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Your Paw Fits In My Hand

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"You’re human!"

He's screaming. He tries to kill Louis, to hurt him with his words. He hates him so much and Louis doesn't understand why.

"You're human, not an fucking animal, but you're too weak to accept it!"

Louis's body is shaking in a blend of cold and fear, as well as a deep desperation. 

"Please." It's the only thing he manages to speak.

He knows how this will end, anyway. He has been waiting for this, he has been waiting for the time. He's so worthless.

Run. Run because you’re worthless, run because the only thing you can do is run, try to escape from the animalistic side of your personality. 

"Get your fucking hybrid ass away from here and never come back, fucking creature!"

Louis Tomlinson doesn't need to be told twice. He turns around and runs away.

It's raining heavily outside, he notices. Los Angeles is being attacked by water bullets, a heavy storm  threatens the peacefulness of the night. It rains heavily, but it doesn't stop Louis from running away; away from that voice inside his head.

You’re human. 

Louis hears nothing but those words constantly echoing inside his mind, telling him that he’s a human. Humans are strong; humans don’t cry, humans fake and pretend.

He’s a human; Ben has said it.

He leaves Ben's house behind, ignoring that all his belongings, his stuff, his hopes and his future are inside that house.

He chooses to ignore it because as much as he tries to, he doesn't find love.

Hell, he needs to be loved. He needs it so much that he wants to cry.

The raindrops hit Louis like cold bullets, yet he can’t really feel them. He isn’t sure how long he has been running under the rain and his body is freezing. It hurts; it hurts so much to know that Ben had kicked him out forever, his last words repeating inside Louis’s mind.

He doesn't feel like a human. He wants to be held and cared like a kitten should be, that's his nature, he doesn't find forces to act as a man.

His body is completely soaked, hair and little animal ears hiding under a beanie, his fringe plastered to his forehead. His clothes expose his thick tights and his curvy and inviting body.

He’s bare-feet, dirty and completely wet. Also, he's alone, maybe forever, with the only reassurance that being a human is what he should be.

Louis doesn’t know if he hates Ben. He doesn't really know how he feels like, he hadn’t been taught of it; yet if hate means feeling a weird heaviness in the chest and an unstoppable urge to cry until there are no more tears to cry, then yes, he hates Ben.

He wants to curl up into a ball, be free, cry and purr and just have a cup of milk and maybe snuggle in someone’s lap. He wants to be an animal.

Yet he’s supposed to be a human.

The scared hybrid turns around, reaching an wide avenue that happens to be crowded by folks, expensive cars and people holding umbrellas to protect richer people from getting wet.

Louis stops. His feline eyes scan the multitude, they're all humans like Ben. 

With the only thought of being rejected again, Louis shudders. He knows his safety means loneliness, yet he doesn't want it. 

He craves love.

"Here comes Mr. Styles!"

Someone in the street announces the arrival of this Mr. Styles and people quickly get crowded next to the entrance to an elegant night club.

Louis spots a lot of people with cameras and a couple of excited girls. Seconds later, a expensive car drives down the street and parks in front of the club.

Louis freezes, watching the crowd going wild and thousands of people appearing out of nowhere, holding umbrellas.

He's scared as hell, he can’t be seen. No, not now. He doesn't have much experience when it comes to humans, Ben barely let him speak with him. He feels a shiver running up his spine, making his body shake.

He really, really wants to cry.


Someone screams to Louis, who feels the way those words stab his mind and turn his blood cold as ice.

No, no, he doesn’t want to be yelled again. He can’t stand it, words hurt him more than they should; he had had enough with Ben.

Louis breaks into sobs and looks by the corner of his eye how a man is walking towards him.

No, please. I’m not human, I can’t be a man. 

Well, he's is trapped. He has no way out, the only option he has is to run towards the multitude and try to disappear among them.

His blue eyes study the multitude, the black umbrellas, the flashes… And he decides to run.

“Hey, come here! You can’t go there!”

Louis runs until he bumps into one of those rich men and the crowd breaks into an hysteric screaming.

They start yelling and shrieking; Louis feels his heart beating crazily inside his chest. His stomach is twisting and his heart seems to be trying to explode in his ears.

He can’t breathe and suddenly he’s surrounded by people who are looking at him, rejecting him with their eyes, insulting him just like Ben did.

“Someone, please, catch that homeless asshole!” A man yells and Louis can’t see anything, the tears are blurring his vision. 

