seven - harry

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seven – harry

His pearls were pretty, oh so pretty.

            They were pure white, small and delicate, that hung around his neck and made him look absolutely gorgeous. To be honest, Harry had never owned such expensive jewelry ever in his small life, and now there he was, wearing his beautiful pearls and staring at himself in the mirror. The events of last week had been a nightmare, and he still hadn’t been able to recover fully from all that had happened, but he was definitely getting better.

            He was currently lying in his bed, pearls draped all over his porcelain body, his boy bits out in the open. He had long since got the gauzes off his hole, and a nurse visited two times a week to look at his wounds and see if he still needed some sort of special treatment. Louis had been coming to see him as well in between his rehearsals, and Niall, and even Liam. But that afternoon, someone else decided to knock on his door. “Harry?” Liam’s voice called loudly, waking the younger boy from his daydream, “Are you asleep?”

            “No…” he mumbled loudly, rubbing his eyes and fixing his posture and clothes that had been rumpled from his small nap previously. The door opened, and soon entered Liam, with a tall, broad man by his side. His jaw was hard, clenched together with a hard, dark scruff covering his cheeks, slicked black hair crowning over his face, “Harry, I hope you’re feeling better now, since Mr, Malik is hear to visit us?” at that, the man gave him a gentle, promising smile, and Harry instantly showed his hand for Mr. Malik to take it, pressing a gentle kiss on it. “I’ll leave you two to talk about the things Mr. Malik wants to discuss with you.” With that, he left.

            “I’ve heard a lot about you, Precious,” his voice was slow and heavy, enriched with a thick accent that seemed to come northern England, “My name is Zayn Malik.” The man sat down on Harry’s bedding, patting the spot next to him for the boy to sit down. “So, have you heard about it?”

            The boy was instantly intimidated, “I-I, I haven’t, and – and I apologize for that, sir – “

            Mr. Malik chuckled charmingly, “That’s quite alright, Precious, although that’s actually not what I’m here though,” the man shifted on the bed a little, “I, uh, I watched your performance last night, and I have to admit that I was rather impressed by your talent and general appearance,” Mr. Malik’s left hand rested on his thigh while his other one began caressing his cheek, “My castle is in the Ottoman Empire, near Danube,” Mr. Malik then brought his arm on Harry’s exposed thigh, caressing the skin, and pressing his lips on Harry’s shoulder, “Such, a quiet, little thing you are,” Harry shut his eyes closed, cheeks flushing from the arousal that rushed through his body, “I will stay with you freaks until the end of the month. Then, you could come and leave with me in my castle, I could use a distraction like you.”

            Plump lips were kissing his Harry’s neck while the man – or apparently, the prince, because Mr. Malik was certainly some type of royalty – brought him on his lap, diving his hands on Harry’s thighs and rutting against his bum, “Y’know,” the man continued, and Harry closed his eyes in ecstasy, “You’re a very pretty little diversion I could use. But it’s up to you of course,” Harry just whimpered, blindly searching for the man’s hair to grasp on.

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