fourteen - louis

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fourteen – louis

  

Louis had long realized the boy was broken.

            It wasn’t quite hard to realize that once you spent the time Louis had spent with the boy, Louis thought, but the man had finally realized that it was evident in the way the boy presented himself. Harry was shy, seemed collected and childish, but was constantly searching for reassurance and drowned in his insecurities. And all Louis now craved to do was mend him and find the reason that broke the small boy apart.

            The spanking had not been planned, and Louis wouldn’t have done it otherwise if he hadn’t understood how much Harry needed it then; the boy never had someone to put him in place, and maybe that’s what he needed. Louis was more than willing to take that role. He had grown quite fond of the boy, “Hey, dove?”

            Harry was lying under the covers of his bedding, the sheet draped over him as his right leg crossed over the other; he looked like a modern painting, one of those curvaceous women that ate grapes on their luxurious beds. It had been two days since Winston’s funeral, and Harry hadn’t dared to get out of his room if it wasn’t for his performances, and Louis had finally found the balls to visit the boy that was literally sleeping in the next room. “Dove? May I join you?”

            “If you wish,” Harry mumbled, and Louis soon shifted underneath the covers, situating himself in front of Harry. His beautiful, pouted lips were plush against the pillows, drool covering some of the fabric, and his eyes were dull and sleepy, but still pretty alluring. “Uh – Louis?”

            “How are you feeling?”

            “Dirty.”

            Louis sighed with a downcast heart, “Dove – “

            “Dirty, and – and slutty – “

            Louis suddenly surged forwards, and captured Harry’s lips into a kiss, keeping them locked between his; soft, and plump, and full of warmth, a warmth that he had never felt before, “Meum pulchra peccatum,” My beautiful sin, Louis whispered against Harry’s lips when he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting their pairs of lips. He could feel his eyelids drooping, eyes glossy as he fumbled some words he didn’t even understand, pushing his thumb against Harry’s bottom lip, “Go to sleep, dove. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

            When the small boy finally fell asleep, Louis stayed right by his side, pushing back his curly hair and stroking his cheek whenever Harry let out little puffed up breaths; he looked so peaceful, so ethereal right then, and Louis wasn’t a man of expressing emotions, but if he didn’t control himself as much, he would have cooed at the sight in front of him. The boy had a small nap, however at some point, Harry’s breathing began to quicken as sharp, erratic breaths left his lips, his chest heaving up and down and his whole body mimicking a seizure.

            “No,” Harry whispered in his sleep with a fragile voice, “No, not her, me – take, take me –

            Louis decided to remain silent then, waiting for the underage boy to calm down from his state, but as the minutes passed, he realized that Harry seemed not to calm down. “Dove?” Harry didn’t stop shaking and muttering incomprehensible sentences, “Ha-harry, harry!” Louis whispered loudly, shaking the other boy’s shoulders frantically. Harry then began opening his eyes for short moments, then closing them again and drowning into his hazy sleep, “Dove, wake up,” Louis whispered in the boy’s ear, soothingly rubbing up and down his naked thighs with his fingers, feeling the goose bumps forming on his milky skin.

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