Larry Stylinson One Shots II

Stockholm Syndrome

Less than 15 minutes later, Harry enters the living room with two plates of pancakes and syrup, along with two forks and two napkins. He places one plate on the coffee table in front of Louis, then stands next to him and waits for his instructions.

"You can sit on the floor," Louis says. Harry nods, then sits on the floor next to Louis, setting his plate on the coffee table before digging into his delicious breakfast. Louis finishes eating and is now thirsty, but Harry is still eating. So, he takes pity on the boy and decides to get his own glass of orange juice; he also grabs a juice box for Harry.

"Thank you," Harry smiles when the small juice box is placed on the table, then eats his last bite of pancake before sipping on the juice box. Once he's done, he takes everything to the kitchen and puts it all in the dishwasher before going back to Louis. "Daddy?"

"Yes baby?"

"May I sit on the couch with you? My bum hurts a little," he asks.

"Sure," Louis nods. Harry smiles and lays across Louis' lap, his shirt slightly riding up so his bum is on full display. The Sub quietly hums to himself as he goes on his phone. Louis rests a hand on Harry's upper thigh, then slowly slides it up to his bum and pats it. He removes his hand and quietly grabs the whip, lightly dragging the folded faux leather against Harry's thighs. He watches the back of Harry's head and feels as the boy's body stiffens, because he knows exactly what is touching his leg. Louis raises it and delivers a sharp smack against the middle of his right thigh, causing Harry to yelp and slightly jump. Louis chuckles before dragging the whip against his skin again, smacking Harry only when he least expects it.

"Louis," Harry whines after about five minutes of dragging and smacking, because he is sore and horny.

"What's the matter?" Louis cheekily asks, acting clueless. He lets go of the whip and slowly rubs Harry's marked up thighs and bum, which only works Harry up more.

"I want you," he says, not wanting to admit the vulgarity of "I'm horny" or "I want to have sex."

"How do you want me?" Louis asks, making Harry say it anyway.

"I want you to use me." Louis wasn't expecting that, but he appreciates it nevertheless.

"Come with me," Louis says, signaling for Harry to get up from his lap. The younger boy springs to his feet, and Louis delicately holds his hand and leads him to the bedroom. "Sit there." Louis points to the bed, and Harry climbs to the middle and sits quietly.

"I was thinking about tying you up, then I can use you however I want. How does that sound?" Louis says, although Harry doesn't have much of a say in what happens to him.

"Sounds perfect," Harry says, because it genuinely does.

"Strip for me," Louis says, then pulls out black rope and a spreader bar; the spreader bar attaches around Harry's ankles and keeps his legs nearly three feet apart.

"Fuck," Harry whimpers when he sees what Louis has gotten from the box. He lays his arms out on either side of him so Louis can tie his wrists to the headboard, not being gentle about it whatsoever.

"I have one thing to add after the bar, you think you can handle it?" Louis asks. In times like these, it is important not to push Harry too far. As much as Harry doesn't want to have a choice in what happens to him in this headspace, Louis needs to make sure that Harry is comfortable with everything.

"Yes," Harry automatically says, then watches as Louis puts his ankles in the straps and extends the bar so that his legs are well past shoulder width apart. Harry bucks his hips up into the air, his erection ready leaking precum onto one of his fern tattoos. Louis pulls Harry's black vibrator out from the nightstand, as well as a small bottle of lube. Harry bites his lip and whimpers at the sight.