Harry pressed his face against the cool glass of the display case, fighting back nausea as he soothed his hot skin. He felt like he'd been fighting some horrific disease or other for over a month. He'd had strep for a bit, right after his first heat, but luckily antibiotics had taken care of that pretty quickly. Some weeks later, and it seemed to be some sort of stomach bug or flu.
He'd woken up just this morning by clambering over Louis' prone form, hand clamped to his mouth as he rushed to the toilet, dropped to his knees, and puked up his dinner with a low whine of anguish and disgust. His Alpha had appeared several seconds later, crouching down beside him and gently pulling his long curls away from his sweaty, pale face, which Harry had been eternally grateful for. He'd nuzzled back into him miserably before another wave of intense nausea had sent him back to praying to the porcelain goddess.
It had truly started days ago, with a spectacularly awful vomit after attempting to grill raw chicken breast, and this morning Louis had mentioned the d word: doctor. Harry wasn't exactly the fondest of medical places, but he'd agreed with Louis after only being able to eat a breakfast of half a banana and some heated lemon water. Perhaps it really was time to get sorted again, especially since he'd never had a tummy bug for more than a few days, and today marked a week. And it couldn't be the flu; he'd had no temperature, no chills, no huge aches and complaints, and he was a little more tired than usual, but it certainly wasn't like any sickness he could ever recall having.
So, here Harry was, trying not to look or smell anything in the cornucopia of sweets and sugary treats. It was difficult, since he had to touch and pick up and then bag them whenever a customer ordered something. The tea, at least, made him feel significantly better; that was a comforting scent. Harry glanced at the clock and moaned pitifully, as he still had two hours to go.
Suddenly, the door to the shop opened, and in tumbled Liam and Niall, the blond making an immediate beeline for the pastries with practical heart eyes. The boy tugged the display case open himself, without permission or even a question, and Harry managed a weak smile, suddenly and intensely sickened by the cloying sweet smell of baking. He was quite green about the gills, he was sure, and Liam's face went rather alarmed as he hurried over.
"Alright?" he asked worriedly, brows drawn together in concern. Harry nodded carefully, his stomach openly rebelling. Niall pursed his lips into a frown and bit his bottom lip.
"Are you still sick then? Christ, it's been a week. This must be something serious," he hummed, slipping around the counter and protectively pressing himself to Harry's side, arms carefully wrapping around his torso and squeezing comfortingly. Harry heaved a slow sigh, mindful to breathe only through his mouth. Liam shut the case quickly, and Harry sighed once more, this time in relief.
"Yeah. Lou said I have to go to the doctor," he huffed, wiping back his curls and grumbling. He felt better almost as soon as he didn't have to smell the baked goods. Niall had busied himself with the beverage machines, and suddenly produced a hot cuppa of something, brandishing it towards the Omega. Harry leered warily at it, uneasy with his stomach at their rocky truce.
"No, s'ginger tea. It'll help, cross my heart and hope to die. It was the only thing that made my mum sane when she was pregnant with me," Niall swore by it, eyes bright.
Harry froze a moment, his breath stuttering in his chest. No fever. No chills. No coughing, sneezing, hacking. Yes nausea and vomiting, lethargy, frequent wee breaks, and, now that he thought about it, his chest had been sore lately. Just last week, he'd almost bitten Louis for getting too rough with his nipples.
"... Lads. Lads! Oh my god," Harry whispered, the pieces falling into place. It all made sense. The food aversions, and seemingly random bouts of tummy trouble. The only thing he couldn't figure out was how. He'd been on his 'pressies since the end of his first heat, and he knew, quite confidently, that no Omega could get knocked up during it; the first one had way too many hormones and mixed-up puberty for an egg and sperm to successfully meet. So, how on earth could he be?
Except-- the antibiotics. They'd fucked to celebrate Harry finally feeling better and not being contagious after his fight with strep-- but the antibiotics had likely still been present. And everyone knew suppressants and birth control didn't work when on antibiotics.
"Lads," Harry repeated once again, blinking slowly as his eyes filled with tears. Liam and Niall were staring at him in bewildered silence. "Lads. I'm, like, ninety-eight point seven percent sure I'm up the duff."
"No," Liam gasped, as Niall squeaked and set the tea down on the counter. "No. Really? We'll have to get a test. Holy shit. Pregnant at sixteen. You'll be seventeen by the time they're here though."
