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i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck

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“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

― Dr. Seuss 





Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.


Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson since before he even knew his own gender, when there was still a chance that he would turn out as an alpha and he would have to pack all thoughts of loving another alpha away.


Harry has loved Louis Tomlinson since he was thirteen and had come home to find Louis and Gemma digging up their front garden for soil samples for a geography project, since Louis had said that his hair was ‘cool’ and that his dimples were adorable. Louis was sixteen and Harry dreamt about him nearly every night that week.


Louis had been new to the area, Yorkshire accent stiff on his tongue and skin golden in a way that made Harry think he must have spent his entire summer topless. The thought was enough to make his cheeks hot.


Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson the more he saw him, the closer he and Gemma got until they were the tightest-knit of friends and living out each other’s back pockets, and Harry was seeing Louis every other day.


Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.


The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality.


And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.




Underneath Harry’s bed he has got: four mixtapes dedicated to Louis, half a bottle of lube leftover from his last disaster of a boyfriend, six tatty Mills & Boons he’d stolen from Gemma and read cover to cover, multiple times, one gay porno Niall had gotten from god knows where and presented to him like he deserved a medal, and seven diaries he will fight to protect to his grave.


There is of course more rubbish probably pushed until his bed, but if Harry were asked what he hides under his bed, that would be all he could remember.


What Harry finds the funniest is that everything he hides under his bed is linked to Louis somehow. Mixtapes documenting the travel from I-think-I-love-you to I-know-I-love-you to you-broke-my-fucking-heart-and-you-don’t-even-know, lube from a relationship that ended when Harry called Matthew Louis while he had two fingers in his arse and they were about to lose their virginity to each other, six tatty Mills & Boons that he reread after meeting Louis, imagining himself as the omega and Louis as the alpha in each story, one gay porno that made Harry think maybe he would quite like to be spanked until he was sobbing due to the fact that the actor administering punishment had eyes the same blue as Louis, and seven diaries that Harry cringes at the thought of, but that also make his heart ache when he thinks of the tears he shed over Louis as he documented his years of love.


Harry sits with his knees against his chest, leaning back against his bedframe as he pages through journal number six, the year before Louis left, reading his own messy scrawl and the way love drips out of his words like love drips out the looks that trained actors give in the romantic classics he’d always looked up to, before he’d realised that a look could appear genuine with enough rehearsal.


He thinks maybe he should stop listening to Beyoncé's 4 album so he’ll stop being so emotional.


He’s meant to go to Gemma’s in two days, and of course Gemma and Louis live together, because it makes logical sense. It just hadn’t occurred to Harry until a week before he was meant to go that he would be spending half his summer with Louis Tomlinson. After a year of planning what he’s going to do when finally sees his heartbreaker again, he still had no idea and he feels like a nervous wreck.


He runs his fingers through his hair, before he stuffs the diary back into its shoebox, closing it and shoving the box back underneath his bed.


Harry decides the best thing for him to do is have a nice long bath to relax.


He runs the water warm, drizzling in a stream of bubble bath before he gets undressed. He puts on Prince’s Parade album, climbing into the warm water and feeling like he belongs in Pretty Women. Closing his eyes, he dips low in the water so that the bubbles tickle his shoulders, as he thinks about how much easier life would be if he had an alpha like Richard Gere looking after him.


Harry likes baths, has always found that baths can suspend his reality and his problems and allow him some time of peace. He’s just getting into his state of utter relaxation when his phone starts to ring, rudely cutting Prince off, and Harry’s chin quilts in disappointment as he opens his eyes, leaning over the edge of the bath to wipe his hands off on his towel before he can pick up his phone and answer.


‘What is it, Niall?’ he sighs, leaning as low as he can in the bath before his phone will be in danger.


‘Come over.' Is all Niall offers in reply. Harry frowns, because rude.


Harry stretches his legs out, pointing his toes as they come in contact with the other end of the bath. ‘I’m in the bath, Niall. The bath,’ Harry grumbles, knowing full well that Niall knows full well what that means. It means Harry should not be disturbed.


There’s a rustling on the other end before Niall’s back. ‘I’ve thought of a solution to your Louis dilemma, now come over so you can kiss me in gratitude properly.’


Harry near whines. ‘Niall,’ he pouts. He’s comfy in the bath, and the thought of leaving makes him feel sad.


‘Do you want to spend your summer pining over an arsehole who broke your heart, or do you want to finally get him?’ Niall asks, and Harry sits up slightly, because Niall actually sounds serious, so he must have thought of a good plan.


‘Alright, mum, I’ll be over in a bit.’


Niall mutters something that sounds like good before Harry puts down, unpausing Prince so he can enjoy a final ten minutes of his bath.




Harry drags himself to Niall’s just under half an hour later, hair towel dried and skin still soft. Niall takes one look at him before he declares, ‘You look like shit.’


‘Heeey,’ Harry whines, before stepping inside and heading upstairs to Niall’s room with Niall following after him.


On Niall’s bed, is a pair of jeans. Harry frowns as Niall walks around him and sits down in his desk chair.


‘Is this your plan? Black jeans?’ Harry asks, brow furrowed.


Niall scoffs. ‘You have a great pair of legs Harry, not that you’d ever be able to tell,’ he trails off, eyeing Harry’s jogging bottoms. Harry folds his arms over his chest defensively.


‘So you want me to wear tight jeans so that Louis can see my legs?’


‘No. I mean, kinda.’ Niall pathetically elaborates, and Harry goes to sit down on his bed, crossing his legs and pulling the jeans into his lap.


He examines the label. ‘Well, first off, they are about two sizes too small for me,’


Niall shakes his head like Harry’s the ridiculous one. ‘They’re my brother’s, and don’t worry, they’ll stretch.’


Harry nods. ‘So, from what I gather,’ he starts off slowly, ‘the plan is for me to walk around Louis in jeans so tight that I won’t be able to bend my legs?’


Niall groans. ‘Alright, if it’s such a bother we can find you different jeans, it’s beside the point-’


‘So the point isn’t for me to wear tiny jeans anymore?’ Harry asks, just to watch how Niall’s face sours like he’s been sucking lemons.


‘Fine, let me know when you actually want my help.’ Niall pouts before he folds his arms over his chest and spins in his desk chair to face his closed laptop.


Harry tries to smother his grin as he climbs off Niall’s bed and steps over to where he is, dropping to his knees beside his chair and leaning to rest his hands on his thigh, resting his chin on his hands and peering up at him from below his eyelashes.


‘Pretty please will you help me, Nialler?’ Harry simpers, blinking his eyes slowly and keeping them wide.


Niall pushes him off, scoffing, and Harry starts to giggle. As soon as Harry starts, Niall joins. He pushes at Harry’s shoulder again before he gets up and goes to his bed, patting the mattress beside him as he scoots back to sit with his back pressed against the wall.


Harry goes to join him, knees tucked up to his chest as he leans against Niall’s side.


‘So, what is this ingenious plan then?’


‘You know how Louis said his main problem was that, like, you were too inexperienced and young?’ Harry nods, lips pulling down at the memory. ‘Well, what if we showed him you weren’t?’


‘Do you mean to tell me that I left my bath for you to tell me I should dress different to make Louis like me?’ Harry frowns.


‘Well, yes, I guess.’ Niall replies, his own eyebrows drawn.


‘What’s wrong with how I dress now?’ Harry asks, pout deepening.


‘Nothing, it’s just-’


‘That Louis would only ever hook up with me if I were hot.’ Harry finishes for him, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning his chin atop them.


‘Harry, it’s not that,’ Niall tries, stretching his arms around his shoulders into his side, ‘you’re absolutely beautiful, it’s just that you know what alphas can be like. They see with their dicks, not their hearts.’


Harry giggles at that, but nods. ‘It’s just that, I don’t want him to only like me because of what I look like, you know?’


Niall pokes his shoulder, hard enough that Harry’s mouth pops open, frowning affrontedly as he rubs the spot. ‘Why do you even care, actually, Mister I-just-want-to-kiss-him-already-so-that-it’s-out-of-my-system?’


Harry flushes. ‘People change, Niall.’


‘And what if Louis hasn’t?’ Niall asks then, tone dipping slightly serious.


‘I don’t know.’ Harry sighs, shaking his head and eyeing where the jeans have slipped off the mattress.




Harry has less than a day before he goes to Gemma’s and lots of clothing borrowed from Niall and even Liam. Niall seems to think that wearing Liam’s clothing is a good idea, because Louis might smell the alpha on him.


After an hour of plan designing with Niall, they’d moved to Liam’s for an hour of having Liam think they were insane. Niall, mostly, but Liam did a fair amount of staring at Harry like he’d grown a second head.


Despite how Niall had originally wanted the plan to be so that Harry could finally hook-up with his Pre-teen Wet Dream and put it behind him, Liam was a little more perceptive and pulled Harry into his side, saying that he thinks the plan is more about one final hurrah to try and steal Louis’ heart before he’d finally try and move on with his life.


Harry wishes sometimes that he’d just fallen in love with Liam, or maybe even Niall, despite his beta status, because Liam is one of the best people he’s met and Harry life would be so much simpler if he just bonded him, rather than chasing after someone who will forever see him as an annoying little brother.


Now, he has two pairs of jeans from Liam and Niall that make him feel awfully uncomfortable with his crotch situation, multiple plain t-shirts that are stretched out enough that they hang off of him, and Liam’s special leather jacket his dad had bought him.


Niall’s fashion advice dictates he can still wear his blazers, which Harry was at least glad for after having his whole wardrobe and look dissed, but he’ll take what he can.


There’s also the fact that Niall’s told him to cancel his hairdresser appointment and that he should keep his hair as it is, long and curling around his ears. Harry begrudgingly agreed to do so.


He pulls on a pair of jeans, jumping around to button them up before he fixes his jumper, running his fingers through his fringe as he looks in the mirror.


He looks alright, he guesses. Niall’s right in a sense, and Harry quite likes his legs, and his arse isn’t so bad either. Not big, but, there. Kind of. A good handful, he thinks.


The jeans are uncomfortable, pinching and squeezing the puppy fat lining his hips. His knees can bend at least, and he can admit that he does look good. One point to Niall then.


When he goes downstairs, Robin looks away from the television and at him, tilting his head at Harry’s jeans. Anne looks up too, raising her eyebrows.


‘New look?’ she asks, and Harry shrugs, waltzing into the kitchen and picking a banana from the fruit basket.


When he comes out, he goes to sit between his parents on the couch, stretching his legs out and pointing his toes.


‘Looks good, pet.’ Anne comments, and Harry chews on a mouthful of banana before swallowing.


‘They’re Liam’s. Bit small though.’


Anne pats his thigh. ‘We should get you a pair. They suit you. You have the legs of your father,’


Harry leans into her side, bringing his feet up onto the couch and nudging his toes against Robin’s thigh as he nudges Anne’s hand so that she’ll start playing with his hair.


'You done packing?' Robin asks, pulling his feet into his lap.


'Almost,' Harry replies, mouth full.


'Get moving, you man, you only have an hour or two before you have to leave.' Anne scolds, and Harry grins impishly before he takes another bite. 'You excited?'


Harry swallows. ‘Nervous,’ he breathes out, and Anne reaches over to pat his tummy as comfort.




The train ride passes in a blur of moving landscape, Harry watching with his chin in his hand as he tries to keep his suitcase under control, blaring The 1975 from his earphones to mute the noise around him and calm him.


His heart’s beating in his throat when his train stops at his station and he feels like he may faint as he tries to wheel his bag after him as he tries to get off, smiling bashfully when a middle-aged man helps him, lifting his bag onto the terminal and smiling when he offers it back up to him.


Harry wheels his suitcase behind himself for the short trip to the little flat complex, before he stops at the gate, pressing the button beside the label of Styles+Tomlinson+Malik and waiting to be buzzed up.


