larry smut

the filth II - 3/4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280872/chapters/2811733

here's part three of the 'you'll breathe me in (you won't release)' series

~✰~

Harry knows it's too early when he wakes up. He can sort of remember Louis setting up the alarm clock last night after cleaning him up and taking care of him, and it's definitely not Marimba pulling him away from his dream. He gives it another second before declaring himself awake, and then finally realises why that even is. They somehow ended up with Louis spooning him, plastered to his back with his stubble tickling the back of Harry's neck and his cock right against his arse.

Also, Harry's completely hard. He's still hazy from sleep, slow and heavy, but the memories from yesterday start filtering in one by one, and heat twists in his gut in record speed. It's like he can still feel Louis' come in him, filling him and slicking him and dripping out of him once Louis pulled out. Marking him. Owning him.

Christ, he's grinding back without thinking, too groggy to actually wrap a hand around himself but too turned on to just lie still. The comforter drags over his dick and he bites his lip to stay quiet, hoping not to wake Louis up. The plan was to let him have a lie-in while Harry snuck out and drove himself to school, since there's no point in both of them waking up at the ungodly hour of 7 AM. Especially considering it's the day Harry only has classes until noon.

He also... doesn't actually want Louis to know he's gagging for it 24/7, as Niall so kindly put it when they'd smoked up and sent Louis mean texts. It might be another Teenager Thing. Harry's working overtime to prove to Louis he's not Just A Teenager. He hasn't come in his pants in a while. The persistent morning wood must go.

Or maybe it doesn't. He can feel Louis growing hard behind him, sniffling in his sleep, and yeah, feeling kind of desperate gets Harry squirmy and hot. Even if it is far too early in the morning, and he just got fucked and eaten out last night. A needy little noise escapes him when he sharply remembers Louis' tongue licking into him, wet and teasing and –

Oh thank god. Louis' hand brushes over his stomach and he mumbles in a devastatingly raspy voice, "Hazza?"

Knowing Louis' awake makes it considerably easier to move. Or at least to open his mouth and take in gulping breaths while he shuffles his hips back, getting Louis closer, harder. "Sorry," he whispers, but doesn't bother to stop. Louis petting him must mean he doesn't really mind.

Louis just chuckles and kisses the crook of his neck, his scruff rubbing his skin in a way that makes Harry kick his legs out. "How can you be so horny at half six in the morning?"

He wants to feel guilty, truly he does, but there's not really enough room for that. "Early bird gets the worm?" he tries.

Louis laughs again, his voice still deep and lazy. Harry should wake him up early more often. "I'll get it alright," he warns, and trails his hand from Harry's middle to cup his cock.

Harry tenses immediately and pushes into Louis' hand, moaning in relief. But they're still pressed tight together, and feeling Louis hard and there, sleepy and close and after last night – something just possesses Harry to murmur no and move Louis' hand from his crotch, over his hip and against his arse.

Louis' breath hitches and he squeezes him automatically. "Yeah? Again?"

Harry nods into his pillow, feeling his undoubtedly messy curls springing over his forehead. He moves faster against Louis, like he could just make it happen on his own. He would if he could. He'd have Louis inside him all the time. Jesus, he's talking dirty inside his own head, what the fuck did Louis Tomlinson do to him? "Again."

Louis still doesn't move, besides fluttering his lips over the shell of Harry's ear. Even his hand is idle on Harry's bum instead of fucking into him, how rude. "You sure, love? You've got school soon."

Harry rolls back into Louis' lap and makes a frustrated noise. "Daddy." It's basically code for get a cock in me. (Not really. It's code for take over. Usually it goes Harry's way. Even when it doesn't, eventually it does.)

It definitely does something to Louis. His hips instantly jerk forward and he grunts in Harry's ear, biting it none too gently. "Ask nicely, baby. Maybe then."

Harry sighs, revelling in Louis' short, involuntary thrusts. If he moves just a bit in the right way, Louis' cock could fit in the cleft of his arse, sort-of-fuck him. His hand is still there, if he just spreads Harry's cheeks... "Maybe?" he asks, trying not to whine.

Louis reacts by taking his hand away and backing up. And then spanking Harry soundly.

Harry's so shocked for a moment he doesn't react at all, body frozen and brain buzzing. It's happened before, but it always does something to Harry. It hurt, it was loud and sudden and it hurt, but it didn't, it was hot. It wasn't even that hard, but it's like he still feels aftershocks, like when he came from Louis' tongue but Louis just kept going. And the fact he automatically associates Louis slapping him with Louis rimming him just says everything, doesn't it? The fact he's spurting pre-come and kind of wants Louis to spank him again.

He shoves his face into his pillow and whines, his legs spreading like some sort of delayed reaction. Louis just bites his neck sharply. "I said, ask nicely."

"Please," he gasps out, arching his back when Louis rubs his arse soothingly. "Please, fuck me again, I want you to come inside me again, please."

Louis hums approvingly and rolls back against him, his cock even harder than before. "Can't get enough, can you? Think you deserve it?"

His thoughts are getting muddled, so he tries to focus on breathing, tries to dim the buzzing in his ears. "If I'm – if I don't you could – again – with your hand – "

"Shh, baby," Louis cuts him off, sucking on the skin behind his ear absentmindedly. "I'm just getting the lube, okay?"

Harry groans, his fingers twisting in the sheets just from the thought. He busies himself with kicking the sheets off his overheated body, so by the time Louis gets back in bed, he's bare and waiting. Louis kisses his shoulder sweetly and runs one finger down the knobs of his spine. Harry shudders when he realises it's wet. Thank god Louis reaches his bum before he has to wiggle it for attention.

He starts with two fingers, knocking the breath out of Harry and not wasting a second before shoving them in up to the second knuckle. It stings, but after the pounding he took last night, it's more than welcome, barely a warm-up. He rocks back against them encouragingly, and Louis pulls them almost all the way out before thrusting them back in, twisting and curving and scissoring and not letting Harry fucking breathe.

"You're so good, taking me so well," Louis whispers suddenly, tugging Harry's hair back so he can speak into his ear, and oh, Louis' got another hand, and what position is he even in, and did Harry seriously get so far without even opening his eyessince he woke up?

Not that he could exactly open them and turn around to investigate now. His brain sort of shorts out when Louis finds his prostate, and he must make some sort of noise or jerky motion, because he can feel Louis smile, and then curl his fingers and rub the spot relentlessly.

Harry gasps, helpless and trembling, and there's not much he can do but take it. He scrabbles for purchase, ends up grabbing the headboard, and Louis still doesn't let up, just yanks Harry's hair so he won't even think about scooting away. Harry can only register Louis breathing in his ear and himself chanting fuck, daddy, daddy, daddy.

His body melts into the mattress when Louis takes his fingers out and slams three back in, this time just barely brushing over his prostate and not rubbing it maddeningly like before. Harry grinds into it, shaking his head so Louis will tighten his hold on his curls and pull harder, or maybe just push him down again. It's too much all at once, stretched every which way, and Harry... Harry begs.

Louis fucks him just as roughly with his cock. As soon as he slides in all the way, he barely gives Harry a moment to adjust before he pulls out almost completely and thrusts back in. He's so full and hot and Louis' just everywhere and bare and close and. Completely overwhelmed, Harry ducks his head to bite his own bicep, over the tattoo, a move that has Louis yanking his hair again.

It's hard and deep and has Harry twisted into knots, but it's almost too much, he needs more friction, needs – "Faster, Daddy, I – fuck, I can take it."

Louis pulls out completely for a moment, leaves Harry clenching on nothing and swearing, but then he shoves Harry's shoulder so he's lying on his front, and yes. Harry immediately spreads his legs wide and Louis pins him down and bites the back of his neck harshly. Harry holds the headboard again and waits.

Finally, Louis grabs his hips hard enough to bruise and rocks into him. This time around, all Harry has to do is lie there and take it, and it brings something extra out of Louis, having all the control over the angle and pace. Both fucking marvellous – each time he pumps in, he brushes Harry's spot, and he goes so fast Harry can hear their bodies slapping together, can lose track of everything but in, out, in, out.

He's writhing under him, stretching both his legs and arms like he can spread the incredible feeling around. Louis only fucks him harder, keeps giving him biting kisses along his shoulder blades and whispering about how good he feels, is for him.

He's so out of it he doesn't even notice Louis seeking his mouth until there's a tongue ghosting over his wet lips. Harry opens wide, lets Louis lick into his mouth in a messy kiss. Of course, it was just an excuse for Louis to bite his plump lips with his sharp little teeth – it's one of his favourite things to do. Harry can't take it, can't have Louis fucking him this thoroughly and darting his tongue into his mouth like there's anything left to claim. He's just barely hanging on the edge, pretending to kiss Louis back when really he's whimpering.

And it actually must all have been a nightmare.

Because all of a sudden, like he's fallen down a satanic rabbit hole, Louis isn't in him nor on him anymore.

"No." Harry's whole body quivers violently, and he keeps bearing down, keeps clenching, keeps his eyes squeezed shut like he could will Louis to come back. He's straining his ears for an instruction or explanation or anything, but there's just his and Louis' ragged breaths and – his alarm clock.

Harry's eyes snap open for the first time this morning, and he makes a noise so profoundly frustrated there's a chance it's not even human. He just wants to come. He just wants Louis back in.

He twists his neck and finally sees Louis and – Jesus, a flash of arousal has him spurting more pre-come into the sheets. Louis' lying flat on his back, hair sleep/sex mussed, and his eyes are boring into Harry's. His pupils are completely blown, and he's sweaty and gorgeous and, "Please, why did – I was good, wasn't I good?"

Louis keeps his voice remarkably steady when he says, "Good boys go to school on time."

Harry's breathless and flushed and open and what is Louis fucking talking about. "What?"

"Isn't that your alarm clock?" Louis asks, eyebrow arched.

Harry feels like cowering. "It is."

"Best get ready then."

It's actually happening. "I'm so close," he whispers.

"I'm sorry baby, it'll just be irresponsible of me to keep you from going to class." He raises his hand, maybe to fingerfuck him, or jerk his cock, or play with his hair, fuck, Harry's humping the bloody mattress, he can't – he needs –

"You'll be late," Louis adds, and his tone is positively steely, makes Harry pause and sag down like his strings have been cut.

"Please, Daddy." He's nearly sobbing into the pillow. He's never felt this raw before. Louis' never been this cruel. "I – please, I need you." He knows he's incoherent, but it's Louis' fault for fucking him into incoherence, isn't it?

"You can't have me," Louis says simply. Well, it's not simple, Harry can see Louis' practically vibrating with how much he wants to keep fucking Harry, but he's trying to see if Harry will be a good boy, and Harry's long past the stage where he'd consider disobeying. He needs to be a good boy more than he needs to come.

He's hazy again, sex-drunk and shaky. He can still feel Louis railing into him, bruising his hips. He whines uncontrollably, and that must be Louis' tipping point. He buries his nose in Harry's hair and whispers, "But you look so pretty begging, I can't just leave you empty, can I?"

Harry shakes his head vehemently, already inching his hips toward Louis. Louis shakes his head. "If we plug you up will you be a good boy and keep it inside all day? Wait until Daddy can take care of you again after school?"

His first thought is a wine stopper, and he knows it's dumb, but he still finds himself asking, "Plug?"

Louis rolls off the bed, not for long enough for Harry to freak out, but long enough to have him squirming again. When he comes back he's holding a – oh. It's pink and thick and phallic, so even in this state, Harry knows what it is. His brain rewinds the conversation, and then he's sort of stuck staring at the thing because he could keep it inside.

He sees Louis open his mouth to talk, probably tell him how hot it could be, but really, Harry doesn't need convincing. He nods quickly and hitches his hips up. "Yeah, let's do it."

Louis gives him a wide smile and runs a hand over Harry's arse, soft and loving. "Sure? No big exam or something?"

"May half-term in a week, if there was ever a time to show up wearing an anal – oh god." Of course Louis pushed it right in. It's smaller than his cock but thick, flared so it'll hold. Harry feels like all the air is stuck in his throat, and he finds himself pushing out his arse even more, like some automatic reaction to feeling this full. The more he arches, the deeper it gets, until it's resting directly against his prostate.

"How is it?" Louis asks, running a soothing hand down Harry's back.

Harry tries clearing his head enough to answer, but it's there, persistent pressure that'll stay there for a while. Harry supposes it'll get better once his dick softens, but what if it doesn't? Jesus Christ. "Can I – Daddy, can I please just come?"

"No," Louis says simply, indifferently. "You won't come without me, either."

"What if..." His face flushes as bright as his chest, he can feel it, but he can't be self-conscious about that when his arse keeps clenching around the silicone. "What if I can't help it?"

"I know you won't come, Harry, because if you do you'll have to tell me, and I'll have to make you take the plug out." He grabs the base of the plug and Harry's breath hitches, but he doesn't pull it out, just twists it around. "Don't want that, do you? You want to come when you've earned it, after so long of sitting in class and squirming. Think how good it'll feel to come then."

Harry buries his face in his arms and moves his hips in restless circles, but the plug isn't Louis, it doesn't thrust inside of him or change the angle, it's just there, stretching him. Louis plants a kiss on his back and then helps Harry get off the bed. The plug shifts in him when he moves, but he gets used to it after a few steps, using Louis' shoulders for support.