Harry was still in shock. He felt like his world had tilted abruptly on its axis. He was mated, naturally, with Louis having claimed him beautifully, but he definitely hadn't expected puppies, not so soon, not now of all times.
"I'll tell Barbara you have Omega-ly duties to attend to. Liam, take him to buy a pregnancy test. Let's find out if this shit is for real," Niall declared, gently but firmly pushing the pair towards the door. Harry wiped a smudge of flour from his cheek, following Liam wordlessly. He stared out the window on the drive to the pharma, and didn't really come back to himself until they were waiting in the checkout line, little box slowly riding the conveyor belt.
The Omega cashier girl smiled at him as she checked his item, eyes lighting up.
"Ooooh! You're so lucky! My Alpha won't let me get knocked up until I'm eighteen. So unfair! Good luck," she hummed in a bubbly way, as he handed over exact change. "And have a nice day!"
Harry let Liam usher him to the drugstore loo, locking the one-user bathroom behind them. Harry read the directions in a daze, then opened the box, peed on the end of the stick, and watched the time tick down on his phone. Once the sound of bells went off, Harry swallowed thickly and peeked at the test.
A pretty, pink plus sign stared back. He was pregnant.
"Liam," he whimpered, clutching the test tightly in hand. "Liam, I'm knocked up. I'm knocked up." He was in a bit of a daze. "Holy fucking shit..." He swallowed thickly, staring down at his clenched hands and the small little plus that would completely change his life.
They ended up on the curb outside Tesco's, Harry nervously gazing at the little green phone button that said Call by Louis' name in his mobile. Liam murmured encouraging words to him quietly, but his heart was hammering in his ears, his pulse so loud he felt suffocated by the noise.
"Li... Li, what if he thinks I'm not old enough? What if he thinks I'm not good enough? What if he never meant to mate me?!" Harry wailed abruptly, the dam behind his eyes bursting as the floodgates opened and tears started trickling down the apples of his cheeks. "I mean, there was a reason I was on 'pressies, wasn't there?" Harry blubbered weakly, covering his face and beginning to sob. Comforting arms soon wound around his body, strong and Alpha, soothing him on a deeply subliminal level.
"It's gonna be fine, Hazza! So you're having his babies... That's a good thing," Liam told him earnestly, gently rubbing his back with a light touch. Harry started to calm himself down, almost embarrassed by how childish he acted. It wasn't his fault, he knew; his hormones were all over the place. He was at least a month pregnant, almost positively more. At least one out of nine down. Smiling weakly at Liam, he gently shrugged off the Alpha's touch.
Taking a deep breath, he finally tapped the call button and held the phone to his ear. It rang for three tries, then cut off as Louis answered: "Hi, love! Why're you calling me at work? You never do unless something's wrong. Are you alright?"
"... Yeah," Harry answered, wincing; his voice sounded thick and snotty, and Louis could always tell when he'd been crying.
"Babe? You've got your cry voice on. Did something happen?"
"... Kinda, Lou. Kinda a lot," he answered shakily. "I'm pregnant. I just took the test. That's why I've been pukey and hormonal. Because... Because, I'm having your puppies, Lou," he whispered tearfully, blinking rapidly and sniffling.
Silence rang for an agonizing, eternal moment.
"Babe? Did you-- did you just say you're pregnant? I got you pregnant? We're having puppies?" Louis stammered. Harry swallowed.
"Yeah. We are. Congratulations," he murmured weakly.
"We're having puppies," Louis repeated back to him, disbelief coloring his tone. "Holy fucking shit. This is-- I don't. This is so great, sweetheart. I figured maybe, in a couple years, I could convince you, since my job is stable and such. But, but this. Man. You're really having my puppies, Hazza? You're not pulling this on me? Holy fuck," Louis murmured through the phone. Harry wanted to curl into him and forget the world awhile, but he couldn't exactly just do that when they were a solid thirty minutes away from each other.
"Yeah, Lou. I'm having your puppies," Harry whimpered back. "We're gonna have children, Louis. Real, living, breathing munchkins. And they're gonna be ours. Oh my god." He started to laugh and cry at the same time, big, hiccupy breaths that had tears streaming down his face anew.
After a few watery chuckles of his own, Louis apologized and had to let him go, promising to be home from work early so they could celebrate. The doctor's appointment was still on, though, so Harry wasn't too fussed; he'd have something to kill time with, which was good, since he felt practically antsy.