He’s greeted with a hug from Gemma, before she takes his suitcase from him and herds him inside.


‘You’ll be sleeping on the couch.’ She tells him, setting his bag down. There’s someone who looks the likes of Adonis sitting on the couch, with eyes red enough that Harry’s sure he’s been doing something he probably wasn’t meant to.


His hair’s a mess, jaw sharp and lips full and his first thought is that Gemma’s got a more interesting type than he’d expected, but when Gemma nudges him to sit down next to the creature of beauty, he can smell that he’s pure alpha, and it sparks two thoughts in his mind; one, that Gemma must be trying to start her own alpha squad or something with all the alpha company she keeps, and two, that his scent is phenomenal and Harry breathes in deeply to try and catch more of it.


‘This is Zayn. He doesn’t have a job and spends all his time getting high or doing art,’ Gemma introduces, and Zayn extends a hand for him to shake. Harry feels breathless from him, kind of, his scent rich and spicy and his hands strong and Harry’s heart flutters.


Until Louis walks in, and Harry’s heart does backflips and his mouth runs dry. He smiles tightly, flushing slightly when Louis gives him a once over.


He looks good, hair longer and he has stubble now. He looks nothing like the fresh-faced candy-coated boy Harry’s grown up with in his kitchen, but a sharper, rough-cut man that makes Harry want to bring up the D-A-D-D-Y word.


Just seeing him again plunges Harry back into his pit of confusion and his jeans feel a lot tighter when he focuses on them and Louis looks at him like he doesn’t recognize him and it’s like heartbreak all over.


One year later, and he’s still sore about that fact that Louis rejected him, and then somehow Harry ended up on his knees for him at the graduation party he’d begged Gemma to let him go to, and the next day he was gone, sending Harry into a dark weekend of chocolate ice cream and Moulin Rouge.


He doesn’t know what he was expecting by seeing him again, maybe an apology or maybe for Louis to give him that small smile, but he definitely wasn’t expecting Louis to just blink in recognition before giving him a lazy smile and half wave.


Gemma sits down next to him, and Harry feels strangely disappointed and he feels like an idiot, like he should have stayed home and spent his summer practising his swimming, working on his tan, and rereading Harry Potter.


‘So, what do you want to do on your first night here?’ Gemma asks him, and Harry tries to smile even though his mood has just been sufficiently dragged down. ‘Louis’ mate owns this great club, wanna go there?’


Harry shrugs, putting on a brave face when he smiles up at Gemma. ‘Why not?’


Harry decides that maybe Louis is just as much as a dick that he was a year ago when he left without saying goodbye, and that even though his seduction plan is dampened, his summer doesn’t have to be.




Harry’s busy washing his hands when Louis comes in. He looks up at the mirror, watching Louis as he crosses to the urinals. His mind feels hazy from the drinks Gemma’s supplied him with, his head still throbbing with the beat of the loud music of the club. He wipes his hands off on his shirt and makes to leave, when Louis speaks.


‘You’re not still bitter are you?’ he says, and Harry spins back to look at the back of him, jeans shucked down slightly and one hand against the wall. His speech sounds slightly slurred, even to Harry’s less than sober ears.


‘No.’ Harry snips back, folding his arms over his chest. Louis laughs softly in his throat and shakes his head. Harry frowns. ‘Besides, I’m hardly even a virgin anymore, anyway.’


Louis zips up his jeans, going to the basin where Harry just was and meeting his eyes in the mirror as he washes his hands. Harry levels his gaze.


‘Who’s been fucking you, then?’


Harry leans back against the wall beside the door, jutting his hips forward. ‘That’s none of your business.’


Louis switches off the tap, wiping his hands off on his thighs, before he turns around to face Harry properly. Harry tries to slow his breathing as he steps closer. He lowers his gaze to his boots as Louis steps into his space, nudging himself between his thighs like he belongs, and Harry lets him.


Louis sets one hand on his waist, and it feels like it’s burning his skin even through his top. Louis’ stubble grazes against his cheek as his lips brush against his ear.


‘Harry, who has been fucking you?’


Harry doesn’t answer, eyes slipping shut as Louis’ hand trails down his side, curling around to cup his arse and he squeezes. He should probably specify that he’s just been fingered, not fucked, but he finds that he can’t, likes the way Louis’ scent changes as jealousy seeps in. Harry knows he’s wet.


There’s a loud bark of laughter outside the door and Louis draws back, Harry opening his eyes to look at the door too before he’s being pulled into one of the stalls.


The door opens just after Louis’ closed the stall door. Louis holds one finger up to his lips before he spins Harry and presses him against the door, Harry’s arms coming up to stop himself from smacking against it.


Louis comes up behind him, lips brushing against his ear as his hips press against his arse. ‘Who’s been fucking you, Harry?’


Harry feels so wet as Louis starts to grind his hips against him, the bulge of his cock hot through layers of denim. Harry finds himself pressing his hips back, seeking out the feeling of Louis’ cock. Louis indulges him, hands curling around his hips and gripping him tight as he rocks against his arse.


Harry’s hardly listening to somebody else stumble about the bathroom, too focused on the feel of Louis around him, breathing out against the side of his neck as he grinds slowly against Harry, the feeling enough to make Harry’s pants wet with his arousal.


Harry is vaguely aware of the sound of the bathroom door slamming again before Louis presses his nose against the skin just behind his ear, breathing in deeply before he slides his one hand up to grip at Harry’s waist, hard enough that Harry’s sure he’s going to bruise.


‘You smell so good,’ Louis groans, low, just for him, and Harry wants to reply but all that comes out is a gasp as Louis bucks forward, pulling Harry’s arse back to meet his thrust.


Louis mouths down his neck, and Harry’s eyes squeeze shut as he presses a wet kiss to where his shoulder meets his throat, right where Harry’s mate will one day mark him. Louis grazes his teeth over the spot and Harry feels like bliss as Louis’ hand goes to the front of his jeans, cupping loosely around the bulge of his cock as he grinds against his arse, slow and hard.


‘This is how I’d fuck you,’ he breathes against Harry’s neck, his hand squeezing Harry’s cock as he fucks his hips forward and Harry thinks about pushing his jeans down, Louis sinking into him and fucking him hard and dirty, inside a gritty bathroom stall.


Harry comes when Louis bites down softly against his neck.




 Louis doesn’t acknowledge it. To be fair, Harry doesn’t either, but.


He thinks it should be common courtesy to at least acknowledge it when you near hook-up with someone in a bathroom stall, not to just pretend it never happened.


And of course Louis thinks he’s not a virgin, even though all Harry had meant is that he’s had fingers other than his own inside himself.


Maybe Harry was being overly hopeful in thinking that maybe last night would have changed something between them, but. Apparently not.




Zayn smells like something sweet and something awful, and Harry’s nose crinkles up as he smells him when he sits down next to him.


‘What is that?’ Harry asks, nose almost upturned.


Gemma frowns at him in disbelief, while Louis snorts. ‘Jesus hell, Gem, you might want to keep this little rebel on a leash.’ He jokes, before he leans back on the couch and smirks at the television.


Harry’s forehead creases between his eyebrows. ‘What?’ he pouts, dragging the vowel out and refusing to acknowledge the whiny edge to it.


‘Weed, Harry,’ Gemma says, like she thinks Harry’s taking the piss, or something. ‘It’s weed.’


Harry feels his cheeks rush with red and he mumbles a quiet, ‘Oh,’ before he leans back and tangles his fingers together, keeping his eyes trained to his lap. There goes all chances of his sister and her friends ever thinking of him as more than the annoying tag-along sibling.


Zayn nudges him, and Harry looks up shyly as Zayn smiles down at him, looking relaxed and happy.


‘You wanna try?’ he offers, and before Harry can think it through, he nods.


Gemma comes with, to watch over him, leaving Louis alone, as Zayn guides him into his bedroom.


Zayn hands Harry half a joint, Gemma nudging him so he places it between his lips before Zayn flicks his lighter, lighting the end.


‘Breathe it in.’ Zayn tells him, eyes focussed despite the slight redness, and Harry does as he’s told.


He coughs, and Gemma pats his back before taking the joint from him and taking a hit herself.


‘I have a bong if you’d prefer?’ Zayn offers, and Harry looks to Gemma, not really sure how to answer.


‘Yeah, why not,’ she says, ruffling Harry’s hair again before kissing his cheek.




Louis works as a barman at a pub down the road, but Harry learns that that doesn’t stop him from going out with Gemma and Zayn every other night.


Harry’s worried that his hangovers might become permanent.




Despite the fact that Louis’ apparently a huge dick, Harry still loves him. And it feels like drowning.




Harry wonders if it’s a legal adult thing or just a Gemma, Louis, and Zayn thing to go out every other night, but if it’s the norm then he isn’t sure how he’s going to handle hitting eighteen when after a week of staying with Gemma he already feels like he’s been conquered by their lifestyle and he feels like he deserves a weekend of rest, bubble bath and Jane Austen marathon.


Zayn pulls him along to the bar, and Harry notes that he’s caught the attention of at least three alphas along the way there. He stands back while Zayn orders them drinks, and he supposes that any other boy his age would be thrilled at all the alcohol he’s getting but after three hangovers from hell in one week, he thinks he never wants to hear the words “apple sours” again in his life.


He’s suffered a good deal of ribbing from the three alphas due to his apparent favouring for vodka cranberries, but he can’t say he minds much when he gets back to their booth and he watches as they all wince through their shots of double vodkas while he sips through his straw.


Louis' watching him again, with a look that Harry has resigned himself to accepting he’ll only ever receive when they’re out and Louis’ had something to drink to wash away the reminder that Harry is “too young”. He takes another moody sip of his drink.


It’s after his third vodka cranberry that he’s bullied onto the dance floor, but by then the lightweight in him is too fuzzy around the edges to turn down an opportunity to dispel the energy buzzing under his skin that comes from how every time he looks at Louis, Louis’ already looking back at him.


Zayn looks a little lost and a lot confused when Louis and Gemma link hands and flit off again, leaving him and Zayn in a mass of moving bodies with little choice but to join the mess of dancing.


Harry feels like he needs a bit more to properly let himself loose, swinging his hips and closing his eyes like he’s learnt from watching those around him and trying his hardest to let go, but he still feels somewhat stiff and like he’s not tipsy enough to be dancing in a way that’s meant to arouse rather than evoke laughter.


Zayn helps in that, pulling Harry in close to tell him he’s going to get them another drink, and Harry’s tried so hard to remove himself and focus on losing himself that he’d almost forgot Zayn was there until he’s asking him if he wants anything.


Zayn's back like lightning, and as Harry sips his fourth drink, he wonders why Zayn hasn’t fucked off yet, if he’s really lonely enough to stay with an obviously inexperienced seventeen year old or if he actually prefers the slow, eyes-closed swaying he’s doing beside Harry.


Harry also realises that Gemma and Louis haven’t reappeared yet, which isn’t unordinary, but he’s sure he’s been dancing a while…


He stills slightly, still swaying his hips absently as he looks around for either of the two.


Gemma’s new purple hair is easy to spot, some way away from him near the couches close to the toilets with her hands in someone’s hair as she appears to be kissing their neck. He knows he should go back to enjoying himself, because if Gemma’s safe then Louis’ safe, but he carries on looking for him, body stilling completely as he squints to search through the crowd.


‘Looking for someone?’ Zayn asks, and Harry was so absorbed he hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten but now that he’s paying attention, he can practically feel Zayn’s scent wrap around him as he whips to face him.


‘No.’ Harry blurts, and he watches a smile curl of Zayn’s lips, and Harry thinks about Alice in Wonderland, can’t decide if Zayn’s knowing smile makes him the Cheshire Cat or if he’s the Caterpillar.