He’s dizzy, he feels like fainting, and Ben’s voice is shattering the back of his mind, and he wants someone to hold him and kiss him and lull him to sleep.

Louis's knees give up and he falls on the ground. He hears someone that sounds very much like the police. God, cops are going to trap him.

He didn’t ask to be like this; he just wants someone to let him be what he is. He wants someone to hold him.

Hold him the way the warm arms that are wrapping around his waist do.

Someone to whisper to him, someone to talk in the way that deep, masculine and measured voice is telling him, “Hey, I got you, everything is fine.”

Someone to hold him tightly, as if the world was crumbling down and the only thing that could save them were each other.

Someone like him

“Shh, pretty, you’re safe. I’m here. Can you stand up, love? Do it, for me?”

The hybrid doesn’t understand why suddenly such a lovely boy is holding him. Why someone is looking after him. 

Louis raises his eyes to find a pair of questioning and thoughtful green eyes already staring at him. Those eyes are absorbing, profound and indulgent. They’re strong in the way they gaze; they have something that regular eyes don’t have.

"What's wrong, baby? Please, speak to me."

Louis hides his face on the stranger's chest, trying to fit into his body (which it isn't hard). "Home."

That's the only word he manages to say. The only thing he lost and needs. "Home, please."

“I’ll take my limo,” the stranger says without hesitation. 

The mysterious boy is quite adorable. His long and curly hair falls lazily trough his face; he has a weird scarf wrapped around his head, his eyes sparkle and his lips… Louis never really paid attention to other people's lips, yet the boy has plump, rosy lips. 

“Harry Styles, what the hell are you doing?” someone is screaming. Louis doesn’t want to know who. He just wants this boy named Harry.

“Mr. Styles, I’m sorry, but do you know this kid? He just ran out of nowhere,” a cop asks.

“It’s fine,” Harry says while he helps Louis to stand up. “We’re fine. I know him.”

Louis does not know the boy. Or is he confused?

He raises his eyes to look at Harry, frowning. Harry keeps talking to the man, and Louis feels something strong and powerful growing inside his chest, like desperation for a type of freedom he can only find in the eyes of that beautiful boy.

He never felt that way. Is it something only humans are supposed to feel?

You’re a human, Ben still yells inside his head.

No, he’s not. He’s a hybrid. He’s a weird, odd mess, a mix between human and animal.

Ben always said he was so ugly, so worthless, so… incomplete. It doesn't matter now, not while he's being held by Harry.

Louis doesn’t feel like human. He feels like a kitten.

“Harry, lad, please let him go,” there’s another boy, brown-haired with sharp and nice features, wearing a smart suit fitting his slim body. “He’s wet, dirty and probably…”

“Fuck off, Zayn. Get me my limo. I need to get out of here.”

“Harry Styles, this fashion gala was supposed to be in your honor!” The boy named Zayn yells. Louis shakes at the loud yell and hides his face on Harry’s chest. He really, really hopes that he doesn’t let him go anytime soon.

“Well, I don’t want it.”

Everything is a mess, Louis thinks. He’s wrapped in a stranger’s arms, surrounded by well-dressed people with wide eyes, staring at Harry in shock. 

Everybody there seems to be fancy and glamorous, smart and human. Louis feels so out of place, honestly.

The Zayn boy is even more shocked than the rest of the multitude, and he doesn’t try to hide it.

There’s a big sign hanging down the door of the nightclub which says “STYLES EMPIRE FASHION NIGHT.”

Louis’s doesn’t want Harry to leave him. His eyes grow wet and his body aches to be hugged, to be touched and cuddled. His kitten soul craves for human contact, for any kind of caress.

Before he can think about it, Louis breaks in a silent cry again.

“Don’t cry, please,” Harry begs in a gentle voice, only for Louis to hear. “Please, love, don’t. See: here’s my limo. We can go away now. Tell me where your home is, I'll get you there."

Harry is staring at him, yet Louis isn’t staring back. He’s terrified of looking at Harry’s eyes, he’s sure he’ll laugh and tell him to fuck off. Ben did it. Yet Harry isn’t being mean, he’s smiling at him.

Zayn growls on annoyance and turns around. He scans the curious multitude and yells, “There’s nothing to see here, people! Keep moving! Enjoy the night!”

Louis stares at Zayn while he tries to lead the crowd to the bar, and then turns to Harry. 

