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Something was not quite right with Harry.
Harry, as was custom, sat at the long mahogany table that gleamed under the candlelit chandelier. Reluctantly joining King Des, Queen Anne and Princess Gemma for an early dinner. Normally, the amiable prince looked forward to time spent with his family rather than tedious court matters that tended to leave him tense and glum. Meal time with the royal family was a fairly easygoing, lighthearted affair which brought out a more at ease and delightful side of Harry.
Not today, apparently , Louis noted.
Today, Harry seemed to be strung tight like a bowstring about to snap. Foregoing all manners, his leg was bouncing restlessly under the table, and rather than indulge in the lavish meal before him, he was merely pushing the food around and offering smiles and conversation that lacked any heart. From where the knight stood behind him and slightly off to one side, he could see that despite Harry’s earnest attempts to appear present, his eyes held a faraway look more often than not.
Louis frowned a little, sensing the perturbed energy that rolled off the prince in waves. It was not a recent development either, he realised. Harry’s lovely face had been marred by a barely there frown the entire day, the youthful and lively demeanour slipping away just as the sunshine did with the passing time. For as able and sturdy a head that graced strong shoulders, the prince was still no god; he had his moments of weaknesses, days that were jagged around the edges. It was astounding that no one else had picked up on it. But then again, so few, if not none, knew Harry like the back of his hand.
He could’ve been imagining it, but he thought, for a moment, that Harry had been casting furtive glances his way. Whether as a plea to save him from the toil of the day or just to serve as a grounding anchor, he did not know. Louis took both of those roles quite seriously, though.
At spotting Harry’s hands trembling and then clenching into fists to stabilise themselves, Louis made up his mind. Right now, his beloved was slowly falling apart and he was the only one who was well-versed in putting him back together.
Cautiously, Louis tapped his boot on the marble floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.
He would not have blamed Harry if he had missed it. When he instead, almost instantaneously relaxed, head dropping a little from its tensed position, Louis idly wondered if perhaps he had not given the prince enough credit. The difference, already, was night and day; his restless legs slowed down, and he saw a shuddery breath wrack his body.
He was so good. The three taps had been something they had established early on in their relationship; a silent call for Harry’s submission, a gentle coaxing of calm, a steady reminder that Louis was right there, always there. It served as any and all depending on the need of the situation, and right now, Louis needed it to be all three, but especially one.
Curious, determined, and just a little bit devious, Louis tapped his boot again, measured.
One, two…..three times.
This time, Harry froze, back going ramrod straight. For a fleeting second, when time came to a standstill, Louis held his breath anticipating his next move. It was Harry’s call after all, even though he never did disappoint.
The silverware clattered from his grip a little gracelessly. Harry’s voice was shaky when he finally spoke up. “Mother, Father,” he addressed, jerking his head in a bow, “I apologise, but I think I would like to retire to my chambers now.”
Three pairs of eyes gazed at him in varying levels of questioning, but none objected.
“Of course, dear,” Queen Anne obliged, ever so kindly, “You will join us for breakfast tomorrow, I hope?”
“Of course,” Harry murmured sweetly, though his fidgeting hands spoke a different story. He stood up, briefly stooping to drop a kiss on his mother’s cheek.
And then, barely giving him time to steel himself, Harry was turning towards him, hands automatically clasping behind his back. It took all of Louis’ willpower to not give away a pleased smile.
“Sir Louis,” Harry began, just above a whisper, “would you be so kind as to escort me?”
Unable to help himself, a smile flits onto his lips for a flash as he bowed deeply. When he straightened up, a matching, unabashed smile danced on Harry’s lips, eyes gleaming.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Turning on his heel, Louis began to lead Harry out of the dining hall, and into the grandiose hallway. He kept his pace even, ears trained on Harry’s steps that fell in perfectly with his. Out here, where even the walls could talk, he had to be careful, they both had to be .
“Is all well with you, your Highness?” Louis asked lightly, as he turned a corner and into the wing of the palace where Harry’s quarters were. He could almost picture Harry’s frown at his question, as if he was oblivious to exactly where his head was at this moment.
“I am quite alright, Sir Louis,” came his answer, clipped.
“Just Louis, sir,” Louis quipped, gradually leading them up a flight of stairs lit by lanterns, “and I was merely wondering since you are retiring to bed so soon?”
For Louis, unbeknownst to the prince, every move was deliberate, every word carefully orchestrated, to lure Harry right where he wanted him. Behind him, Harry floundered, frustrated huffs echoing off the walls.
Arriving at the landing, Harry finally managed a gritty, “I just needed to.”
A good answer. A smart answer.
Louis hummed in equal parts concern, equal parts disbelief, as he took the final few steps to where Harry’s room was. There, standing guard at the entrance, was Sir Zayn, Harry’s other guard and his trusted friend. Dark eyes flitting over from Harry to Louis, who threw him a loaded glance and a nod, Zayn grimaced playfully.
Nevertheless, he bowed respectfully towards Harry’s direction. “Your Highness.”
“Zayn.”