After several highly invasive exams-- leaving his chest and bum feeling a bit sore, Dr. Thompson confirmed his self-diagnosis; one Harry Styles, decidedly non-virgin, had gotten himself pregnant through antibiotic sex.
"Yes, love, you've definitely got someone, or rather, some in the oven," she confirmed, after performing the in-clinic pregnancy tests necessary as well. "You're about eight weeks along, from what you've told me, maybe a few days more than that," she hummed, pulling out an ultrasound machine and asking him to lift his shirt. After the cool gel was rubbed across his belly, making him shiver, he blinked and stared intently at the screen. He didn't see much, to be perfectly honest. However, soft heartbeats filled his ears, just as tears filled his eyes. He could hear his children's heart beating, could literally listen to the quiet song of life.
And then the picture came in clearly as she moved the wand over a smidge. He blinked. He counted once, then once again.
"Triplets?" Harry asked weakly. "I'm having triplets?"
"Yes, Harry. You're having triplets! Three little pups," she hummed fondly. "Judging by these little jelly beans, you're due around May 29th. I wouldn't even but a fiver on it, though. Multiples are almost always premature." The doctor gently adjusted the wand and smiled. "They look very healthy, and you seem to keep yourself in good shape. I'll start you on prenatal vitamins and outline a diet plan, which I'll print out for you."
She busied herself with that for a moment, as Harry simply stared at his still pretty flat tummy. Maybe there was a slight curve. He was likely imagining it, though, he knew. Harry was handed a folder with his name and predicted due date on it, the ultrasound tucked snug between pages of tips. He smiled faintly and brushed his curls back off of his face, still shocked.
"Now, I do have to mention there is some risk. You're having multiples as an Omega just a year into presenting. We'll want to monitor you closely. But that's alright, everything looks excellent so far, and their heartbeats sounded steady as a whole, love."
Harry nodded and held the folder close, practically cradling it as he smiled dreamily at his doctor. "Should I go ahead and make my next appointment now? I wanna do an ultrasound then, too. Cost doesn't concern me. I just want Louis to be here. I want him to be able to hear their heartbeats, too. I want him to be able to see his children in real time," he explained shyly.
Dr. Thompson nodded and easily typed in a fresh appointment into the computer, scheduling it for in a month's time with a comforting smile aimed his way. "That's not a problem, Harry. I put in a precription for you for prenatal vitamins. You should be able to just pick them up at your local shop. Have a lovely day! Oh... And congratulations, sweetheart!"
When Harry got home, precious envelope in hand, he immediately knew something was up as he turned the key in the lock of their door. His eyes widened as what was the unmistakably fresh scent of his Alpha pressed against him, thick and musky, and as he stepped in the door, he was immediately engulfed in a warm embrace. Whimpering faintly, Harry clutched Louis back as tightly as he could, half-climbing his mate.
"I can't believe it, Hazza, oh my fucking god. Puppies. You're having our babies," the Alpha crooned into his curls, squeezing him as hard as he possibly could and whining noisily. Harry sniffled in reply, burying his face in Louis' chest and rubbing against his warm, good-smelling form until he was nearly purring.
"Yeah, Lou. Three. We've got triplets," he murmured, gently nibbling at the salty strip of skin his mouth was by. A low rumble escaped his mate's chest, and Harry whined back, licking him one last time before wriggling down to stand on his own two feet. "Here, look. Ultrasound! And I picked up my new vitamins on the way home. So. We're all good there for now. Dr. Thompson said everything looked and sounded great, and that we should expect them in May." Harry's hands migrated down to rub his belly. It didn't feel very different yet, but now that he was searching for it, there was a definite roundness there that hadn't been before.
Strong hands curved around his own, and he glanced at Louis shyly with a smile. They naturally ended up curled in each other on the couch. Harry burrowed his face into Louis' neck and sighed, soon settling in for a long nap. He'd had a very exciting day. When he awoke a few hours later, he was stiff and needed to wee incredibly badly. After emptying his bladder and washing his hands, he sought out his Alpha curiously.
Harry found him in his office, glancing through old photo albums and lingering on the ones of his baby sisters. Louis looked up as he came in, grinning sheepishly.
"Y'know, I always wanted kids. I have since Lottie and Fizz came into the world. I felt like such a big brother. And then with Daisy and Phoebe, oh god. I've wanted puppies for a very long time," Louis stared without any prompting. Harry sat down beside him and pressed in close, skin to skin, heart to heart.