He finds in him nothing but sweetness. He isn’t like Ben, cold and egomaniac; he’s pure and nice. Louis finally stands up and nods with the head, silent.

“Come on. Tell me where you home is.”

Louis can't come back to his home. Ben kicked him out, hell, he was crystal clear that he didn't want him anymore.

That means he's homeless.

"I..." Louis struggles to find the right words, to speak. "Don't have home." His body shakes with his silent sobs, his desperate hybrid heart screaming for help. "Please."

He doesn't know why is he pleading. Harry doesn't seem to care.

“It's ok, don't worry, love. Just follow me,” Harry asks nicely while he grabs Louis by his waist, guiding him towards a nice black car that’s waiting for them with open doors. 

Zayn keeps ranting loudly while he follows Harry, once in a while yelling at anyone who can’t stop staring at them.

“Give me your hand,” Harry asks and Louis quickly obeys, just because he’s used to be ordered.

It’s strange when their fingers are linked. They fit.

Louis never felt that way, and he might like it.

Harry helps Louis to get into the limo and whispers to wait for him, that he’s got to fix some things. Louis nods and watches how Harry goes away.

Of course, Harry is going to abandon Louis. Of course. He’s going to run away and Louis will be driven to a lonely place, to let him die alone.

He wants to cry, but Ben’s voice tells him that humans don’t cry.

Yet Harry comes back. He gets into the car, mumbling something to the driver, and quickly finds his place in the back seat.

The car starts moving and before Louis can realize, they’re driving away.

Out of the blue, Louis climbs into Harry’s lap to curl up into a ball, resting his head against his chest and gripping his shirt with his tiny hand as if it was a lifesaver.

His eyes are shut and his lips tremble, as well as his pulse. He doesn't know if Harry wants this, but it kind of feels right. 

Harry does nothing at first. Louis doesn’t matter, though, he’s feeling the reassurance of being hold and that’s just enough for him.

“Love,” he finally whispers, wrapping his arms around the boy and rocking him into his lap. “Whatever happened, it's fine. I got you.”

Louis nods frenetically with his head and gazes at him. Harry says nothing; he merely stares at the hybrid, who stares back at him. There’s a mute conversation going on between them; their eyes are talking by the words they’re afraid to speak.

The boy reaches a hand to Louis’s back and caresses him tenderly; the only instinct of protecting and loving that stranger taking control of his body. Louis closes his puffy eyes and makes a sound that might as well be a purr.

“Well, hi,” Harry says, leaning back in order to face Louis. Those endearing green eyes stare at him curiously. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles, if you’re into fashion you probably know me?” He wonders. Louis isn’t into fashion and hasn’t a clue of who Harry is. The boy blushes when Louis says nothing and keeps talking. “Hum, ok. What’s your name?”

It’s weird: tiny holding onto the lanky one. Two different stories. Two minds that don’t know each other. Two lives, two worlds suddenly tied up by the strength of a gaze and a furtive moment of intimacy.

Harry’s eyes are shelter. His arms holding Louis makes him safe.

“I’m—” He finally speaks with a choked voice. “I’m Louis.”

"Nice to meet you, Lou," Harry says, the nickname almost falls unconsciously from his lips and Louis feels something warm when he hears it. "I’m sorry that I get you here, I needed to help you," he explains. "Wondered why you were running."

“Mmm,” Louis mumbles, while Harry idly slides his thumb by his Louis' spine, making him shudder. “Party?”

Harry left a party for him, he knows it. That’s why the boy called Zayn was yelling at him.

"Don’t give me that look, babe, the gala id going to be horrid. Sometimes being famous isn’t that great, you have to put your best smile and pretend you like people…"

Louis likes the way Harry talks. Slow, deep and raspy, it’s not rushed or anxious and it brings peace to Louis’s mind. He could listen to Harry for hours.

The way to the hotel is really peaceful. Harry chats a bit with the driver, laughing out loud when he tells him something about a girl called Taylor that Louis doesn’t know, but decides to hate either way, because apparently she dated Harry.

Why do they talk about dating? Louis knows how the dating stuff works, yet hybrids are excluded from relationships. It doesn’t stop him to shift closer to Harry when the men wouldn’t shut up about that girl.

Louis stares at Harry with amazement, feeling a strong urge to mark his territory. He was never that possessive, Ben didn't feel like… A property.

