks into his alabaster skin. Harry grips Louis’ hair hard, his long fingers fisting the strands forcing Louis to moan into his neck. Louis’ head is spinning from going from soft to hard in .53 seconds, but he isn’t complaining. Harry does that to him. Harry will always do that to him, and he would never ever have it any other way. They have to hurry though, or Louis’ team and his parents will get suspicious.
“Need you, Daddy. Please,” Harry whimpers, his voice high with his arousal. Louis doesn't know how Harry does it. Louis couldn’t imagine being edged for hours on end, but Harry gets off on it. He loves it, and Louis can’t stop the pride that fills his chest every time they do something new. Everytime Harry takes another paddling or has nipple clamps on all four of his nipples during a scene amazes Louis every damn time. It is so hard not praise him sometimes, but Harry likes it when Louis is mean to him. He gets off on it, but sometimes Louis can’t stop himself. He has to praise him because Harry is such a good boy.
“Okay baby. Do you still have the plug in?” Louis asks even though he knows the answer. Harry does. He wouldn’t look so fucked out and desperate if he didn’t, but Louis still asks because he wants to gauge how far gone Harry is. Harry nods, eyes dark with need. “I need you to use your words, baby.” Harry closes his glassy eyes, probably trying to collect his thoughts before he blinks them open slowly.
“Yes, Daddy,” he breaths, the words going straight to Louis’ already impossibly hard dick. Louis slams him against a large beam and swallows the moan that is released from Harry’s sinful lips with his own. He makes quick work of removing Harry’s trousers, pushing them down to his ankles, allowing his hard length to spring free. He’s so hard, it looks painful, and Louis couldn’t stop the words of praise tumbling from his lips even if he tried.
“Good boy. So fucking good for me. My beautiful Gryffindor Princess. Wanna get off?” Louis asks, dropping to his knees in front of his boyfriend, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Harry releases a deep groan, making Louis’ dick twitch and his heart flutter.
“Yes. Need it. Fuck. Please. Daddy,” Harry rambles, already to the point that he can’t form coherent sentences. He probably won’t last long, and Louis doesn't think he will either. He quickly pulls off his gloves, laying them down beside him and undoes his own Quidditch trousers. He probably has them undone just as much as done up given how often he fucks Harry wearing them. He doesn’t give Harry any warning as he wraps his lips around Harry’s length and swallows him whole. He wastes no time establishing a steady rhythm, stroking his own erection to the same timing.
Thank Merlin for the noise of the crowd around them because the sounds Harry is making are downright obscene. Louis would conjure a gag if he wasn’t enjoying them so much. The fact that they could get caught by anyone around them sends a thrill down his spine coming to a pool behind his navel, feeling the familiar pull of his orgasm quickly approaching. He reaches around Harry’s ridiculously long legs, pressing into the base of the plug.
“Shit. Fuck. Daddy. God,” Harry moans each word, and Louis thinks he may combust at any moment as Harry rest his fingers in Louis’ hair. Louis carefully pulls out the plug, quickly putting it into the pocket of his robes as he continues to suck Harry’s magic out through his cock. Once the scarlet plug is tucked deep into his pocket, he replaces it with three of his fingers. Harry is still wet from the lube and Louis’ own come, hot and tight around him.
He can almost feel the arousal coming off Harry in waves, like magic. On occasion, he fucking glows with it. It only happens during really intense scenes when Harry is extremely turned on. Louis has never really brought it up, but it makes his skin prickle and brings his orgasm ever closer. When his parents say that muggleborns’ magic isn’t as strong as purebloods’ he wants to present Harry fucking Styles to them during moments like this to really show them what a muggleborn can do. Harry is probably more powerful than him and Zayn combined, both being purebloods. His intelligence is what attracted Louis to him in the first place, never backing down from Louis during an argument and always having a witty reply. His remarks were always a different kind of wit than Louis’ own, the kind that you have to think about before you realise you should be insulted.
“Please. Can I…” Harry’s mouth is left hanging open, the sentence trailing off on a choke when Louis pressed firmly against Harry’s swollen prostate. Louis nods his head once, Harry filling his mouth with his release just seconds later. Louis moans around it, tipping over the edge of his second orgasm in a matter of hours, feeling Harry’s whole body tense around his fingers. Louis strokes himself through his own orgasm as he swallows around Harry twice to get it all. He pulls off, resting his head against Harry’s still clothed stomach as he comes down from his high, both boys panting. That was more of a workout than the entirety of the Quidditch match.
“Baby, are you with me?” Louis asks, getting up from his knees, running his fingers though Harry’s sweaty curls. Louis continues to whisper words of praise to Harry, petting any sliver of skin he can find until Harry blinks his emerald eyes open, a dimpled grin forming on his fucked out face making Louis want to fucking swoon. He won't. Slytherins don’t swoon, but if there were ever a reason to, it is this boy in his arms. His perfect boy. “There you are.”
“I’m here,” Harry responds, finally, his voice deep and gravely from disuse. Louis quickly conjures a goblet of water, helping Harry drink small sips until he has had his fill. He does up their trousers, does a quick Scourgify spell with his wand, and peppers kisses all over Harry face and neck, nuzzling into the area where his sharp jaw meets his ear. It’s Louis’ favourite spot. Well, Louis has about a million and three favourite spots on Harry’s body, but this one is special. This one usually has a mark made by him that Harry won’t glamour, even though his long curls cover it most of the time. Louis may or may not be somewhat possessive, but it comes with the territory of not being able to be publicly open with Harry.
“Are you okay, baby?” Louis asks after another few minutes, not giving Harry much of a chance to answer as he captures his lips in a sweet kiss, feeling the time tick by almost as if a giant fucking hourglass is hanging over their heads. He hates it, but his family could very well disown him if they knew he was gay and in love with a muggleborn Gryffindor. Despite the Second War, some Pureblood circles are still prejudiced in regards to blood status, far more accepting of a Half-Bloods than a Muggleborns. Louis can’t imagine never being able to see his sisters again, Lottie just being in her first year of Hogwarts this year. He has so much to teach them, and he can’t do it if he is forbidden from being around them just because of someone he loves. He knows it’s not fair to Harry. He hates keeping their relationship a secret as much as Harry does, he just isn’t ready for anyone to know.
“What are you doing?” Asks a voice with a strong Irish accent, prompting both Harry and Louis to jump, their lips pulling a part with a wet pop, and Louis’ heart is fluttering madly like the Golden Snitch he just caught. He understands the sentiment because they have just been caught. Fuck.