"Yeah? I did too. I was always the little brother, but I always loved playing with younger children. And I used to babysit at the end of primary school," Harry replied softly, lacing his and Louis' fingers together.
Louis swallowed tightly before speaking again. "But 'm scared, Harry. I always told myself I'd never be like Troy. But I'm scared... What if I'm not good enough? What if I let you all down? Three puppies, Harry. I should've known better, with my mum's multiples gene. God. What if... What if I let them down? What if I'm not better than Troy?" Louis' eyes searched Harry's desperately for solace and answers.
"Louis. You light up when children are in the room. You've always told me you felt more comfortable and in control in a room full of coloring five-year-olds than actual meetings at your company," Harry reminded gently but firmly. "You're going to be the best father they could've ever hoped for. I have absolute zero doubts on that one, sorry love. You're amazing, what can I say?"
Louis nuzzled into Harry's thick curls and then simply held and appreciated him for a moment. Harry sighed in response, kissing him lightly on the mouth and smiling up at him with adoring eyes.
"I wouldn't, and couldn't, have asked for a better mate, a better Alpha. And if I know you at all, babe, you're going to be a truly spectacular father," Harry murmured to him.
While Harry was at the store, he'd also picked up some ginger candies to suck on, and to his enormous relief and gratitude, they worked so well he found himself able to actually eat and enjoy a proper meal of noodles and grilled chicken. They watched some film on the telly afterwards, until Harry fell asleep and had to be carried back to their bedroom.
He was up every few hours to wee, but then passed back out as soon as he hit the pillow; pregnancy hormones were the most fickle of them all. The two of them didn't stir until almost noon the next day, and that was only because Harry felt nauseous enough to need to suck on some more candy.
His cravings, intense and dizzying in their ferocity, started soon after. He would devour fruit like it was going out of style. Louis bought him a fruit platter. The next day, he'd polished it off and near begged for more. If it wasn't fruit, Harry wanted honey. Plain honey. He took jars of it around with him when he went out, just tucking in whenever he started to get a bit peckish. Trust him, he got more than a few stares when he was in public.
He also woke up at six am one morning, shook Louis awake, and started blubbering about baby feet.
"They're going to be cold, Louis! They need socks! Socks for their little, teeny-tiny, mini-skinny feet and toes, Lou! We need socks!"
He'd gotten his baby socks, a whole pile, and promptly started organizing them.
The following two weeks passed quickly and cleanly, with nothing too off to repot. Harry had started to take a picture every morning in the mirror of his belly, and he did notice an increase in circumference, though nothing drastic.
By the end of week ten, Harry was feeling incredibly nauseous constantly, always tired, and increasingly unwilling to do anything-- but he was still glowing with it. He might not have physically felt one hundred percent, but he was ecstatic with his pregnancy. He was having Louis' puppies, for Christ's sake, and he couldn't be any happier about it. People commented on his glow wherever he went
Once week twelve came along, Harry's morning-- and noon, and evening, and midnight-- sickness was starting to abate, and he actually started to get a proper bump, likely because it would soon be very cramped in there. His cravings tapered off, although he was still pretty fond of cubed fruit as a snack. His risk of miscarriage also dropped a massive deal, and he went to Louis when he decided he wanted to announce the pregnancy finally.
After thinking about it a few days, Harry settled on a simple picture to send everyone. He put on a tight-fitting white tee, and his favorite pair of yellow shorts-- which sadly would not fit soon enough-- and tied a pretty rainbow ribbon around his waist, with a huge tag stating: Do not open until May! Then he had Louis slip up behind him to cup his belly in a heart, twined their fingers, and got their self-timing digital camera to they the picture. Afterwards, he sent it to all his friends and family, with the simple message of: Triplets!
Everybody sent back congratulations, and he got to have a loud, sobbing vent with his mum over the phone. And then Jay, too, so that was lovely. They both gave him a ton of helpful tips, and he felt well enough to go out a celebrate with a proper restaurant dinner-- which he didn't even puke up later.
Harry's hunger ramped up big time during his fourth month of pregnancy-- and not just for food.
Laying on the couch and nibbling on strawberries, eyes on the telly, he perked up as heard the lock turn, and the renewed scent of his Alpha filled the room. Harry stood quickly, setting his plate to the side and immediately heading towards his mate.