The worst part is when Louis dresses him in his school uniform in front of the full-length mirror. He keeps petting his bum casually, but it's secondary to how Harry looks. He's always had a pretty good idea what sex does to him, a consequence of having a partner who's prone to talking in bed, but actually seeing it is something else. He didn't know what Louis meant by fucked-out, but there it is. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are all red and his hair is sweaty and messy, curls falling over his forehead. He looks like he just walked out of a porno, and the worst part is that it won't be going away as long as he's got something up his arse.

But maybe the worst part is when Louis drives him to school, since Harry can't drive like this, and he makes certain to go over every speed bump. As soon as he thinks he's gotten used to virtually sitting on a dick, it presses right against his prostate and Harry moans pathetically into his hand and touches his sweaty forehead to the window. Louis delights in it every fucking time, runs his fingers through his curls and whispers soothing words, only they're not soothing at all. "Gonna fuck you so good when I pick you up. Just park somewhere and fuck your face first, fill you up from both holes until you're so winded you can't take it, and then I'll have you fuck yourself on my cock and take what you need."

The very worst part might be when he actually goes to class, kind of stressed without Louis' supervision and not making eye contact with anyone. That is until Niall launches himself at him, but Harry's even clumsier than usual and they end up knocking into some lockers. Harry hopes Niall's enthusiasm blinds him to his slack-jawed expression. "I take it you've made up?" Niall asks finally.

Harry fusses with his hair nervously. "How'd you mean?"

"Hazza, could you be more obvious?"

Three heart attacks later, Harry stutters, bright red, "I'm, um."

Niall slaps a hand over the back of his neck. "You can see the mark even under your curls."

Harry's so relieved he bursts out laughing, and quickly ducks away from Niall's touch to pull his phone out.

Like, really, he survived the safe sex talk with his mum, only crumbled a little when she pulled the passive-aggressive "you're the only baby I have left in this house and I don't want you to keep things from me". He made it through a million driving lessons with Louis without jumping his bones. Yet, he's fairly convinced he'd die of embarrassment if he pulled Niall out of biology and asked him to take a picture of his lovebite so he might get a dick pic he can't even wank to. But he does just that. All with a fucking sex toy in his arse.

By the time Louis' cock replaces the plug, Harry's a complete mess. Louis doesn't hold him at all, just leans back and lets Harry ride him fast, nailing his own prostate. He does talk, though. Of course he does. "Bet you tried so hard not to give anything away," he says, voice high and unsteady with how hard Harry's working him. "Tell me how it felt."

Harry's eyes squeeze shut and his rhythm gets erratic the more it builds, the more he lets himself listen to Louis. "Felt so good," he whispers, his own voice rough as sandpaper from earlier.

"Why?" Thank god, he doesn't expect Harry to elaborate. He does it on his own. "Because anyone with eyes could see how well-fucked you are after you're with me? Or because it got better every time you moved just a little bit? Or because – " he thrusts his hips up just as Harry bears down, getting a groan out of him, " – it reminded you of your Daddy?"

Harry comes instantly, blanking out in bliss after being denied for so long. He doesn't stop moving his hips until Louis comes too, spilling inside him.

Truly, the worst thing is that Louis doesn't want his own come to drip all over the seats, so he plugs Harry back up right away, full of his come.

It's also the best thing.

Louis is the best thing.

*

By the end of May, Louis finally finishes his teaching practice, just when Harry goes on half-term. So lovely, he thought, how convenient, he figured. Only then Louis actually has to finish his course, and he's at uni every day completing placement projects and hearing lectures he texts Harry through.

His final exams might kill them both. Harry finds himself stress-free with all the time in the world, and he's bored out of his fucking mind because his boyfriend spends all his time at uni. It's not, like, a problem. Or at least, he won't call it that in front of Louis. He's so happy for him to finally get his certificate, he doesn't want to make him feel bad just because Harry's a little neglected.

It's just... depressing. Especially after he and Niall finish their Grey's Anatomy marathon and have to smoke up watching Made In Chelsea. Harry knows he has to see Louis, no matter how much he asks for private study time without distractions. Harry figures if he sounds miserable enough, Louis might cave. Not that he wants to distract him.

So the only course of action is to immerse himself in Louis' studying process.

"Can I stay over tonight?" he asks over the phone, already looking up simple recipes.

Louis sighs. Harry's heart tightens; he sounds exhausted. "I'll probably be too tired to play, I've gotta revise."

"We don't have to play, I just wanna spend the night with you."

"Oh. You're not, like... dropping, are you?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "No, you twat, this is me missing my boyfriend, not a kink thing."

"Alright, I'm sorry, just making sure. I'm new at this, you know."

Harry knows. It was the best rush when Louis told him that he was his first – sub, that's how it's called. Louis actually waited before telling him, afraid that Harry wouldn't trust him to do what they do, but it wasn't like that at all. Harry loves being Louis' first, same as Louis was his first. It makes him feel special, even more trusting, because whatever Louis does when they play, Harry knows it's not inspired by a former nameless partner. He's only taking Harry's cues. He only wants Harry like this.

Except, not tonight.

He comes over at around seven carrying a huge grocery bag. Louis looks particularly downtrodden when he opens the door, tired and scruffy and swimming in a shirt that was big on Harry back when it was actually in his closet and not Louis'. He should seek treatment for his kleptomania.

Harry can only account for the fact Louis hasn't gotten his dick sucked lately; the alarming amount of takeaway in the living room is all on Louis being an idiot. It's frustratingly hard to call Louis names when Louis beams, then throws his arms around him and gives him a big kiss, rubbing his beard all over Harry's face ridiculously. "My Santa," he says, hugging him tight and sniffing his neck.

Harry sinks into him completely and grins. "If you missed me so much, why didn't you let me come sooner?"

"I have to focus on this shit," he says sadly into Harry's chest. "I think my classroom assessment went alright, but this is... book stuff. And with all the budget cuts, most of my course was self-learning, so even if I am on top of it I wouldn't really know."

"Hey, I can totally test you if you want evaluation. I'm your target audience, remember? Only more posh."

Louis nuzzles his neck. "I don't wanna bore you with all this stuff. You're on vacation."

"Please, it's no big deal. We can play student-teacher after." Louis leans back to give him a dirty look. Harry immediately backtracks. "Or not. Let's make dinner first." He jangles his grocery bag so it hits the back of Louis' leg.

Louis sighs. "I don't have time, there's so much – "

"One hour. Give me one hour and then we can study, okay? We're just gonna do pasta and a secret sauce. You've been holed up here for a while, you need something mind-numbing like cooking. And me."

"Alright," Louis mumbles, defeated.

"Go shower, then. I'll set everything up." It really shows character growth, he thinks, that he doesn't offer to join. Louis looks torn himself, but eventually lets go of Harry and goes to the bathroom. He leaves the door wide open. Harry sighs from the bottom of his heart, but heads to the kitchen. He's strong.

He's strong even when Louis joins him a few minutes later, damp and clean-smelling, in sweatpants and nothing else. Like, nothing underneath, either. He's rude. His dick is rude. He fits himself to Harry's back and shoves his cold nose into his nape. "All done."

Harry looks over his shoulder and kisses the top of Louis' head. His hair is offensively fluffy. "Used my shampoo again?"

Louis grins up at him unapologetically. "Like your smell. You probably laced it with pheromones or something."

"Oh, is that why you're so unbearably attracted to me? Hair pheromones?"

"It's the only explanation. I fucked you through my teaching practice, do you even get what that means?"

"That you were thinking of lesson plans during the action?"

"Didn't you notice?" Louis grabs his hips and starts rubbing his dick against his arse, moaning exaggeratedly. "Oh, Shakespeare, you're so fucking tight."

Harry shoves him away, laughing and not at all flustered. At least Louis' spirits have lifted. "You're in charge of the pasta, I'm in charge of the sauce."

"Yes, sir. I keep the – Harold, you brought pots with you?" He pouts dramatically. "I do live here, you know."

Harry hipchecks him and takes his pot. "Mine is bigger."

Louis' thumb hooks under his waistband, but he doesn't take the bait. "Are your parents alright with you taking all this stuff?"

"Yeah, they're flying out to Jamaica next week so they need to know I can make dinner for myself."

"Yeah?" Louis asks, kissing his shoulder distractedly while he sniffs the canned mushrooms.

A thought. "Have you ever been to my house, Louis?"

"You mean apart from the backyard, Harry? I haven't."

"Don't you think that's interesting?"

"Extremely. Can you proposition me after dinner, though? Keep it classy?"

Harry snorts. Like Louis isn't a sure thing. "Check if the kettle's done. You want spaghetti or spirali?"

Louis bites his lip and hums. "Are those the curly ones?"

Ugh. "Curly, long or butterflies?"

"Now you're speaking my language. Curly ones."

He passes him the package, and Louis kisses his cheek in return.

The whole thing is sickeningly domestic, making dinner together and talking about his parents' trip or how Louis' students still text him. Once they put the dishes away, they sprawl out on their sofa and Louis makes Harry watch telly while he finishes reading over his notes. Which he lays out over Harry's back. While he makes himself comfortable over Harry's arse. He's heavy, but Harry hasn't felt him in days, he'll take it.

He doesn't realise he's drifting off until he's roused by Louis petting his hair softly. "Babe, wanna ask me some questions?"

He scrubs his eyes and smiles. "Sure, love."

Louis gets up so Harry can turn around on his back, but then sits on Harry again, this time straddling his thighs.

Harry is strong. He takes the papers Louis hands him and focuses only on them. He asks him about school policies and watches him talk, but definitely not because Louis' lips are achingly pretty. HE's just fascinated by teaching.

After they're done, they drag themselves to bed. Louis' too tired to try something, but he manages to give Harry a thorough thank you kiss and a sweet, adoring smile of appreciation that makes Harry's heart flutter. He knows that tomorrow he'll wake up and Louis might already be at uni, but he also knows that Zayn will hang out with him, and that he'll eat leftover pasta and beat Louis' scores in whatever game is in the PlayStation. He knows that right now Louis' burrowing into his chest and being cute.

He knows he loves him ridiculously. "I love you ridiculously."

He can feel Louis' smile radiate over his skin. "Love you too. Thanks for coming."

He's asleep before Harry can even tell him not to be an idiot. Sometimes it sucks being a slow speaker, but Louis always listens.

It's dumb that even though they didn't do anything Harry feels content and pleased with himself. Maybe that's, like. Devotion and stuff.

*

Except that he really misses being thoroughly fucked.

It's nice being a supportive boyfriend, and he loves helping Louis even when Louis barely has the energy to eat the fajitas Harry's made him, but Christ, he hasn't gotten properly shagged in like, a week. He's losing his mind. The most important thing he gains from his week of horrors is an even deeper respect for girls braving through their periods. Cara is a fucking hero, she has to deal with both her own and her girlfriend's. (She doesn't have tips for the sexual frustration, though. She just laughs at him. Harry's friends are bloody awful.)

He decides that enough is enough. He's only human, and the only human who has the fittest boy in the world as his orgasm source. His suave seduction methods are what got him here, aren't they? That's how he remembers it, anyway.

So the moment he drops his parents off at the airport, he rings Louis and says with all seriousness, "You must come."

"What?" Louis asks, groggy. It might be ten in the morning.

"My parents just left. I think you have to come study here. Don't you think changing the environment might help you revise? So you don't actually die of boredom?"

"I'm not sure that's a thing, Haz."

Harry anticipated this. "I'm scared to be here on my own, though. What if someone breaks in? Do you know how posh this place is? It's got a pool, Louis."

"I remember." He sounds hesitant. Harry waits. "Alright, but no shenanigans."

"I promise. 100 percent shenanigans-free."

Louis sighs, but he still shows up an hour later and hugs him like he's starving. Harry's so happy he takes Louis for a piggyback ride all around the house, like a very loud jetpack. "And this is my room. Where the magic happens," he introduces.

Louis laughs and nips his ear playfully. "What magic exactly?"

"Lonely, sad wanks," Harry admits. "You got me used to the best, Lou. I'm having a lonely, sad time right now."

He probably senses that Harry's next move would be to put him down on the bed and just spread his legs, so Louis curls himself tighter around him. "Don't be sad. The drought will be over soon."

Harry sighs. So the Bedroom Plan is a flop. He carries Louis to the downstairs living room, where Louis starts thumping on him excitedly and scrambles away. Before Harry can even stretch his back, his jetpack is sprawled on the floor face-down. "A shaggy rug," Louis moans, spreading his body like a demented starfish that's attracted to shaggy rugs. "It's so soft, I can't believe it, I've always wanted one of these."

"Um."

Louis turns on his back then and gives Harry an inquisitive look. All the jumping and moving hitched his T-shirt up past his belly button. Harry wants to lick all over him. Louis probably gets that. It might have something to do with Harry saying, "I wanna ride you into it."

Louis actually licks his lips, considering, but eventually tuts and holds his hands out. "Up. I wanna see the pool. This time with an invitation."

Harry sighs long-sufferingly, but picks Louis up obediently.

Surprising no one, Louis declares the poolside his study zone. The sun is beating on them pleasantly, as Louis gets his papers out and Harry brings them beers. He could just sit on the pool lounge chair and look at Louis and marvel at how fit he is, the sunlight seeming to amplify his hotness. Not just Louis' hotness, though, Harry's too. Harry won't be wearing a shirt for another second. "D'you need me to help, or can I have a dip?" he asks, already standing up.

Louis waves him off. "Got it for now, thanks babe."