Wordlessly, Zayn stalked off and towards the East Wing’s entrance, shutting the door that was the only way to access the floor they were on, thus guaranteeing them privacy, and most importantly, secrecy. After years of knowing them both well, as well as being the only person they both confided in, Zayn was well versed in this routine of theirs.
Without yet sparing Harry a glance when he was aware that the boy was wilting away without attention, Louis pushed open the heavy door. Once Harry had entered, he shut and bolted the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the prince everyone knew to be bold and composed, fidget and scuff his boot repeatedly against the carpeted floor.
Louis took his sweet time crossing over to the other side of the room, turning and leaning against Harry’s desk. Finally, finally, he relented, appraising eyes falling on Harry. Deliberately, he dragged his searing gaze over the boy, who blinked dazedly as if he felt it physically. Silence stretched and rippled between them, corroding Harry’s princely demeanour. Louis could get drunk off this; the knowledge that him simply standing and observing was the force that pulled heaving breaths from Harry.
After a few minutes passed where Harry visibly fought back the urge to open his mouth, whether to beg or demand, he wouldn’t know, Louis took pity on him.
“Kneel.”
The prince obliged like a puppet whose strings had been cut, dropping to his knees in one fluid motion. His head was bowed in a reverence that came easy to him- familiar -, a bejewelled crown perched delicately amongst immaculate curls. His hands found their place on his thighs, content, if not for the merest of twitches. With his bowed back, compliant silence, and eyes that lowered respectfully; he was a perfect picture of submission and trust. He deserved to be captured by Michelangelo, right at this moment, but alas, Louis found himself to be possessive of pretty things. And Harry was, by far, his most ethereal and dear possession. Made sweeter only because he allowed himself to be.
Louis took slow, calculated steps towards Harry, who awaited to be addressed, every bone in him fused to follow his duties. And he certainly could attest to just how well Harry committed to those duties.
“Grace becomes you, when you submit to me,” Louis finally allowed himself to croon, a ghost of a caress across a delicate cheek giving way to goosebumps erupting, “ your Highness. ”
And if Louis were a less attentive man, a common fool who disregarded the finer beauties of life, he would’ve missed the quiet gasp that the title coaxed out. A smile curled across his lips. So easy to please, for someone who had everything his heart desired at his fingertips.
Feeling more generous than usual, he graced the prince with an adoring touch underneath his chin, guiding him to tilt his head up. Harry flowed with the movement, though his gaze remained lowered. Louis rubbed the pad of his thumb across his chin as a reward for his unwavering stellar behaviour.
“Look at me, my prince,” Louis commanded, soft, yet firm.
Harry’s eyes instantly fluttered to meet his gaze, clear jade that still rendered him breathless. Louis cocked his head to the side, Harry’s eyes tracking his movement, enraptured. So easy.
“You yearn for this day after dreary day, don’t you, your Highness?”
Harry, with the astute knowledge of when to speak and when to not that ran through his royal blood, nodded shakily, words seeming to escape him.
“It’s ill manners to not speak when asked a question, your Highness.”
A delicate blush bloomed across his fair cheeks, breath hitching, before he answered, softly, “I apologise. I do .”
Louis hummed, dissatisfied. “You do what. ”
Harry worried his plush lip for a moment, before he replied, as natural as breathing, “I yearn for it. To serve you.”
Louis bit back a groan; Harry’s easy submission was the subject of all his obscene desires and possibly the catalyst to an untimely, young death.
Assuming nonchalance, Louis tilted his head as if mulling over his sincerity. “Do you, now?” he asked, cradling Harry’s jaw, “And what about your pleasure, hmm?”
Harry swallowed, eyes closing briefly before he answered, “Whatever you will give me.”
Louis raised a brow at him sharply, and the chuckle that left his lips had Harry flinching minutely.
“Presumptuous, are we, little dove?” A fierce blush crept up Harry’s neck, head ducking down as Louis loosened his grip. “Expecting me to serve you tonight?”
Louis stepped away, and measuredly began walking around Harry. “What do you wish for me to do for you, your Highness?” he let the question ooze out in a dulcet tone, the way he addressed Harry on the regular.
Standing directly behind Harry, he leant down till his face was right behind Harry’s left ear, pulse ticking wildly in his neck. His breaths caused a smattering of goosebumps to raise across the sensitive skin in their wake. He smirked.
“Would you like me to touch you?” he asked, voice hardening and dropping to just above a whisper, a hint of a taunt simmering. “Offer up my cock for you to please yourself?”
A tiny whimper left Harry as he trembled like a brittle leaf in frigid autumn winds.
“Or are you looking to get fucked by me like some needy little whore? ”
Harry was shaking his head vehemently, ragged breaths music to Louis’ ear. “N-no. No. ”
Straightening up, Louis circled back around till he was facing the prince again. “I’ll ask again, your Highness. What becomes of your pleasure?”
Harry gazed up at him, any and all authority seeping out of him with every shaky exhale. As always, he seemed to accept, embrace that in this room, in these moments, he was not the one dealing the cards.
In his haste to rectify himself, Harry was stumbling over words that poured recklessly, poise chipped away by urgency, “Whatever you wish, whatever you grant me I- whatever you deem I earned-”
At the barest curl of Louis’ lips, Harry barrelled further, eyes widening, “ You . Serving you would be my pleasure.”