Harry, by the other hand, doesn’t shut up about boys and girls and Louis doesn’t want him to go out with those anonymous people, he wants the boy just for him.

The feeling distresses the kitten, because he isn’t quite sure if humans or animals are supposed to feel that level of possessiveness over someone. Maybe it’s a hybrid thing, something Ben didn’t explain to him.

Harry notices the way Louis moves closer, so he tightens the hug and kisses the top of his head. The hybrid nuzzles his face on the crook of his neck and enjoys the way Harry’s voice dances around him and lulls him to sleep.

They arrive at the hotel before Louis can fall asleep. He’s quite comfortable there, sitting on the passenger seat with the heat on and Harry’s comforting company at his side. When the driver parks, the hybrid almost regrets that they have to leave the car.

“We’re here,” Harry announces, smiling. “Hey, thanks, Paul. Have a good one.”

“You sure you don’t need me anymore?”

“Not tonight, Paul. Go and enjoy your night with your family.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

The lobby is peaceful, the woman from the counter says a weak hello to Harry, the boy kindly replies. Every step from Louis wets the floor, but nobody seems to notice. They walk by the empty lobby, and even when there’s no one to glance at them, Louis feels exposed, and he wants nothing but to hold Harry tighter and hide from the world. 

He has a strong ache to touch, to feel the boy. He’s actually looking at him, but it’s like… He needs to touch Harry to know that he’s real.

You’re a human.

No, Louis isn’t a human. Louis is an hybrid.

“Here,” Harry whispers in Louis’s ears when the lift stops on their floor. They walk side by side until they arrive at his room. “Welcome, baby.”

Harry has to encourage Louis a bit to walk inside the room, resting his hand against his back and opening the way. The place is cozy and smells like expensive perfume. Harry’s stuff is perfectly organized on the desk while his empty bags are spread on the floor.

“You’ll need a warmth bath, you’re really wet. Well, me too,” he chuckles, his cute dimples appearing on his cheeks.

Louis looks at him and freezes when he falls into realization: Harry doesn’t know that he’s a kitten. He’s wearing a beanie and his tail is hidden under his sweatpants.

Harry thinks that he’s human, just like Ben did.

The young boy senses Louis’s stiffness, so he steps forward. In a slow combination of motions, Harry takes his thin wrist with his hand and pulls from him, bringing him close.

Louis is easily guided, yet his scared eyes don’t seem too happy about it.


“Leave me,” Louis pleads, his shy voice shattered. He fights to break free and steps back until his body collides against the wall. “Please, leave me.”

“Louis, I don’t…”

Ben hated him. Louis could see the disdain in Ben’s eyes when Louis did something kitten-like as purring or shaking his tail or being just cuddly. Harry will hate him too, because it doesn’t matter how hard Louis tries to, he will never be a human.

“You hate me,” Louis stammers. He isn’t making any sense, his back glued to the wall, trying to be as distant from Harry as he can. His eyes are human again, his shade of fiery has faded away.

“I don’t hate you,” Harry insists, and the nervousness is clear in his voice. “Please, babe.”

Louis’s fearful eyes look at him, bursting with tears. He shakes his head and covers his face with his tiny hands. He sobs loudly, his body shaking, and collapses on the floor. 

Harry can’t understand what’s wrong with the boy, yet the sight of a broken Louis makes him feel fucking terrible and powerless.

I’m a kitten, Louis screams inside his head.


“I’m this,” Louis howls, throwing his head back, removing his beanie from his head.

What comes next, Harry wasn’t expecting it. At all.

Louis did purr. Louis’s eyes were feline indeed; his body moved with a feline elegance and a flirting way that was really cat-like.

The blue in his eyes has that mist of distrust and self-indulgence that every cat has; his tiny hands were more of a paw than a hand. He makes Harry fell smitten and loved up because his body snuggled against his like a cat.

Louis is a kitten hybrid and Harry finally knows it.

“Oh my God,” Harry stutters, shocked. Louis is expecting him to yell, to hit him, to treat him as bad as Ben did. He feels completely out of control, he doesn’t know what to do; he can sense the hate growing inside Harry, yet still the only thing he wants is Harry’s arms around him. “Oh my fucking God. You're a kitten. An actual... This is why you were running away, isn't it? Someone…?”

“Don’t hurt me. Please, Harry. Please.”

Harry kneels down in front of him and takes the beanie from Louis’s hand. He leaves it on the floor, trying to be slow in his motions.