Alright. Harry gives him one last look, lingering on the way Louis' sucking on his beer bottle, and decides that he definitely needs to cool off if he's to keep the shenanigans from happening. He strips as quickly as he can and then cannonballs in the pool, shrieking when the cold water freezes him. Well. He definitely feels cooler.

He shakes out his wet hair and starts doing laps to get his body temperature up. He adjusts by the fifth lap, and then keeps going, likes the way his muscles cut the water. He hasn't worked out in a while, if carrying Louis places doesn't count. Swimming is the best, too, he likes having to stretch his whole body to propel himself forward. He remembers spending whole summers with Gemma out here, having contests to see who can hold their breath the longest. Harry always won. Who the fuck knew how that would come in handy.

He gets tired after a while, and ends up just flopping on his back and drifting around, letting the water carry his weight. He keeps his eyes closed and arms spread, totally relaxed under the spring sun. So he's quite surprised to suddenly hear Louis say, "Harold."

It's not that he's forgotten Louis was there, how could he ever, but he was being good and letting him work. There's no need for Louis to sound annoyed.

He lifts his head and looks over at Louis. Oh. That wasn't annoyed. That was strained. Louis' sitting up shirtless in his lounge chair, one hand clutching his beer while the other is cupping his crotch. This is an interesting development. "Yes?"

"Do you have to do that?" Louis asks, taking an aggressive sip of his beer and keeping his sunglasses aggressively on.

"You said you don't need help. What was I supposed to do if not swim?" he asks innocently.

"But do you have to do that naked?" he flaps his hand around in frustration, revealing that he is, in fact, tenting his sweatpants. Because of Harry.

Well, that changes things. Harry swims to the ledge of the pool and then climbs out using his arms, flexing his biceps seductively. He's half-hard just watching Louis watch him. "Of course I have to do it naked. It's hot and the house is empty and the neighbours can't see anything."

Louis isn't listening. Harry can feel how intensely he's staring at him even under the sunglasses. He doesn't feel self-conscious for a second, revels in it. He shakes out his hair emphatically, dick swinging. Louis makes a miserable noise and whispers to the ether, "You're so hung."

Harry didn't actually plan this, but he might as well have. He swoops into Louis' space, sits on the end of his lounge chair and runs his wet hands over his legs, keeping steady eyes on the prize. Louis' wearing underwear this time, but his hard-on is obvious to Harry. His mouth waters like a perverted Pavlovian reaction, and just like that his verbal skills are reduced to nothing. "Just a taste," he mumbles, already leaning down.

Louis holds up his textbook in defence, but he totally spreads his legs to accommodate Harry. "I've got all this stuff to memorise, baby."

Heat coils in Harry at the name. He lowers his head over Louis' lap and presses his nose right against his crotch, nuzzling along the hardness of him. "I'll be quick, please, it's been so long. Just keep reading, I won't distract you. I need this." He grinds down on the heel of his own hand. When Louis doesn't make his clothes disappear, Harry decides it's time for the big guns. "Daddy, please."

That hit home. Louis curses loudly and lifts his hips to tug his pants down, nearly hitting Harry's face in his eagerness. Harry sighs happily when he finally sees his cock for the first time in a week, thick and flushed with arousal. He starts touching himself before even getting his mouth on Louis, still stuck appreciating him. Louis doesn't comment on it, as he's busy gulping his beer and opening his book over Harry's head, feigning disinterest.

They talked about it a while ago, when Harry egged him into just watching telly and not talking to him at all while he fucked his mouth. Louis felt so bad afterwards, but Harry just explained that he thought it was hot, that he liked working for Louis' attention and just giving without getting anything. Most of the time he lives for Louis' affection and praise, but every once in a while he's in this mood, where he wants a cock in his mouth and he doesn't particularly care if Louis' even watching.

He finally fits the head of Louis' cock in his mouth and moans loudly, startling even himself. It only serves to remind him that they're doing this outside, that he's completely naked in his older boyfriend's lap under the sun in the middle of the day. He moans louder and sinks down, getting more inside.

It's easy by now. Even after a week, Harry doesn't need to get used to the feeling, he does it naturally, stretches his jaw wide and gets Louis' cock as wet as he can. His lips slide so smoothly on his hot skin that Harry can't bring himself to stop, goes down more than half of his cock before he has to pull up and breathe hard through his nose.

He wraps a hand around the base of Louis' cock and starts pumping him in the same pace he's doing himself, tries to stroke up to his mouth rather than bob his head, so he doesn't bump into Louis' book and bother him. The thought of Louis telling him to stop spurs him on, makes him suck harder around him and push hard with his tongue, so Louis feels him all around.

He jerks them both faster and faster, remembers his promise to make it quick. He can tell he won't have to work for much longer. Louis' doing a spectacular job of not talking for once, but he can't keep his hips from snapping up under him, can't keep his harsh breaths in. Harry wants to make it messy, to take all he needs while he can, so he lets himself drool all over Louis and twists his hand in his own spit.

He hears Louis flip a page and take a sip from his beer, and Christ, he has no idea why that even turns him on but it does. He loves how it makes him itch for a reaction, while knowing that if Louis keeps this up he won't be getting one until the end. Knowing that that's exactly what he asked of Louis.

Really, with how much Harry likes it when Louis frustrates him, he shouldn't have even complained about Louis' studious streak.

And Louis does so well, doesn't even grunt when he comes deep in Harry's throat, pushing up so Harry's choking on it a little. Harry could come from that alone, fuck, but he still needs something. He knows that feeling will last until he has Louis' full attention on him, and he kind of loves that, wants Louis to always have some hold on him.

Louis only lifts his book for long enough to let Harry up, after a last suckle around the head to swallow it all. Harry tucks him back in his pants and dares to kiss Louis' belly, but there's nothing he can do for himself, naked and achingly hard. Louis finally lifts his sunglasses, but he only gives Harry a cursory glance. "Did you get off?"

Harry shakes his head, folding his hands over his lap.

Louis hums. "Too bad. Go back to the pool and cool off. Daddy wants peace and quiet now."

Harry's hands curl into fists, and he doesn't even look at his cock before getting up and waddling to the pool.

So the seduction plan worked. Next time Harry will just have to not be a fucking idiot and pick a scene in which he gets off.

*

Harry gets his way accidentally, as per usual. It's not that he purposefully uses his best friend as a pawn in his sex life, it's just that Niall has this uncanny ability to set things in motion. In his lazy, casual, cheerful ways, he's actually a sneak-instigator.

"Mate, are you having problems with Louis or something?" he asks, picking up a snapback from the shelf and checking the tag.

"What makes you say that?" Harry wonders. Maybe he should get a new hat too. All he has are beanies. He wants something funky, like a straw hat or – not a fedora, as Niall snatches it right from his hands and puts it back on the shelf. Niall takes back-to-school shopping very seriously, even when it's just after half-term.

"Well, your skin is actually skin-coloured again. Been a while since I saw it less than purple."

Deep sadness wells within Harry. "We haven't fucked in like, more than a week. He's too busy with school stuff. I can't believe you noticed the lack of lovebites and he didn't."

Niall snorts. "Does it really count as lovebites? Because usually it looks like deathbites."

What? Louis loves him very much, thank you. "What would you know?"

Niall huffs in indignation. "Excuse me?"

"Can you even leave lovebites with your braces?"

He should have seen it coming. Niall grabs Harry's shoulders and tugs him close so he can sink his teeth into his neck. Harry automatically giggles. "Your technique is lacking, unless you're trying to turn me into a vampire."

Niall makes an annoyed sound and covers his teeth with his lips so he can start sucking on Harry's skin hard, getting it wet with his tongue. When someone clears their throat, Niall pulls away and grins happily. Harry ruffles his hair and wipes the spit with the back of his hand, since Niall isn't going to kiss it away. He drags Niall to the nearest mirror and leans close to inspect the bruise, ignoring the scandalised salesperson in the corner of his eye. "I think I can see the indentations of your braces, that's so weird," he comments, thumbing the bruise. "Ooh, you should like, have them spell your name, like fancy grills, so it'll stay on her skin. How sick would that be?"

Since he's still looking at his reflection, he's quite surprised by Niall smacking him upside the head. "No, since I give lovebites because it feels good for her, not because I'm a possessive animal weirdo."

Harry just rolls his eyes.

But "possessive animal weirdo" is probably the only way to describe Louis' reaction when he sees the obvious mark on his neck.

Like, usually Louis' all about the build-up, but as soon as Harry opens the door to his house and leads him to the living room, maybe accidentally flipping his hair just right to draw attention to his neck, Louis freezes in the middle of a sentence and grabs Harry's wrist. "What the fuck is that?"

Harry tries playing it cool, but Louis' looking at him like he's going to tear him apart and Harry hasn't felt that in a while. He stutters over, "Uh, it's a mark."

"Who the fuck gave it to you?"

Oh, shit. Louis looks actually upset, Harry didn't think about how this would look to him. "Babe, it was Niall, we were just playing. He asked me why I wasn't getting laid and I complained about not having any lovebites anymore."

He can actually see the change in Louis, how he goes from hurt and confused to angry and calculated. "Remember the safeword?"

Harry nods eagerly. Louis broadens his shoulders and straightens his back; still short and slim, but this way he looks ferocious. He grabs Harry's chin and turns his head to the side, inspecting his neck. "Not very well done," he comments.

Harry laughs nervously. "That's what I told him."

"Don't talk back," Louis snaps harshly, a bit like a slap. He inches his hand from Harry's chin to his nape and grips his hair hard, yanking his head back. Harry gulps when his throat is exposed, sure Louis can see his pulse jumping. "Can't believe how bad you were."

Harry closes his eyes, embarrassment shooting through him, thrilling in the best way. "I'm sorry."

Louis' hand tightens painfully in his curls. "I said, don't talk back. I'm so disappointed, Harry. Don't wanna hear you. Don't even wanna look at you."

He lets go of Harry suddenly, and he crumples, swaying toward Louis helplessly. He keeps his mouth shut, but that doesn't gain him any points. "Strip," Louis says dispassionately.

Harry doesn't know whether Louis wants a show or not, so he's a bit hesitant unbuttoning his shirt, but Louis isn't even looking at him. He's already moved on to the middle of the room, rubbing his bare foot back and forth over the shaggy rug. "Here," he says before Harry's even done.

Harry scrambles to his side, still wearing pants and his undershirt, and Louis clicks his tongue. "Can't do anything without me, can you?" he asks, and unceremoniously yanks Harry's shirt off and pulls his pants down. "Useless."

Harry bites his lip as he steps out of his pants. It never felt awkward to stand around naked, but right now he wants to shrink. Louis' drilling him with an intense look that's getting him hard, but he definitely doesn't deserve that yet. He digs his nails into his thighs to try and calm down, looking at the carpet resolutely. He has no idea what Louis' going to do to him.

"Hands and knees," Louis decides. Harry complies clumsily, spares only a second to think about how nice the plush carpet feels under his hands, how it might feel against his back, how Louis thought ahead. He gets in a comfortable position, spreading his knees a little, and hangs his head. He feels... yeah, he feels like he's about to get punished. He feels like a bad boy. He still has no idea why that makes him horny.

Before he can really contemplate it, Louis grabs his head again and pulls it up, so his neck is stretched again and he's gasping. Louis pinches the spot Niall kissed, like he's angry with it, wants to just scrub it off his skin. "Niall should know not to touch things that aren't his."

Harry closes his eyes, breathing in hard. Louis' voice does things to him when he gets like this, still high-pitched but serious for once, brooking no argument. If this is the tone Louis' going to use as a teacher, Harry feels sorry for his future students. Not that they'll ever be in this particular position. If Harry is Louis', Louis sure as fuck is Harry's.

Louis releases his hair and walks away, so Harry doesn't know how close he is. He doesn't speak either, leaves Harry wondering what's going to happen for a whole minute. His stomach is all in knots by the time he hears Louis from somewhere behind him. "Did you ask him for it?"

Harry chews on his bottom lip and nods, figures there's no point in lying. He can hear Louis hissing over his raging heartbeat. "Marks?" Louis asks, absolutely steely. "You want marks then? Something to wear for school tomorrow?"

This time Harry isn't sure whether to lie or not, because he does, of course he does, but if Louis doesn't want to give him anything, he'll deal with that too. Luckily, he still isn't supposed to speak. He jumps a little when he feels Louis' hand on his arse, caressing him deceptively softly. "What if I give you marks only you know about? Will that frustrate you? That no one will be able to see how you please your daddy? Because you really haven't been pleasing me, Harry. Not with the state of your neck."

Harry rocks back on his knees a little, shaking his head vehemently. It will, it will be awful, but it'll be something, and he'll deserve it. He wants to please him so much. He wants Louis to stop calling him by his name.

"Have I ever spanked you before?" Oh, fuck. So that's where this is going. Harry's fingers twist in the carpet and his breaths come out hitched. Louis keeps walking around while he talks so Harry can't really place him, and it's making him disoriented and fuzzy around the edges, makes him feel like Louis really is everywhere. "I mean, not just a slap here and there. Really laid into you, got your tight arse all red and sensitive, made it hurt so much you felt it for hours and loved it. Have I? You can use your voice now."

"No," Harry rasps, and hopes rocking backward again conveys 'and I want it so much I can't breathe'.