And there it was. Pleased, Louis eyed him shrewdly.
“And have you earned that?”
Harry stilled. His mouth opened and closed like he was unsure of the answer, all the while appearing like he would crack and shatter like he was made of porcelain. Eyes shining, his faint whisper of “I do not know” would’ve been lost, if it weren’t for Louis being unable to look away from his face.
Louis cooed, gently tucking a stray curl behind Harry’s ear, heart stuttering at the way the younger boy leant into the touch. “Of course, you have, sweet prince. You’re already serving me so well by being on your knees for me. Do you believe you could continue being good for me?”
And Harry’s earnest nod, paired with trusting doe eyes staring up at him would be enough to disarm even the strongest men. Louis had never felt weaker.
“Good boy. If you are very, very good, I just might reward you.”
“ Yes, ” Harry gasped, “Please”-
“Now, don’t be greedy, darling, you know I’ll attend to your needs.”
At that, Harry clamped his mouth shut, once again lowering his eyes. And lowered they stayed, even as Louis took off his jacket, and sat back in the cushioned armchair that was placed next to Harry’s desk. And if Harry’s eyes twitched as Louis leaned back and settled with his legs spread assertively, it went ignored.
“Up.”
Harry didn’t need elaboration to follow, scrambling to his feet. He was visibly thrumming with anticipation for his next order.
“Strip for me, darling.” Harry raised his head at that, hands already moving. “ But . Leave the crown on.”
Nodding, and hands slightly trembling, his fingers found the first button of his deep emerald jacket that had fine gold detailing across it. Louis watched, silent, as Harry struggled to get the button undone, tugging and pushing a little in vain. To his growing amusement, a huff of laughter burst from Harry’s lips, wide eyes betraying his nerves but the tilt of his lips painted in humour.
Despite himself, Louis grinned fondly. “Would you really like assistance, your Highness?”
“ No ,” Harry grumbled, fingers finally undoing the pesky button, “I can do it myself.”
And he did. Watching Harry carry out an act as simple as this, one he had witnessed several times, was nevertheless still like an art form. When the last button was undone, he shrugged the jacket off gracefully, folding it loosely and setting it on his dresser. Peeking up at Louis shyly, he next undid his exquisitely knotted cream cravat, and Louis briefly lost himself in the fluid motions of Harry’s hands.
Perhaps Louis was just impatient; time seemed to run uncharacteristically slow as Harry unbuttoned his gold-coloured waistcoat. Or perhaps, Harry had chosen to grant Louis a show, which he almost always appreciated, but his stirring excitement trapped in the confines of his pants most definitely did not.
Waistcoat joining the pile of clothes, Harry’s nimble fingers now rested a moment on the braces that held up his pants, before he slid each of them off his broad shoulders, invitingly so. Freed his white, ruffled shirt from where it was tucked in. And ever so slowly untied the laces that held his shirt closed at the top.
For a moment, it seemed as if the roles had been reversed, and it was Louis that found his breath stolen as Harry finally pulled his shirt over his head and flung it in the direction of the dresser. His eagerness was almost palpable, as a softly chiselled chest and strong arms revealed themselves in all their beauty, sure to put Adonis to shame. He swallowed hard, drinking his fill of Harry in, as he busied himself in tugging off his boots hurriedly.
And then, Harry’s hands were running down his chest, inching towards the waistline of his trousers. The final act. Unexpectedly, they ran back up, over his hardened buds, breath lodged in his chest. And then they were back at his hips again, tracing a path along where the edge of the material cut into his skin alluringly.
Louis furrowed his brows.
Letting his gaze wander upwards and away from Harry’s hands which seemed to be on their own self-indulgent path, they stopped at his face. Half-lidded eyes, lip caught between his teeth, neck arched sinfully. Rules being broken had never looked more like temptation embodied.
“Do you think it's wise that you be such a tease, Harry?”
Harry halted, a fierce blush rising upwards on his chest, caught. His hands hovered mid-air like he was dazed. “Sorry.”
“It would do you well to be sincere in that apology,” Louis began, voice stern, “You have a long day of meeting with the delegates as well as needing to be present at court tomorrow, and I should think that sitting on a sore bottom all day would be most uncomfortable for you, your Highness.”
Harry blinked rapidly at the implication of his words, swaying forward like he desired it rather than finding the idea unpleasant. Louis eyed him knowingly. Another day.
“No matter,” he sighed, “Come here. I’ll undress you myself.”
Harry stumbled towards him, and this close, Louis had to fight the innate need to give up patience and just touch and touch.
Instead, Louis leant forward, undoing the flap of his pants efficiently, and then the buttons that held the pants together. If his hand happened to brush across Harry’s crotch, he would swear it was an accident. Unhurried, he peeled his skin-tight silk pants down his delectable legs. He valiantly ignored Harry’s soft belly rising and falling with quickening breaths. Dutifully, as if he were carrying out an ordinary task, Louis tugged down his drawers as well, till both pooled around his stocking-clad ankles.