It’s weird because the way Harry acts make Louis feel safe even in the smallest details. He sits in pretzel position, the kitten following his movements with his eyes.

“Louis,” Harry talks quietly. It makes Louis shudder how intently he’s staring at him. “We don’t know each other. I don’t know your story and you don’t know mine. But today,” he moves a bit in order to take Louis’s hands on his, yet the kitten moves his tiny hand away. Harry acts as if he hasn’t noticed it and continues: “Today, we’re one. We’re two stories, tied up. Please, trust me.”

Nothing. No sound comes out from Louis’s mouth. Harry doesn’t mind, he really doesn’t mind that Louis isn’t human and also isn’t an animal.

He shifts closer, hesitant. They are having a conversation within the eyes that Louis doesn't know if he's understanding.

It feels as if Harry cared about him, which is impossible because they don't know each other. Humans don't look after those they don't know.

The boy reaches a hand to caress the kitten's leg, making Louis jump at the sudden touch and rapidly pull away.

“Oh, God, I'm so sorry. If you don’t want to be touched just… Tell me. Please. I want this to be as nice as I can and I can’t…” Harry stutters uncomfortably, desperately trying to make it better. “I’m a touchy person, I’m sorry. Did I make the right thing saving you? You want me to…?”

Louis stares with amazement how Harry's pretty face reflects so plainly his emotions while he talks.

Harry is upset. Actually, he’s willing to do everything to make it better for Louis. “I can ask for another room if you don’t want me here,” Harry finally whispers, almost broken.

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “Stay.” His tail wraps around Harry’s leg in a silent plea for him to stay with the him.

He smiles sweetly and approaches Louis carefully. He manages to be as close to Louis as he allows him, sliding his fingertips by Louis’s cheekbones when they’re inches apart.

They are invading each other's personal space and none of them seem to mind.

“Lou.” Harry’s eyes drop to Louis’s lips. “Baby kitten.”

Louis doesn’t know how to react at the fondness he finds in Harry's voice. He has never been called baby before, he actually likes it quite a lot.

“Want me to fill the bath, Lou? I’ll let you bathe alone, don’t worry,” Harry quickly adds.

Louis nods. He doesn’t say anything and, judging by the way his body moves and his eyes constantly change, it’s obvious that he’s having battle inside his mind.

Louis is having a war inside his mind between his natures.

Harry stand up before a long moment of a dead silence and disappears into the bathroom, leaving the kitten alone.

Louis doesn’t move a bit. He likes how things feel inside the room; he can catch Harry’s smell everywhere. 

He smells nice; his smell is an olfactory representation of his personality: sweet yet not intoxicating, satisfying, with something that makes people crave for it.

When everything is ready, Harry peeps out his head by the door, finding Louis in the same exact position he had left him. “It’s all done, Lou. You can have your bath now.”

Louis nods with the head, standing up. Harry takes some of his clothes and offers them to the kitten. Louis is really, really tempted to bury his face in them, wanting nothing but to be wrapped by Harry’s scent.

“Smells like you,” Louis whispers quietly, raising up his eyes at him.

“I know. They’re mine,” he nods and gives him an encouraging pat on his back. “Go, Lou. Enjoy your bath.”


↠ ♡ ↞


Three texts from Liam, ten missed calls from Zayn and two voice messages from Niall… Honestly, it isn’t that much.

Harry Styles has just disappeared out of the blue from a fashion gala and nobody can find him; he could have received way more messages and calls.

It’s probably all thanks of Zayn, his good assistant. He always understands Harry’s craziness and weird ideas.

If Harry has to be honest, the gala was bloody boring and it wasn’t even started. And for God’s sake, that lovely kitten was so alone, so abandoned in the middle of the rain, running away from God only knows who. 

Harry couldn't do anything but leave to help him.

That’s his nature, always the helper. He isn't really used to see innocence in the fashion business, and Louis gives him a strange kind of security that nobody gave him before.

He needs to protect him.

If Louis spends a long time in the bathroom, Harry doesn’t mind. He really needs a bath and a good pampering time, Harry knows it and doesn't want to deny Louis his right to have a time for his own.

After checking on him and receiving a weak 'fine' as a reply from the kitten, he decides to ask for room service. If the girl in the reception finds odd that Harry is asking for warmth milk and vanilla cookies, she says nothing at all.