He can hear Louis kneeling directly behind him, and spreads his legs wider automatically. Both of Louis' hands come to rest on his arse, kneading and pulling on the skin, getting his blood flowing. He pulls one hand back and Harry tries to remember the other times Louis smacked him, how it intensified everything else that was going on, made the pleasure sharper. He braces himself and focuses on his breaths, in and out, stay calm.

Thank god Louis let him use his voice. "Oh, fucking hell," Harry moans when, instead of a slap, he feels Louis' tongue flat against him, rubbing up and down and around and wet and flexing and devastating. He might still be cursing, he has no idea, everything is focused on Louis' clever tongue between his spread cheeks.

So he misses the moment Louis pulls back, both his head and his right hand, and smacks him. It's not nearly as hard as it could have been, but Harry's so far gone a gust of wind would break him, let alone Louis' soft hand. The second slap comes quickly, then the third, no warning before either and no chance to breathe after. It's consistent and loud, so loud in the empty living room, shakes Harry from the inside.

Harry's hips keep rocking uncontrollably, and he's making sounds he doesn't even recognise, something about the pain bringing it out of him. He makes an even more miserable little sound when Louis squeezes Harry's arse and buries his face in it again, this time flicking his rim with his pointed tongue and slobbering all over him. They've done a lot, but nothing feels quite like this, the wet stretch of it, more purposeful than his cock, more intimate than his fingers.

The pleasure of it overwhelms him when Louis starts spanking him again, like the pain muddles and amplifies it at the same time, like he'll really take anything Louis gives him. It hurts and it lingers, the heat from Louis' open palm, a rush flooding Harry from his arse and all along his body. Louis gives him a couple more to each cheek, fast and steady, and it just – it doesn't – Harry's starting to feel above it all.

His elbows give out and he drops to his forearms, his back arched with his arse up high, begging for more of Louis' mouth or hand or anything, anything at all, pain and pleasure all the same. Louis only makes it more confusing when the harder his slaps come, the more tongue he gets. Finally, he spanks him hard enough to rock his body forward and whine brokenly, and then he's licking him out, stretching his tongue to fuck into Harry and make him outright sob into his hands.

He really loses it when Louis starts biting and sucking bruises over one arsecheek while slapping the other, then alternating so he ends up hitting his own lovebites, like he's making sure they stick. His skin feels like it's on fire, raw from Louis' hot hand and scruffy beard, so whenever Louis sinks his teeth into it Harry writhes, sobbing and whining freely now.

"Does it hurt?" Louis asks, and he sounds so far away to him, but as soon as Harry recognises it as a question he can... pull himself back, focus on Louis' voice, because it's Louis. He's taking him apart bit by bit, but if Harry doesn't lose him, he'll fill him back up, good as new.

Actually replying takes him a while longer, though, seeing as Louis' got his tongue thrusting in him and Harry just wants to collapse face-first on the floor and become part of it. Instead, he grinds back against Louis, can't help it, yet he's not disappointed when Louis draws back and slaps the answer out of him. "Yes."

"Is it good?"

Another strike, this time right over his crack – "Fuck, yes."

Louis ducks down to bite into his no-doubt bright red arse, making Harry's back arch even more obscenely, pain whipping through him. "No one makes you feel like this, do they?" Louis asks, his mouth still stretched on Harry's skin and blowing air against the wetness his tongue left.

"No," Harry gasps out, gets another slap for his trouble. They're slowing down, though, like maybe Louis' arriving at his point.

"Of course not. No one even got the chance before I took you for myself. Does that make me selfish? Look at you now, arse in the air, fucking begging for it."

Harry's positively feverish, wiggling his arse in response. "No one," he mumbles, thoughts barely making it out of his head when Louis licks into him again.

"What's that?" Louis questions, squeezing and kneading his arse.

Fuck, he should've... he can't think, too sore and stimulated and on edge. "No one will."

"Why?"

That's easy to answer, at least. Particularly in this state. "I'm yours, Daddy."

Louis presses himself to Harry suddenly, rubs his clothed cock against his hurting arse. "Had enough, baby?"

Harry's so relieved to hear the pet name he misses the question entirely, grinding back against Louis. He shakes when Louis pulls away only to spank him again, not that hard, but after all he's gotten it doesn't matter, Harry makes a sound like he's dying and pumps his hips into air. Louis digs his nails into Harry's overheated skin. "Have you had enough?"

Oh god, he – doesn't know, how can he decide? He's lost count of how many he had, did Daddy ask – "Please."

Louis finally lets go of his arse, and after so much attention Harry's not used to just leaving it hanging, he feels exposed and cold and – Louis' lips, ducking down to give him a kiss. It's so sweet it's too much; Harry has to blink back more tears. "I think you've had enough," Louis comforts. "Let's sort you out."

He lets him go again, but only for long enough to shove his pants past his thighs and spill some lube over Harry's hole. He doesn't bother with fingers, just spreads the lube with the head of his cock, and Harry feels so filthy with it all he needs something to happen.

Louis sinks into him slowly the first time, but then he withdraws and slams back in, hard enough to knock him forward. Usually Harry has to beg harder to get it like this, but right now Louis wants it as rough as Harry does. He isn't as careless as he is driven, marvellously precise.

Harry rubs his sweaty face into his arms and chokes out moans, which almost drown out Louis' chanting of "fuck fuck fuck" and "mine mine mine". Harry feels every word like it's a tangible thing inked on his back, feels Louis' cock working him deep. Every time Louis bottoms out, his hips snap against Harry's bruised arse, and it's so much.

Louis grabs his hipbones and fucks him faster and faster, his thrusts less than steady. It's been a long time for both of them and it's driving them into a frenzy – god, Harry hasn't even had a finger in him in more than a week, and now Louis' pounding his prostate after spanking him raw. He rubs his cheek into the carpet and barely counts ten heartbeats before he comes all over himself, crying out.

Louis' fingers tighten on his hips, enough to leave even more bruises, when he spills inside Harry and moans beautifully. He pulls out before he's even done, so Harry feels his come splash against his hot arse and drip down his thighs. He can't even gather enough of himself to straighten up for it, so he's just slumped on his front with his backside a dirty mess. He's a wreck.

Louis helps him get sorted eventually. He doesn't wipe him down, but he lays him out on his side and curls up around him. For a ridiculous moment, Harry wonders if they'll stick together. For an even more ridiculous moment, Harry realises he wouldn't mind. "Daddy," he mumbles, content as ever, proud of himself and of Louis.

Louis nuzzles between his shoulder blades. "My boy," he says back, but he's more contemplative than cooing. "That was... did I go too far?"

Harry musters enough strength to shake his head and tighten Louis' hold on him. "Just what I needed, I swear."

"You always get what you want, don't you? You're such a twat, Harold, I thought you'd..."

Something unpleasant creeps up Harry's floaty buzz, and he shrinks in Louis' arms. "I'm sorry, love, I'd never. Only want you." He kisses Louis' hand.

Louis puffs a laugh against Harry's sweaty back. "Think we've established that. C'mon, let's put some lotion on your bum. You won't believe how red it is. Bloody gorgeous. I'm so proud."

Harry shivers at the compliment and rubs up against Louis' chest. "No, don't let me go. I just wanna nap for a bit."

"H, I know Beyoncé is beyond criticism, but it doesn't really sound fun to wake up in the kitchen saying how did this shit happen."

There's silence for a moment. Then, as if on cue, they both start singing, "Oh baby, drunk in lo-o-ve."

It's a pretty apt description.

*

*

With how hard they've been pushing it lately, Harry thinks they're very lucky they haven't reached the limit sooner.

Louis takes his final exam a week after the spanking and, coincidentally, a day after Father's Day. They celebrate by tying Harry up for the first time, so he's face-down on the bed with his arms bound behind his back, and it's the hottest thing in history, but Harry's got an angle.

His belt.

The thing about enjoying... this type of stuff is that it's a bit addictive. The same way Harry became obsessed with having his breath restricted, he's now still riding the high from his spanking. He wants more, wants Louis to hurt him to make it better again. Wants to spend another week in a daze, constantly checking if his arse is still sensitive.

And tonight Louis stripped Harry so carefully, took his belt off before lowering his jeans past his hips, and it made this cracking sound when he whipped it out of the belt loops. It's just a belt, it's his belt, Harry wears it every day, but right now that belt is burning a hole in his mind.

It's still right here, Harry can see it when he cranes his neck. He even thought Louis would use it to bind him but he hasn't, went for Velcro cuffs instead, so the belt is just sitting there because Louis' a slob. Harry's staring at the thing like a hawk and his brain is already three steps ahead, imagining what it would be like if Louis struck him with it. He just thinks it'll look so good, wrapped in Louis' delicate little hand, that it'll feel so good, smooth leather biting into his arse.

He's already in the right position, on his front with his hips elevated by a pillow. But Louis doesn't go near it, keeps talking about other things he wants to do. Splendid things, filthy things, but Harry just needs to be whipped. So he asks for it. He doesn't always have to be a bad boy, does he?

He digs his nails in Velcro, and fucking hell does it feel good to be cuffed like this. Harry knows how to keep his hands behind his back and not touch, but to have something forcing him like this, keeping him good, it's amazing. "Daddy," he gasps, even crossing his ankles to show Louis how good and still he can be. "Hit me, please."

Louis hesitates, but it's just to draw it out. He spanks him hard enough to have his ears ringing, while keeping four fingers of his other hand buried deep in his arse. It's fantastic, it's everything, but Harry can feel his belt buckle digging into his calf and he's just begging mindlessly, "With the belt, please, hit me with it."

Louis hesitates, but it's something else this time. He pulls his fingers out and stays quiet for a long time, ignoring how Harry's squirming for it. When he talks he doesn't sound like Daddy, he's just Louis, albeit bewildered. "What'd you say?"

It confuses Harry to hear him like this, because he's not really here to listen. He doesn't like it, starts feeling cold, kind of like he does after coming. He tries to think of his words, but he has no idea what he did wrong to make Daddy like this, so he rambles. "Spank me with my belt, please, I wanna hear it, wanna let Daddy."

Louis doesn't spank him with the belt. He spanks him with his hand and fingers him until he cries a little, not allowed to come. It's all well and good, but Louis doesn't spank him with the belt because he sort of freaks out. He doesn't let it show, not while Harry's... loopy, but afterward he gets extra affectionate and clingy, asking Harry all sorts of questions. It's not that Harry's complaining, he loves cuddles with Louis, but even right now he thinks there's something going on.

He's proven right when things get weird.

Just, the little things. When they dry-hump on their sofa with The Lion King playing in the background and Harry's on top with the specific purpose of making his bum available, but Louis doesn't spank him once. When he goes down on Louis and it's nice and all, Louis' got a good solid grip on his hair, but he doesn't push him down on his cock, nor thrust his hips up.

He can't complain. It's still sex with Louis, and he still usually comes more than once, but there's something missing. Some spice. The culinary reference makes him think of another one, vanilla, and that makes him a bit sad. Vanilla sex is awesome, but it doesn't make him feel accomplished, doesn't give him the high he craves after being especially good for Daddy.

It sounds like the actual most awkward conversation topic in the world (darling, why won't you make me gag on your cock like you used to?), so Harry tries to delay it as much as he can. He figures there's still stuff to explore on this side of kinky, isn't there?

The answer comes from Louis' body, like most good things in life. The nice weather flushed them out of the flat tonight, so they drove over to the other side of town and played football, then Harry stopped the car in the middle of nowhere because he spotted a florist shop.

He wanted to get Louis something nice for finishing his exams. He ended up buying a cactus, because it was the most low-maintenance living thing Louis could keep at the flat other than Niall (who's actually been to the Love Nest and fell in lust with Zayn twenty times over). Louis gave the cactus one look and asked, "Is it a love cactus?"

Harry beamed, said yes and kissed his cheek.

Anyway, they came home and showered thoroughly, and now they're sixty-nining on their sides with the cactus watching from the bookshelf. It isn't really surprising how much this works for Harry, getting head and giving it at the same time, and of course Louis ups the ante by slowly thrusting two fingers in him.

This is all about equality, isn't it? Trying to give as good as he gets. And when he's getting it this good... His hand is already cupping Louis' arse, has been squeezing it to keep Louis still, because getting blown was distracting enough, Harry didn't need Louis' cock driving into his mouth. So Harry moves his hand just a little and then slips a couple of fingers between Louis' cheeks and starts rubbing them back and forth.

Louis gasps around his cock and his hips jerk automatically, both having the side effect of blowing Harry's mind. Louis uses his distraction to suck him harder, take him deeper down his throat, and Harry finds himself slack-jawed with a dick in his mouth. It's very accommodating for Louis to thrust in a little, his fingers still moving in slow circles inside him.

Harry's getting determined, though. He pulls off of Louis' cock and leaves sloppy kisses all along his length, hoping Louis won't notice when Harry pops his fingers in his mouth instead. When he gets back to it, his hand immediately goes to Louis' plump arse, and he's less shy about it now. His fingertip flutters over his hole and they both make a shocked little sound, because Harry's never dared getting this far before. Of course, Louis' sharp inhale is muffled by Harry's cock, which feels fucking fantastic, so Harry decides to put a stop to that.

With more strength than he thought he even possessed, he moves back and pulls his hard cock out of Louis' mouth. It's a scandal in itself, but Harry's always been self-sacrificing like that. He sounds awed to his own ears when he asks, "Lou, can I..."

"Fingerfuck me?" Louis says, simple as that, and throws his leg over Harry's shoulder so he's spread open in front of Harry's fucking face.