Louis was broken out of his hungry admiration of Harry’s milky skin and shapely thighs by Harry’s hands jerking down to clasp together in front of his cock with a little whine, shielding it from view. Louis looked up, unmoving from his position, catching Harry’s gaze.
“Are you going shy on me, princeling? Hmm? After that brazen little display mere minutes ago?” he asked, one eyebrow arched.
Harry's cheeks darkened several shades, eyes flickering across Louis’ face as his hands clasped tighter further.
“Hands behind your back,” Louis barked out. The prince complied quickly, clasping his hands behind his back, thighs squeezing together.
Louis hummed his approval, studying him once more from up close. His face was mere inches from Harry’s cock which was already halfway aroused. He didn’t intend to touch, content to simply observe.
“Pretty little thing,” he praised after a moment, words a murmur, and it was . Little, however, it was not , as it rapidly hardened under his watch. His breath must’ve ghosted over his sensitive prick because it twitched a little.
“A shame that it’s already failing orders,” Louis tutted in disapproval, sitting back in the chair.
This way, it was easier to drag his gaze up into Harry’s face. Harry, who was brimming with hot shame, and something else. A tinge of spiking arousal, despite the reprimand. Especially because of the reprimand. A little royal whore.
Harry’s words were rushed, flustered as he said, “I’m sorry, Sir”-
“Oh, but I don’t believe that you are,” Louis cut in, folding his hands in his lap. “However, I do so enjoy your desperation.”
Harry said nothing, knowing he had nothing to bring up as a defence. Louis selfishly took a moment to admire the prince in all his bare glory, save for the semi-sheer stockings that clung to his legs. The expanse of pale skin, occasionally marred with freckles and birthmarks like a constellation. A blend of sharp edges balanced out with softer pudges, equally alluring. Tall, firm, but utterly delicate in the way he held himself. He was a picture of juxtaposition that should have perhaps been odd, but instead, he was breathtaking.
And he was Louis’.
Holding his gaze meaningfully, Louis tapped his boot three times. Harry fell to his knees once again, as if between Louis’ spread legs was exactly where he belonged. At no further movement from the boy, who seemed to be awaiting an instruction when he normally was sharper, Louis exhaled heavily.
“Well?” he questioned, letting it hang in the air. Harry looked at him, tense.
“Do you require a special invitation to serve me?” he asked cuttingly, “Had I not made myself abundantly clear of what is expected of you tonight?”
An expression of realisation dawned on Harry’s boyish features, and he was nodding weakly.
Louis continued, assuming insouciance, “Do I not meet every whim and need of yours during the day? Without you having to request twice? Tell me, Harry, is it too much, that I ask the same of you at this moment?”
A pathetic whine fell from a nonplussed Harry, who shuffled even closer. “No! I’m- I will not fail you, I swear! Please-”
“Then prove it, your Highness ,” he mocked, delighting in how that seemed to rile Harry up further.
Harry’s rushed, ‘yes sir’ got lost as his hands fumbled with getting Louis’s pants and drawers undone and pulled down to just below his balls. As a warm hand wrapped around his hard cock, an involuntary shiver wracked his body.
Before he betrayed himself and gave into the feeling of pleasure too soon, Louis nudged Harry’s cheek.
“I have one, simple command for you, Harry.”
Harry peered up at him curiously.
“Actually, two, I suppose,” Louis added thoughtfully.
Harry had locked eyes with him intently. “What is it?” he whispered.
“You are to ensure my pleasure first, before you have your turn, do you understand?”
Harry nodded before he had finished speaking.
“And,” Louis added, voice rising, sharp, “I want you to keep that pretty little crown secure as you pleasure me. If the crown slips and falls, you may not be allowed to come.”
Harry gaped at him, appearing a little affronted.
“The dear crown of his royal highness carelessly falling to the ground would be a disgrace that would bear severe consequences, don’t you think?” Louis asked, testing, taunting. Harry’s only response was a wide-eyed jerk of his head, even as he chewed on the inside of his cheek apprehensively.
Louis took a moment to pause, considering the precarious nature of the shiny, precious object.
“You may use your hands to stabilise it,” he relented, “I’m well aware of how eager you can get, pet.”
Harry looked away, a helpless little sound at the back of his throat. Louis thumbed at his flaming cheek.
“Understood?”
“Yes sir”.
Louis cursed to the high heavens at the way his cock twitched visibly at the devotion-laced words, bringing a hint of a pleased smirk to Harry's face. Without further preamble, Harry was gripping his cock, stroking it in fluid movements. Louis’ eyelids fluttered at the sudden coursing of pure pleasure.
Attempts to keep his face impassive were proving to be increasingly difficult as Harry bent slightly to leave tiny open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, his crown, the very tip. Worse still, was how his eyes slipped close, looking the very picture of serenity. Louis tightened his hold on the armrests in a desperate bid to cling to sanity at the view.
And then, between one second of being able to anticipate Harry’s hot kisses and the next, his warm mouth was on him.
Louis thought it to be a display of sheer resolve that his only response was his knee jerking wildly. The feeling of searing velvety bliss engulfing his aching cock coaxed a tiny sigh from him. Harry was a man of many talents, but patience or decorum did not appear to be amongst them today as he immediately started bobbing his head in languid movements. The familiarity of it meant he established a nice rhythm quickly, crimson lips wrapped around him tightly.
