Having to pack all his stuff was an easier, and faster, task that he had thought. So now he had a whole forty-five minutes to stress over everything else. Where the fuck was Niall when one needed him? He tried to ignore the lump in his stomach at the prospect of not seeing the blonde ever again. And he wasn't even being overdramatic, no matter what anybody else said. Okay, maybe he was being a teeny tiny bit overdramatic, but he had every right to be.
Like, what if his master was an old, ugly fat guy? Or worse, what if he was a nice-looking lad but had a shitty personality? What if he was left to sleep in the cold, dirty floor of a kitchen? What if he had to clean a big-ass mansion every day? And if not, what was he going to do? Would he be imprisoned? What if-
His inner rant was disrupted when Niall entered his room with a loud "Louiehhhh!" and started rambling, gesticulating widely with his hands. "So, what do you think we should do when you leave? Are you going to keep your phone? Maybe you should ask him to buy a new one, as a welcome gift or something, you know, to make you comfortable and happy and shit. Or maybe you should see if he has brought something. What if he's fucking rich and brings a limo to pick you up? Gosh, if he has a limo, I'm definitely getting a ride, do you think he would let me? Like, you're really pretty and he already kinda likes you. Or maybe-"
"Niall! Shut the hell up, arsehole!" Louis punched him in the arm, starting to pace in the small gap between his bed and the closet. "We don't even know if this guy is gonna take me home. Nick said he wanted to meet me in person before making a choice. He could easily go 'fuck it' and leave me to die here."
Niall made an incredulous face, his brows going up to his hairline. "What the heck are you talking about, mate? Why would Nick tell you to pick up all your shit if this guy wasn't sure he's gonna take you home?" Louis says nothing; is not like he hadn't thought about that -just a little, he didn't want to get his hopes up. Niall, being the perceptive shit he is, gets closer to him and wraps him in a one-armed hug. "Lou, it's gonna be fine," his words soothe the tiger pacing and scratching in his chest. "I know you're nervous, and maybe you have reasons to be. But think about this, he's even coming to pick you up, that's not something we see every other day. Whoever this guy is, he's gonna be good to you. You are going to be fine."
Louis takes a deep breath, letting Niall's words sink in. "Okay... I can do this. I'm not gonna die in the hands of a stranger" Niall giggles and pulls one of his ears, shaking his head.
As it turns out, his master is really good looking; he -Harry, as he asked to be called- has green eyes, curly brown hair and the most spectacular bone structure Louis has ever seen; he's tempted to try to slice a piece of cheese with his chin. His hands, currently resting in Louis' shoulders, are soft and his skin is just slightly tanned, giving him a soft golden color; and his voice is this deep, calm drawl that makes Louis's knees weak. "Now that we have cleared the paperwork, I think we're ready to go." The light squeeze he gives on his shoulder, makes Louis jump.
"Of course, hope you have a great time!" Nick looks over-enthusiastic and kinda fake, just like every time he gets to sell another hybrid, but the wiggle of his brows makes Louis specially uncomfortable; he doesn't dare to look at his master's reaction, but hears clearly the low growl he gives when Nick’s eyes drift through Louis’ body.
“Right… Shall we?” Harry lets go of one of his shoulders to pick up his suitcase and guides him outside, where there’s, well… it’s not a limo, but it’s obvious that it’s an expensive car; and has a driver waiting for them. Harry opens the door for Louis and gets in the car with him.
Once inside, Harry opens his laptop and starts typing; the silence is absolute except for the soft melody from whatever song is playing on the radio. Not wanting to disturb, Louis keeps his eyes on the view outside the window; it’s been a while since he got the chance to just sit and look. Preventing himself from blurting something stupid to fill the silence, he closes his eyes and lets the low vibrations of the car lull him to sleep.
When he wakes up is to the face of the driver, who’s standing just outside his door with an extended arm. “Mr. Styles is waiting for you in the living room.” Louis takes his hand and gets down, covering a yawn with the back of his arm. “How…” The question dies in his throat when he looks up at the house.
It’s nothing like a mansion, just a two-stage house with a garage and a porch, but the dark gray of the walls and the amount of floor-to-ceiling windows make it look imposing. Without missing a beat, the driver points to the front door as he says “Just over there, the maid will show you the way.” Louis starts walking towards the door, fumbling with the sleeves of his sweater and trying to process the fact that Harry has a maid -wich probably means he’s not gonna do any cleaning so, again, what is he going to do here?
The door opens before he has the chance to knock and the maid, who looks like a porcelain with her fluffy white hair and soft looking sweater, gives him a kind smile and tells him “Please follow me dear, the living room is just this way,” and starts walking at a fast pace. Louis has little to no time to examine the details of the hall, but catches a glimpse of some paintings of landscapes and something that looks like a plaque -golden with a woodsy frame- while trying to keep up with the maid.