Zayn leans closer to him, lifting his arm to point over Harry’s shoulder. ‘He’s over there.’


Harry turns to look where he’s pointing, squinting before he identifies Louis, leaning against the wall and leaning into someone else, grin on his lips like makes him look like he’s hunting for prey rather than flirting. As if he can feel Harry’s gaze, he looks up, looking right at Harry, the smirk staying put on his lips.


Harry snaps back around as if he were never looking and all of a sudden his comfortable buzz feels non-existent and he feels like his cheeks are on fire and he wants to go home to his parents and sit between them on the couch and have Anne play with his hair while they watch Australian Masterchef.


‘He’s still looking, you know,’ Zayn says, low enough that it should get lost in the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t.


Harry resists the temptation to turn around and check himself, but instead he takes a deep breath and starts to sway his hips again, trying to dance again to clear his mind.


He near jumps out his skin when there’s a hand on his hip and his eyes snap open to look at Zayn, mouth parting slightly in shock.


‘You want me to help make him jealous?’ Zayn asks, and it’s so much different from what Harry was expecting, and he finds himself smiling, nodding slightly.


‘Please.’ He answers.


That’s all Zayn needs before he’s stepping impossibly closer, fitting against Harry like he knows his body. He follows the beat of the music, one hand gripping onto Harry’s waist while the other holds onto his hip and guides him into a slow sway.


Harry’s body betrays him, his mind hung up on Louis but his body responding to Zayn pressed up against him, cock stirring as Zayn grinds against him, Harry coming to grip at his biceps.


Zayn’s stubble drags against the sensitive skin of his neck and the omega in him purrs in delight, his eyes slipping closed at how overwhelmed his senses feel.


Zayn’s lips ghost against his ear as he breathes, ‘He can’t take his eyes off you.’


Harry makes a disbelieving noise in his throat, and like that Zayn’s spinning him, stronger than he looks. He pulls Harry back against his chest, pressing his mouth against his neck again as Harry’s eyes flick to where Louis is.


Louis’ watching them, watching him, eyes sharp as he ignores the person in front of him. Harry’s heart feels like it’s beating too fast as Zayn guides his arm up to rest on the back of his head while he runs his lips over the exposed skin of his shoulder. Harry thinks it’s mad, how a month ago he felt like he was never going to find an alpha after the growth spurt that made him more handsome than cute, and now he’s got one alpha’s dick to his arse and another alpha staring at him like he’s edible.


Zayn’s teeth graze over his shoulder and Harry can’t help it when his eyelashes flutter and his eyes close, mouth parting slightly at the feeling. By the time he’s composed himself enough to open his eyes, he sees Louis leaning into the person with him, and he frowns as he watches Louis pull the decidedly pretty boy after him as he pushes through the crowd.


Harry watches as he pulls the boy into the bathroom without giving him another glance, and he feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment for making a spectacle of himself when Louis clearly doesn’t care.


Zayn lets go of him, and Harry thinks he must actually be more drunk than he thought because he can’t see any other reason why he’d feel near tears after a repeated rejection he should be used to and the loss of contact from an alpha that his body annoyingly craves.


He downs the rest of his drink in one go, earning an eyebrow raise from Zayn.


‘I’ll get you another one,’ Zayn offers with a kind smile, not like his earlier one.


Harry nods and smiles back, deciding he’s not going to let Louis Tomlinson ruin another summer.




Harry has an awful hangover when he wakes up, wincing and rolling over to press his face into the couch as he groans.


Louis’ already there when he stumbles into the kitchen, head in his hands and half a mug of coffee in front of him. Harry really worries about the coffee intake of the three alphas combined.


Louis looks up when he hears him, and Harry pauses until Louis groans and looks back at the table. Harry frowns, deciding to ignore him as he goes to make himself breakfast.


He’s spreading apricot jam over his toast when Gemma comes in, hair a mess and eyes puffy with sleep. She pats Louis’ shoulder, who’s moved into a position of just hovering over his coffee cup.


‘I think the naked omega in your bed is looking for you,’ she badgers, and Louis sighs, before downing the rest of his coffee and setting his mug into the basin. Harry avoids eye contact and decides that he’s not going to be the child in this.


Harry pretends not to hear the moans coming from Louis’ room, while Gemma just makes the playlist blaring from her Mac louder.




Harry’s never been greatly perceptive, and he knows he often misses the obvious, but the tension that radiates between him and Louis within a few days gets under his skin enough that it stops him from sleeping comfortably, and makes him wish that he wasn’t a dumb omega so that he wouldn’t be so bloody sensitive to the dumb feelings of dumb alphas.


None of the alphas Harry’s ever met have been near as sensitive as any of the betas and omegas he knows, and most alphas seem to be born with an inbred sense of superiority, which Harry does understand, but it annoys him to no end, and the fact that Louis thinks that he can just brush him off and treat him as though he’s only there half the time doesn’t sit comfortably with him, and he’s knows that as an omega he shouldn’t ever fight against an alpha, but when it comes to Louis knocking him out the way to get to the fridge, Harry snaps, turning around to face him and frowning.


‘What is your problem with me?’ he asks, folding his arms over his chest and instantly feeling the waves of Louis’ defence mechanisms rumble around him.


‘I beg your pardon?’ Louis asks him, stepping into his space.


Harry stands his ground, jutting his chin out and trying to kick away the urge to stop fighting and back off as he tries to form his thoughts into sentences, wanting to ask Louis why one second he’s all over him and the next he won’t look at him.


Louis narrows his eyes, and Harry opens his mouth to ask him what he could have possibly done since Louis was near fucking him in a bathroom stall to now having Louis flat out ignore him, when he’s being pressed up against the fridge and Louis’ mouth is against his.


Louis kisses him hard, his hands coming to rest with one on his hip and the other around his wrist, pinning it to the fridge behind him, light enough that he could push him off if he wanted, but hard enough that his inner omega purrs in delight.


Louis kisses with a quick tongue and teeth that are sharp when his bites into his lower lip, kissing him hot enough that Harry feels fire burning underneath his skin as he grips onto Louis’ t-shirt, balling the fabric up in his fist.


Louis presses between his legs, sucking his tongue into his mouth while a moan startles Harry as it rumbles from his chest. He can feel the smug in Louis’ kiss as it travels from his mouth to his neck, his lips light against the sensitive column of his throat as his stubble scratches at the tender skin.


Harry whimpers, fingers clenching in Louis’ hold as his fingers tighten around his wrist and his other hand rubs down his side, resting on the nip of his waist and squeezing so that Harry huffs.


‘You’re so gorgeous,’ Louis breathes against his neck, and Harry squeaks, toes curling as he grazes his teeth over the skin.


Louis draws away in an instant, muttering a quiet, ‘Fuck.’ before he’s gone, leaving Harry panting and half-hard in the kitchen.




Harry is used to being called naive, has spent his life being told that reality is nothing like the fairy tales he dreams of, and he’s used to it, being told that happy endings belong in books and Nicholas Sparks adaptations.


So maybe it’s just his dewy-eyed naivety that makes him think that after the surprise-attack of Louis’ Kitchen Kiss, Louis should maybe start treating him different, and not like he’s completely transformed into a breathing glass sculpture.


Harry wants to give up and accept that Louis’ decided to only recognize his presence when he’s horny and looking for quick relief, but he finds that he just can’t, and he almost wants to end his visit early and just escape back home.


It’s a cruel eye-opener to Harry, because while books always start with pining and unrequited love, they always end happily with returned feelings and honeymoons in Paris.


You never see what comes after The End in books, just have to assume it’s love-filled years and the same happiness built up throughout the length of the story that stays until a peaceful death by old-age.


If Harry’s life were a romance novel, Louis’ Kitchen Kiss would have been where Louis professed his love and told him he was just being awful to him because he couldn’t have him, and after the kiss would have been more kisses and hand-holding, before Harry’s The End would come with them dating and Louis proposing in four or five years’ time.


But Harry’s life isn’t a romance novel, and after Louis’ Kitchen Kiss comes the same treatment as before, and an awkward encounter with a half-dressed omega who could only be a year or two older than him using his toothbrush, love bites down his chest as he smiles awkwardly at Harry where he stands in the bathroom doorway.


Harry feels frustrated with him, because he’s somewhat known Louis since before he was even an omega, when he was still young enough that Louis treated him like a child and offered him a lollipop from his school blazer pocket, and the Louis he’s been in love with since he was twelve was never so cruel as to just brush him off so easily.




Harry spends the time that Gemma’s at work with Zayn in his room, trying to learn to breathe through the cloying sickly smell while also trying to learn how not to cough after a hit, finding that getting high with Zayn and falling asleep on his bed is a lot more enjoyable than playing Candy Crush in the lounge and trying to stay quiet.


Gemma finds it hilarious, his little daytime bonding sessions with Zayn that end with him snoring softly on Zayn’s bed while Zayn avoids doing his summer coursework and spends his time doodling Harry and doodling on Harry's face.


It’s after his third hit from Zayn’s bong, strawberry flavoured, that he gets the guts to bring up his Louis problem.


Zayn laughs at him mostly, says that Louis’ not the type to be a total dick to someone for no reason. Harry frowns, and leaves out the parts about both near hook-ups, spending the rest of his high star-fished on Zayn’s floor and feeling sorry for himself.




Harry falls asleep telling himself that in the morning, he’s going to confront Louis. Rationally.


He runs over what he wants to say, ready to apologize for whatever he’s done and hoping for some sort of apology in return. He tells himself he’s going to talk to Louis as soon as he can, because he’s not going to spend his holiday miserable because Louis decided to take his young adult angst out on him.


His opportunity comes when Zayn and Gemma stretch out on the balcony with a bottle of tanning oil and sunscreen, spread out to try and catch colour with Gemma’s laptop plugged in beside the sliding door so that they can listen to her music softly.


Harry knocks on Louis’ door, waiting for an unintelligible sound of approval before stepping inside.


Louis frowns at him from where he sits crouched over his desk, pulling out an earphone and raising an eyebrow. Harry’s never been in his room properly, but it smells nice. Kind of makes the omega in him want to get naked and roll around on his carpet.


‘Yes?’ he asks, and Harry shakes himself out of his thoughts.


Harry takes a deep breath before he closes Louis’ door behind himself. Louis pulls out his second earbud and swivels in his chair to face him properly.


‘I wanted to ask you what I’ve done wrong, and if you could please stop ignoring me.’ He blurts, his cheeks instantly colouring with embarrassment, and Louis’ eyebrows shoot up, like he wasn’t expecting it, before he shakes his head.


‘Fuck-,' he says, forehead pinched in confusion, 'Okay. I’m sorry, alright?’ Louis says half-heartedly, and Harry sighs. ‘I’m sorry.’


‘Do you promise that you’ll be nice to me?’ Harry asks, folding his arms over his chest.


Louis rolls his eyes. ‘Yes, okay. I’ll be nice to you. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive.’


Harry frowns. ‘Hey, don’t be mean to me. You used to always be nice, and I don’t want you to treat me like shit just because you think that being an alpha means you can fuck around with me.’


Louis raises his eyebrows, but agrees.




It’s not big difference, but Louis smiles at him, and sometimes when Harry looks at him, he’s already looking back, which kind of makes hope bubble up inside him. But every time they go out, Louis ends up hooking with another omega, and his hope dwindles.




Harry wakes up feeling unbearably hot, skin tacky and cheeks warm and his hair sticking to the back of his neck. His eyes feel hazy and his legs tremble when he pushes himself to sit up.


He feels like he’s got a fever and he takes a deep breath to try and slow down his abnormally speedy heart rate before he shifts and he realises with pure terror how wet he is and he twigs.


He’s having his first heat on his sister’s couch in a flat full of alphas.