Once the food arrives, Harry takes off his sticky clothes and wipes his body with a towel and gets in bed. He turns the TV on, determined to wait for Louis to ask him where he prefers to sleep.

(He doesn’t mind sharing his bed with Louis, though. He doesn’t mind at all)

He decides to text Zayn because a little feeling of guilt is growing in his guts. Zayn always carries the heaviest stuff from Harry's famous life.


I’m fine, thanks for helping x 


Of course Zayn replies right away.


dont fuck the kid, u dont know if hes good. Gonna pay 4 this, H. See ya x


Harry chuckles when he reads the message. Leaving aside the fact that Harry isn't the type of guy who usually fuck random people; he would never do that to Louis.


He's different, trust me. See you tomorrow! Xxxx


He knows Zayn will read too far into his message, but for once he doesn't care. He turns off his phone and snuggles in bed, surrounded by pillows.

He has escaped from a gala, he wants nothing but peace and a quiet moment with the kitten.

When Louis reappears in the room, he's wearing one of Harry’s expensive shirts. He looks adorable, his tiny figure sunk on the size of the giant shirt.

Louis is pure innocence, something Harry isn’t really used to have in his life. He’s glad he saved him. Why he did it, he has no idea, but he’ll have plenty of time to think about it.

For now, he only wants to protect that gorgeous creature.

“Hey,” he says. “Took you a bit, eh?” he jokes happily. Louis doesn’t smile. “Want me to sleep in the couch?”

The kitten doesn’t answer. Harry pats the empty side of the king size bed, inviting him to lay with him. Louis glances at the tiny couch in the room and then walks towards the bed, collapsing next to Harry.

“Warm,” Louis whispers shortly, snuggling against the boy.

“Yeah, the bed is quite warm.” Harry welcomes Louis easily in his arms, not being plenty conscious about his words. God, his mind can only think about the way those feline eyes stare at him silently, yet speaking with so much confidence.

“No, not bed. You,” Louis corrects him and buries his face on Harry’s naked torso. The boy giggles softly and rolls around to make space for them to cuddle.

“I didn't know you were a cuddler,” Harry teases, winking at Louis.

The kitten freezes up under his touch, raising up his head. He holds his breath for a moment and then he suddenly pushes him back. 

His eyes glisten with anxiety, his tail drapes his leg in a way that Harry thinks he might do only when he’s scared. It’s a way of protecting himself.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry says quickly, sitting up on bed. The kitten huddle more into the pillows on the edge of the bed, protected from falling over by the nightstand. “Lou, don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”


“Why what, baby?”

Louis’s lower lip trembles visibly, he hugs his flexed legs and holds his breath for a moment. Harry wants to fucking kiss the shit out for him and give him all those small things he has never had yet he deserved so much.

“Why do… you… do you want to… cuddle me?”

The question shocks Harry, who isn't exactly expecting it. It has a dash of innocence and genuine ignorance that melts Harry’s heart; who isn’t used to plain innocence on topics as regular as cuddles and stuff.

Yet he thinks love should be innocent. Free like a feather in the air and innocent like the first snowflake of the season. Love should be less like a problem and more like— Louis.

“I… don’t know? Because you said that I was warm. I want to make you feel better, and since warmth always makes it better… well.” He knows he’s rambling and his words don’t make sense, yet Louis listens to him with full interest. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, Lou.”

“No. No,” Louis denies and finally he relaxes a bit, letting it go. Harry doesn’t get closer, though, he chooses to wait. “I… nobody cuddled me. Before.”

Louis talks in a slow and erratic way, his words seem to be stuck in his throat; yet Harry thinks it’s lovely.

Louis’s humanity is as lovely as his kitten condition, but somehow, he seems less comfortable about acting as a human than acting as a kitten.

There is many, many things Louis wasn’t taught about.

“Can I be the first? If you want me to, of course,” Harry speaks softly, he wants his voice to be a caress to Louis's scared soul.

Louis stares at Harry with fierce, expecting nothing and wanting everything. He licks his lower lip with the tip of his tongue like a real kitten, which makes Harry's urge to kiss him grow heavier.

He slides by the bed and shift closer to Harry, burying his face on his chest and wrapping his tail around Harry’s waist. The boy hugs him tighter, bodies entangled and draped in a warm sensation. Louis purrs happily, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s chest.

“We fit,” Louis points out after a while of Harry rocking him on his lap.

The boy giggles because yes, they fit.

“Yes, we fit. We fit so well.”