Louis, for his part, remained still, unaffected even as Harry’s clever tongue traced the underside of his cock skillfully. Occasionally, he would nearly pull off, just to suckle the very crown, quiet moans pulled from him as if this was a greater pleasure to him than Louis himself. He had to channel every bit of his focus into letting his body be lax, even if he had half a mind to forgo his plan and fuck into Harry’s mouth with abandon.
In mere minutes, as Harry settled into his task, still carrying on at an easy pace, Louis unclenched his hands. Biting back a wicked grin, and taking great care not to jostle a preoccupied Harry, he reached for the wine decanter that was set on the table next to him. Carefully, he poured a generous amount into a goblet. Unnoticed by the prince, he tipped the rich wine into his mouth, humming out a satisfied moan at the flavour.
It has the desired effect on Harry.
Harry, keen, attentive Harry, looked up at Louis through his lashes at the reaction. Blinked twice, taking in the goblet in his delicate grip, the indifferent expression settled on his features. A loud moan ripped through him at the realisation that it was not him Louis was indulging in so generously, but some wine. Louis closed his eyes at the sensation of the vibrations that went through him.
Seemingly spurred on by Louis’ lack of attention, he renewed his efforts. Any finesse he possessed was discarded in favour of sheer desperation to please, as Harry sped up his motions, taking him in faster and deeper. Sloppy little movements that had spit leaking down his cock, the sound of wet, messy sucks alighting every single nerve ending.
At a particularly delicious suckle, Louis bucked into his mouth uncontrollably, which jerked Harry’s head. Alarmed, his hand shot up to right the crown that slipped dangerously from his dishevelled curls. One hand holding onto his crown for a moment, he keened, meeting Louis’ eyes as he continued servicing him.
Louis groaned weakly at his dedication. “Wish your subjects could see you like this,” he murmured idly, caressing Harry’s cheek where it bulged. “Wish they could see how well their prince carries out orders, how eager he is to serve.”
Harry’s moan was choked off, sucking him off in a new frenzy.
Louis watched as Harry kept a firm hold on his crown as he worked him over at a relentless pace, so obedient, so perfect. His own breaths were punched out of him, arousal building in him like a wave.
“Wish they could see their beloved prince, on his knees. Whatever would they think!”
Tears shone, unshed, in Harry’s clear green eyes. He was shaking, mirroring Louis from where a tremble had begun at the way he was so close.
"But this,” Louis crooned, sighing on a moan, “this pleasure is only mine to have, is it not, sweet prince? A special service, for your very own knight."
Harry somehow managed to nod, and Louis felt himself hit the back of his throat. A strangled choke around his cock had him gasping loudly, throwing his head back in pleasure. Diligently, Harry resumed taking him in deeply, nose meeting the coarse hair at his base on every downward motion. Even in the haze of his building release, he could hear Harry’s own sighs of satisfaction, which licked at him like flames.
“You’re doing so well, sweet,” Louis praised breathily, feeling further unhinged at Harry’s blissful expression. “Close, now.”
Harry hummed, choking on his pulsing cock every so often, driving Louis closer and closer to the edge. When he finally felt himself at the edge of his peak, he tugged at Harry’s ruffled curls, yanking his head away from his cock mournfully.
The thought of complaining only flashed across Harry briefly before he was crowding closer in understanding. Louis looked down at him, cursing softly as his hand began to tug at his cock in quick, rough strokes. Harry was peering up at him demurely, mouth temptingly open, tongue sticking out a little. He was going to be the death of him.
“That’s it, baby,” Louis groaned, eyes trained on Harry even as the building pleasure threatened to have his eyes slip close.
“Make me yours.”
At Harry’s plea, Louis’ restraint snapped.
He swore loudly as he came, cock pulsing out spurt after spurt of come, as waves of forceful pleasure washed over him like a tidal wave. Louis arched, hands flying over his sensitive cock as he rode out his high, Harry’s name on his lips in reverence. For a minute, he registered nothing but his body shuddering, lungs burning with the exertion of his release.
Once he caught his breath, and his cock was spent, he blinked away the haziness and let his eyes feast upon the sight before him.
And a sight for sore eyes, it was.
Harry’s open face looked up at him with uninhibited adoration and lust, mouth still hanging open, cheeks petal pink. Milky white come splattered across his perfect features; clinging to his lashes, oozing from his plush lips, marking up his neck, and landing in his once immaculate curls. Especially risque, were the traces of his pleasure tainting the jewels and gold of the crown perched on Harry’s head, slightly askew. He looked like an obscene rendition of art that was in the making.
“You’re a vision, my darling,” Louis informed him as such, voice syrupy, leaning forward to thumb bits of his come into Harry’s ravenous mouth. Harry, hesitance nowhere to be found, sucked his thumb in, moaning at the bitter taste, making Louis feel light-headed in the most pleasant of ways.
