haven ☞ l.s

0.2

"Uh," he mumbles, eyes flitting between Liam and Louis. "Green?"

Louis holds eye contact with him for a second. "Green means you're good to keep going. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop. Or, you can say the safeword, 'Haven'."

"Oh. Okay, then, green," Harry repeats. He doesn't understand why Louis is asking him in the first place, though—he's not the one who's about to be made to cry. Liam's head moves just slightly, enough for Harry to finally see his dark brown eyes, and then Louis is reprimanding him.

"You know better, Liam," he says. Before either of them can brace themselves, he's bringing his hand back and slapping Liam's cheek so hard that it leaves a little hand print. Liam whimpers as Louis strokes over the mark gently. In a teasing tone, Louis says, "You sound like a puppy."

Even from this distance, Harry can see Liam's breath hitch. He's never seen anyone get off on pretending to be a puppy before, but he thinks he might be about to.

"Puppies should be on all fours," Louis says casually, but with demand lining his words. Liam almost gets caught in the rope with how fast he moves, realizing too late that it was a trick—there's no way he can get on all fours when his hands are tied together above his head. He whines and tucks his chin against his chest. After letting out a snicker, Louis reaches up and starts untying the ropes, letting his hands fall so that Liam can scramble into position. Harry hadn't noticed it before, but—he has a tail. There is something in his bum that makes it look like he has a tail .

Harry had thought he knew a lot about sex, but clearly he's been missing a whole other world of it. There must be so much that he doesn't know, that he never would've known if he hadn't shown up here today. It sends a thrill of excitement through him, but at the same time, feels a daunting need to catch up with everything. It's like he's been standing in the shadows all this time, and the sun is only just starting to come out.

Harry is brought back to Earth by the sound of Liam whining again. He missed what Louis did to make him cry out, but now that he's paying attention, he can see how Louis is pinching him on his sides, hard enough to bruise. The whole expanse of his back is covered in the little marks, and his muscles tense up every few seconds in preparation for another one. There's no rhythm to it, and Harry supposes that that's the point—Louis doesn't want him to know when a new one is coming, so it hurts more.

Louis ultimately decides that Liam has been good enough, and says, "I'm going to go find you a collar, pup. Don't move a single inch—Harry will tell me if you do."

Before Louis wanders away, he squeezes Harry's shoulder and shoots him a wink.

While, they both wait, Liam is stock still, and Harry can't help but fidget. It's an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the pained moans of other people in the room. After a full minute without Louis around, Harry says, "So, uh, how often do you do this kind of thing?"

Liam doesn't move his body, but he squints his eyes a little like he's not sure if he's allowed to respond. When he finally does, his voice is smooth and rich like chocolate. "Every, uh, few weeks."

Harry nods, tapping his fingers. "With Louis?"

"Sometimes."

"Does Louis do it with other people?"

Liam looks like he's struggling to hold back a laugh. "Yeah, kid. A few."

Harry nods again. "What's your favorite, uh. Thing? Here?"

Liam's eyes dart around the room again, searching for Louis. "Maybe, um, maybe the collar."

"Oh, right," Harry says. He feels like a bobblehead with how much he's nodding. He can't help the weird noises he's making, a cross between a hum and a clicking of his tongue. He really wishes Louis would come back. "Has he ever made you cry?"