He pushes himself to stand, a cold shiver passing down his spine as he looks down at where his cock bulges against his underwear.


He stumbles into the kitchen, catching the tail end of Louis asking, ‘What smells so good?’


‘Gemma,’ Harry all but whimpers, succeeding in getting not only Gemma’s but also Zayn and Louis’ attention.


Gemma frowns. ‘What’s wrong sweetheart, you look like you’re about to faint.’


Harry gulps because he feels like he could and he doesn’t exactly know how to tell a room of alphas he’s just hit his first heat.


But Gemma must understand because her eyes widen and she sets her mug down, shaking her head. ‘Please don’t tell what I think you need to tell me.’


Harry nods, awfully conscious of how his slick has got his pants stuck to his arse, soaked through the fabric.


‘Shit, aren’t you on suppressants yet?’


Harry flushes, humiliation creeping down his back at having to discuss his sex in front of so many people. He shakes his head quickly, feeling his arse clench against his will. ‘No, it’s my, um, my-’


‘Fuck.’ Gemma swears before she pushes back her chair. Harry avoids looking at both Louis and Zayn. ‘Of course you would get your first heat after a week with alphas only, what was I thinking?’ She mutters, grabbing hold of his arm and leading him after her to her bedroom.


She closes the door after them, pushing Harry down onto her bed and Harry pouts in discomfort as his wet underwear presses up against his hole.


Gemma pushes open her window before crossing to her dressing table and switching on her shitty charity shop fan, angling it towards Harry.


‘I’m your sister so you shouldn’t react as strongly to my scent,’ she explains, sitting down next to him while Harry tries to breath slowly to calm himself down. ‘We’ll have to get you home while you’re still early in, before it gets worse.’


Harry gawps. ‘It’s gonna get worse?’ he whimpers, and Gemma smiles reassuringly, reaching forward to pet his hair.


‘Yeah, I’m afraid, that’s why we need to get you home as soon as possible.’


Harry’s pout returns. ‘But-’ he starts, but Gemma cuts him off.


‘Harry, you can’t go through your heat with three alphas, two of whom won’t be able to control themselves the deeper into it you get. And the first few times are always the most intense, sweetheart, so we need to get you home.’


Harry finally nods, clenching his thighs together to try and smother the buzz of arousal beneath his skin.


Gemma phones Anne, trying to explain the situation as Harry tries to calm himself down, guzzling down cold water that Gemma flits out of the room to bring him. Once she’s put down the phone, she drags in his suitcase from the lounge and sets out something for him to wear, Harry whining as she sets out layers.


‘I’m sorry babes, but we need to smother your scent as much as possible.’


Harry’s about to strip down to change when Gemma sets down a pink plastic wrapped square and Harry shakes his head.


‘It’s for your leaking,’ she explains gently as Harry’s chin quilts. ‘I’m sorry, but it works.’


Harry feels humiliated as Gemma leaves the room for him to change and he pulls off his wet underwear, the strong scent of himself making him feel dizzy, before he pulls on a new pair and picks up the pad Gemma gave him. He feels embarrassed and confused and wrongfully aroused and he wants to cry because he’s literally wearing a pad because he’s so wet.


He pulls on his jeans with a pitiful whine, wishing that he wasn’t a bloody omega and that he was back home in bed with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock.


He’s sweating more by the time he’s dressed, hair sticking to his head and clothing sticking to his body and his senses all feel on edge and he just wants to be naked he’s so hot and he feels like he’s going to start crying.


He steps out of Gemma’s room to see her waiting against the wall with a bottle of water and phone in hand, looking a restless mess before she plasters on a smile for him.


She leads him through to the lounge, where Louis’ pacing and Zayn’s sitting on the coffee table. Harry sees how Louis eyes the couch before he notices the wet patch and feels the needs to cry again before both Zayn and Louis turn to them.


Harry can see the strain he’s taking on them; dark eyes, sweaty glows, tense shoulders. Something inside him purrs happily at that.


‘I’m taking Harry home.’ Gemma offers as explanation, leaving Harry as she fetches her handbag from where it’s hanging over the chair facing the sliding door, and Harry keeps his eyes on his feet and tries not to feel like he wants to throw a tantrum because of how overwhelmed he feels.


‘Shouldn’t we come with you?’ Louis asks, and all of the other three people in the room turn to look at him. ‘Because people might fuck with you because, let’s face it, he smells amazing. Wouldn’t it be better if there were three of us?’


Gemma brushes her hair off her face and shakes her head. ‘Sorry Lou, but as much as I love and trust you two, I can’t trust you around an omega going into his first heat. You won’t be able to help yourselves and I don’t want to watch you try and mate my brother on a train.’


Louis looks affronted while Zayn shrugs. Gemma ignores them in favour of slipping on her sunglasses and leading Harry to the door, practically pulling her behind him as she marches to him to the train station.


The train ride is too long and Harry spends it whining as Gemma rubs his back and pets his hair to soothe him as he sweats and feels his skin buzz with the need to be naked and to come and to be filled. Christ.


When they get to their station, Gemma is practically pulling deadweight behind her as Harry fights the urge to crumple and hump against the ground and cry a bit from the overflow of emotion and how fucking horny he is and how much he really wants something shoved inside him.


Gemma bangs on the front door, waiting for Anne or Robin to unlock as she hugs Harry.


‘When you get inside, I want you to run to your room and get undressed, open a window, and do whatever you need, alright. Mum and dad will understand and won’t bother you. Now I love you lots, and if you want to come back and stay with us after, that’s your choice, but if not, I’ll bring your stuff back as soon as I can, alright?’ Harry nods as he listens to the lock in the front door click. ‘I love you lots, and good luck. You’re not meant to hate it, right? So try and enjoy it.’


Harry nods as the front door is pulled open, and he disobeys Gemma slightly when he gives Robin a big hug before he runs upstairs to his bedroom, pulling off his jumper like it burns him and kicking off his shoes and struggling out of his jeans as he crosses to the window and pushed it open. He kicks off his pants, shirt in the process of coming off when he can’t help himself and he wraps his fingers around his cock.


He comes from the first touch, stumbling onto his bed, and he definitely doesn’t feel like crying anymore as his fingers go down to his arse, pressing in easy from all his slick.






Harry comes back six days later, smelling of sex and looking divine. Louis shields himself behind his bowl of warmed-up curry as Zayn welcomes him in and Gemma springs to hug him, pulling him down onto the couch with her.


Harry’s near glowing, obviously fresh out of heat and feeling rejuvenated. Louis wonders how many looks he got on the train over, how many people could smell his sex on him and wanted to sit on his face or pull him onto their cock.


Louis acts like he wants nothing more than to carry on with their Poirot marathon, but he feels like he might be paying closer attention to Harry than the others, watching the way he plays with his fingers and plays with his mouth as he says his first heat was ‘alright’ and ‘not so bad’.


Louis thinks it was probably better than not so bad, judging by how he has the glow of someone in their third trimester.


Harry’s focused on being teased by Gemma, so Louis feels safe to look at him, dragging his eyes over him appreciatively.


Harry’s a waif of a boy, long limbs that Louis thinks are going to get longer and narrow hips and a narrow waist that make him look like he should be presented to the nearest modelling agency. He’s grown since last summer, and Louis thinks if he’d arrived at Gemma’s last year to this Harry, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from fucking him.


Harry’s got a face he could look at for days, wide set eyes and an elegant nose and cheeks like a Botticelli cherub. His mouth is gorgeous, full and a shade of pinkish red and that makes him look like he feasts on raspberries in his spare time, having a mouth that looks like it belongs to some Hollywood vixen. His lips look pillowy soft, and Louis finds it amazing that he knows his lips and his kiss are softer than they look, if it’s even possible. He looks at Harry’s mouth, and he can’t decide if he’d rather kiss it or fuck it.


He’s a clumsy mess of a boy, clearly trying to live the best he can with an unfamiliar growth spurt as he tries to navigate and grow into his sex. He’s made for it, clearly, a waist Louis wants to grip onto and a sweet little arse he wants planted on his face, and he’s clearly doing his best to try and ignore how a body that was once for ruddy football matches in the park is now a body for that as well as a body to be held and fucked.


Louis’ snapped out of it at the mention of his name, head whipping to look at Zayn as he jokes, ‘Yeah, Louis was in a right state. He spent so much time staring at the couch after you left that I was almost certain he was going to pick up the pillow, cut a hole in the middle, and disappear into his bedroom.’


Louis scowls at him. ‘It’s not my fault he smells amazing,’ he says, trying to save his dignity.


He doesn't know what he’s expecting to see when he looks at Harry, but when he does, Harry isn’t cackling like Zayn and Gemma and rather has a faint blush spread over his cheeks. It makes Louis smile, because while Harry is turning into a five-star sex kitten, he’s still a tender hearted romantic.


Harry looks at him then, smiling slightly, before he looks away again.




Louis ventures out of his room late afternoon in search of his power cable for his laptop. He’s expecting Zayn to at least be on the couch because that’s where he always seems to be and Louis’ sure one day is arse is going to merge with the cushion.


But Harry’s alone on the couch, knees drawn up as he types on his phone. He can see Gemma on the balcony, phone to her ear. Zayn’s probably gone to his room to smoke again.


He knows he can’t just not say anything, not when he’s near fucked him twice and near fucked a couch just because it had a patch that had his slick on. Christ, he’s a bad person, he thinks.


He eyes his cable on the other side of the room. He clears his throat.


‘So, um, Harry,’ he starts, and Harry looks up like a startled forest creature, ‘Good heat?’


The second the words have left his mouth he wants to slap himself. He can fuck omegas by the dozens but it just takes one seventeen year old boy with stars in his eyes who can quote the whole of Titanic and he’s a babbling mess.


Harry smiles easily enough, like he doesn’t mind that Louis’ can’t decide how to treat him. Even though Louis knows that's far from the truth.


‘Pretty good. Though I’m not going to lie, it’s a lot less glamorous when you have to resort to fucking yourself with your hairbrush.’ Harry says almost easily enough, but Louis guesses he’s probably trying his hardest to seem cool and to not blush.


Louis laughs easily, and Harry’s cheeks colour and Louis think it’s adorable how the fact that Harry’s pleased with himself is so sweetly obvious.




Louis first met Harry when he was sixteen. He was hardly friends with Gemma yet, and she told him her brother was weird. He remembers thinking that Harry was gorgeous when his cheeks burned pink after Louis complimented him.


Gemma’s his best friend, and siblings are off limits. And he's also fucked things up with Harry completely, but he can’t help that every time he looks at him, he wants to pull him in and kiss him until he’s gone dizzy, that he wants to sink his teeth into his neck and mark him before popping his knot in him.


It had just seemed to make more sense to ignore him rather than try to fuck him, because he can’t do that to Gemma. Or Harry.


Even if it means that Harry now hates him.




Harry’s sleeping soundly when Louis wakes up, snoring softly into the couch cushion. Louis spares him a passing glance before he steps into the kitchen.


He boils the kettle for his coffee, leaning against the worktop and closing his eyes as he waits for the water to boil, pointedly not thinking about the dozing omega in the room over and rather thinking about the omega from the club bathroom the night before, letting his hand drift down to press over his morning glory, trying to decide over whether he should wait for it to fade or if he should have a quick wank.


After he’s made his coffee, he shuffles back through the lounge, giving Harry a sideways glance before he slows to look at him properly.


Harry’s stretched over on the couch, half on his front with his duvet tucked between his legs and his cheek smushed against the couch cushion and arm stretched above his head. What really captures his eye is the line of his legs, bare where they stretch over the entirety of the couch, and Louis’ eyes drag up to his soft thighs to where they meet the soft curve of his arse.


He mentally scolds himself, taking a sip of his scalding hot coffee as punishment before he retreats back to his room, shutting the door after him so he can have some privacy for the wank he’s just decided to have.