Clearing away any traces from his eyelashes, he held Harry’s face in his hands. “You’re my perfect prince,” he praised. The blinding smile, the one that prompted his dimples to appear in full force, that Harry gave him, was a reward like no other. “Let me reward you, hmm?”
Harry sighed happily, before a shadow of disquiet flickered on his face.
“What is it, Harry?” he asked.
Harry bit his lip for a moment.
“Kiss?” he asked, giving in, meek. Louis felt his heart kick up a storm at that, chest expanding to accommodate the ever-growing fondness for Harry.
“You never even have to ask, precious,” he mumbled, a promise, before slotting his lips against Harry for the first time that evening. Harry jolted like he was being brought to life, making a small happy noise as he kissed him back fervently. Louis could taste himself on Harry’s lips, his tongue, as he licked into his mouth hotly. Harry drank in his kisses like he was parched, like he was above the need for air.
Louis would have been quite content to lose time kissing him too, if it weren’t for suddenly becoming aware of Harry’s hard cock nudging against his leg, and his breath catching in his throat. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, eyes flitting over Harry’s want written across every inch of his face, and down to his leaking, neglected cock that stood away from his body proudly.
“Let me take care of you, sweet, just as promised.”
Louis stood, wobbling on his feet for a second, making Harry giggle sweetly. Louis tapped his face in gentle retaliation, proceeding to strip out of his clothes with no finesse. He then helped Harry stand up, steadying him with a sure hold around his waist till he found his footing. Harry rested his head against Louis’ chest for a moment, kissing the skin in front of him briefly before pulling back and allowing himself to be guided into his canopy bed.
Once Louis had him lying against the silk sheets, he hovered over him, slotting between his open legs, finding a home. He pressed a fleeting kiss on the underside of Harry’s jaw, and heard him sigh softly.
“You have served me with utmost perfection and bestowed me with immense gratification, your Highness,” Louis droned, though this time, it was laced with something sweet. He traced Harry’s lower lip lovingly. “What would you like, as your reward?”
Harry stared up at him intently. A beat passed.
“It is your wish.”
Louis smiled beatifically at his answer. “Your loveliness never fails, does it? Perfect boy.”
Harry’s attempt to hide his bashful smile was stopped by a gentle hand holding him in place. “Do you know what else never fails?”
Harry shook his head, a youthful spark in his eyes, shimmering through his demeanour. Louis kissed his cheek. “How taken I am by your beauty.”
“Louis,” Harry whined, flustered by mere words. It was Louis’ favourite shade on him.
“Yes? Can I not shower my love with praise, with honest words?” he asked, ducking down to gently suck a bruise into the pale skin of his neck. Come tomorrow, it would serve as a reminder, as a claim, hidden away by expensive fabric that he would pick out.
“Can I not speak on how I find perfection in you daily?” Harry gasped, as Louis let a hand trail down to his nipple, brushing across them maddeningly. “Why, if it were up to me, I would insist on addressing you as your Radiance. The way you shine, my sweet princeling-”
Louis pulled away, admiring the bruises blooming on his skin, pressing down on it just to hear Harry’s breath hitch, “I do not know how everyone does not worship you.”
Harry’s hip twitched weakly, stilling at Louis’ hand holding him down. “But then again,” Louis continued, caressing his chest with both hands, scratching down the skin with his blunt nails, “that is my selfish pleasure to partake in. No one else’s.”
Harry’s chest rose and fell at an increasing pace, overwhelmed at the touch and loving words equally caressing him after having gone without it all day. And that was the reason Louis found incomparable satisfaction in being able to provide this for Harry; take him apart and glue him back together with love and tender touches at the end of every long day. Knowing how much Harry longed for exactly this, and granting him the same no matter what. Love took on various forms, and this was theirs .
“Louis,” Harry urged, desperation seeping into his name. He still displayed unwavering restraint, not having made a single move to touch himself. Louis petted his hip, choosing to drag his lips down his chest torturously slow, scattering kisses and bruises across his skin. He paused at the tiniest pudge of Harry’s belly, nipping it softly before soothing it over with more kisses.
Harry squirmed, but tried again. “Lou.”
“Hmm?” Louis managed distractedly, sucking kisses into Harry’s hip bones, indulging in tasting the slightly sweaty skin, his trembling breaths and quiet moans music to his ears.
“Please,” Harry uttered reedily, stomach jumping under his lips. Louis looked up at him slightly, lips still grazing the sensitive skin of his waist when he spoke.
“Patience. Just admiring you darling. Lie still for me, and allow me, won’t you?”
Harry groaned, throwing an arm across his eyes in mild frustration, but mumbled his assent. He always did. Louis returned his focus, grazing his teeth across his waist, before going lower. He spread Harry’s thighs further, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin of his inner thigh teasingly, if only to watch goosebumps rise in their wake.
“Could look at you all day,” Louis said, avoiding his crotch and planting kisses down his thigh, so close yet so far from where he needed him most. Harry’s thighs quivered with the effort of holding them open.
“Cannot quite believe all of this is mine to cherish, devour.” Louis littered open-mouthed kisses up his thigh and right up to the crease where his legs met his crotch. Harry moaned shamelessly, a blurt of precome leaking onto his stomach.