Harry makes a helpless noise into the crease of Louis' thigh and grinds down against Louis' face automatically, too turned on to think. Louis' ready for it, wraps his lips around Harry's dick and tongues all over the head, no doubt tasting pre-come. Harry bites down on Louis' skin to fight the rush, but it's obviously not what Louis wants. He starts moving his own hips, silently asking for Harry to do something.

It's just outrageous that Louis' offering himself like this but then doesn't allow Harry to do a good, focused job. He dips the tip of his finger past Louis' tight rim and chokes at the feeling, or maybe at Louis humming around him in encouragement. Fucking outrageous. Harry screws his finger in to the knuckle and decides, "No, eat you out."

Louis hums again, like he actually has to consider it, and Harry suddenly wonders if he fucked up. What if normal people don't generally want tongues anywhere near their arseholes? What if Louis' just hot for Harry's arse all the time?

"Of course, baby, I wanna ride – " he cuts himself off, which Harry thinks is the real outrage of the night. Finally, he says, "I'll be on my front? And, um. Call me Daddy? If you want?"

This is when Harry becomes convinced he'll have to talk to Louis about this ridiculous pussyfooting streak. Of course he wants to call him Daddy, of course he wants Louis ride his face until he can't breathe and the only things that matter are Louis' taste and smell and weight and pleasure.

They have to discuss it. After Harry eats Louis out for the first time.

He's kind of nervous when he finally finds himself lying between Louis' legs, staring down at his arse. It's just so lovely, full and soft and curvy, and Harry doesn't know what to do with all that. So he spreads his cheeks and runs his finger over his crack again, because it seems like a start and Louis makes a pleased little sound of encouragement.

Louis calls him baby and starts to walk him through it, but Harry feels kind of wounded by that. It might be his first time doing this, but it's far from his first time doing Louis. It's nothing like his first blowjob.

So really, the first lick is more about showing Louis up than the mechanics. And hearing Louis' words trail off into a stunned silence is more overpowering than the taste, because what can you really do about that? Arse tastes like arse, that's not what makes this Experience. Harry's so pleased with himself he licks a longer stripe, gently over his hole, breathing through his mouth so he gets him slick in no time.

Louis reacts beautifully, moaning prettily and squirming under him, practically forcing him to keep going despite the fact he needs to take a breath. He stretches his tongue out and it's just the gesture that has Harry thrusting into the mattress, the familiar ache in his jaw. It's coupled with the unfamiliar sounds it gets out of Louis, high and breathy. Harry's still just teasing him, makes him wet without actually fucking into him.

It changes when Louis suddenly reaches back to grab Harry's hair and shove his face forward. It changes because it's Louis taking over, and Harry will always be needy for that. It changes because he's buried in his arse now, feels his chin and nose getting wet from his own spit, until there's nothing to do but lick inside him.

Mostly, it changes because Louis loses it. He keeps shuddering under Harry's hands, like he doesn't know whether to grind back against him or scramble away from the sensation. And he's moaning so freely, louder than ever despite Zayn being just in the next room, gasps like he'll never get enough air in. Harry can relate. He's never heard him like this.

It's always been so important to please Louis, but usually all he has to go on is Louis' praise and tender touches after, because Louis has so much control. Right now he's so loose with it, Harry can see – feel – taste how much he's pleasing him, fuck, he actually has Louis speechless and sobbing into the pillow. It's breathtaking, it's everything Harry needed to finally submit, give Louis everything he can.

He shudders himself the louder Louis gets, flicking his tongue harder against him and then going in and fucking him deep. He's got to keep a firm hold on his arse because Louis' all squirmy now, and there's something so casual about lying on top of him and licking him out leisurely, but it's like a religious experience.

Ridiculously enough, he comes before Louis even does. It's when he darts his tongue inside Louis but makes sure to keep it pointed down, and Louis makes a particularly raw noise and pulls on Harry's curls until it hurts, and it hasn't hurt in a while. That alone would've been enough to get him off, but it's the fact Louis pushes his head in and his hips back, so for a perfect, dizzy moment he really is riding Harry's face.

He comes moaning into Louis' tight arse and spilling into the sheets, but doesn't give himself even a second to ride the high before he's back to working Louis open, dedicated as ever. Louis' legs keep opening wider and wider, and Harry ends up leaning on his elbows and spreading Louis' arsecheeks as much as he can, so his big hands cover the width of them. "Fuck," is Louis' general reaction.

That's where he gets the idea, really. How easy it'll be. He pulls his tongue out and gives Louis a few flat licks, getting even closer so Louis feels hints of his teeth against his sensitive skin. When he thrusts back in he lets his thumb push as well, aftershocks wracking his own body as soon as he feels how hot Louis is, tight and wet from Harry tongue-fucking him.

Louis keens and his body gets frozen and tight, but he doesn't come, just shivers under Harry's touch. Harry decides to lift his head to check if he's alright, but he keeps fucking him with his thumb. Then he actually sees Louis' face. It hits him like a brick.

Harry's the leading expert on turning Louis on, but he's never gotten him in this state. He's wrecked, beyond beautiful, a fucking work of art. Harry's so thrown by it he's desperate to commit it all to memory, from his arched back to his flat sweaty fringe. And that's when he notices the tears, clumping Louis' lashes together prettily. That's... new. "Daddy?" Harry asks in a rough voice, but he sounds small and hesitant, like how he feels.

Louis snaps his hips back against Harry's finger and starts choking out words rather than sounds. "Keep going, keep – you're doing Daddy so good, got a gorgeous mouth on you, bet it's all wet now, fucking – got me so close, my good boy, my baby."

Harry's sure Louis can feel his blush against his skin, it feels like his face is on fire, but he's so happy he can't take it, his toes are curling. Daddy hasn't talked to him like that in a while, he's almost forgotten how good it can get. It makes him a little off, sloppy when he gets his mouth back on Louis. Louis' legs kick out a little and he moans high in his throat, just gone for it, but Harry's still the one who feels powerless, hanging on his every reaction.

He doesn't know how long it takes, hasn't been paying attention, so he's just shocked when Louis finally comes untouched. He sounds destroyed when he does, breathing out Harry's name like he's gagging on it. His body stretches out and shakes hard, and suddenly Harry can't touch him, can't even look at him, afraid his heart will burst.

He stumbles to his feet and wobbles outside, rushing to the bathroom to cool off. By the time he comes back, after washing his face and mouth and giving an awe-struck Zayn a friendly wave, Louis' still curled up and panting into his pillow. It's so raw and lovely that Harry immediately wants to go again.

When he crawls back to bed he does manage to restrain himself, and only kisses along the deep curve of Louis' lower back and nibbles on his arse. Louis makes an exhausted sound and flips over uselessly, gathering Harry in his arms and telling him what a good boy he is. It's the best.

Like any good boyfriend, Harry attacks when Louis is weak. "Lou, why don't you wanna play anymore?"

"Hm?" Louis hums into his hair, already dozing.

"Play with me," Harry clarifies. "We haven't since you broke out the handcuffs."

"I've got something planned, but I can't tell you about it."

That's interesting, if vague. "Oh, come on."

"I mean it, babe. Top secret. Lots of planning."

"So you're not, like. Not interested." He lifts Louis' heavy hand to cover his neck.

Louis snorts and rubs his thumb over Harry's Adam's apple. "Trust me, I am. But there's more important things." He brings his hand down to Harry's chest, splays it over his heart.

Harry buries his face in Louis' neck and smiles helplessly. Fine. If Louis wants to play cute, Harry will suffer through this. How hard can it be to fuck up the person you love, anyway?

*

Louis keeps the top secret a top secret for a couple days more, but Harry knows something is up on Friday, when Louis lies blatantly and says he can't meet him because he's babysitting for his mum. Harry knows for a fact that's not true, because his mum and stepdad visited for his graduation just last week. Harry didn't actually get to meet them, but when Louis texted him 'haha they went out and left me with the little twins because mum thinks I'd make a good DADDY', Harry was scandalised. He is the babysitting pro, how dare Louis be around toddlers behind his back? (So Harry crashed the babysitting session and spent hours playing with babies and with Louis, his two favourite things in the whole world.)

Anyway, there's no reason for his parents to make the trip again, so Louis' obviously up to something. Harry tries not to feel bitter about it, but after the weirdly careful way Louis' been treating him since the belt thing, it's hard not to get anxious.

When Louis finally invites him over, ten different scenarios play out in his head, either an elaborate scene or a Talk. What he doesn't expect is for Louis to be fully dressed – well, wearing sweatpants – and sifting through a huge amount of papers on the living room floor. (Usually Louis would complain about being uncomfortable, but now that Harry got him his own shaggy rug he can't keep him off the floor.)

"Are we getting a divorce?" he asks, dropping his keys in the bowl.

"Never, darling," Louis teases without even looking up from his papers. It's like he's trying to get them in order but only makes more of a mess. Good thing he's going to be a drama teacher. Harry's actually looking forward to the new year because he's got Louis' look all planned out. Dishevelled sexy teacher, minus sweatpants plus glasses. Harry wants all the students sweating over Mr. Tomlinson, because they'll never have him. "It's not school stuff either. Come sit down."

Harry drops his things and stumbles over to Louis, curious. Then he starts seeing the titles on the printouts. "Oh."

Safe, Sane and Consensual: The Only Way to Play!

The Edge Of Glory: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink (RACK)

The Science Behind BDSM: Understanding Is the Key To a Good Scene

Jesus. He's drinking it all in, the dozens of pages, Wikipedia articles and what looks like an actual BDSM For Dummies booklet. So much stuff that hasn't even crossed his mind, names to things he never really considered. Louis' big secret was research? Harry isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed. "Um."

"Right, so, it's a lot," Louis starts, and he sounds a bit nervous, so Harry rests his knee over Louis'. "I know we've never really... talked all that much. About what we do. But last week I realised that's probably a shitty way to go about it."

Well, shitty's a shitty word to use, isn't it? Harry's bewildered. "We don't have to talk about it? Just because I'm, like, inexperienced – I mean, you know I love it when you get rough with me, it's cool. We don't have to – "

Louis shuts him up with a kiss, which is the opposite of shitty, so. This Harry's used to. He kisses him back with a smile and forgets for a second about the intimidating research spread all around him. Louis isn't so quick to forget. "It's not about you being young, you twat," he starts, kissing Harry's nose ridiculously. "It's about both of us being inexperienced. I still want to do all those things with you, but it just... It hit me how much trust you place in me when we play. I love that," he reassures quickly, before Harry can really dwell on the monologue turning on him. "But the last thing I wanna do is fuck up and hurt you because I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I fucking love you, you know?"

"Love you too," he replies automatically. "I wouldn't say you don't know what the fuck you're doing, though. You know me."

"That's not enough to whip you, Hazza. Let's just..." he flaps the papers around. "Think of it as a relationship thing, yeah? I hear people communicate with each other in adult relationships, even about awkward things."

Harry immediately brightens. He loves relationship things. See, Louis does know him. "Alright. What first, prof?"

Louis rolls his eyes, but indulges him with a kiss. "I want you to like, skim all of these and learn the terminology. And then we'll just talk it out. If we can't even discuss it we really shouldn't be doing it, right?"

Harry guesses that makes sense.

"Skimming" turns into an hour of heavy reading, until his mind is swimming with unfamiliar terms like edgeplay and subspace and aftercare, stuff he thinks should be in Rhianna songs. Then there are new kinks he didn't even know existed but now he's kind of... curious. So they talk it out. Limits (there aren't many), safewords (they'll stick with the red-yellow-green system they've stumbled upon), even allergies.

Although it was daunting, Harry's kind of into it now. He likes that they're dealing with it like adults, like partners, equals in the relationship even though Harry's taken the "role of the submissive" and Louis likes to be called daddy. Harry also likes that whenever he whines a little (leather butt, how is that a thing) Louis kisses him a lot.

He tosses Subspace: Mind Over Body aside and turns to Louis, intrigued. "So what did you learn about the psychology of it all?"

Louis hums. "I guess I learnt about different approaches. But like, not everything on the Internet applies? Like, when I looked up stuff about collars, there were people who really wanted to be treated like – like pets, that they got off on the humiliation, doing stuff for their masters. And that's, you know, cool for them, but I'm not really into that? Like, even if you wanted it like that, it's not something I can give you."

So many thoughts swirl through Harry's head, mostly about Louis being so thorough, but the only thing that makes it out of his mouth is, "You looked up collars?"

"Sure," Louis says, surprised. "I do listen to you occasionally, you know."

Harry's hand drifts up to his neck automatically and he gulps. "I love you, you know?"

Louis smiles and gives him a chaste kiss. "Love you too."

"Enough to hurt me a little?"

"Even a lot," he agrees. "Safe, Sane and Consensual, remember?" he waves around a booklet titled "I Love the Pain".

Harry snorts and leans his head on his shoulder. "What else did you specifically look up?"

"Um, like. Breath stuff? Breath play." Harry nuzzles his neck in encouragement. "But there's a lot of different things to read about, depending on what we, uh, do."

"Like?"

"Like, if you want to be gagged rather than choked."

Jesus. Harry thinks calming thoughts, doing the dishes with his mum, frolicking in a field with Hatchi. Certainly not about Louis' small, delicate hands wrapping around his throat and squeezing a little. "I think. I think choking."

Louis runs a frantic hand through his hair. "See, that's the scary bit for me. Because that's actually dangerous." He points to the stack about breath control being the single most risky SM-related play. Lovely.