“Thanks,” he says, cringing at the slight tremor in his voice. She pays him no mind, barely giving him a tight smile over her shoulder . They stop in front of a big room, with dark blue sofas and clear curtains; Harry is seated in the big, comfy-looking loveseat against the farthest wall.
“Thank you, Liz. That would be everything,” Harry dismisses her with a wave of his hand, and Louis is left awkwardly standing in the entry, shifting his eyes over all the nick-nacks and books splayed across the different tables. The room doesn’t look particularly homey but something about it makes Louis think of soft blankets, hot chocolate and whispered poetry. He wouldn’t mind if Harry readed him poetry.
Harry doesn’t seem to acknowledge Louis's presence, still focused on whatever he’s doing in his laptop, his brows in a frown and his lower lip being constantly bitten. Louis clears his throat, not sure of what to do with himself. “You… You wanted to see me?” Louis gives himself a pat in the back for not letting his nerves filter to his voice and finally catching Harry’s attention.
His green eyes pinned him to the floor, surprised with the intensity he can see in them. Harry smirks and nods shortly. “Well of course. You're quite the view.” Louis gasps, not expecting the flood of heat that overcomes him at the comment. Harry beckons him with a wiggle of his finger, and keeps talking, “Prettiest kitten I have seen in awhile. Knew I had to bring you home since I saw your file.” The mention of his ‘file’ makes him shudder, not sure of how much information was in it; how much does Harry know about him.
“Thank you, Master” he says with a bow of his head and stands in front of him.
“Oh, there’s no need for you to call me Master outside the bedroom,” he makes a pause and levels him with a look, as if challenging him to comment. When Louis keeps quiet, he continues, “You may call me Harry when we’re in the house and ‘Sir’ would be enough when attending any kind of social gathering. Now, you’ll be sleeping upstairs in one of the guest rooms until you’ve grown comfortable enough to sleep with me, Sam has already put all your stuff in the assigned room. Dinner will be ready around 8, do you have any dietary restrictions the chef should know about?”
Louis shakes his head and waits for some other instruction. When Harry says nothing, he asks, “Will my presence be required for anything before dinner?”
“Yes, I’ll be waiting for you in my office at 7. Liz will show the way. You can retire now.”
With a bow of his head and no other word, he turns around and walks to the stairs. On cue, when he gets to the second stage , the driver -Sam, apparently- greets him in the hall and shows him the way to his new room. “Is there anything else you need?” He asks politely. Louis shakes his head and sees him disappear through the hall.
He takes a look around the room. There’s not much, a bed, a dresser and a little table next to the window; a pair of shelves -one with a vase of flowers, the other with some books- and the door to the ensuite. His suitcase is by the lower edge of the bed, so he puts it on the bed and starts unpacking it, Harry’s words playing in his mind. How long would it take him to be ‘comfortable enough’? Would Harry be upset if he didn’t slept with him soon? He bites his lip and considers it. Harry said he could take his time, but what if Louis tooked longer that Harry expected? He doesn’t want to be sent back to the shelter. With a sigh he decides to just see how things went. He’ll have time to worry later. Right now, his worries where a nice shower and maybe some sleep.
He took one of the longest baths of his life (he hadn’t seen a bath since his arrival at the shelter, almost four years ago) and wrapped himself in a fluffy red towel. He spent half an hour picking what to wear, finally deciding in a pair of jeggings and his brown sweater, which made his collarbones look sharper without making him look too thin and had the perfect sleeve length to cover part of his fingers. It was the perfect combination of comfortable, cute and a little seductive. Not that he needed to seduce someone, but still.
Once dressed, he picks up the box with the rest of his belongings. It’s not much, just a few notebooks with sketches, a framed picture of him and Niall at the park, a tin of crackers full of buttons (
stolen collected from his time working in the tailoring), an old, ratty blanket, a gift from one of the kids at the care room and of course, his fretted copy of ‘The Little Prince’.
He had just finished putting everything in place when there’s a soft knock at the door and a moment later Liz’s face is peaking inside. He takes a quick look at the clock in his bedside table, it’s just 6:35, but he guesses that, as his owner, Harry can handle his time however he pleases. “Mr. Styles has requested your presence in his office. Immediately.” So, no naps for Louis today. “Sure, lemme just put on some shoes and I’ll be off with you.”