Louis doesn’t have work due to the hiring of another beta to do the weekend shifts, along with his Thursday shift. He doesn’t mind, and decides that Harry’s been there a few weeks, so it’s time they have a proper movie night with him.


Louis’ younger sister is an omega, so he’s no stranger to the idea of fairy tale love with a brave, strong alpha, and he looks at Harry as he sits down, hair fluffy and eyes bright, and he wishes he could give that to him. Could give him love like he deserves, rather than just a good fucking to put Harry in a sex-haze.


Harry’s utterly gorgeous, and Louis feels an awful ache in his chest when he watches Harry from the end of the couch, the way his face scrunches up when he laughs and his nose wrinkles over the bridge.


Harry gets up to make popcorn halfway through, and Louis waits thirty seconds before following. Harry smiles at him gently, and Louis takes a deep breath before he steps into his space, Harry stepping back against the counter as Louis cups his jaw, kissing him softly, before he pulls away and flees back to the lounge, leaving Harry dazed and confused.






Louis’ rut probably hits Harry harder than it hits Louis himself.


He can smell him everywhere, his scent strong and cloying even after Louis’ closed himself in his room.


Louis’ gone through many ruts, so he seems used to it, can control it better than Harry could, and the fact that Harry can’t hear anything coming from his room, and that the only sign that Louis is in there is the strong, spicy scent that he wants to wrap himself up in, has Harry’s curiosity almost at an overwhelming height.


Gemma and Zayn seem used to it, take Louis food and water twice a day and make sure that Harry’s out on the balcony when they do, so that there’s no chance of Louis scenting him.


Harry’s heat lasted five days, but Harry knows that ruts normally only last an average two or three days, and he knows it’s strange when Louis’ rut hits the fourth day and Gemma says there doesn’t look to be an ending soon, not without something to push it over.


And Harry was always an overly curious child.


Gemma leaves for work at noon, leaving Harry alone on the balcony with her laptop on his lap.


Zayn has had to take Louis’ shifts at the bar in the evenings, sleeping until early afternoon and then stumbling out and spreading across the couch before begging Harry to make him breakfast. Not that Harry minds, really.


But come half twelve, Zayn still hasn’t woken up and Harry’s refreshed his newsfeed enough that he keeps seeing the same status update from his aunt.


He’s horribly bored, stretching his legs out so that the weak sun hits them and sighing as he closes Gemma’s laptop.


He soaks up the sunlight a while longer before huffing and pushing himself to stand up, pattering back inside and into the kitchen, picking an apple from the fruit bowl and biting in.


He’s about to sit down when he hears a soft thump, and at first he thinks it’s probably Zayn falling out of bed again, but if he listens closely, he can still hear Zayn’s snoring. And then another thump.


He takes another bite from his apple as he goes to investigate the sound, wondering if maybe it’s a broken pipe or a trapped pigeon and he’s found something to do for the day.


But the sound leads him to Louis’ door, and he pauses, standing in front of it and chewing slowly.


Louis’ scent is even stronger this close, and Harry can already feel it clouding his head. He swallows thickly.


He knows he should go back to the lounge and dig his own laptop out of his bag and try and teach himself how to knit, or something, to occupy his mind rather than the fact that there’s an alpha in rut so close to him.


But he also knows that he’s dying to see what’s happening in Louis’ room, and if his rut is anything like his heat was, and before he can stop himself, he’s opening Louis’ door and stepping inside before he can think straight.


It’s too much for him to take in, his eyes darting quickly over Louis, one hand clutching the pillow his head’s resting on and the other wrapped around his cock, hard and wet, his legs kicked out and feet slipping against his mattress.


He near jumps out of his skin at the sight of Harry, pulling his pillow to cover his lap and sitting up at the same that he near shouts, ‘Get out!’


If Harry had been in a righter mind, he would have listened, would have bolted right back out the room and slammed the door closed and ignored the stirring between his legs, but he isn’t and he closes the door behind himself, his eyes trying to save the image of Louis, skin golden and flushed and drizzled with sweat and his mouth feels dry while his arse does not.


‘Fucking hell, Harry, leave!’ Louis tries again, and Harry notes his impeccable self-discipline, knowing that had it been him in heat, he would have never have been able to turn away an alpha or stop touching himself.


Harry gulps, feeling sweat start to prick under his arms as he slowly crosses to Louis’ bed, one step at a time so that Louis could really kick him out, but Louis just pants and stares at him like he’s a mirage.


Harry at least has enough mind to set his apple down on Louis’ desk, eyes drifting to stare at Louis’ chest as he breathes quickly, flushed red and dappled in sweat. He takes a deep breath.


‘Gemma says you only need a push to get you through.’ Harry says, voice half caught in his throat. He stops beside Louis’ bed, bare feet coming into contact with his duvet where it’s been kicked off onto the floor, splattered in dried come. He takes a deep breath before he drops to his knees, watching Louis’ eyes follow him nervously. ‘I think I can help.’


‘Harry-’ Louis groans, and Harry swallows again before slackening his jaw, opening his mouth slightly.


‘Please,’ Harry tells him instead, watching Louis’ eyes flick over his face before he nods and chucks the pillow from his lap back to the head of his bed before he shuffles forward.


Harry’s eyes zone in on him, hard and flushed against his thigh when Louis settles with his feet on the ground, Harry between his thighs. He’s got amazing self-control, Harry can’t help but think again.


Harry finds himself leaning in, mouth watering at the thought of sucking Louis off when Louis’ hand comes to rest on the back of his head, holding him steady.


‘Are you sure?’ Louis asks then, voice sounding broken and strained. Harry wonders if he could get whiplash from how fast he nods.


Louis’ other hand goes to wrap around his base, guiding his cock to Harry’s mouth as Harry does his best to cover his teeth.


Louis feeds his cock into his mouth, hot and salty against his tongue and for a second, it feels like Harry’s in heaven.


‘Can I?’ Louis groans, his hand moving from his cock to the back of his head and Harry tries his best to nod, humming softly as approval. Louis’ sweating and his fingers tremble where they curl in Harry’s hair.


Harry can feel Louis’ desperation start to affect him, his own cock swelling and arse leaking as Louis tries to hold back from fucking his throat and instead guides Harry’s mouth over him.


Harry tries his hardest to keep his tongue over his teeth, sucking over what Louis gives him and trying not to gag when he nudges at the back of his throat.


‘Fuck,’ Louis spits, voice climbing higher and drawn tight as his fingers clench in his hair and he’s holding him still as his hips buck up, fucking into Harry’s mouth.


Harry tries to relax his throat, blinking as he looks up at Louis, sweaty and close, and he savours the weight of him on his tongue, swallowing the salty taste of him as Louis’ hips fuck forward and Harry gags around him before he breathes in deeply and tries to open his throat, letting Louis slide deeper as his throat works around him.


Louis keens, hips fucking up in jerky, tense shifts before he’s gasping, the sound dragging down into a sticky groan from his belly as he comes.


Harry gags again, pulling off and coughing while Louis’ hand flies back to his cock and he works himself through it, his come landing over Harry’s cheek and mouth before Louis shivers.


Harry feels dazed, Louis’ come sticky across his face and on his tongue as Louis flops back onto his bed, the last of his come dribbling from his cockhead and Harry wants to lean in and suck him again.


Harry’s eyes widen then and he finds himself leaning in closer to stare at the base of Louis’ cock, at what he can only assume must be his knot, thick and fat.


He reaches out to touch it, fingers grazing over the hot flesh and both Louis and his cock twitch.


‘Wow,’ Harry says to himself mostly, but Louis laughs softly, sitting up and wiping his hand over his flexing tummy.


Harry thinks his mouth did the trick, and Louis looks back to normal, mostly, except for how his fingers twitch against his skin, but that could be from Harry fondling his cock.


‘It gets bigger,’ Louis tells him, his lips quirking up in a smile, but he looks exhausted and destroyed, flushed with stubble sharp on his jaw.


Harry nods, drawing his hand back. He pushes himself to stand, and Louis just follows him with his eyes, not doing anything to stop him, but looking pointedly at where Harry’s shorts bulge at the front.


Harry’s about to leave, thinks he needs some fresh air after being wrapped in Louis’ strong scent, remembering to pick his apple of his desk and taking a bite to stop himself feeling the hybrid of shy/embarrassed/unsure that Louis staring at him makes him feel.


‘Hey Harry?’ Louis says when he has his hand on the door handle, and Harry turns to him, swallowing. ‘Thanks, I needed that.’


Harry smiles before he leaves.




They don’t talk about it, but something changes, and it becomes normal for Louis to pull him into the kitchen, making out against the fridge until they hear footsteps and break apart. It leaves Harry confused as to what he’s gotten into.


Kisses become touches, and touches become Harry sneaking into Louis’ bed after everyone’s gone to sleep, kissing under the covers and trailing hands over hot skin with moans hushed into shoulders. He feels confused, but he doesn’t mind, not when he gets to touch Louis’ cock whenever he wants.


Harry always dreamt of a fairy tale and perfect kisses with his perfect alpha, but he thinks he’s quite alright with quiet kisses and shared touches in secret.




Harry wakes up with a stiff back and a hangover from going out last night. He thinks the thing he likes the least about going out is that he ends up sleeping on the couch, rather than in Louis’ bed.


He putters around the kitchen, wanting desperately for greasy food but also to take his mind off last night. He finds bacon at the back of the freezer and there are eggs in the fridge, as well as three slices of bread left in the breadbin.


Zayn is the first to wake up, stumbling into the kitchen groggily and giving Harry a hug as he sniffs greedily at the scent of bacon in the air. Gemma wakes up next, filling the kettle to make coffee and stealing a strip of cooling bacon as Harry tries to make fried eggs, Zayn sitting patiently at the table after Harry had scolded him for his grabby hands.


Louis is the last to wake, only coming in with his jeans pulled on properly once they’re all seated. He helps himself to what’s left over, sitting down next to Harry at the table so that their knees brush. Harry looks at him, just to see if he’s looking at him any different, but Louis’ looking down at his plate, the picture of normalcy.


Once Harry’s done, he sets his plate in the basin and Gemma pulls him into a hug by his hips, pressing her face into his belly while Harry grins down at her and cards through her hair.


‘Thank you, I needed that,’ she says against his bare skin, and Harry smiles lightly before he tells her he’s going to shower.


Harry closes the door before he kicks off his underwear, climbing into the shower and turning the tap until warm water pours down over him. He lets himself just stand and relax as the water kisses down his back, wetting his hair as he leans forward and lets the tension wash away.


He picks up his shampoo, uncaps it, is about to squeeze some into his palm when the bathroom door opens. Harry swivels to watch Louis close the door behind him through the glass of the shower doors. Louis makes eye contact and doesn’t let it break as he unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down with his underwear and stepping out of them.


Harry’s eyes fall to his cock as Louis steps toward the shower. He got a gorgeous cock, not as long as harry had originally thought, but he’s twice as thick as Harry could have ever imagine and his arse throbs at the thought of it inside him, stretching him, Louis’ knot filling up and keeping them locked together.


Louis pulls open the shower door and Harry sucks in a breath, shampoo bottle still clutched in one hand. Louis reaches for his hand, takes his shampoo from him and sets it down before he’s stepping back into his space and he’s kissing him.


Harry kisses back reaching up to hold onto Louis’ upper arms, fingers digging into the muscle of his biceps as Louis kisses him. He’s already half-hard, cock curved up and trapped between their tummies as Louis grazes his hands down his sides, over his wet skin as he sucks Harry’s tongue into his mouth.


Harry feels it as Louis gets hard, his cock drawing up and nudging between his thighs and he wants it so badly, wants to feel Louis split him open.