"Hey, sweetheart, how're y--!?" Louis was cut off as Harry practically climbed him like a tree, whining thickly and curling his entire body around the other man's.
"Been so horny today," Harry whimpered, the sweet smell of his slick already saturating the air. "Already wanked off twice, 'nd fingered myself in our bed with a pair of your used briefs in my mouth. Still need to be fucked." His needy, greedy hands and mouth traced his mate, sucking and touching and wanting so bad the pit of his stomach ached.
Louis groaned weakly and clutched Harry close, walking them towards the couch. He nearly knocked over the dish of strawberries, but he couldn't even bring himself to care. The Alpha settled his mate down on the couch and then pinned him there, pulling off his over large shirt and yanking his loose trackies down and tossing them over the side of the sofa. Harry stared at him like he'd already been fucked out, emerald eyes glassy and lips parted, swollen and rose-colored. His curls, nearly past shoulder-length, tumbled around his face in a cascade of chestnut silk. His Omega was the prettiest he'd ever seen.
"Please, Daddy, fuck me. I need you," Harry begged, making grabby hands, the apples of his cheeks cherry red as his chest lightly heaved. Louis' attention was caught by his little breasts, small but defined, round and unmistakably tits. Without even thinking about it, his hand went out and cupped the right one, jiggling the weight in his palm.
"S'a shame, Hazza," Louis sighed, taking noisily. "A crying shame, Hazza."
"... W-What?" Harry asked, his brows drawing together in confusion, before he twitched and gasped noisily as his Alpha tweaked his nipple.
"S'a shame your two extra nipples won't work right. Could've fed all the triplets at once," Louis hummed, beginning to ruthlessly tease the two most prominent buds into hardness. Once they were puffed up and sore-looking, Harry's hips working helplessly at thin air as he dribbled slick down to puddle on the leather couch, Louis bent down and used his mouth and tongue to bring them some soothing relief. His fingers traced their way down Harry's rounded curve of a tummy, then shimmied past his straining erection until he slid two inside of him. Louis' began to fingerfuck him slowly and deeply, curling them and moving them with purpose: to massage Harry's prostate.
Harry was a mess, his eyes squeezed closed so his lashes fanned out over his red cheeks, lips parted and panting as his torso lightly heaved for breath. Hardly pausing in his fingering of his mate, the slippery squelches of his digits working in and out of wet, tight heat, Louis managed to get his trousers undone and his own cock, thick and long and leaking angrily at the head, out of his jeans.
As soon as he pulled his fingers free, Harry started to cry out for something to fill him, begging weakly to be bred even fuller than he already was. They both went silent on the first thrust, Louis burying himself to the hilt and then pausing. Staring each other in the eyes, they panted and simply felt. Harry broke the spell by turning his head and burying his face into Louis' neck, biting at him sloppily as the Alpha began to properly hump in and out at a steady, quick pace. Harry was nearly crying by the fifth thrust, short, soft gasps of air escaping him as he desperately wound himself around Louis, nails digging into his mate's broad, muscled back.
"'M gonna come, Lou, fuck, 'm gonna come, ah, ah, ahhhh," Harry moaned, biting down blissfully on Louis' bicep as his cock twitched and then spurted out a very small dribble of watery cum. Louis grunted as Harry's hole clenched almost unbearably tight around him, then kept fucking into him, his knot beginning to swell at the base. With a final snarl of satisfaction, he buried himself fully and completely balls deep in the Omega, knot locking them together as Louis started to climax as well. They panted together in a slippery mess of sweat, slick, and semen, Louis eventually pulling a face.
"Babe. We're going to have to bleach the fucking couch to get the scent of your slick off of it. Christ."
Week sixteen was when he first felt the puppies. He'd been in maternity clothes for ages-- and abso-fucking-lutely adored the styles considering the floaty shirts and lazy pants-- but he'd dragged Louis along to start looking at the rest of the baby clothes, sans socks. He was beginning to show a rather lot for being only four months along, since he looked closer to six months, and would happily and proudly stop for perfect strangers to fondle and touch and coo at the large curve of his belly... Even if Louis occasionally stepped in to the more handsy ones to deliver a warning growl.
Harry was standing and looking at a rack of pregnancy button-ups when he felt a nudge.