They make their way downstairs, by the hall and turn to the left after passing some -closed- doors. Liz gives a soft knock, nods at him, and leaves. “Come in,” commands Harry from inside. Louis takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, entering to a clean, illuminated office. Harry’s desk is made of dark wood and the color makes a perfect contrast with his skin. “I see you have refreshed yourself already. Very nice clothes, by the way.” Without waiting for an answer, he gets up from his chair, smooths his jacket and moves to the couch, patting the space next to him as he looks Louis in the eyes.
Louis walks to the couch and seats next to him, rigid and nervous. It’s not that he doesn’t trust in Harry -even if he should, having barely known him- but he doesn’t know what is expected of him, and the prospect of making a fool of himself isn’t really appealing. His hands rest awkwardly over his knees and he jumps when one of Harry’s hands -soft, golden, precise hands- sets on his thigh.
“Don’t fret honey,” the pet name sends shivers down his spine, “I just want to talk, for starters. We’ll see where all that talking leeds us. That okay with you?” Louis nods, and the grip in his thigh gets tighter. “Words, kitten. I want you to always use your words to answer me, unless I have told you not to.” He raises an eyebrow and gives a little nod in his direction, encouraging him to answer. “Yes… Harry,” Calling his master by his given name it’s highly unusual, but the name slips through his lips like it’s a common fixation.
“Great! Now, I’m going to be pretty straightforward, do you have any limits or hard no’s about sex?” Louis hums in thought. He’s never really considered it; when he entered the program at the shelter they focused on what the master liked, what was expected from them, not on their personal preferences.
“Er… I don’t really know,” He says, giving Harry a side look. His face is neutral, not giving anything about what’s going on in his mind, so Louis continues. “I haven’t really thought about it. But I’m willing to do anything that you want, since I’m here for your… service.” He cringes at the awkwardness in his voice. By the looks of it, Harry doesn’t like his answer either.
His mouth is askew, his eyes looking for something in Louis’ face. When he talks, his tone is serious but soft. “Louis, I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to just because you think it’s your job. I didn’t buy you to be my sex slave, I did it ‘cause you seem nice and I could use the company.” He presses his lips in a line and his eyes drift away from Louis; they keep quiet for a while, Harry’s hand now moving softly up and down his thigh. “How about we use the color system for a while? Do you know it?”
“Have heard it’s a way to explore… sex stuff, but I’m not entirely sure of how it works.” Harry chuckles at his answer, smoothing his thumb over the inner side of his leg and a deep blush creeps up Louis’ neck. Louis feels like a child, not having the words to express correctly his thoughts about all this intimate things. He knows he has to communicate with Harry, but talking about all the things that are going to happen in/on/with his arse isn't the easiest thing.
“It’s more like a check-up system. Every time you give me your color, I can know how are you doing during the… exploration process, without having to be really explicit about it. We’ll work with ‘Green, Yellow, Red’; green is a clear go-on; yellow if you want to take a break or slow things down; and red is a full immediate stop, no questions asked.”
“Okay, I think I can do that.” Harry gives him a smile and moves closer on the couch.
“Cool. So…” He clears his throat and diverts his gaze momentary. “I would like to try something. Like, right now.”
“Oh... Um, okay…” Louis shifts a little, feeling sweat in the palm of his hands. Harry takes his hand and guides him to a standing position; then, with a bit of hesitation, pulls him towards him… to his lap. His movements are stiff at the beginning, trying to get on the couch over Harry, but without crushing him. Harry’s hands make themselves at home in his hips, helping him closerclosercloser until his hips are aligned, Louis’ knees on either side of Harry’s hips, hands behind his neck.
They stay like that for a couple of minutes, Harry’s hands caressing his thighs and wandering under his sweater, gently pinching the skin above the waist of his pants. Louis, in a valiant effort to hide the shakiness of his hands, starts scratching Harry’s hair, treading his fingers through the soft, fluffy strands; a low hum thrums from his chest, a content sigh leaving his lips. It should be weird, how easy they are with each other; how their bodies seem to know how and where to touch. But it’s the most natural thing he has ever done. Harry’s touch makes him warm, like cuddles under a blanket in the coldest days of winter.
Louis whimpers at the squeeze of his bum and cants his hips slowly. “Hmm… so soft, Lou. Have been wanting to put my hands on you since I saw you at the shelter. Bet you’ll be so good for me.” One of his hands gets inside his pants, just cupping his cheek, feeling the strong muscle of it.
“I…” He’s breathless, blood pumping in his ears, sweat gathering at his temples, lids heavy over his eyes. “I want to… Want to be your best,” the words come out in a rush, fingers tightening in Harry’s hair.