"Doesn't mean we can't try it out," Harry says, shrugging. "It's not just the complete trust thing, either, it's a physical thing. When your brain doesn't get enough oxygen and the carbon dioxide starts building up you get this – high, giddiness before you pass out. So when instead of passing out you come, it's like. Euphoria." He knows how to Google too, thank you very much. "Oh, there was – in the stuff about impact play, there were like, signals? Things I'll do so you know you're not choking me. Like, you are, but not choking me. So I won't pass out."

Louis looks at him, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. "I love you."

Harry blushes violently. "You said that already."

"Well, I still do. Give us a kiss, then we'll go over the list."

Harry's more than happy to comply.

The List is a pretty comprehensive table of "yes", "maybe" and "definitely no". The point is to label the kinks by themselves and then see where they don't match, but pretty soon Harry gets confused. Like, crossing off anything involving the word torture is easy, but then there's stuff he doesn't understand.

For example, wax play. "What's that? Like, we'll wax each other's legs?"

Louis obviously tries not to laugh. "No babe, it's candle wax."

Harry's eyes widen. "Like burning candles? Won't that be hot?"

"Mm-hmm," Louis agrees, dropping a casual kiss to Harry's shoulder. "It'll sting when it hits your skin, but at some point it'll just feel good, like when I spank you for a long time. You could pick the scent, I know you're obsessed with your cinnamon candles, but I'll pick the colours. You'd make a pretty canvas, Harry."

Harry shifts on his knees subtly, and then gives in and tucks himself under Louis' arm. Louis holds him tight. "Yeah?"

"Of course. You'll be on your front with your legs tucked under you so your broad, lovely back is arched for me. And I'll drip the wax all over you, really get you marked. Even after I peel off the pretty colours, hurt you just a little bit more, there will still be red crisscrosses all over you. You'll be so pretty I'll have to take a picture and show you."

"Daddy," Harry whispers for lack of anything better to say, shifting again so his knees are nudging Louis' side and hopefully covering the fact he's getting turned on just talking about it. To be fair, he's been a responsible adult for long enough. He kept it cool when Louis talked about collars, for fuck's sake.

"I know, baby." Louis squeezes Harry's knee. "But the important thing is that we'll plan and I'll study up and check the temperature on my own skin at least twenty times before testing it on you at least twenty times because if I ever actually hurt you during a scene I wouldn't be able to live with myself. So."

He's staring hard at the paper in his hand, but Harry knows he's not really reading it. He leans up and kisses Louis' scruffy cheek sweetly. "Daddy," he says again. "You always tell me what a good boy I am but I never tell you..." He shakes his head and kisses Louis again. "You're such a good daddy. You always take care of me before, during and after, you always wait for me to catch up and ask me the colours. I honestly think you're the best thing that could have happened to me. We're talking about restricting the air I breathe. I can't even imagine doing this with anyone else, trusting someone like this."

"Wouldn't want you to," Louis says, mostly to himself.

"That's right. Because I'm your baby and you're my daddy and we're also boyfriends and I also want you to drip hot wax all over me and leave it there so I can feel it drying on my back while you fuck me."

"Jesus."

They take a pretty long break after that statement. If Harry thought all the clinical talk about what they do would take away from actually doing it, he finds that that's not the case. They've been pretty safe and sane instinctively, probably because of the love thing. Safewords were there from the start, and Louis' ace at aftercare. Harry thinks... this whole night was about being aware of their part-time BDSM relationship, and that hasn't scared them off. So Harry can enjoy his regularly scheduled scenes and Louis can relax about it a little.

Relationship milestones are awesome.

*

Finishing year twelve is sort of underwhelming. It's not that he doesn't like school, but his year definitely took a turn back in February, so it became kind of... background noise. His teachers all still love him, despite the occasional first period where he wanders in freshly fucked and giddy. He does well in his exams, can pretend to be interested in universities despite how dangerously willing he is to postpone any plan to the middle of July next year.

To him, finishing year twelve only means Louis being Up To Something again. This time it's only a day of being noticeably shady before he drops the bomb.

"Babe, I've got, um. A proposal."

Harry jerks up so abruptly Louis nearly falls from his lap to the floor. "Seriously? During Made In Chelsea? Couldn't even take me to Paris and propose on the Eiffel Tower at sunset?"

Louis lets out a surprised laugh and shoves Harry back down on the sofa. "Someone's given it a lot of thought."

Harry flicks Louis' fringe out of his eyes. "Someone is more romantic than someone and needs to look after himself."

A shit-eating grin spreads on Louis' scruffy face. "You're gonna feel like such a twat in two seconds."

"Why?"

"Because," Louis starts, trailing his fingers over Harry's bare chest and making him giggle. "Since you finished school and I passed my exams, my proposal was to go on a romantic getaway."

Harry awws for so long Louis starts thumping on his chest in embarrassment, but he only stops so he can pepper Louis' face with little kisses. "Baby, I'd love to."

Louis' swatting at his face like he's trying to get rid of a fly, but Harry's heart is three times larger so he doesn't take it personally. He wraps his arms extra tight around Louis' back and squeezes them close together. Louis huffs. "See? Bet you feel awful."

"The worst," Harry lies. "Where should we go? London?"

Louis looks confused. "No, you said it yourself. Paris."

Harry's eyes widen and he straightens up again, less dramatically this time. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, I mean, I've been saving up a bit. Had this rich boy as a student driver for a while, and you know Zayn pays rent and I pay in love. It's only two hours on the Euro – "

Harry kisses his fucking face off, deep and hard and loving. His heart is beating overtime and his mind is kind of blank from happiness. "I love you so much. I love Paris."

Louis looks a little miffed. As much as he can with flushed cheeks and red kissed lips. "Oh, you've already been? We can go somewhere else, like. We can go to London."

"Don't be an idiot," Harry snaps, kissing Louis' cute nose. "There's going with your sister and there's going with a boy."

"A man," Louis corrects, scrunching his cute cute nose. "Manfriend, remember?"

Harry doesn't indulge him, already thinking ahead. "Think of all the places I could kiss you at! The Eiffel and Notre Dame and Versailles! I could French kiss you all over and feed you crêpes. Do you know French? Fuck, I bet you'll sound cute. Sexy," he adds when Louis glares at him. "Dead sexy. Lou-ee. Why are you staring at me?"

There's a small smile tugging on Louis' lips, and his eyes are shining at Harry like he might just be half as excited as Harry is. "I love seeing you so happy."

That's a bit embarrassing. Harry leans up to bury his face in Louis' neck. It occurs to him that a weekend in Paris means they'll be on an actual couples' vacation, together all the time, just them to entertain each other. That should make him nervous, but he's actually unbearably excited. He's ready for it. He'll have Louis all to himself in the city of love. What more could anyone need? "Well, you make me happy. Gonna be so happy in Paris."

Louis beams at him, big and sudden and happy and Paris. "You realise I'm not going to propose, right?"

Yet. Harry's convinced. He can't imagine being with anyone else. It's a bit of a heavy admission though, especially since they only just unlocked a vacation in Paris. (They also might have been playing too many video games since Harry finished school.) "That's okay, I guess I'll manage living in sin. Makes it more illicit, innit?"

"Please, this relationship is as illicit as it should be."

Harry moans loudly. "Relationship. You know that turns me on."

Louis chuckles and crawls up his body to whisper in his ear, "Commitment. Civil union. Shared bank account. Paris."

"Fucking hell." Harry's actually getting hard, Louis needs to stop moving on top of him immediately.

Of course he doesn't. He nibbles on his ear. "You're actually the strangest teenager I've ever met."

"Still wanna show me the world, don't you?"

Louis nuzzles along the shell of his ear, breathing hard. "Embrasse-moi."

Holy shit, French works for Louis' high voice. Or rather, for Harry's cock. He picks Louis up assertively and carries him to the bedroom, strengthened by kiss me and Paris. "Baise-moi."

*

Operation Paris takes a week to set up. Niall leaves for Ireland the next week, so Harry tells his parents they're going away for a couple of nights to have a last bro-out. Louis books them the train ride, claiming he's got it covered since they won't need to pay for a hotel. ("No, Harold, not because I'm planning to sell you. Zayn and Pezza's got a small place there they offered us." Of course they did.

Harry still felt slightly bad, since it costs nearly as much as a plane ticket. "Babe, did you forget I'm the rich one?"

Louis promptly hit his balls. "Shut up, let me feel like a sugar daddy for once. I still haven't forgiven you for buying me a carpet."

"You love that carpet," Harry protested. "We fucked on that carpet three times."

"I know, but it's so sensible. You should've bought me diamonds."

"I'll buy you the biggest rock when you propose to me on the Eiffel tower.")

It still doesn't feel real, not even when they're on the Eurostar. Louis' being annoying, too, denying Harry cuddles. Harry digs his cold fingers under Louis' collar, making him grumble. "Stop that, I swear the border patrol guy thought I was your dad."

"Please, everyone else in the coach could see it. Anyone with eyes could see it." They're going to Paris together, Harry has to say it. "Je t'aime."

Louis softens right up. He burrows into Harry's shoulder and kisses his neck discreetly. "You're insufferable."

"Nope, just unbearably cute," Harry corrects, wrapping an arm around Louis' shoulders. He sees some furtive glances from other passengers, but he doesn't really care. Louis doesn't seem to mind either. Or, well, there's still something tense about him, but he's making a valiant effort. "Hey, Lou. We made our way along the river and we sat down in the grass by the Eiffel tower. I was so happy we had met, it was the age of no regret, oh yes."

He lets the last note linger, waiting. Louis looks up at him, appalled. Harry doesn't relent. After a short stand-off, Louis sighs, of course he does, and sings back, "And now you're working in a bank / The family man, the football fan / And your name is Harry. How dull it seems, yet you're the hero of my dreams."

They burst into laughter before managing the chorus, and that's probably all the respect they should show ABBA.

It's still rather early, so when Louis gradually quiets down, Harry just assumes he's nodded off. He should probably nap as well, but he's too excited-happy-nervous to even close his eyes, so he pulls out his phone and journal to jot down some activities Louis might like in Paris. Or just the most ridiculously romantic things they could do. He wants to go all out. Versailles, Pont de l'Archevêché, Sacré Coeur, lots of food and wine... Louis... Eventually he's just doodling the Eiffel tower and runs out of space, so he leafs through his journal.

He's rather startled when Louis puts a hand on his to stop him on a Particular Page. "What's that?"

Harry blushes bright red. He desperately wants to turn the page, but Louis' fingers tangle in his and his brain sort of freezes. "Um, well. They're drawings?"

Louis sounds rightfully suspicious when he asks, "What of?"

"Well, this one's a ship," Harry explains, pointing at the old-fashioned ship he's asked Zayn to draw for him.

Louis elbows him and snorts. "I meant, what are they for?"

There's no escape. "They're like, um. Tattoo ideas."

It takes Louis ten seconds to add it all up. His boyfriend's sharp like that. Louis moves their hands from the ship to the anchor to the birds to the Hi. Harry knows the moment it clicks because Louis stiffens against him and clears his throat. "Any particular inspiration?"

Harry shrugs, bumping Louis' head off his shoulder accidentally. When he readjusts his arm around him, his fingers drift over Louis' right arm. "Well. You know."

When Louis finally looks up at him, there's shock in his eyes and he's biting his lip coyly. "Seriously?"

What can Harry say? There's no way to make "I've been planning a couple's tattoo without informing you" not pathetic. Or creepy. Or weird. "A bit."

Louis should probably make a joke now, his regular brand of humour, but instead he keeps the stunned expression on. "Do you..." He starts biting his lip again, and Harry can't look at him, not when he's staring back with something like awe. "Babe, have you really been thinking about matching tattoos?"

It feels like he's seconds away from a heart attack, but he knows what he wants, at least. "Fuck yeah. I've already got a bunch of them, we could say it's a coincidence. Just bros accidentally getting bro tattoos." He rolls up his sleeve to demonstrate, showing off his filled-in heart, the Temper Trap lyrics, the clover for Niall and, most importantly, the Pingu he got with Ed. It's not unheard of to get matching tattoos.

"But that's..." Louis still looks like he doesn't comprehend. "That's forever."

"I know," Harry says, shrugging. He's not an idiot. I just want it to be you and I forever.

Louis stares at him for another second, searching his face for something. Harry starts worrying that Louis' going to laugh him off, tell him again that he's too young or ridiculous, or worse, too invested. Harry isn't scared of how attached he is to Louis, but he's fucking terrified of Louis not feeling the same.

Finally, Louis nods like he's come to a decision. "I don't want it to be a coincidence. Don't want you getting one that... fits mine, either. We should get something together."

A huge, unstoppable grin spreads on Harry's face. Louis doesn't frown or cower this time, he smiles right back at him. He's amazing. They're amazing. "You know a tattoo studio in Paris?"

Louis hesitates. "We'll ask Zayn."

"Alright. What should we get?" He hopes he doesn't sound too eager. He's definitely keeping it cool. Doesn't even consider suggesting tattooing Louis' name to the back of his neck. That's absurd.

"Don't get too eager, Curly," Louis says, tapping Harry's knee. "We'll get inspired."

Fuck. "Fine," he huffs. "I'm inspired now, though. I'm gonna write a love song."

He grabs his journal from under Louis' hand and tucks it in the crook of his elbow, away from Louis's prying eyes. "Really? I wanna see, you never show me your songs," Louis whines.