Louis hummed against his skin, hands coming up to rest at the edge of his stocking. With care, and far too tantalisingly, he slowly rolled the material down, dotting kisses down his leg as he went. He did the same to the other leg, stripping Harry completely, folding the stockings and keeping them next to where they had placed his crown at the bedside table.
Hands wandering, they found their path up Harry’s thighs again, stopping at his hips. Admiring his flushed cock for a moment, he leaned down to press a kiss at the very head of it, drawing a deep moan and full-body shudder from the boy. Harry moved his arm back to above his head, eyes finding Louis, filled with a plea.
Smirking at him, Louis wrapped his hand around his cock loosely, dragging it upwards on a stroke. Harry cried out brokenly.
“I- I can’t,” he whimpered, bucking into Louis’ touch, shaking his head in distress at the scorching look Louis threw his way.
“You can, Harry. Good things take time, do they not?”
Any sensible answer he would have had, broke off into a high keen as Louis suckled the crown of his cock for a few seconds.
“Need- need you ,” Harry whined, and who was Louis to deny him when his request was so sincere and wanton?
Sucking one last love bite right next to where his cock lay, Louis pulled up and away, tapping his hip. “Alright, my darling. You’ve earned this. Lie on your front for me.”
Harry hurried to flip over, folding his hands on the pillow and settling his head on them. Finding it hard to resist, Louis braced himself over him, kissing down his neck and a line down his broad back. Harry’s shoulders relaxed, melting into the sheets at the touch.
His breathing picked up, however, as Louis pecked the cleft of his ass. Louis smiled against the skin. “Hips up, on your knees, love.” He helped Harry by pulling his hips up, spreading his legs a touch wider with his knee.
Shuffling back, Louis sat on his haunches to commit the view to memory, despite having done so every single time. It never did fail to daze him, though. Harry’s back arched sinfully in this position, skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat, cheeks round and split just a bit, as if to drive him mad on their own. Or perhaps it was the vulnerability that came with being spread open this way, that Harry trusted him implicitly to bare himself so, that affected him. Either way, he found himself transfixed.
Up until Harry gave the tiniest sway of his bottom anyways. Louis snapped out of it, swatting at a cheek with only mild force, but it was enough to elicit a gasp and stillness from Harry. Deeming that Harry had been patient enough tonight, Louis pushed away the urge to tease, and instead began kneading his cheeks. Each cheek fit perfectly in his palms as he squeezed and caressed them.
“You’ve waited so patiently all night, have you not, little dove?”
“Yesss,” Harry hissed as Louis pulled his cheeks apart with both hands, holding him open.
“Mhmm. What a pretty little hole you’ve got, your Highness,” Louis drawled, letting a fingertip trace the puckered skin with featherlight touches. Harry whined, embarrassed, but more telling was the way he pushed into his hands.
“All mine to devour,” Louis said, possessiveness curling around his voice, before he dipped his head in and placed a kiss right over his hole. The cry that left Harry was obscene.
Impatient, now that the taste and musky smell of Harry surrounded his senses like a temptation trap, Louis gave in, and began kitten-licking around his twitching hole. A visceral shiver rippled through his body, whimpers and sighs falling freely.
“Louis, o-oh-”
“Do you know what my favourite thing about this is?” Louis asked, licking a broad stripe from his balls up to the cleft as if to prove a point. Harry mewled, but shook his head.
“That you go,” Louis began, nibbling at the edge of his hole, “from a prim and proper prince,” he let his tongue prod at the hole searingly, welcoming the reckless push of Harry’s ass against him, “to a mere needy little whore.”
Harry wailed unabashedly, kicking out slightly. Louis spread him apart further, flattening his tongue and licking against him firmly, fervently, even as Harry wriggled against him.
Pulling back with his chin wet with spit, Louis rubbed the pad of his thumb in tight little circles around the puckered skin, listening to his ragged breaths.
“Imagine if your subjects knew,” Louis mused, grinning at the shocked little ‘oh’ that left Harry, “what they would think! Their stately prince, reduced to near tears from being pleasured so filthily.”
“Oh my God ,” Harry choked out, voice thick with tears as Louis resumed licking him in earnest, pointing his tongue and breaching past the first ring of muscle. Beneath him, Harry was bucking his hips wildly, like he could not help himself. His moans and whimpers were so loud Louis half considered stuffing his delicate stocking in his mouth to quiet him.
“Although,” Louis dipped the very tip of his index into the waiting hole, Harry garbling nonsense, “seeing as you are rather uncaring of the poor souls who are trying to sleep hearing you, perchance-”
“F-fuck”-
“Perhaps you want them to know, hmm?”
Harry thrashed his head about, curls wild, knees sliding down gradually till Louis rearranged them back in their position. Quiet sniffles escaped him, and it took Louis a second to realise that the slurred words were in fact forlorn begging and his name being repeated like a prayer. Louis’ own cock gave a weak throb at hearing him.
“Louis, please, please, god I’m- so close, I beg-”
“But only I get to give you what you need.”
With that, Louis began fucking into him with his tongue the best he could, sensing Harry was at the very precipice. The ache in his jaw was pleasant, a reminder that he was the one responsible for Harry being lost in unchecked pleasure.