Then there’s a mouth on his neck, licking, kissing, biting. His head lolls back, exposing more of his skin to be marked. “You are, love,” Harry’s word are muffled against his shoulder, the fabric of the sweater pulled aside to allow his lips to graze the skin. “You’re so good, letting me get my way with you.” The fingers are getting closer to his crack, the tips catching in the slick, warm liquid spouting out of his hole. Louis mewls at his words.
“Yeah? Want me to do that? Just get my way with you, kitten?” Louis nods furiously, the thought of being owned sending flames to his cock. He’s now fully grinding against Harry, who’s own hard-on he can feel in his bum. “I want you to hold back your orgasm ‘till I come. Can you do that, baby?”
Whatever Louis was about to say it’s drowned by the electric feeling of Harry’s fingers entering him, just the tips of two fingers, testing the give of the muscle. “I… I don’t know… It just feels so good.”
Harry keeps his fingers in a smooth pace, pushing until they’re fully inside him, not quite touching his prostate but caressing his walls. Louis’ hand has found its way to Harry’s zipper, fumbling with it, unable to focus on it enough to get it open; he figures he can still touch over the pants. So. His fingers wrap around Harry’s dick, warm and swollen under him, and the gasp he receives as answer is more than enough motivation to start moving his hand over it. From there, everything is a blur of moans, hot whispers and desperate hands roaming over whatever skin they could reach.
Even knowing it would happen, the sudden dampness under his palm surprises him; knowing that he made this… that he made Harry come, only adds to the flow of sensations his body is suffering. Harry stills while he comes, grunting and moaning in Louis’ neck, his tongue running lazyly over the bites there. After a moment, his fingers begin to move again, faster than before, putting Louis on the edge. “Come on, kitten. Lemme see your pretty face while you cum,” says Harry in a rough slur. The heat expands through his body like fireworks, one explosion after another, making his toes curl and his eyes clench closed. Harry keeps moving his fingers, helping him ride out his high, until Louis is whimpering in oversensitivity.
Harry pulls out his fingers and slowly, gauging Louis’ reaction, puts them in his mouth, humming at the taste. His tongue is moving obscenely around the digits and Louis can’t look away. Spent, Louis lays on Harry’s chest, his hands back on the curls, massaging his scalp. Harry peppers kisses in his temples and hair, hands resting comfortably in Louis’ hips under the sweater and scratching the base of his tail, which makes him purr. “So, I take that was okay?” Louis huffs, a smile creeping to his face. “Yeah, very okay.”
After a few minutes -or hours, according to Louis’ foggy brain- of cuddles and kisses (very nice, soft, loving kisses,) Liz peaks at the door with a soft knock. “Sorry to interrupt, but dinner is served.” Her words make Louis realize that he probably looks like a sweaty, horny mess and he hides his blushing face in Harry’s neck. He can hear the smile when he says, “Thank you Liz. We’ll be out in a minute.”
Silently, they stand up, both painfully aware of the sticky drying mess in their pants. Harry offers him his arm and takes him to the dining room, where there’s a full meal served. The smell and colors make Louis’ stomach growl, and he takes a seat under the amused look of his master. The diner is nice, full of talking and the occasional hand holding over the table. Louis is relaxed and can’t keep the smile out of his face for longer than a minute.
And so it goes on, the next month is… amazing; full of laziness, cuddles, food, kisses and lots - lots - of sex. (He's said a lot of green's.) Not really penetrative sex, but everything that involved fingers and mouths. Not that Louis is complaining about it, he’s just getting anxious. Why can’t Harry just fuck him already? Does Harry not want to fuck him? He’s losing his mind over it, but he doesn’t let Harry notice. He does freaks out about it over the phone with Niall. At least twice a week.
Whatever, he can live without Harry’s dick up his arse. (But he really doesn’t want to.)
His dilemma is solved on Saturday afternoon. Harry had to run to an early meeting at his office, so Louis had a late breakfast and is lazily binge watching some Sugar Rush. He’s fresh out of the shower and wrapped in Harry’s gown, when he hears the heavy footsteps coming upstairs.
“Well, hello,” says Harry with a wolfish smile in his face, scanning his body, admiring the soft curves if his legs peeking from under the gown. He walks to the bed and, without a word, presents a little gift bag to Louis.
He takes it arching a brow, and goes to open it, only to be stopped by Harry’s hands covering his. “Don’t look yet, just… Go to the bathroom and try it? Promess that i won’t look ‘till and if you’re ready.” Guessing where this is going, he just nods and makes his way to the ensuite. Once inside, he takes a few deep breaths before opening the bag. Inside there’s lingerie; lacy, see through, dark blue lingerie. They had talked about it, but he didn’t thought Harry would make it this fast; and if this is going to be anything like what they talked… An stampede sets on his tummy when he starts undressing.