Harry flips his fringe, considering it for a second, but no. If he couldn't sing his own songs on the stage at open mic night, he's not going to do it on the Eurostar at 10 AM. Not quite confident enough for that. "No babe, sorry. It's going to be sappy as fuck and you'll just laugh at me."

Louis gasps like he's wounded and looks up at Harry in shock. "I would never."

"No, I mean it. It's not like a sexy Lana Del Rey song about you being my sex daddy. It's gonna be about how happy you make me and holding you when you sleep and your hand fitting in mine." He squeezes Louis' hand for emphasis. "You'll throw up from how sweet it is. Just take a nap or something."

Surprisingly enough, Louis blushes a little and ducks his head. He still sounds cheeky when he says, "Fine, Daddy."

He's only teasing, and Harry does laugh and pet his hair, but at the same time it hits him. They're going to have massive amounts of sex for three days with only each other for company in a quaint little Parisian flat. He clicks on his pen.

We're on fire, we are on fire, we're on fire now

*

Being in another country is thrilling for Harry. It might have only been a two-hour trip, but Harry feels like they've travelled half the world. The new language and sights and smells and people, complete strangers, so many people who don't know him or his family or his age. He feels lighter, so much bullshit being replaced by joy inside him.

It sounds stupid and cliché, but he knows at least one person who shares the sentiment. Louis can't stop smiling, leading Harry along the pretty streets like he actually knows where he's going. He looks like a proper French boy, too, wearing a striped shirt and breaking out the sexy teacher glasses. Harry's so charmed he doesn't do much but stare.

Well, mostly he's overwhelmed by Louis holding his hand in the middle of the street. And getting (public!) chocolate kisses on his cheek when he buys them croissants. Getting random kisses on his mouth when they finally make it past the queue to the third level observatory of the Eiffel and Harry can't breathe from how gorgeous everything is.

It gets extreme when they piss away hours at the Tuileries Garden and Harry notices Louis taking pictures of him instead of the flowers and lawns. "What are you doing?" Harry asks, heart in his throat.

Louis smiles smugly at him, knows exactly why Harry's shocked. "I wanted pictures. You're all cute. Prettier than all these fountains."

Firstly, they're lucky no French person presumably speaks English. Secondly, "That's allowed?" Harry exclaims, and proceeds to take five hundred pictures of Louis laughing and running away from him. To make up for three months of Louis being gorgeous and Harry being forbidden from Instagramming him doing dumb things.

He still doesn't upload any of them, but he does blow his camera and phone up with ridiculous, funny or cute pictures of him and Louis. Like they're a legit couple on a romantic trip to Paris, having a light picnic in a beautiful garden. (It's not that Harry needs constant reassurance that this isn't just a fling or "schoolboy crush", but it's nice when it happens on its own.)

Thus, the Vacation Rules:

1. Kiss as often and publicly as possible

2. Take all the kitschy pictures necessary (as deemed by Harry Harold E. Styles)

3. Visit every boulangerie

3. b) Don't buy something at every place! It costs real money!!!

Rule three is very important. Both because Harry is a pastry enthusiast, and because it's his only chance to hear Louis speak French. Despite his name, Louis doesn't actually know a lot of phrases, so mostly he just reads out menus in a decent (hellishly sexy) accent.

Harry tries to help, really, but when he teaches Louis "mon copain a une grosse bite", Louis catches on and narrows his eyes at him (probably with the aid of the scandalised squeak a passerby makes. Traitor. People should know Louis' boyfriend has a huge dick). Louis settles for "Mon copain est un idiot".

It gets kind of stressful as the day draws to a close, Harry increasingly aware of how little time they have left for this. Louis probably notices Harry getting quieter, because he starts getting more manic and clingy. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle a, 'Arry?"

They've been walking near the Seine for a while, so Louis' hair is all windswept and pretty, and his face is doing this thing like Louis can't contain how fond he is of Harry. He can't possibly correct his French. His heart hurts a little. He wraps an arm around Louis' shoulders and squeezes him to his side. "Nothing. Day's ending."

Louis wraps an arm around Harry's waist like it belongs there. "Harold, you're not thinking ahead."

Before Harry can ask what he means, Louis yells about another bakery and ducks inside, getting them a greasy bag of beignets. He's so distracted by the pastry that he doesn't even notice Louis steering him in the direction of a bridge until they stop.

And he gets it.

Louis' got them to the middle of Pont des Arts during sunset. The beautiful lights are cast on the Seine under them and the sun is glinting off hundreds of padlocks couples have left attached to the railing as a romantic gesture.

It's exactly like Harry's said. Paris is as lovely as it was four years ago, but it pales in comparison to right now, with a lovely boy standing next to him. When he turns stunned eyes to Louis, he catches him still munching on a fritter, but in his free hand he's clasping a padlock.

A love padlock.

Harry makes a pathetic little noise and points to it accusatorially. What the fuck? He spent all day busting his arse to make this the most romantic romantic getaway in history, and now Louis swoops in with his bloody love padlock and shits on Harry's efforts. What an absolute dickhead. Harry loves him so much it overwhelms him sometimes.

Louis has no excuse. Or maybe he does, but he keeps sheepishly licking his fingers clean and avoiding Harry's eyes. So Harry grabs his hand and starts licking his fingers himself, sucking the sweet filling off of them. He did it to make Louis talk, but Louis ends up just staring at him in silent awe. It didn't actually hit him how aggressively sexual the move was, and now he feels kind of bad, like he ruined the tender moment.

Then again, their relationship has been aggressively sexual from the start. He's never felt bad about sucking any part of Louis' body, he's not going to start now.

He is, however, in a very public place with quite a lot of people, so he draws Louis' hand out of his mouth and reels him in for a chaste kiss instead. They've been kissing all day, to show excitement or appreciation or happiness or just to kiss, but Harry's starting to feel like something more. Lust. He's drunk on sweets and Louis and freedom and – oh god, he's drunk in love. He's relating to Beyoncé again, something needs to happen.

"I got, um. A padlock for us to put," Louis says finally, breaking the tension.

"Gimme," Harry asks, snatching it from his hand. Fuck, Louis' already written their names in black marker with a little heart between them. It's amazing, it's so sweet and lovely and. "I want it," he realises.

"You're holding it," Louis points out, confused.

"No, I mean. For the tattoo. A heart." He looks to Louis, unbearably excited now that he's got an idea. He's still holding Louis' hand, so he raises it to his own left arm, over his elbow. "On my sleeve?"

Louis smiles at him brightly. "Bit literal, innit?"

"Exactly. I want a birdcage on my rib cage, too, but later. For us I... I mean an anatomical heart." It'll be wicked.

Louis arches an eyebrow, his fingers fluttering over Harry's bicep. "But for it to look good it'll have to be quite big."

"Well, yeah."

"Don't you wanna... wait? Until you're like, twenty?"

Harry rolls his eyes and drops his hand to Louis' waist, dragging him flush against him. "When have I ever waited for anything?"

Louis smirks up at him and plants a kiss to his lips. It's deeper this time, teasing, with Harry's hand still on him, with Louis pressed to his body. "I'll get an arrow then," Louis mutters, and grinds up against his crotch. "A big one."

"Aw, how sweet," Harry comments, touched despite how distracted he's getting.

"I know. We disgust me."

Ugh, the thing is that they are a bit disgusting, but Harry doesn't give a fuck. Louis hit him like a hurricane and it doesn't feel like it's going to end any time soon, to the point where their age gap doesn't really matter, to the point where Harry can't imagine being any happier than he is with Louis all over him. He just. He really loves Louis, ridiculous and loud and scruffy and compatible. He can't explain it. And he thinks they would have fit togethereven if they had found each other when Harry was twenty and Louis was twenty-eight.

"Wanna attach the padlock?" Louis whispers in his ear. Of course he makes the innocent sentence sound obscene. He needs to stop kissing Harry's ear if he wants him to move.

Since it doesn't seem like Louis' going anywhere, Harry compromises and just tugs Louis along when he walks to the railing. They both lock it, and the sound is lost in the breeze but Harry imagines he can hear it. Feel them locking together. Louis throws his arms around Harry's neck and kisses him again, obviously pleased with himself. "What d'you wanna do now?" he asks finally.

Harry's hands drift from Louis' waist to hook in his belt loops. "I gotta chuck the key in the river. You?"

Louis kisses up his jaw and returns to his ear. "J'ai envie de toi."

Right, it's happening, Harry's getting hard on a bridge in the middle of Paris.

He throws the key over the railing.

[psst here comes the choking]

Louis throws him on the mattress an hour later, his lips already reddened because they couldn't stop kissing on the way to le nid d'amour. He gets rid of Harry's shirt and pins him down to the mattress by the wrists, attaching his lips to the spot Harry's indicated he wanted to get their tattoo and sucking hard. Harry moans loudly, it feels like they haven't touched each other properly in years.

Louis straddles his hips more securely and works up Harry's bicep, biting hard and leaving nice bruises. "D'you wanna play or are you too tired?" Louis asks casually, like he isn't making Harry's breath hitch with every word that comes out of his mouth, every press of his lips.

"Sure you're not too tired, old man?"

Louis growls and bites Harry's neck viciously, his favourite spot. "Cheeky boy. In that case, I've got a present for you."

Even this turned on, Harry's first thought is you shouldn't have. "What kind of..." Fuck, Louis' sucking right on his Adam's apple. Harry did notice Louis hasn't left his usual amount of marks during the past week, but he didn't think it meant he was saving it all up for Paris. If he's going for every inch of his neck, Harry can't imagine how his collarbones are going to fare. His thighs.

His hips start moving under Louis involuntarily. Focus. "What kind of present?"

Louis eases off his neck with a wet sound. "Something you asked me for."

That doesn't narrow it down at all. Harry's always asking, to be kissed and spanked and fucked and more recently, tied up. But Louis already has handcuffs Harry's approved of, and Harry agreed not to push on impact play with implements, so... Louis starts nuzzling along his neck again and presses his tongue down on the hollow of his throat, and oh holy shit.

It's like all his blood rushes to his cock in an instant and he's lightheaded. "Is – is it a collar?"

Louis sucks extra hard on his skin as a reward. "It is if you're good," Louis says, breathing on his wet skin.

Fuck. That's... fuck. "I wanna."

Louis surprises him with a wide lick over his nipple, elicits a high-pitched sound out of him. "Good. Let's start with fucking your face, yeah? Maybe then I'll let you see it."

See it, not wear it. So they're building this up. It's going to be a long night, and Harry's already sweating.

He nods eagerly and starts thumping on Louis' thighs, urging him to shuffle up his chest already. Louis bites his nipple harder than usual and grabs his wrists to pin them together over his head, as Harry secretly intended. There's a part of him that likes it when Louis' predictable, because it gives him some sense of control.

It'll fade soon enough, though. The collar is new to the equation. A collar. Smooth and snug around his neck, not enough to choke him without Louis but enough to remind him of the option. He hasn't felt that high in a while, not since the last time Louis fucked him and asked him to hold his breath right before he came. Just remembering it makes Harry's chest heave.

He's all stretched out under Louis, couldn't be more inviting, but Louis seems intent on getting Harry's nipples all puffy and sensitive. He lets go of Harry's hands and gives him barely a warning glance. Harry doesn't need more to keep his hands where they are. He can run through it in his head by now, do as Daddy tells you and keep them there.

Louis rubs his beard all over his chest, leaves his skin red and burning, and then he gets off the bed completely. Harry watches silently as he takes off his shirt and skinny jeans. He doesn't know what's turning him on more, the tanned skin slowly being revealed to him or the way Louis' staring back at him contemplatively. His fingers start flexing in the sheets the longer he has to wait.

"Three things," Louis finally decides, his voice cutting the silence sharply. "Strip. Prop up all the pillows. Get your fingers wet."

Harry does exactly as Louis asked, if slowly. His fingers are clumsy over his own belt, too jittery and excited. There's also the fact he can't keep his eyes off Louis. He looks particularly sun-kissed and happy after their long day, gives Harry approving little smiles whenever he completes a step.

By the time his head is elevated by the pillows and he's got three fingers in his mouth, Louis' climbed back into bed. He looks at Harry's mouth hungrily, fuelling Harry to suck harder and shove his fingers all the way in, filling his mouth nicely. Louis doesn't comment on his efforts. "Keep going," he instructs instead, crawling up Harry's body and biting his nipple unexpectedly. It makes his breath hitch and his tongue flutter under his fingers, so he's slobbering over them.

Louis grabs Harry's free wrist and pulls it up, wraps his right hand around the headboard. Harry blinks up at Louis' tattooed chest and he has to touch him, craves the contact. He isn't supposed to stop licking his fingers, so instead he juts out his pinky and makes a tiny noise when it connects with Louis' nipple.

Louis sits up immediately and narrows his eyes at him. "Did you know there's spit running down your chin?" he asks casually, and Harry feels himself flush, highly aware of how he's getting himself dirty with his own fingers. He nods, and Louis continues. "Did you know how your big mouth looks with so much stuffed inside it? Too bad I don't have a mirror, baby. You'll have to look at how hard you're making me instead."