They remain silent for a long, long time. Harry closes his eyes and rests his head against Louis’s, both sleepy and starting to shift into a deep dream.

“Harry,” Louis calls with a drowsy voice.


“I… like— your name.”

Somehow, Harry knows that Louis's first intention wasn't saying he liked his name, but he avoid looking too far into it. “I like your name too, Louis. And your eyes. And you.”

It keeps raining outside. The window glasses are wet and misted, the sky gray and the night lonely.

Los Angeles is a lovely place to fall in love, Harry thinks.


The kitten pokes his head up, curious. Wrapped up into each other, they are so, so close.

They just met, Harry doesn’t even know Louis’s story, where he comes from, why was he running away. He knows nothing except that he has the prettiest eyes and the fittest body in the entire world.

He knows nothing yet he already gave him his heart.

“Why were you running away, love?”

Louis remains quiet for a while, thinking about his answer. “He left me.”

“He? Who?” Harry asks and honestly, who was the fucker that left that beautiful creature alone? He knows that Louis is talking about his owner, and somehow an unreasonable jealousy thrives inside him. “Your old owner?”

“Ben,” Louis replies, nodding with the head.

“Forget about Ben,” he whispers and he knows it isn’t the time to be that possessive but he can’t help it, though. Whoever Ben is, he can fuck off. Louis doesn’t belong to him. “You’re mine now.”

His eyes travel down on the way to Louis’s lip. They’re chapped and thin; pinkish like the petals of a delicate rose, so delicate that Harry might be afraid of hurting them if he kisses him.

There’s something about the line of his lower lip, something that makes Harry think about flowers and sweet and kisses.

Louis wrinkles his nose and licks his lips slowly with his tongue. Harry can’t help staring, the way his saliva soaks his lips, turning them a bit reddish and prettier.

He fucking wants to kiss him.

He doesn’t feel his own body anymore, the only emotion controlling his body is the hurry to kiss and be kissed; the only thought inside his mind is roses and kittens and lips and Louis.

“Kiss me?”

It’s a low, nervous pleading that comes out from Louis’s mouth. Two words asked with indecision because maybe he has never been kissed before and he doesn’t know how to do it.

Harry cups his hands on Louis’s face, noticing that his eyes are completely feline now, not a glimpse of his human part. They are devouring, begging for Harry.

“Have you ever been kissed, kitten?”

Louis is staring at Harry with pure delight and fascination. Something changed in the way he looks at him, something tiny yet so big, so crucial for them. 

It isn't fear anymore. It's trust.


Louis’s denial is quiet, but there’s no shame on it. He isn’t aware that not being kissed could be something shocking for some people, something to feel humiliated about.

“Good, love. I’m going to be your first. You okay with that?” he whispers and doesn't wait an answer before closing the distance between them.

As soon as their mouths meet, Harry knows that he wants to be Louis’s first everything. First cuddle, first kiss, first time, first love, first— the first, one and only.

Louis doesn’t move his lips, too caught up on the sensation of having someone’s mouth against his for the very first time in his life. Harry has his eyes closed and he doesn’t move either, waiting for the kitten to do something.

Then Louis tightens the grip of his tail on Harry’s leg, which Harry takes as an encouragement to deepen the kiss.

He takes it slow first; his lips are just barely grazing Louis’s. He teasingly nibbles his lower lip, making Louis gasps and opening his mouth slightly. Harry grabs him by the back of his neck and tilts his head, sliding his tongue inside Louis’s mouth.

The kiss turns sloppy and needy pretty quickly; Louis has some kind of taste that makes Harry more frenetic and excited than any drug, any substance in the whole world.

Harry finally breaks the kiss when he needs to recover his breathing. Their foreheads rest against each other, they’re gasping for air.

“I like you, Louis. I’m so glad you accepted to come with me.”

Louis kisses him again and Harry can’t help being a bit rougher this time. He moans slowly, letting go of his emotions, while Louis kisses him again. And again.

“I’m a kitten,” Louis whispers, breaking the kiss, as it his statement was reason enough for Harry to kick him out.

“I don’t care,” Harry explains. The adoration in his eyes is hard for Louis to understand, he doesn't know about those kind of feelings. “Being a kitten… God, Lou, that’s what makes you who you are. Please, don’t you ever, ever, be ashamed of being a hybrid. Never, ok?”

Harry leans in to kiss Louis again, who receives him responsively, almost desperate to have the touch of Harry against his.