The panties are a bit tight in his hips and the straps of the bralette keep falling off his shoulders, but Louis feels incredibly sexy. He can see his nipples and the dark pubic hair peeking over the waistband of the underwear; his cock is already fattening up, tenting the panties. With one last twirl in front of the mirror he gets to the door and opens it slightly. “Master…” He uses Harry’s title to let him know he’s onboard with this. “I’m ready, may I come out?”
“Of course, kitten, I’m dying to see you.” Harry’s words are gentle, and encourage Louis to get out of the bathroom. He gives a few steps and stands still in front of the bed with his eyes glued to the floor, well aware that Harry’s eyes are roaming all over his body. “Look so pretty baby… Can’t wait to fuck you in your cute little panties.”
The words make him dizzy and he has to close his eyes and breath for a moment. When he opens his eyes again, Harry is in front of him, so close their toes are touching. He holds his chin and lifts his face, kissing him slowly, letting the fire consume every nerve in Louis’ body. Hands catch his hips and push him towards the bed, laying him and finally breaking the kiss.
Panting, Harry rests his forehead against Louis’ and tells him, “Tonight, I don’t want you to keep anything, wanna hear each and every sound that you make, wanna know how good I make you feel.”
“Please Master. I’ll do it. But please, touch me.”
Harry’s answer comes as a smirk and the teasing touch of his fingertips playing with the waistband of the panties. He takes his time making his way down Louis’ torso, lapping and blowing over his nipples until they’re puffy and red; biting the skin over his ribs, sucking his abdomen, caressing his love handles; his touch is reverent and leaves scorching trails on Louis’ skin. Louis’ mouth is dry and he can’t stop panting, everything about Harry makes his body go nuts.
“Uh… Master, I need… I…” His words are slow and desperate.
“Need what, love?”
“Just… More!” The word is screamed in a moan at the sudden heat of Harry’s mouth over his prick. It’s obscene, the way he slurps and sucks and pulls, all while looking him straight in the eye. And just when Louis is about to fall, he stops. Takes his hips and turns him around in one of the most impressive -and fairly brute- movements he’s seen. The panties are shoved down his legs and Harry wastes no time burying his face in Louis arse.
Louis was in heaven. The sensory overload had sent him far far away. A peaceful place where we could only feel. The sheets are cool under his cheek and soft between his fingers, the lace of the bralette is rough in his nipples and Harry's tongue is wet and soft and wild and deep inside his arse. Harry squeezes his cheeks and he’s pretty sure that would leave marks on him; he moans at the thought of it.
"Hmmm... so hot, baby" Harry's voice is raspy and the words are gasped. Louis wiggles backwards, trying to get moremoremore . He’s getting closer and closer to his orgasm, can already feel the heat growing in his tummy. Then one of Harry's hands is curling his tail, his fingers scratching softly at the base of his spine while the other squeezes the base of his cock, keeping him from coming.
He grunts, desperate and confused. “No, I want you to come on my cock, wanna fill you up,” says Harry, standing and helping him turn on his back. There’s a pause, both panting and watching each other. Then Louis stretches his arm and holds Harry’s cock, flushed and heavy in his hand, and they’re back at the frantic, passionate touching.
A minute later Harry sits on his heels, Louis’ hand falling off him, and Louis eyes immediately fall on his cock. He’s filled with the sudden need to have it in his mouth, to choke on it. So he does. He sets on his tummy and goes all in for Harry. He moans at the tangy taste, the weight on his tongue, the pressure of the head in his throat.
Louis loses himself sucking cock, Harry’s moans all his ears can make out, the hands secured on his hair the only thing grounding him. All too soon, he’s being pulled back and pinned to the bed. Harry’s eyes are a bit frantic when he says, “Such a perfect mouth, made to suck my cock.” Louis preens at the compliment. “But I’d really like to come up your arse.”
Louis nods desperately and urges Harry to ‘get it the fuck in’. Harry takes just the necessary prepping and stretching him, wanting to get inside Louis asap. Once he’s placed Louis’s legs at his hips, he uses one hand to guide himself inside the tight ring of muscle, and enters him completely in a slow, burning thrust. Louis gasps and moans, he feels so full and ready for more.
He tells this to Harry, who starts pounding into him as his life depends on it. “Oh god… So tight, Lou. Better than I imagined, don’t think I’m gonna last long.”
“Please… Please, master.”
“Yeah? Please what? Want me to cum inside? Want me to knock you up?” His words are fast, his breath laboured and his hips are now moving at a ratty pace.
