Chapter 8 - God

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Louis was dirty from outside –Harry as well. They smelled like grass and carrot soup –it was an oddly okay smell.

Harry helped him undress even when Louis whimpered and whined the whole time –unhappy with the temperature change. He liked putting his face in Harry's chest, soaking up any warmth that he exhaled. It was so intimate, the way Harry held him –cradled him. Harry's hands felt nice on his soft skin, on the healed bruises underneath his skin and the thin scars that wrapped around him.

Harry was nice –his eyes were nicer up close. Deep and rich of emerald, swirling with gold and outlined in black. Louis loved color –he adored the contrast of color and Harry was a walking contrast.

Harry was nice when he wasn't shoving Louis or glaring at him –when he wasn't speaking. When he kissed Louis' temple under the spray of the warm water –Louis felt loved. Louis' never felt loved. When Harry ran his wet hands down his back, following the curves that define Louis –it felt like protection.

Harry was not nice when he sucked on Louis' neck, harsh and mean. He bit with force but Louis only moaned in return, it was painfully good and he was not use to the contradicting feelings. Harry's canines were sharp, Louis was familiar with them by now –sharp and terrifying.

Louis' hands flew up to the alpha's biceps when his knees buckled at a strong smell. It was Harry, abusing his pheromone, filling the steamy shower until he choked. Louis growled at the abuse, shaking and mewling at it –forcing it away.

"Mm," Harry hummed, nuzzling Louis' jaw. "Feisty omega..."

Louis sucked a mark on Harry's chest –loose and messy, he never had the opportunity to make a mark, so he made it bright. He reminded himself that it has nothing to do with the omega that Harry had sex with.

Harry ran a hand through the omega's tangled hair, removing the dirt from it. "Dirty omega..."

Louis puffed at that, fingers digging into Harry's arms when he tugged his hair hard. "Dirty alpha..."

"So I am." Harry was smirking on his neck –a specific part on his neck that he seemed entranced with. It was right beside his gland and it was usually sore after Harry's face got anywhere near it. The alpha slowly pushed his shoulder's down until Louis was on his knees, face to face with a cock –a really big cock.

Louis was nervous, it was clear by his fidgety fingers and trembling lips. The smell in the room was strong of Harry, surely suffocating anything that tried escaping.

He'd never seen a penis -ever –other than his own. Louis had touched himself maybe three times in his life. When he experienced heats, he never acted on them. Louis would cry, scream, beg the Elements to strike his chest with a lightning bolt. But, he endured each horrible second of his heats –Louis endured the almost unbearable.

The first time he touched himself, he was fifteen. He'd only done it after over hearing about it while he kept hidden. After doing the deed, Louis hated every part of his hands –his flesh. It was the longest he'd ever stayed transformed and he refused to change back until he had to go back to the castle.

The second time was his first heat, eighteen years old. He felt like he was going to die –he was sure of it. Louis touched himself out of pure anger and want. After a three-day hell, Louis felt disgusting, less disgusting than the first time, but still disgusting. –Ashamed would be a better description.

The third time was about two years ago. It was raining horribly, and Louis had been painting for twenty-four hours straight. His fingers hurt, his brain was attempting to strangle it's self, but it all ended when his heat killed the pain. Louis was grateful for one of the chefs that locked him in. It was the first time Louis hadn't wanted it to end. He was in a good place, surrounded by strong smells. Paint, clay, canvas –his glorious art. It had been a messy heat, one that almost got him killed. Wasting paints in the castle was like a sin –it was so much paint though. The strong colors had almost stained his skin –stained his penis.

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