“Kitten or human,” Harry murmurs, mouth still touching Louis’s, “you’re gorgeous, beautiful,” another kiss, “perfect. You’re…”

“Yours,” Louis finishes with his voice low as a murmur.

Harry feels his world crumbling down when Louis speaks that simple word. He clutches the kitten tighter, who's easily handled by Harry, kissing him hard. 

The boy ignores how willing Louis is to be touched and manhandled, ignoring as well the visions that Louis’s eagerness causes on him.

The hybrid gasps into his mouth and holds from Harry tighter. He’s twitchy, trying to find a better position on Harry’s lap, mouth still glued to the boy. 

Louis tries to switch closer and, when his crotch presses against Harry’s, the younger boy understands that Louis is desperately trying to create friction.

Harry doesn’t know what to do. He knows that Louis is eager and asking for it, but he’s too innocent yet to fully understand what sex means. It’s only his animalistic side controlling his actions.

“Babe,” Harry whimpers, breaking the kiss. Louis has his eyes shut, and as soon as Harry leans back, he buries his face on Harry’s shoulder. He shifts his hips and his hard dick rubs against Harry’s crotch. “Oh God.”

Harry decides to remain motionless, letting Louis be the one to do the work. He wants him to be free, free to do whatever he needs. He doesn’t want to push him. They just have met, Harry feels like he has no right to take Louis.

Yet he doesn’t have right to stop him from doing what he needs, either.


Louis moans Harry’s name noisily while he moves his pelvis up and down, creating friction and pressure against Harry’s. The young boy has to bite his lip and close his eyes to control the urge to touch the kitten, letting him explore his own body and the way it will react at the contact.

Louis moves up a bit, placing his crotch against Harry’s belly. The young boy adjusts beneath him, letting his hard cock slide in between his bum cheeks, creating the friction he needs to get off. He starts grinding against Louis, who moves in desperate motions, rubbing his cock against Harry.

Fuck, fuck.

Louis makes throaty sounds and grips Harry’s shoulder, shifting his body in order to reach a better position. He starts moving faster and faster, his ass rubbing against Harry’s dick; the friction he’s getting driving him crazy.

“Lou,” Harry gasps, short of breath. 

It’s getting harder for him to control his instincts, the kitten is way too hot, and the way he makes small and needy is the most lustful and beautiful thing Harry has ever heard. 

As much as he tries to avoid touching Louis, he can’t help burying his face in the crook of Louis’s neck to place an open mouth kiss.

Louis makes a choked sob and rubs down roughly. His petite hand quickly seeks for his bulge, palming his cock. 

“Harry,” he pants in need. He shoves down one more time against Harry, hand in between, and remains with his hard dick pressed against his Harry’s belly, after what he comes with a beautiful cry of his name in his mouth.

Harry feels his own orgasm building up, still needed of a bit more friction. “Please, kitten, move a little.”

Louis locks his glassed eyes on Harry, who joins their lips quickly, desperate to taste his kitten. The hybrid shoves down and moves his ass, creating the friction Harry needs to finally reach his orgasm and come hard on his boxers.

Fucking God.

“You’re a naughty kitten,” Harry chuckles, once they recover their breathing. Louis is sweaty and dirty, and Harry loves the way his face looks after his high. “I’ll have to clean you up, baby.”

Louis doesn’t express any kind of emotion, and it warns Harry. He slowly slides his thumb by his jaw, the kitten melting into his touch and purring softly, his ears shaking on pleasure. The boy finishes with a tender kiss on his lips.

“Don’t be embarrassed about what you did, love,” Harry whispers affectionately, knowing the thoughts that may cause struggle in Louis’s mind. “It was beautiful.”

This time, Louis agrees to go with Harry to the bathroom, where they both clean themselves and change into fresh clothes. 

Once they’re done, they climb in bed and Louis doesn't even ask before snuggling close to Harry as much as he can. Harry takes his chance to spoon Louis, yet the kitten doesn't let him. He forces him turn around, making of Harry the little spoon.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, feeling Louis's breathing against his neck. He closes his eyes, the sense of Louis giving him some kind of weird bliss. “I hope you aren't scared of planes.”


“We're flying to London. Together.”

Harry knows he’s being reckless. He knows he's famous, he knows people follow him everywhere. Zayn will be mad, Liam too. He couldn't care less.

He only cares about Louis.