"Stop it, Lou, they already left so there's no need to be annoying," he huffed in irritation. Another nudge, and he made an aggravated noise. "Seriously, babe, not in the mood." It was only when it turned into a full-out bump did he finally process what was happening, staring down at his belly in complete shock.
"LOUIS!" the Omega bellowed, not caring about the startled patrons around him. His mate appeared seconds later, eyes wide and hair wild, several onesies clenched in one fist.
"What?! Is gas making your belly hurt again? What's wrong?!" Louis demanded intensely.
Harry burst into tears, hiking his shirt up to rub at his baby bump. "They moved, Louis. I felt them move. The quickening happened, Lou. There are actually beings inside of me!" His legs felt shaky and he started to go down, but Louis caught him in the knick of time, hugging him near ferociously.
"Holy fuck, Haz. You're having my babies," he whispered, a few tears trickling down his own stubbly cheeks. Harry sniffled loudly and growled at a couple of staring teenage girls, whom quickly scattered.
"Yeah. I guess I am."
During the end of the fourth month, they found out they were having two boys and a girl. They invited everyone to a massive baby shower to celebrate and inform. The entire day, everybody was grilling the two of them for gender details. Neither of them said a peep.
Right after lunch, Louis brought in a huge, three-layered cake covered in white frosting with a huge black question mark.
"Is everybody ready for this?" he asked teasingly, pulling Harry up under his arm so they could cut the cake together. The first slice was plated and held high for everyone to see: pink sandwiched in between two layers of blue.
"Two big, strong boys, and a lovely, healthy girl!"
The nursery was getting set up by week twenty, with a woodsy theme for the boys, and a fairie one for the girl. Harry was forced to stay far away from the painting-- literally a whole floor away-- and so took up yoga while talking to his puppies.
He'd bend into downwards facing dog and kiss the top of his tummy because it was right there, then begin chattering about nature and the weather and anything else that popped into his head. The triplets were starting to move quite a bit, as well, stretching and moving and nudging inside of him at seemingly random moments.
The nursery turned out gorgeously, with a near full-length mural, painted by the lovely Zayn, featuring the forest, a stag, and a fairie sitting in a huge toadstool, talking to swallows. The cribs were white, and got colored bedclothes: pink in the girl's, and one blue and one green for the boys'.
At twenty-two weeks, Harry started to test out names. Ethan, Samuel, Jacob, Kellin, James. Darcy, Ellie, Luna, Chrysanthemum, Rose. The only condition Louis set was anything but Thomas.
"Thomas Tomlinson-Styles? That's just ridiculous, love."
At six months in, around week twenty-six, Harry's colostrum came in with a bang, sudden and nearly alarming.
They were sitting in the living room, Harry snuggled tightly to Louis' chest and nearly purring at how content he felt, when Louis suddenly froze.
"... Babe, are you dribbling on me?" the Alpha asked incredulously.
"What?" Harry growled back crossly, glaring up at him and snorting noisily. "As fucking if!" He was massive now, and crankier by the day, poor love. His feet always ached, he felt as big and useful as a beaches whale, and his back was killing him.
"You've just gotten me all wet," Louis replied haughtily, pulling back to peer at him suspiciously. There were two damp spots around his nipples through his white v-neck tank, his tits outlined obscenely through the shirt. "Harry. Harry, babe. Your milk-- your milk's come in," Louis stammered, mesmerized.
"Oh, fuck," Harry sighed, stripping off his top and bunching it into a ball to throw towards the hallway. He was just about to stand when Louis pounced with a near vicious snarl. The Omega was cradled tightly as Louis brought them to the bedroom. Once there, Harry found himself sitting on Louis' naked lap, himself also nude-- his favorite pair of lazy sweats torn at the crotch across the room-- and blinking down at the gaze of a starving wolf.
Louis leaned up and attached himself to Harry's right nipple with a quiet hitch of his breath, suckling like a baby would, tasting the thick, honey-rich flavor as his cock only got harder and harder. Pre-cum leaked down to stain Harry's lower back, and mix with the quickly forming slick dripping from his mate's eager arsehole. His nipples were beyond sensitive lately, and his hips were already starting to stutter as Louis went between nursing and teasing with his pinchy fingers.
"Fuck, Lou," the Omega grated out, head lolling as his mouth stayed parted and lush, his tits, proper b-cup breasts, lightly heaved with each breath. Louis rumbled in reply, sucking mindlessly and lifting Harry just slightly so he could slide himself inside with a frictionless slip. His mate was perfect, tight, hot, velvet grip. Harry was basically just sitting in his lap, except Louis was doing his very best to lick and suck and fuck all at once. If Harry's body language was any indication, he was doing something right.