Harry spreads his thighs wider as invitation, but Louis nips at his lower lip and draws back, spinning Harry round and nudging him up against the shower wall. He kisses at his shoulder, hands rubbing up his sides before running down his front, over his belly and ignoring his cock as his hands settle at the tops of his thighs.


‘Can you squeeze your thighs together for me, baby?’ Louis asks, voice soft against the sound of the shower. Harry does as he’s told, arms braced forward and he thinks of last night, about the fantasy he’d constructed of Louis fucking him in the shower with his sister in the kitchen.


But instead Louis presses his cock forward and into the tight press of his thighs, immediately starting to rock his hips so that his cock fucks between his legs. Harry whines in protest, and Louis hushes him before he brings one hand up to wrap around Harry’s cock, too loose to give Harry any proper relief.


‘Please,’ Harry whines, wanting more friction and wanting Louis’ cock and wanting to be kissed again. Louis ignores it, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades as he fucks into the vice of his thighs harder.


Harry pouts and tries to suppress the urge to moan as Louis teases his cock, feeling entirely like he’s got the short end of the straw.


Nonetheless, he whines when Louis draws back, his hand leaving his cock to instead rest on his hips and pull him back. Harry stumbles slightly, standing in a wider stance for balance as Louis moves him how he wants. He’s waiting to see what he’s going to do, his mind too focused on his desire as he pushes away the thought that he’s meant to be stroppy towards Louis, not offering himself up.


He whimpers when Louis’ hands go to his arse, palming his flesh softly before he’s spreading him apart. Harry takes a deep breath and bites into his lip to stop from whimpering again.


‘You’re gorgeous,’ Louis says, and it’s unfamiliar, the pure awe dripping into his voice. Harry keens from his throat, trying to ignore how hot he feels under Louis’ speculation.


One of his hands leave his arse, and before he can whine, Louis’ cock is pressing against his hole, blunt and silky. Louis moans and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, savouring the feeling.


‘You’re so fucking wet,’ Louis gasps then, voice sounding choked as he rubs his cock over Harry and Harry feels hot and frustrated and like he’s going to burst.


Louis presses his thumb down beside his hole and pulls slightly, opening him up, and Harry keens again. He can hear Louis fisting himself, listens as he speeds up and his breathing gets heavier.


‘Fuck, look at you.’ Louis groans, and Harry would probably preen if he weren’t bent at the waist and waiting to get fucked. ‘Want to just stuff you full of my cock, fuck you till you can’t walk.’


Harry presses his arse back, cock throbbing at Louis’ words. Louis groans, nails digging into the centre of his arse as he spreads him wider.


‘Fuck,’ Louis grunts, ‘wanted you like this since I first saw you.’


Harry whimpers, and that seems to be it for Louis, his come landing warm over Harry’s hole, and Harry moans, head hanging between his shoulder blades as Louis’ comes over his arse. He’s breathing heavily with Louis by the time Louis steps back, but his breathing hitches when he feels Louis’ hands back on him, his finger swiping at his come before he’s pressing it inside, feeding his come into Harry, and his legs feel wobbly.


Louis gets him back to standing proper and slots against his back, resting his chin on his shoulder as he curls his fingers around his cock, wanking him off hard and fast until Harry’s coming, shivering in his arms as he moans loud enough that the water might not cover the sound.


Harry wonders what Louis’ going to do as he watches his come swirl down the drain, if he’s going to climb out the shower and bolt. But instead Louis reaches for his shampoo from where he set it down, lathering up Harry’s hair before his own and turning Harry around to wash his come from his lower back.


Louis turns the taps until the water stops, pushing open the shower door and passing Harry a towel before he wraps his own around his waist.


Louis checks that Gemma and Zayn are otherwise occupied before he leads Harry through the passage and to his bedroom. He closes the door softly behind them, before he presses Harry up against it to kiss him again.






Harry somewhat claims ownership of his bed, not that he minds, really.


Louis gets home late from work, but what makes it better is stepping inside his room and finding Harry fast asleep with his cheek pressed against his pillow.


Harry likes to sleep in his bed, sometimes wakes up if Louis is too loud in getting undressed and gives him a dopey smile before lifting the corner of the duvet and inviting him in. Louis likes to sleep with Harry in his arms, nosing against the spot on Harry’s neck which he’s come to think of as his, where Harry smells the strongest.


Harry always has to leave when he wakes up, though, so that Gemma and Zayn won’t realise that he didn’t sleep on the couch.


Louis still doesn’t really know what he’s doing, hooking up with Gemma’s little brother without telling her, and that he’s becoming strangely romantic, but he can’t say he minds when he thinks about Harry, unsure and peeking out at him from under the sheets.


It’s not meant to be a feelings thing, but Louis can’t help that it becomes one, because he can’t just fuck Harry’s throat and be done with it, he also wants to pet him after and tickle him so that he’ll giggle.


When Gemma leaves for work, Harry also likes to crawl back into his bed and watch him do his work, which he never ends up doing because Harry is very good at getting him to join him in bed, kissing him with the duvet pulled over their heads until his scent is maddening, all that Louis can think about as he licks into his mouth.


Harry claims ownership of his bed by making sure that whenever he looks at his bed, he can only think of Harry in it.




Louis smooths his hand down Harry’s bare back, grazing his palm between Harry’s shoulder blades as he kisses him.


Harry shifts in his lap, his cock smearing precome against Louis’ t-shirt as Louis drags his hand lower until he’s cupping his arse.


Harry nods eagerly, and Louis contemplates on teasing him some more, moving his hand away and getting Harry even more riled up before giving in and getting his fingers inside of him.


But Harry whines and draws back, mouthing ‘Please,’ against his jaw, and Louis can’t refuse.


He’s wet when Louis presses his first fingertip inside him slowly, wound tight from sneaking into Louis’ bedroom and undressing, climbing into his lap and having Louis tease him and kiss down his chest.


Louis hardly gives Harry any time to adjust before he presses his second finger in alongside the first, fucking Harry slowly with them.


Harry makes soft little sounds, moaning into his shoulder so that Zayn and Gemma won’t hear.


Harry’s hot and tight around his fingers, dripping with arousal so that Louis can feel his slick dribbling down his fingers. He fucks his fingers into him slowly, punching little gasps out of him into his neck.


Harry whimpers when Louis brushes against his prostate, and Louis stills his fingers before he rubs his fingers around his spot, massaging over his prostate until Harry’s shivering, cock dribbling.


Louis kisses him again, licks into his mouth as he pulls his orgasm from him, rubbing over his spot until come bubbles from his cock, dripping down his length while he shakes with it.


He holds him through it, kissing his shoulder while he fucks Harry slowly until he bats his hands away, oversensitive and shaky and letting out a kittenish little moan of protest.


Louis kisses him again, and he should probably find it worrying how three words are the first thing that come to mind when Harry rests his forehead against his shoulder after.




Louis wakes up feeling like there’s a stampede occurring on his forehead.


He groans, wondering why he let Gemma convince him to go out after work last night, instead of just coming home to watch Notting Hill with Harry and Zayn. But Louis is always weak when it comes to tequila calling his name.


When he manages to crack open his eyes, it’s to Harry looking down at him, propped up on his elbow and smiling smugly.


‘Good night?’ he asks, mouth too sinfully pink for so early in the morning and his hair mussed from sleep. Louis wants to fold him up and keep him forever.


He groans as answer, pulling the duvet over his head, partially to hide from Harry’s judgement but also to check if Harry’s naked, grinning to himself when he’s greeted to the sight of pale golden skin, pulling the duvet over his head completely before he slithers down to be level with Harry’s tummy.


He gets Harry onto his back, nuzzling his nose against the soft puppy fat on his belly while Harry giggles, pushing the duvet down until Louis’ head peeks out.


‘You’re supposed to be hungover, not tormenting me.’ Harry tells him with a fake pout.


Louis presses a kiss just above his belly button. ‘Rude.’ He breathes against his skin. ‘Besides, I’m not tormenting you.’


Harry wriggles from the tickle of Louis kissing up his chest, squirming when Louis reaches up to tweak his nipples at the same time he licks over the skin above his belly button, so that Harry’s squirms again.


‘Your scent makes me hungry,’ Louis whines, nosing up his chest before he can tuck his face into Harry’s neck, inhaling his sweet smell as he fits himself between Harry’s legs, the round curve of them pressing against his hips as he plasters himself over Harry.


He searches for Harry’s hand when he presses his lips to the soft skin under Harry’s jaw, teasing it with a scrape of his teeth as he links their fingers. Harry’s soft cock presses against his stomach between them, above the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and Louis trails a hand down his side until he can grab a handful of his arse, squeezing the soft flesh until Harry giggles breathlessly, arousal as an undertone.


‘I think you should make me breakfast,’ Louis muses aloud, swiping his tongue over Harry neck before he bites softly.


‘As if,’ Harry replies, and Louis grins as he sucks a faint love bite onto his neck.


‘Actually,’ he starts, before he squeezes Harry’s arse again, spreading him slightly, ‘I can think of something else I’d rather eat.’






There’s a hand on his wrist that pulls him in, and Harry gasps in surprise before Louis’ got him pressed up against the wall, finger poised against his lips. Harry nods once to show he knows what Louis means, before Louis’ hands are gripping his thighs, hoisting him up with his back against the wall.


Harry’s breathing heavy, thighs locking around his hips as he waits to see if Louis will move first. He does.


He surges in, kissing Harry hard as his hands go to cup his arse, his hips pressing forward to where Harry’s hot between his thighs, making him gasp against Louis’ tongue as he licks into his mouth.


Louis’ scent is strong, wraps around him as his skin starts to feel tight. Harry knows he should feel ashamed of how easy he is for Louis, how little it takes from Louis to get him hard and wet for it.


Louis bites into his lower lip, sucks in the shaky moan that Harry tries to smother as he digs his fingers into his arse and pulls, so that if they were wearing less, he’d be spreading Harry apart, his cock pressing up against him, so that if he just held him still and fucked his hips up, he’d press inside of him.


Harry moans again at the thought, Louis stealing it from him with a lash of his tongue as he grinds the bulge of his cock against Harry’s. Harry keens through his teeth, ignoring the slight shame he knows he should feel because he could easily come, just from Louis grinding against him


Louis must sense it, because Louis’ learnt to read Harry’s body better than Harry knows it himself. He drags his mouth from Harry’s, before he grazes his teeth along his neck, mouthing at the spot that Harry’s started to think of as Louis’, kissing it open mouthed as he gives a last thrust against Harry before he sets him down.


Harry whines, but doesn’t do anything else to object as Louis gives him a last, lingering kiss, before they part, and Louis waltzes back into the lounge, adjusting where his dick bulges against his jeans and leaving Harry to deal with the tent in his jogging bottoms.




Harry doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just knows that being with Louis makes him feel like flying.




Louis grumbles that he’s hungry, and Harry knows that he won’t shut up until Harry feeds him, so with a groan, he dislodges himself from his comfortable seat on the couch and drags himself into the kitchen, hoping that Louis will at least have the decency to follow him.


He does, catching up to him to wrap his arms around Harry’s middle and kissing the back of his neck.


‘You’re too good to me,’ he sighs, his hands resting over Harry’s tummy as he pulls open the fridge, picking up the egg carton as Louis pinches at the fabric of the jumper he’s wearing, Louis’ own. ‘And you look good in my clothes.’ Louis tacks on.


Harry smiles and sags back into Louis’ hold, feeling the brush of his stubble against his neck when Louis hooks his chin over his shoulder. Harry’s starting to wonder if puberty will ever allow him to grow hair on his jaw like Louis and Zayn, or maybe his omega status is the reason that his body hair is so fine.


‘So, what are you making me?’ Louis asks, as Harry sets the milk and eggs down before he reaches for the new loaf of bread. Louis wrapped around him like a monkey makes cooking a lot harder than it should be.