Soon, Harry stills and comes, his hands tight in Louis thighs, his cum shooting inside him. He takes a few seconds to come down, but when he does, his hand is furious over Louis prick, determined to make him come. And it doesn’t take long, the warm feeling of Harry’s seed and his cock going soft inside him enough to take him over the cliff. His orgasm is so intense, he kinda loses track of everything; after awhile he comes back to a strong chest under his cheek and Harry’s voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
“So perfect, kitten. Took me so well. Prettiest noises I’ve ever heard.” Like that, sticky with cum, and tangled with his master, he drifts to sleep.
Two months later, Louis is losing it (again.) He’s been feeling bad, his back hurting at the most random times, getting sick every other morning, crying over the silliest things and having trouble to sleep. On top of it, Harry’s leaving in a two week business trip to… somewhere in America. Louis’s eyes water every time he looks at the half-packed suitcase in the corner of their room; he doesn’t think he’s gonna make it through the day without having an ugly-cry fit.
He’s trying to keep it calm around Harry, not wanting to interfere with his job and be the perfect company for him; but for the past week he hasn’t been able to fall asleep unless Harry is right beside him or he’s wearing some of Harry’s clothes (which also makes him incredibly horny, but everything about Harry makes him hirny, so…) and he’s getting so clingy that Harry is growing suspicious of him.
“Harry, I’m fine… I’ll be fine,” He says at the skeptical look he’s getting.
“I don’t know, Lou… Don’t think I haven’t noticed you aren’t sleeping or eating enough; and you keep wincing every time you stand. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” He asks, his voice as soft and sweet as cotton candy.
And that’s the thing. It’s not that Louis doesn’t want to go with him, but he knows he has to do something can’t know about and this is the perfect chance. (He tries not to think about what he has to do or how that could ruin his life.) So he puts on a brave face, shakes his head and repeats, “I’ll be fine, I’m just missing you already.” That gets him an eye-roll and a light shove to the hall.
“Okay. Now go and bother Liam or something while I finish packing.” The mention of the packing puts a lump in his throat, but he swallows around it and nods, walking to the kitchen. Taking the piss out of Liam always lifts his mood.
An hour later, Harry enters the kitchen and sees Louis munching happily a bowl of food, Liam chatting animatedly on the other side of the counter. “Good to see you know how to control this little one,” he says as a greeting, patting Liam’s back.
“Excuse you?” Comes Louis’ indignant voice. “I can’t be controlled. And I’m not little.” He lifts his chin and pointedly ignores the look Harry is giving to his feet, a few inches over the floor.
“Sure thing, babe.” Mocks Harry, and before Louis can reply, he continues, “I’ve come to say goodbye, Sam is already waiting for me outside.” He has barely finished the sentence and Louis’ arms are wrapping around his waist, his nose pressed to his neck, giving him a crushing hug. Louis hugs him until he has to physically remove him from his torso, pecking his lips and telling him, “I’m gonna miss you too,” in his softest voice. They share a few more kisses before Harry leaves. Louis feels like a giant rock is sitting on his chest; he doesn’t want to lose him.
Next morning, Louis is woken up by a wave of nausea. He takes a bath and a light breakfast (hoping his stomach would retain it) before going out under the excuse of meeting up with Niall. Well, it isn’t really an excuse since he is going to see Niall; the fact that they’re going to the hospital to take a pregnancy test changes nothing. (Except it could change everything.) The meet in front of the Hospital, Niall giving him a hug without saying a thing and taking his hand as they walk inside.
The next hour is a blur of white, needles and nurses. The smell of alcohol got him dizzy and there’s a headache building behind his eyes. Finally, a nurse calls his name and helps him to the doctors office. He seats there, sweaty hands rubbing on his jeans, jaw so tight his cheeks hurt, and hears the phrase that crumbles his world. “Congratulations, Louis, you’re pregnant.” He’s pretty sure the doctor is saying a lot of relevant stuff, but he can’t hear anything over the buzz of his ears.
Once outside the building, Niall takes his hand and drags him to their favorite coffee shop. He drinks three mugs of tea and says nothing. Niall keeps giving him sad eyes.
It’s well past noon when he makes it back to the house and brushes off Liz’s and Liam’s questions with a mumbled excuse about being tired. He gets to the room and lays on the bed, head buried in Harry’s pillow, and finally lets himself cry. It isn’t a weeping, sobbing kind of cry; the tears just roll down his cheeks and he gasps for air every few seconds. He falls asleep and doesn’t let himself think about anything.
He wakes up well past diner time and goes quietly to the kitchen; he eats an apple and a glass of water before going back to sleep.