“Louis,” Harry cried out, voice high pitched, “can I- can I please-”
“Let go, baby.”
As if Louis’ permission had been the dam that held his release from spilling over, Harry let out a gravelly shout as he came on command.
Shiver after shiver rippled through him as he spilt messily onto the sheets, throwing his head back as Louis’ name interspersed his moans. Louis reached down to stroke him firmly, making Harry yelp at the intensity of his orgasm.
When he was spent, Louis let go of him, Harry collapsing right onto the mess, boneless. Louis crawled up the bed till he was lying next to Harry, facing him. His face, turned to the side, was flushed, and his eyes remained closed. It would have been mildly concerning, that he lay there unmoving save for the deep bursts of breaths he was taking in, if it weren’t for the little smile that graced his lips. Louis removed a piece of his hair sticking to the side of his face, stroking the curve of his cheek. His heart swelled as he pushed into the touch with a hum.
“My darling.”
Harry scrunched his eyes in response, before they shuttered open, blinking away the wetness that clung to his lashes. Louis thumbed underneath his eyes, gazing into watery sea greens, so utterly beautiful.
“Come here,” he whispered. Harry happily obliged, shifting and shuffling a little gracelessly till he stuck to Louis’ side, face settled on his chest, one arm and a leg thrown over him. A content sigh left him, as he nuzzled into the skin beneath his head. Louis wrapped one hand around Harry’s back, tracing mindless patterns, the other petting him wherever he could reach, revelling in his pleased snuffles.
“You were so perfect today, precious,” he said, voice soft, honey sweet. He didn’t have to look down to feel Harry smile against his skin, pressing a kiss to his pec.
“Only today?” Harry asked hoarsely, still a little floaty. But the cheek let him know he was mostly with him. He grinned.
“I wax poetic of you far too much, for you to be secretly trying to steal my praise, Harry,” he chided.
A warm laugh reverberated against his chest. “Forgive me. Though I am your prince, do not forget.”
Louis pinched his bum, making him squawk unattractively. “You are my prince, yes. Mine first.”
“Yours first. All yours,” Harry echoed, with just as much reverence as he felt every day waking up next to him, basking in his presence, finding springtime in each of his sweet smiles.
Louis kissed his forehead, and with some difficulty, pulled the thick covers over their bodies when Harry began to shiver. He cuddled the younger boy closer, tugging him up so he could look at him better.
“Better, my love?”
Harry settled, one hand resting over Louis’ beating heart. “Better.”
Louis cradled his face, cherishing his luck to have Harry in his arms like this. He had earned several achievements in his life, but Harry’s love was the most prized of them all.
“Thank you,” Harry said, after a quiet moment.
“Whatever for?” Louis asked, lost.
“For….for taking care of me today, I suppose. For knowing me better than I do. For loving me…so fiercely that I have no choice but to feel it wholly.”
“I always will,” Louis reassured, tangling their fingers together. “I adore you, my dearest.”
“And I, you.”
Their murmur of sweet nothings and whispered devotion faded away eventually into the night, taken over by peaceful slumber.
………
Having had their fill of rest plenty, both awoke in the early hours of the morning, daylight just beginning to creep over the horizon. Waking up with a sleep-soft Harry was his favourite part of mornings; the rest of the time being less favourable as he could no longer reach for him or gaze at him too long as he assumed the role of the prince that he was.
They don’t dwell on it; there were other simpler joys to be found in life.
Like having Harry sitting between his legs, his back slotted against Louis’ front, as he hand-fed him the sweetest grapes. Louis was half propped up against cushions and pillows, Harry slouched against him, munching adorably around the grapes given to him.
It was a dreamlike moment; sunlight kissing their skin, satiety curling around them like a thick blanket, the tranquillity allowing each synchronised heartbeat to be felt, like a reminder of what they had.
Of course, like all good things, the moment had to come to an end. Three sharp knocks sounded on the door, and then silence. Harry groaned.
“Five minutes, Niall!”
Louis chuckled at the hint of annoyance in his tone, though he knew it was not necessarily directed at his trusted valet. More so at the fact that they had to leave their little cocoon.
“Alright. Ready to start your day, your Highness?” Louis asked playfully, nudging Harry to move so they could both get decent. Harry did so, begrudgingly.
“I wish to stay here,” he protested, pouting childishly. Louis smiled at his antics.
“I know, darling,” he soothed, as he sat up properly, “but your duties await.”
Harry grumbled some more incomprehensibly. “Besides, I think you owe Her Majesty breakfast with her, hmm?”
Harry turned to him, glaring at him in faux-anger, poking at his ribs.
“Yes, because someone thought it wise to distract me during supper, and I had to leave in the middle of it quite rudely!”
“Poor little lamb,” Louis cooed, earning himself an eye roll. But then relented, pecking Harry’s lips chastely. “The day will be over before you know it. We can take a stroll in the rose gardens just before sunset.”
Harry nodded, placated, pulling his nightgown over his head.
“And I will be right next to you at all times, remember?”
“Yes,” he sighed.
Louis pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Shall we, your Highness?”