‘French toast.’ Harry tells him, reaching to pluck a fork from the holder before he stands on his toes to reach the cupboard above his head, Louis helping him get down a plastic mixing bowl.


Louis hums, wrapping his arms tighter around his middle like a cuddly koala. ‘Vanilla and sugar are above the kettle.’


Harry scoffs. ‘Why would I need vanilla and sugar?’ he asks, not fond of mixing sweet with his eggy bread.


‘Why wouldn’t you need vanilla and sugar?’ Louis argues, sounding near affronted.


Harry turns his neck the best he can to try and look at Louis properly. ‘Because you’re sweet enough.’ He states, before leaning in and kissing him.




Gemma decides they’ve been staying home too long, and that it’s time they go out. Harry thinks she’s probably right, because even Zayn agrees, rather than just reluctantly tagging along.


Louis dresses him, buttoning up his black jeans before helping Harry slip on his black mesh jumper and running his fingers through his hair to muss it up properly. Harry probably smiles more than he should, knowing that he smells like Louis after Louis spends a good five minutes kissing him against his cupboard, knee nudged between Harry’s to grind his thigh between Harry’s legs so that Harry’s left with a spike of arousal by the time they have to leave.


Harry feels giddy when they enter the club, Louis’ hand heavy where it sits at the base of his smile, a simple gesture to guide him that also feels like a possessive branding.


Zayn gets them a round of shots, Harry wincing at the bite of them, before Louis drags him to the back of the club. Louis’ better at holding his alcohol, looks like he hasn’t just gulped down a shot while Harry’s sure is face is still twisted in distaste.


‘I have something.’ Louis tells him as he presses him up against the wall, Harry’s arms looped around his neck as Louis traces his hand, palm flat, over his tummy, under the mesh of his black jersey before he kisses his neck. Louis’ buzzing with energy, and Harry feels hot for it.


‘What?’ he asks, baring his neck for Louis to nose against, sucking a barely-there love bite just under his ear.


Louis takes hold of his arm, bringing it down to his side before pressing a pill into his hand. Harry closes his fingers around it before raising his eyebrows at Louis.


‘It’s E. You don’t have to take it, if you don’t want to,’


Harry shakes his head. ‘No, yeah, I trust you.’


Louis smiles then, eyes bright in the darkness of the gritty club when he takes the pill from Harry’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth.


Harry opens his mouth willingly, watching Louis. His eyes close as Louis sets the pill down on his tongue, just as Louis leans in and breathes over his ear, ‘I love you.’




Harry wakes up cold, with a sore back and a sore head, and the sound of someone snoring behind him.


He sits up slowly, looking around and realising he is in a moving car with Gemma in the driver’s seat. The sky outside is dark with orange fading into the horizon, too early for Harry to be awake.


‘Where am I?’ he groans, and Gemma turns back to look at him, grinning. Harry’s head throbs at how chipper she looks.


‘Road trip, silly.’ She states, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.


A quick look around tells him that Zayn is asleep on the seat behind him and Louis on the seat behind that, and that there is an artificially pink-haired beta sitting on the passenger seat beside Gem. ‘Who’s that?’


‘Don’t be rude. This is Frankie, remember?’


Harry frowns, scratching through his hair before massaging at his forehead. ‘Not really, no.’ The girl turns round in her seat to smile at him.


‘We met Frankie last night. She said I could have a go at driving her car, and here we are.’


Harry leans back against the seat, wondering if maybe this is a fever dream and he’s home, sick in bed, or if his life has really turned into some warped version of Eurotrip.


‘Yeah, ‘course,’ he mutters to himself, deciding his best bet is to lie back down and see if he can sleep again.


He finds himself grinning as he thinks about the last thing he can properly remember from last night, what Louis told him before his memory gets hazy.




Harry wakes up feeling just as cold, with his back feeling even worse, but his head feeling better.


When he opens his eyes, he is still in a strange car, but Louis’ in front of him, smiling as Harry blinks sleepily.


‘Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,’ he coos, his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. ‘We’ve stopped for breakfast, so I thought I should wake you up so we can get some food in you.’


Harry blinks the sleep from his eyes before he sits up, pouting slightly before he yawns. Louis watches him like he would a puppy, and Harry’s pout deepens, because he doesn’t want to be cute.


Louis passes him his hoodie, helping him get his arms in before zipping it up for him, leaning in to kiss him good morning despite Harry’s probably awful morning breath. Harry beams to himself about the fact that he’s wearing Louis’ clothing, gets to be wrapped up in something that smells like him.


Louis helps him out the car, holding his hand as he walks him through a mostly empty car park to the cafe, letting go of his hand as he pushes open the door in favour of resting his hand against the small of his back.


Harry slides into the empty side of the booth, Louis sliding in next to him.


‘Good morning sunshine,’ Gemma chirps, looking up from the menu in her hands to smile at him. ‘Sleep well?’


The girl with the pink hair that near matches Gemma’s fading purple types away at her phone before she looks up momentarily and smiles in greeting. Zayn doesn’t look up from his menu, looking worse than Harry feels.


Harry hums while Louis slides a menu over to him. Harry gives him a side smile as thanks, skimming over the content before deciding on a milkshake and a toastie.


Louis clears his throat after examining the menu himself. ‘Gemma, we’ve been friends a long time, and I feel like I need to ask,’ Gemma nods, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, ‘Are you trying to turn us into the cast of That 70’s Show?’ he teases, his legs spreading wider so his thigh presses up against Harry’s under the table. Harry nods in agreement while Zayn frowns and looks at him, then her, like he doesn’t understand the joke. Then again, Zayn had taken about double the amount of hits that Harry had last night so Harry has no idea what he’s feeling.


Gemma frowns. ‘What do you mean?’


‘What I mean is that while I love you, waking up in a VW with no recollection of how I got there isn’t really my cup of tea.’


The waitress comes over to take their orders, Louis charming her enough for all of them before he leans into Harry, asks him, ‘What will you have, babes?’


Harry tells him his order, watching him pass it on the horribly bored looking woman before Louis’ hand settles on his thigh under the table, fingers stretching over to squeeze at the meat of him.


Gemma still looks affronted while she orders her latte and tramezzini, before she focuses her attention back on Louis while Zayn orders.


‘Don’t be a loser Louis. You have to go on a road trip with your best friends and some people you don’t know in a Volkswagen van at least once before you become an adult.’ Gemma tells him, and Harry’s not sure if she’s taking the piss or being genuine. Taking the piss, most likely.


Zayn leans forward onto the table, cocking his head as he looks at Gemma. ‘You do know that this is not America, right Gem?’


Gemma rolls her eyes. Harry chances a look at the girl beside her, hair a bubblegum pink and cut to her shoulders, a tongue ring flashing when she licks her lips and looks down at her phone and the lines of a tattoo poking out from the collar of her jumper.


‘Well I’m sorry, but last night you all seemed up for it.’ She pouts, leaning back against the peeling vinyl of the seat and folding her arms across her chest.


The girl next to her looks up, and Harry for the life of him can’t remember what Gemma said her name was. ‘To be fair, she is right. Last night you all seemed to love the idea of spending a day or two on the road.’


Louis frowns and Harry can feel when his mood shifts, the slight twinge of defensiveness lingering in his scent.


‘Of course I was up for it, I was wacked. But keep in mind I have work again on Monday, and so do you.’


Gemma’s scent twinges too, and Harry feels the instinct to cower away at the possibility of conflict before Gemma smiles over it.


‘Then we’ll just have to get back before then.’


Louis seems to think that’s a good enough answer, leaning back and running his hand higher up Harry’s thigh.






It’s easy to get Harry riled up, Louis’ learnt. All it takes is one hand moving steadily up and down over his thigh, occasionally cupping over his cock and squeezing,  throughout breakfast to get Harry hard and his hips rocking up to try and get Louis’ touch back between his legs.


Louis can smell it on him, watching Harry from the corner of his eye as he sips at his milkshake with pink cheeks that hint that he’s up to no good while Louis fits his hand over his bulge, squeezing along the line of him.


Gemma pays and Louis catches the look of worry that sits between Harry’s eyebrows at the thought of having to walk out with his jeans obviously tenting, and part of Louis wants to make him do it, watch Harry’s cheeks fill with blood as he tries to cover his arousal, even though the needy edge to his scent is enough of a dead giveaway already, and he’s still not sure how the three across from them haven’t realised yet.


‘Harry and I are gonna pop to the loos quickly.’ Louis tells Gemma, standing up and smoothing his t-shirt over his tummy before he curls his fingers around Harry’s upper arm, pulling him to the restroom at the back of the cafe while the other three return to the VW.


He leads Harry into an empty bathroom stall, kicking the lid down with his foot before sitting down and bringing Harry into his lap.


It feels strangely reminiscent of Harry’s first night with them, pressed up against the door of bathroom stall and his arse begging for Louis. Harry presses his face into his neck, nudging his hips forward as a hint or a plea.


Louis reaches into Harry’s lap to unbuttons his jeans, working his fingers into his pants to pull out his cock. ‘Fuck, baby, look at you. So hot for it.’ He muses, wrapping his fingers around his girth and stroking him slowly until the first bead of prefuck bubbles from his slit.


Louis moves his hand to his own lap, unbuttoning his jeans to get his own cock out, before he wraps his fingers around both of them, squeezing them together so that Harry moans, pressing his mouth against his shoulder.


‘We have to be quick, okay baby? Are you gonna come for me?’ Louis asks him quietly, working their cocks together as Harry dribbles out more wet, slicking up the movement of Louis’ hand.


Fuck, even Louis feels like he could come soon, just from the feel of Harry against him and Harry in his lap and Harry breathing into his neck.


Harry whimpers when Louis swirls his thumb over his head, dipping into his slit before he works them faster so that Harry’s muffled moans climb higher.


It doesn’t take much to get Harry to come, Louis’ catching it with his palm over his head before working Harry’s come back over cock as he works him through it.


All it takes for him is Harry fumbling to wrap his hand around him, over Louis’, before he strokes Louis’ cock with the type of finesse that comes with spending hormonal nights alone in bed.


Harry’s a bit useless afterward, body sex-soft as Louis tries to clean him off with loo roll before buttoning up his jeans and straightening him out before he fixes himself.


He gives him a last, slow kiss after washing their hands, his hand resting on the side of his neck as he laves over his lower lip, before pressing a final kiss to the wet pout of his lips.




When they stop off to get petrol, Gemma gives Harry money to buy her cigarettes and a snack for himself before he runs inside with Frankie while Zayn asks the attendant to check the wheels.


Gemma leans against the back of the car as she steals Louis’ cigarette from him, taking a deep puff as Louis finds his gaze travelling to the Quick-Stop, looking through the sliding doors as Frankie shoves bags of junk food into his arms before they go to the till.


‘You know,’ Louis starts, taking his cigarette from her lax fingers, ‘Harry’s pretty cute.’


Gemma scoffs, but she smiles after. ‘He’s a little dweeb, but he’s a total sweetheart.’


Louis nods, and decides that he’s warned her enough about the fact that he’s probably dating her little brother. He grins at Harry when he and Frankie come back, plastic bag filled with sweets in his hand. Gemma kisses the top of Harry’s head before tousling his hair and going round the car to where Frankie pays the attendant, and once Louis’ sure no one’s looking, he leans in a kisses Harry, stealing the bubblegum he’s chewing from his mouth.




Harry sits in front when it’s apparently Louis’ turn to drive, battling Gemma for the seat before he buckles himself in proudly and Louis reaches over to squeeze his thigh, getting a sweet beam as answer.


Louis’ never gone on a trip with no set destination, so as much as he wants to pass Harry a map and watch him out of the corner of his eye as his face scrunches up in concentration, he doesn’t really have any set route to take, so he finds himself just driving easily as Harry flips through the CD case from the cubby-hole. Frankie’s apparently a John Mayer fan.