In the morning he puts on a smile and goes on with his day. Harry calls at lunch time and they chat and laugh over the phone. He’s fine. He keeps eating everything Liam serves him, even though every time he smells garlic he has to run to the bathroom and puke; goes grocery shopping with Liz, even when his feet are killing him and his back hurts all the time; goes to sleep every night with a sweater too big on him on the wrong side of the bed.
He keeps up like this for a week. On Tuesday, he’s having breakfast in the kitchen when Liam comes in, sits in front of him and says in his most casual tone, “So, are you gonna tell me what the heck is going on with you?” Louis tenses at the question but covers it up fast. “I don’t know what you mean, “ He makes his best effort to sound confused but it comes out nervous and scared.
“C’mon Lou, you can’t fool me.” When Louis keeps quiet, he sits next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Lou, is everything alright?” No, nothing is alright, he’s a mess and he fucked up and now Harry is gonna hate him. He shakes his head and cries.
“Oh, Lou. It’s gonna be fine. Whatever it is, we’re gonna figure it out.” He’s full on sobbing now, and Liam tugs him to his chest wrapping him in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” He sniffs, pulling away from Liam. “Nothing to be sorry about, mate.” Liam gives him a little smile and stares, still waiting for an answer. Louis sighs and, not looking at him, says quietly, “I’m pregnant.” It’s the first time he’s said it outloud and the word feels foreign to his mouth.
“Oh my god, that’s amazing, congrats!” Liam is a beaming like a puppy, but when he sees the frown on his brows stops and asks, confused, “Uh… I don’t get it, why aren’t you happy?”
“Don’t you see it? The moment Harry knows about this, it’s gonna be over for me,” His voice is small and sad.
“Lou, what are you talking about?” Liam’s face is contorted in utter confusion. “Harry loves kids-”
“No,” He interrupts, “He loves other people’s kids, he’s never talked about having kids. He wanted me for company, for a fun time and now I’ve gone and got pregnant and ruined everything. I’m no fun now.”
“Louis, that makes literally no sense,” Liam insists. “Even if he hasn’t talked about it, he’s not gonna just throw you out ‘cause you’re pregnant. You know he’s not like that.”
He does know. He knows sweet, funny, loving Harry could never kick him out -even if he wanted to. And that would be even worse, he didn’t want to live off Harry’s pity. Liam opens his mouth to keep talking, but he raises a hand and stops him. “Liam, please, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”
Liam sighs deeply and says, resignation evident on his voice, “So, what are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t know yet, but you can’t tell anyone. This is something I need to handle myself.” Liam looks doubtful, but after a beat of silence he nods. “Is there anything I can do to help you or… them?” He points at his -still flat- tummy.
“Yeah, please stop putting so much goddamn garlic in everything.”
That makes him chuckle, and he gives Louis one last look before heading to the stove to start making lunch.
Louis figures he can hide the pregnancy as long as he doesn’t start showing, so he keeps quiet about it.
Harry comes back from his trip, and makes obvious how much he’s missed him (they fuck five times the day he gets home). They have a nice diner and cuddle before sleep; Louis gets the nicest sleep of the month that night. Life goes on for about two months. He goes to his monthly check-ups with Niall and keeps all pregnancy-related well hidden in the bottom drawer of his dresser. His back still hurts, his ankles are as big as tennis balls, he has to pee every hour and keeps craving pickles with peanut butter at three in the morning (Liam, bless his soul, keeps the fridge well stocked); but Harry still hugs him, and kisses him, and tells him he’s hot; if he notices the elastic band on his jeans or that he wears baggy t-shirts too often, he doesn’t mention it.
Of course, Harry gets suspicious of his mood swings and his constant nausea, but a blowjob it’s usually enough to get him to forget about it. Of course, Louis still cries himself to sleep more often than not, thinking of all the shit he’s putting in his relationship with Harry, and how he’s not giving his baby what they deserve. Of course, Niall and Liam keep telling him to ‘just tell him the fucking truth’, so sure that Harry will keep them.
Nothing of it matters, Louis has decided he’s going to make the best of whatever time he has left with Harry, and then… Well, he hasn’t quite figured out the ‘after’ but whatever, he just wants to be cuddled and kissed for as long as possible.
Everything is going according to his plan. Then, a week after his four-month check-up and the first clear ultrasound of his baby, his world crashes down.
It’s one of the rare mornings they get to lay in since Harry’s early meeting got cancelled. Louis is on his back, Harry half on top of him tracing random lines in his abdomen; suddenly, Louis feels it, just like the doctor said it would feel. The baby kicked. He felt it inside of him. And Harry… he felt it too, judging by the surprised look on his face and the gasp he lets out.