"Ride me, baby, please," Louis groaned, feeling slick drip down his erection as Harry began to immediately lift and drop himself in small increments, tight and burning. "Fuck, you're so fucking perfect, Harry, I could've never asked for a better mate."
They rocked together desperately like teenagers, reaching a mutual conclusion with a soft, wet gasp, Louis' teeth finding themselves in Harry's neck as his knot swelled up and locked them together for the next thirty minutes.
Harry ended falling asleep upright fifteen minutes in, cum drying on his huge belly.
At week twenty-eight, Harry was put on strict bedrest until he delivered. Tired but still unhappy with the forced care, he got a bit snappish and short with everyone. Louis took the brunt of it without a single complaint, cooking for him, cleaning, working, helping him shower, doing the laundry. Through it all, he only appreciated how much Harry usually did on a regular basis to keep their home proper.
The kicks got hard and swift, with an occasional foot or hand making a guest appearance through the skin of his distended stomach. Louis could easily discern the movements, and the two of them would often sit and sing duets to calm the crazy ragamuffins. Harry's ribs and bladder were starting to feel a bit abused, honestly.
Braxton-Hicks contractions almost sent them to the hospital multiple times, which was hilarious later as Harry didn't even realize when he went into labor.
At week thirty-three, the doctors allowed Harry off bedrest; if the triplets came now, the puppies would end up just fine. They dropped down that very hour, and Harry hummed proudly, knowing labor was imminent, maximum of days away.
They went out the next night to celebrate. During dinner, Harry felt slightly off, not keeping up with his friend's antics as he usually did. At one point, he made as if to get up, but then snorted the movement with a soft grunt. Liam frowned.
"You feeling okay, Hazza?"
"Yeah," jumped in Niall in worry. "You don't seem so great."
Harry bit his bottom lip, cheeks turning red. "I... I think I may have just wet myself," he admitted in mortification. "I... I dunno. I." He almost started crying, before Louis shushed him and gently helped him stand, then freezing.
"Babe, that's. You didn't wee, only your bum is wet, not the front. I. Oh my fucking god, Harry! You're in labor! Your water broke!" Louis nearly started hyperventilating. Quickly, Liam, Zayn, and Niall ushered them into their car, one of them volunteering to fetch the delivery room bag from their house.
On the way there, Harry had his first contraction, and started crying in terror and pain. Two more happened before they got to the A&E, and then Louis physically carried his mate in the door, immediately demanding to be seen to a room. Nobody wanted to mess with a testosterone-crazed and ramped-up Alpha, so they found themselves in the delivery room in minutes. Harry was put in stirrups, and Dr. Thompson checked his dilation after ducking under the privacy sheet.
"Pardon my French, boys, but holy cow, you're already at 5 centimeters. These puppies are coming now!"
Harry groaned and pushed his head back, powering through another contraction with a soft whimper. It lasted nearly a full minute, and he left Louis with a bruised hand. Two hours, tons of tears, and many contractions later later, and he'd reached ten centimeters dilated, and was told to start pushing.
Exhausted, sweaty, but proud, Harry delivered Jay William Tomlinson-Styles at 3,400 grams, 40 centimeters long at 8:34 pm, April 28th. Less than an hour later, Seth Adam Tomlinson-Styles was born at 3,155 grams, 37 centimeters long, at 9:24 pm. Exactly fifteen minutes later, April Lilly Tomlinson-Styles was born at 3,000 grams even, 33 centimeters long, at 9:39 pm.
Several doctorly procedures later, and Harry was propped up in bed, clutching the triplets close and looking beyond tired. Jay's hair was curly and light brown, Seth's was straight as an arrow but a deep chestnut, and April had gotten a shock of blonde tuft.
Louis swallowed tightly just looking at them. Jay started nuzzling towards his mum's chest sleepily, grunting softly to himself. All three puppies were wrinkly, red, and delicate-looking as spun sugar.
"Harry? I promise to be the best father I know how to be. I will hold and cherish them close forever. I will force the world to be a kinder place to my children. I will love them and you to my grave. I love you all to the very depths of my soul, to the deep marrow in my bones. And I have no idea what I would do without you."