Malachite | L. S [Completed]

14: Timmy

"Fuck." Perhaps fucking his hand wasn't exactly sating for Louis but he had vowed he wouldn't bed another omega as long as he was married to Harry, and with how Harry had been acting towards him, Louis needed to do something.

He fell back onto his bed, or rather Harry's — though he barely ever used the Duchess's chambers. Louis felt awful pleasuring himself when the sun hadn't even been shining for a few hours but he was only deprived of release for so long and his bride surely knew what he was doing. He had woken up to Harry pressed against him, Harry's back to Louis' chest and his dripping bottom against Louis' hardness, and Louis knew the omega was awake.

The vicious thing was punishing him ever since their dine.

It hadn't merely been today, the cruel omega had been teasing him ever since. Be it wearing one of Louis' darling chemises that he had brought Harry during their years of dalliance or licking the cream off of his finger in a lewd manner while his eyes never left Louis. He had gone as far as seating himself on Louis' lap and then squirming around during a meeting — it was horrific how he could make out that the lords and ladies were able to smell his arousal.

So he lay on the bed with a heaving chest as he caught his breath. The ceiling was quite high, he realised today, as he contemplated how he was to survive this torture. Here he had presumed he and Harry were making somewhat advancement, that somehow they were moving towards the bliss of a marital life, but perhaps Louis was bound by the curse of being a fool. He had known the omega his entire life, he should have known Harry would not rest without vexing Louis.

"Foolish alpha falling in love," he cursed himself before he rose, tying his breeches before he walked into the privy to clean any further remnants. He allowed a groan when he could smell how the entire chamber was reeking of him, and any who were to walk past it would know. "Bloodthirsty omega."

He knew cursing the said omega was not going to solve his troubles and so Louis found himself walking towards the gardens, sighing deeply when he found his bride playing with a pup. Oh heavens. He orchestrated this. Again. Harry was well aware of how Louis dreamed to have pups of his own. He knew how much Louis loved admiring Harry playing with pups.

The clouds were split into the vastness of azure while the sun peeked from behind the clouds and shone onto the lush green of the gardens Harry had brought to life over the past three months. Harry sat there on the grass as Lady Mertip's pup babbled in Harry's lap. He was in a frock that was the shade of bones, its neck deep that gave a glimpse of Harry's heaven-crafted collarbones and his fleshy chest, and his hair was braided with flowers.

And he had a pup in his arms.

Harry's skin glowed with the touch of the soft sunlight, a luxury in the approaching winter, and the pup — a plump, blue-eyed omega — lay calmly now, his wee fingers clutching Harry's curls while Harry had his eyes shut, lips pressed against the little pup's temple while he hummed a gentle lullaby.

And there went Louis' heart, melting, melting, melting and gone.

He stood there for heaven knows how long, admiring the love of his life playing with the pup, jumping him in his arms, cooing when the pup smiled, kissing his rosy cheeks. Oh, poor Louis and his love-sick heart. He craved this. A family of his. A family that he was not going to taint. He wanted to build a home where warmth was the only thing that was felt, never allow the shadow of his own father over it. He wanted to be the father to his pups that his own father was not to him. He wished to love his pups and his omega and allow his pups the luxury of being expressive. And to watch Harry now, though merely punishing Louis, he looked every bit of the dream that Louis had.