It’s fine though, because he gets to listen to Harry singing Your Body Is a Wonderland three times on repeat before Gemma threatens to neuter him if he doesn’t put something else on.


Harry does, putting in Dido’s Greatest Hits album and getting another groan from Gemma and a muttered, ‘Jesus, Francesca, why do you own this?’




Louis’ driving for near an hour before they get to the beach, and before he’s even parked, Harry careens from the car and runs down the sand-covered wooden steps, pulling off his shoes with Frankie and Zayn following close behind him as Louis places the car keys into Gemma’s open palm.


It’s late in the afternoon, and the beach is scattered with a fair few sun bathers, trying to absorb the sun that comes with the hot day. Gemma starfishes against the sand before Frankie dives down next to her, her clothing splattered with salt water and her cheeks pink.


Louis leaves the two in favour of approaching where Harry runs away from the splashes Zayn sends after him, rolling up his trousers before he runs in and wraps his arms around Harry’s middle, holding him still while Zayn splashes him and he shrieks.


The sun dips low, over the belt of the sea, slowly.


People pack up their kits, rolling up towels and pulling clothing over their bare skin to run from nightfall, prolonging day. Louis and Harry stay in the water, waist deep, even after Zayn’s fallen asleep on the sand and they pretend to ignore Frankie and Gemma kissing on the sand. 


Harry splashes Louis, dodging backwards from the splash he knows Louis is going to send him. Louis still hits him, on his side, water droplets pelting his already wet skin. Harry squeals nonetheless.


Harry sends waves towards him, the sun dipping lower so the blue of the sky crawls towards darkness in slight shades, darker and darker.


Harry runs through the water, running deeper while his sweet giggles carry through the salty air. Louis’ splashes hit across his back, warm, soft. Harry sends them back, the slick of seaweed grazing his calves and making him shiver.


The sea is calm and slow, waves soft. They crash against Harry while he tries to run along the shore, escaping Louis’ ammunition. He could run faster if he tried, but that would ruin the game. Louis could catch him if he wanted, but Harry’s laugh is music.


Harry stills once he’s thigh deep in the water, before he turns looks back at Louis with a grin as bright as sunshine.


‘Say I’m a bird.’ he says, and Louis frowns, before he thinks about all the times he’s heard that from all the times his sisters have watched it.


He grins back fondly at Harry, sticking his hands into his pockets and shakes his head. ‘No.’


‘Say it!’ Harry giggles, before launches into his arms. Louis catches him, heels digging into the sand as he lifts Harry, hands under his thighs as Harry wraps his legs around his waist.


‘You’re a bird.’ Louis tells him, grin pulling his cheeks as Harry leans down to kiss him once.


Harry wraps his arms around his neck, cheeks pink. ‘Now say you’re a bird too,’


Louis traces his tongue over his lower lip, Harry’s thighs squeezing around him, before he replies with, ‘If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.’


Harry surges in to kiss him again.


They break apart at Gemma’s startled but not disproving cry of, ‘What the fuck Louis!’




They stop outside a dingy looking bar with a dingy looking B&B sign on the second level when it starts getting dark.


The bar’s filled with a rough crowd, but they’re too far away from home to go anywhere else. Louis makes sure to keep his arm around Harry’s shoulder when they slip into an empty booth, trying to send off a signal of mine.


Frankie gets them their first round, and Louis decides watching Harry cringe while sipping at his beer is his new favourite thing, resting his hand on his thigh and grinning as Harry wrinkles his nose before taking another sip.


Harry comes with him to get the next round, holding his hand and nuzzling into the back of his neck before he lets go to let Louis battle to get to the bar, standing back and blowing him a kiss.


Louis leans against the counter, waiting for the bartender to come to him. As he waits for another five beers, he can sense a change in Harry’s mood, feeling a twinge of fear and discomfort crawling under his skin.


He looks around, trying to locate his boy before he spots him, just in time to see him shrug someone’s arm from around his shoulder, before the man next to him leans in closer and he pushes him away again. Louis frowns.


He pushes through the crowd to get to him, hearing the tail end of what the apparent alpha is saying, as he growls, ‘-just gagging for it.’


Harry makes a move to shrug him off before he notices Louis, forehead creased in worry as he tries to get the alpha off of him.


Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders, near growling as he stares down the gritty looking alpha.


‘Get the fuck away from my boyfriend.’ He snarls, staring him down.


‘You need to learn how to look after your leaker,’ he hurls back, and Louis curls his lip, before the alpha tacks on, ‘Twat.’


Louis lunges forward at him, arm poised to punch him before Harry fingers curl around his arm and Harry pulls him back, mouth against his ear, pleading, ‘Leave it.’


Louis nods, growling again before he rests his arm around his his shoulders, and near pulls him from the bar.


He’s near buzzing from anger, doesn’t even want to think about what the alpha said to Harry as he lets go of him and paces over to the VW, pulling at his hair before Harry comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and stilling him until he takes a few deep breaths.


Once he’s calmed down, Harry kisses the back of his neck, before murmuring against the shell of his ear, ‘You called me your boyfriend.’


Louis sags in his hold. ‘Well, yeah. Of course I did. I love you.’


Harry kisses his neck before he lets go of him, walking around him to slide open the door of the VW.


‘Get in.’ He tells Louis, and Louis raises an eyebrow, but complies.


Harry pushes him down onto the back seat before he slides the door closed, sitting down next to him and leaning into him, arms around his neck before he leans in. Louis prepares himself for a kiss, but Harry just hovers away from his mouth, before he says, ‘I want you to fuck me.’


Louis reels back, shaking his head, reaching to link his fingers with Harry’s and squeezing. ‘I can’t do that Harry.’ He knows how much it means to Harry, that he sees his virginity as something special, sacred. He can’t take it from him.


Harry leans back in, following him as he distances himself. ‘I love you, and there is no one in this world I would rather do this with.’


Louis kisses him back against the seat, covering his body with his own, Harry’s legs spread to allow space for him to slot in as he curls his fingers into his hair, pulling lightly as Louis rubs his hands up and down his sides, kissing him slowly.


He undresses him carefully, kissing down his chest as he rolls the rosebuds of his nipples between his thumb and forefinger, working him out of his jeans and his pants before he can open him up, fingering him slowly so that they’ll only need his slick.


Harry huffs out wet breaths into his neck, fiddling with his jeans to try and get them off before Louis kisses his forehead, smiling into it, and he pulls of his own shirt, leaning back to kick off his jeans.


Harry strokes him slowly while Louis opens him up, bringing his fingers to his cock and spreading some of Harry’s wet over himself.


He presses into him slowly, lips pressed to Harry’s chest and forehead against his shoulder as he goes slow, waiting for Harry to adjust.


He’s hot and tight around him, silky and wet and Louis feels like he’s in carnal heaven. Harry digs his nails into his forearms, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut as Louis kisses him and reaches between their bodies to stroke him as distraction.


He fucks Harry slowly, pressing deep into him and kissing down his neck and along his shoulders and over his cheeks to make him giggle and distract him from the burn before he’s whimpering, moaning when Louis presses in deep, his leg hitching around his hip as he locks his arms around his neck, panting against his neck.


Louis’ sweating from the effort of fucking him slowly, trying to make it good for Harry as Harry clenches around him and his toes curl against his thigh, nails digging into his back between his shoulder blades while he gasps.


Louis feels his knot filling fucking him harder so that Harry writhes underneath him, groaning low when Louis bites into his neck gently.


He fucks the orgasm out of him, stroking him through it as his knot swells and locks him inside of Harry, his mind hazy before he comes, Harry’s arse clenching and milking it out of him.


He feels exhausted, his knot slowly swelling down as Harry pants, chest heaving.


Once he’s got his breath back, he props himself up on his elbow, looking down at Harry. ‘Hey Harry?’


Harry hums, blinking his eyes open and smiling dopily, looking absolutely blissed.


‘Your body is a wonderland.’


Harry giggles, swatting at him before linking their fingers and drawing him in for a kiss.




Louis wakes up with Harry draped over his chest, blankets strewn over them with Harry’s bare thigh slotted between his own.


He can’t hear Zayn snoring, and when he sits up, gently manoeuvring Harry from his chest, he realises the car is empty but for them, and that the others must have found some place else to sleep.


Harry sleeps soundly, just snuffling when Louis slips out from his hold before he turns his cheek against the leather seat.


Louis pulls on Harry’s jogging bottoms and his hoodie from the floor before he toes on his shoes and climbs out of the car as quiet as he can, pulling his jeans out from under the seat for his Marlboros and his lighter, before he slides the door closed again.


He leans against the van as he looks over the line of the ocean on the horizon, placing his cigarette between his lips.


Gravel crunches behind him, and he brushes his hair behind his ear before he turns and watches Frankie walk towards him slowly, looking just as rough as Louis guesses he himself must look.


‘Where did you sleep last night?’ he asks, before puffing out a cloud of smoke.


Frankie frowns in the sunlight before he stops beside him, hands in his pockets. ‘Woke up in the backroom of the pub.’


Louis nods, before he inhales again. Frankie clears her throat after he exhales, and Louis turns to look at him again.


‘Listen, last night,’ she starts, forehead creasing, ‘You and Harry didn’t fuck in my car, did you?’


Louis just grins at her, taking another breath while Frankie groans.






Harry’s learnt that fairy tales only exist in Disney and storybooks, and while life can sometimes get close to the stuff of dreams that he’s spent his whole life dreaming of, life also doesn’t end with a fairy tale kiss and a ride into the sunset.


Reality hits hard, because Harry does have to go back home away from Louis and he doesn’t get to flit off to live in an idyllic, isolated cottage to spend the rest of their lives together.


Louis helps him pack, trying his hardest to make him smile while Harry just pouts and folds up his t-shirts, just sighing when Louis packs in some of his own clothing for Harry to keep.


Once he’s all packed, near midnight and after Zayn and Gemma have both retired to their bedrooms, Louis pulls him into his bed, kissing away the frown between his eyebrows and wrapping his arms around him, pulling Harry half on top of him.


He trails his hands down his sides, hands hot when they sneak under his top and rub over his waist, fingers pressing against his skin as he slots his thigh between Harry’s, holding him tightly.


He kisses him slowly, gently, the type of goodbye kiss Harry’s read about too many times. It ends with Louis pulling away slowly, reaching up to brush a stray curl behind Harry’s ear before rolling him off him, beside him so that they’re facing each other.


Louis links their fingers between them, holding Harry’s hand on the mattress before he leans in and kisses him on his forehead.


‘Don’t worry, dove, Gemma’s going home in a few months, and I promise I’ll come with.’ Louis soothes, and Harry blinks slowly, eyelids heavy.


‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Harry teases, before he yawns, turning his cheek against his pillow. ‘And I’ll call you during my next heat, just in case.’


Louis snuggles in closer, smiling so Harry sees the flash of his teeth in the dark. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’


Harry closes his eyes, squeezing Louis’ hand. ‘Love you.’


‘Love you more.’




Harry’s suitcase is even more of a menace going home than it was getting there, and he holds on tightly to the handle as he clenches his knees around the body of his suitcase, trying to keep it stable as John Mayer sings in his ears.


He smiles, thinking about Louis crooning the lyrics to him and kissing him in the solitude of the back seat.


He reaches up to touch his neck, where it meets his shoulder, as he looks out the window. He rubs his fingers over the new bruise that’s sure to fade soon, pressing down gently and thinking about Louis, teeth grazing against his skin, before he’d marked him temporarily.


He grins, ducking his chin into his scarf as he thinks about Louis’ voice in his ear, telling him, ‘Next time I see you, I’ll mark you permanently.’


Harry closes his eyes, already counting down the days until the next time he gets to see his Louis.