Louis is too scared, he doesn’t know what to do, what to say; his breathing quickens and his anxiety kicks in, making him run to the toilet and puking what was left of his diner. Between the heaves, he feels Harry’s heavy hand in his back, rubbing comforting little circles. It makes him cry. When he finally stops sobbing enough to breath, he’s too ashamed to lift his face, so he just stays there, sitting on the cold floor of the bathroom and looking at Harry’s knees.
The silence grows heavy before Harry takes a deep breath and gets up off the floor. He crunches down in front of Louis, his eyes looking for something in his face, and stretches out a hand, helping him to his feet. Louis’ face is hot with shame as Harry pours water in a cup and hands it to him. Once Louis is stable and hydrated, he turns and goes out of the bathroom, pausing in the door to say over his shoulder, “I’m gonna give you some time to fresh up, and then we’ll talk. I’ll wait for you in the balcony.”
Louis takes his sweet time showering and washing his teeth, stepping out of the bathroom twenty minutes later. As promised, Harry is in the balcony, a meal for two on the table. Louis makes his way to the free chair with slow, measured steps and sits down. They eat in silence.
Apparently Harry is done with his breakfast, putting down the fork and turning his chair to look at Louis. “I’m just gonna ask this one time, and I expect nothing but honesty,” Louis nods, at loss of words. “Who’s the father?”
The question is unexpected; Louis was prepared for judgement, anger, disappointment… but not this, so it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. “Yours,” he whispers.
“Care to explain then, why am I just knowing about it?” His face is neutral, as it’s his voice, Louis can’t read anything on him.
“I…” He knows he has to tell him the truth, but it hurts so much… “I was scared,” Harry raises a brow. “I didn’t know how to tell you or what would you say. We’ve known each other for what? Five months? It’s such a short time to even think about kids, less to think about the feelings, but I was already so in love with you... and now I’ve fucked up getting pregnant.” It comes out all at once, leaving him breathless and exposed in front of his master.
“You… You are in love with me?” Harry is so shocked by this, that he even drops the neutrality mask he had on.
Louis scratches his neck. “Well, yeah. I mean… We’re together all the time and you were being so soft and easy with me, I couldn’t help it.”
“I know, it’s a lot for such a short time. That’s why I’m not asking you to say it back. I’d never-”
“But I do,” Harry cuts off. Seeing the confusion on Louis’ face, he says, “I’m in love with you. I can’t think of anyone else since I met you.”
It’s such a pure way to say it, it makes Louis tear up. “So… You’re not angry at me for getting pregnant?” He asks in a small voice.
In a second Harry is kneeling next to him, cradling his hands with his own. “Of course not, baby. Yes, I’m upset you didn’t say it before, but I could never get angry for the baby. I’m happy for it. Wouldn’t want anyone else’s baby.”
Louis’ face hurts with how big is his smile; Harry’s face mirrors it. They lean in at the same time, bumping their noses. They kiss softly with a giggle, Harry’s hands taking their place over Louis bump.
From there on, Louis is on cloud nine. Harry insists on ‘catching up on parenting’ which means he spends a whole week buying furniture for the nursery (that has a ‘Little Prince’ theme, no matter how much Harry denies it) and another one picking baby clothes. They go to the check-ups together and cry together; also, decide they want to keep the baby’s sex as a mystery. Niall and Liam get their ‘I told you so’ moments.
It’s like, with Harry aware of the pregnancy, all the symptoms had gone better. No more restless nights, morning sickness or nausea; back and feet massages aren’t that bad either. The one thing that gets worse is whatever-thing the baby has with Harry’s smell; Louis can’t even get out of bed without something Harry’s on him or he gets this awful headaches. (Not that Louis is really complaining, Harry smells divine and he loves to wear his clothes)
Sooner than later, Louis’ water breaks and they’re driving to the hospital; the labor is long and tiresome; the birth, hurts as fuck. But his cub is so pretty, with his little hands and his soft hair and his tiny ears over his head. Harry keeps tearing up everytime he as much as moves; it’s the cutest thing Louis has seen in awhile.
It’s hard. Getting used to the sleepless nights; having to feed Dante every few hours, his breasts swollen ninety percent of the time. Having to change nappies at arse o’clock in the morning, changing clothes two or three times a day, humming the same melody over and over again to make his son fall asleep.
But it’s so worth it. Seeing his first steps, hearing his first word (‘banana’, of course), watch his hair grown into soft, wavy strands. And the best of all, seeing the amazing father Harry is; playing the same movies all day, singing lullabies at night after a nightmare, trying -and failing- to feed Dante the fruit and vegetable pureés.
Knowing that he had finally reached his happy ending, next to his beautiful Harry and their sweet baby. Louis was sure nothing could ever make him happier.