Ever since their study night, Harry's been trying to pay more attention to the things he goes through when they play, out of interest. It's still impossible to pinpoint Moments, like, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to think "oh, I'm starting to slip into subspace", or "this is the point of pain where the endorphins are released". But he can sort of... sense when it starts. And it's all up to Louis, really. It's the moment Louis seems larger than life, the moment he looks up at Louis and knows he's at his mercy, can have everything and nothing. For him it doesn't start with the pain or with the gentle touches, it starts with Louis' voice.

It's rather lovely, really.

It's lovely when Louis crouches over him again and kisses the tattoos on his biceps, biting on the bulging muscle. It's lovely when Louis gives him a filthy kiss on his puffy lips, touching his tongue between his slick fingers. It's lovely when Louis whispers steadily, "Remember when three used to make you gag? Look how well you're taking it now. Made yourself so good for me to use. Want me to use you?"

Harry nods to himself, biting down on his knuckles. Louis kisses his cheek tenderly, and then straightens up and shuffles his arse up Harry's torso until he's sitting on his chest. He's heavy but it's just right, just enough to press down and make it harder to breathe. Harry's oof gets tangled in his fingers, doesn't even make it past his lips. He's about to close his eyes when Louis finally gets up on his knees and takes all the pressure off his chest.

He takes Harry's hand out of his mouth and pulls it between his legs, until he splays Harry's wet fingers over his arse. Harry just keeps his hand on the soft skin, doesn't give in to the need to squeeze him. He's got other things to pay attention to, like Louis holding the base of his hard cock and aiming it down towards Harry's tingling lips. He doesn't ask him to open up, so Harry holds his breath and keeps his mouth shut when Louis starts rubbing the head of his cock over the seam of it, leaves it wet with pre-come. It mingles with Harry's spit, and that's what really gets him, in the end, the mess on his face. He loves it.

Finally, Louis taps Harry's chin and he reacts instantly, slackens his mouth until it's open wide and Louis just slides in. Harry's eyes flutter shut and he takes a shallow breath through his nose, works to keep his jaw slack because Louis doesn't give him a moment to adjust. In a blink, he's got almost all of Louis' cock down his throat, and he can't breathe, too dazed for it. His heartbeat is raging in his ears, and it's getting painful to keep still, but he's so attuned to Louis by now that he hears it clearly when he counts back from five.

He half-expects one to mean Louis shoving forward all the way in, but instead Louis pulls out entirely and lets him gasp and puff out quick breaths on his wet cock. The countdown stops, so Harry isn't really prepared for when Louis pumps his hips again and sinks back into him. Still, he's ready to work this time. He tightens his lips and presses up with his tongue, keeps it in constant motion when Louis starts really moving his hips.

He freezes when he feels Louis' hand snake to his hair and grip a fistful, tugging until his scalp is burning and it's even harder to breathe. "You're good," Louis reassures him quickly. "So still and good for me. Just wanna touch you."

Louis brushes his thumb over Harry's temple and Harry feels a tiny bit lighter. He brushes his thumb over Louis' arse in return, and then refocuses on the thick cock pumping slowly in and out of his mouth. Every time Louis withdraws, Harry trails after him with his tongue, not ready to let him go, and then hums in pleasure when Louis thrusts back in. He's faster each time, pushes deeper until Harry's throat tightens around the head of his cock, until he's really fucking his mouth like he promised.

Harry's hand is clasping the headboard more fiercely the harder Louis gives it to him, kneeling over him and cursing and fucking the breath out of him. Harry's practiced deepthroating, but not like this, not lying down with Louis fucking his face and letting gravity do the work. Louis' grip in his hair is picking up the slack when he moves Harry's head around his cock. Harry's absolutely powerless now, his mouth too full to move his tongue. All he can do is keep his lips over his teeth and let Louis control him completely. Or rather, let Louis' control wash over him, release this whatever in him.

He's past the discomfort in his neck, past his own gag reflex, past the shortness of breath. He's lightheaded and determined and good. The next time Louis pulls out to give him a breather, he's panting harder than ever, which only amps up the rush. The only thing grounding him is the strong hand Louis keeps buried in his hair, and Louis' voice, constantly buzzing in his ears. "Baby, open your eyes."

It takes him a while to open them, and even longer for his vision to clear. His mouth is still gaping. He arches a questioning brow and Louis smiles down at him fondly. He's flushed and gorgeous and so hard, hanging right against his lips. Harry wants to suck him in again, wants to suck him dry. "Want you to do something for me."

Harry blinks lazily. When Louis doesn't move, Harry nods as best as he can and rasps out, "Yeah."

Louis yanks his hair, and it jolts him, rouses him a little. Pulls him back together slightly. Louis grabs his hand then, the one spread on his arse, and clutches it so they're both squeezing. Harry thinks he gets it, that Louis wants to give Harry a little more control by letting him move Louis' hips at his own pace.

Harry is also dead wrong.

Instead of getting Harry to push him into his mouth, he's the one who pushes Harry's palm closer to his crack, and then helps him slide his middle finger over his hole. Harry's eyes widen in realisation, but it doesn't really hit him until Louis says, "Gonna ride your fingers and fuck your face."

Arousal shoots through Harry, and he hurries to close his mouth and wet his lips while his finger circles Louis' rim. Louis' still crouching over him, motionless, just watching, and Harry doesn't know if he should speak or assure him somehow of how much he fucking wants that. Instead, he pushes his middle finger past the tight ring of muscle, as slowly as his overwhelmed body allows. Louis' reaction is gorgeous: he throws his head back and grinds down on Harry's finger, wiggling his hips to get more comfortable and tapping his cock against Harry's face in the process.

Harry opens his mouth again, and that's apparently all the invitation Louis needs. Harry stills completely and closes his eyes, keeps his hand rigid and steady when Louis rests his heavy cock between Harry's lips. It's beautiful when it starts. Louis rocks forward and thrusts into Harry's mouth smoothly, but he doesn't really choke him this time because as soon as he hits the back of his throat, he pulls back and shoves his arse against Harry's finger.

Of course, Harry still finds himself choking when he feels how fucking tight and hot Louis is, how he squeezes around his finger just as Harry swallows around his cock. Louis' usually so careful with the sounds he's making, gives Harry just enough to know he's being good, but not enough to throw him off. When Harry's playing with his arse, though, all bets are off. Right now just hearing him makes pre-come slide down Harry's achingly hard cock, a grunt for every thrust forward, a moan for every sway backward. "More," Louis chokes out, pushing Harry's sweaty fringe off his forehead and wiping the tears rolling down his temples.

Harry both adds another finger and relaxes his throat more, swallows Louis deeper. Louis curses loudly and moves his hips more loosely so his pace grows erratic, and Harry's starting to sink again, overwhelmed with nothing to cling to but how Louis' taken over him. His toes curl in pleasure when Louis says, "So good for Daddy, giving me so much. Wish I could have you on my cock all the time, use you whenever I wanted."

It hurts when Harry hums in agreement, his throat fucked raw by now, but he keeps doing it because just the thought is mindblowing, Louis always filling him. The harder Louis thrusts his cock, the deeper Harry fucks into him, curling his long fingers until Louis' hips start to stutter.

Harry knows he's close from the way he twists his fingers in his hair, the way he's even more careful when he feeds him his cock. The second Harry feels him start to pull out, though, he curves his fingers down and pounds into Louis, forcing a sharp cry out of him.

Louis slumps forward when he comes, so for a few seconds he's pressing down on Harry's nose as well as filling his mouth, and Harry realises he can't breathe even before it actually starts affecting him. An electric thrill shoots through his body before the dizziness sets in, and he's climbing higher and higher and higher and he's going to come, but then Louis abruptly pulls off of him and lets him inhale.

Harry sinks into the mattress and starts sputtering and coughing, not really concerned by the unattractiveness of it because he still feels like he's flying. He regains his senses by the time Louis cuddles into him and wipes his face clean of spit and come and tears, giving him gentle kisses and whispering about how fucking lovely he is. If Harry could feel his mouth, he's sure he'd smile the biggest he's ever smiled, and he's still hard.

He whimpers pathetically when Louis kisses his bruised lips. "My good boy, so gorgeous and open for me. Ready for your present?"

Shit, Harry's nearly forgotten. He opens his eyes slowly and nods, hoping some part of his fucked-out self is conveying how much he's still into the collar. He doesn't actually notice he's got a death grip on Louis' hips until Louis kisses his biceps and massages his forearms. "It's right here, baby, I'm just picking it up to show you."

He loosens his hold bit by bit. Louis was telling the truth, he wriggles out of his arms only for long enough to grab an inconspicuous paper bag from under the bed. Harry perks up when Louis smiles at him warmly and reaches inside it.

It's. It's cute, is the thing. It's narrow and dainty-looking, with a heart-shaped hole cut out in the middle. It looks like it's held together by snaps rather than a menacing buckle.

It's so perfect Harry wants to cry again, maybe.

"Daddy," he breathes, glassy-eyed and dazed and overwhelmed and blissful. "Thank you so much."

Louis looks immensely relieved, like he thought for a second Harry might not like it. That's ridiculous. Harry draws his head up from the pillow to let Louis clasp it on him, but Louis shakes his head and puts the collar on the dresser instead. "Wanna try fingers first."

Harry automatically spreads his legs, eager as ever to finally get fucked and come, but Louis shakes his head again. "None of that. I have to pay attention now."

Louis straddles his thighs this time and runs his hands over Harry's torso, comforting little touches. He flicks his nipples gently and Harry bites his swollen lip, arches into it slightly. When Louis finally poises over him Harry stares up at his chiselled face and doesn't think of anything, content to let his mind drift.

Louis waves his hand over Harry's face, makes sure he can see it, and then he tucks it under his chin. His thumb and forefinger do the trick. Harry feels them spread over either side of his neck, right under his jaw, until the webbing between the fingers is over his Adam's apple, applying light pressure on his windpipe. Harry squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure, like he refuses to believe this is actually happening, but Louis' quick to tell him to keep them open.

He looks up at Louis with glazed eyes, focusing completely on Louis' own. He's holding him just hard enough to feel but not actually close off his airway, which is a bit confusing, but if there's ever been one thing Harry's sure of, it's that he trusts him. Louis gives him steadying eye contact and careful, careful pressure with his fingers precisely placed on his skin, and Harry gives him his breath. Or he wants to, at least.

He's even more confused when he suddenly feels Louis' other hand touching his cock. After so long without contact he arches up violently, but the pleasure is distant, minor to the way every fibre of his being is focused on Louis touching his neck. Waiting.

And then he says it. "Lean up if you want it."

Harry's eyes widen and he feels Louis' touch harden across his throat, get a bit tighter but not enough. So he leans up.

If he could, he'd scream and curse and moan, because yes, that's fucking it. The pressure on his airway starts mounting and it doesn't tingle like other times, it doesn't feel like anything physical at all. It's just pleasure and his brain fizzing out and disconnecting from everything. His eyes are swimming but he keeps them open, because disobeying Louis is an unthinkable concept. Even though he can't really hear anything but his thundering heartbeat, he sees Louis' face and knows he's counting the seconds aloud.

He doesn't know how many he reaches before Louis pulls back and lets him whimper and take in ragged breaths. He keeps his hand on Harry's skin, though, and since he didn't tell him to stay still, Harry only waits a few seconds before leaning up again, chasing his high.

However brief, the break did clear his head just a little. Before his vision starts to darken again, Harry tries to really take in everything that's going on. Louis' counting down from fifteen, Louis' watching him more closely than he ever has, Louis' pumping his cock slowly, Louis' adjusting his hold on him according to his reactions, Louis' careful and attentive and so loving and everything, he's everything. Harry looks at him and knows it's okay to let go and fly away, because Louis' completely, unquestionably in control. Even more so because he's letting Harry decide when he wants it.

He leans up more than before, so his air is cut off faster and there are spots dancing in his vision like tiny fireworks. It's building and building, but Harry only feels lighter and lighter, feels amazing and spacey, feels when Louis pulls back to give him a little but then squeezes to take it away again. He takes everything away. Harry can't feel anything, not even his own body, but he still has Louis over him and holding him and choking him. That's euphoria.

They go through the fifteen-second cycle a few more times, Harry has no idea, time a loose concept, space loose around him and in him. He's never been this deep before, but it doesn't scare him. There's no room in him for that. Daddy's turned him inside out.

When he finally comes, it's fucking phenomenal. It's a burst of pleasure more intense than he's ever felt, and even though he's coming from Daddy's fist around his cock, he leans up into his fingers so he can't breathe even through his orgasm, so he's taking off somewhere else. So that even once it stops, Harry only feels higher.

He never actually lands. Not when Louis lets go of his cock, not when he kisses his dry lips and feeds him his own come, not when he finally releases his neck. He doesn't really need the physical contact to feel amazingly, intensely connected to Louis, not after all they've given each other. Not with the trust of placing himself in Louis' fingers and working with him to find the limits of his pleasure. He's happily drifting and Louis' the only thing that can bring him back.

It's a slow thing. Louis' peppering his burning throat with kisses, spreading gentle touches all over his body, from his chest to his ankles. He's branding his skin with praise, too, words that make Harry curl up in pleasure. "Such a good boy for me, so beautiful and trusting and strong. I'm so proud of you, baby, you have no idea."

He realises soon that his orgasm wasn't even the highlight. As spectacular as it was, when Louis brings the collar back to bed and presses it into Harry's numb fingers, Harry's completely shook apart. He rubs his thumb over the leather and looks up at Louis pleadingly, finally trying to speak. It's croaky and broken and unlike he's ever heard it, but he only needs one words. Not please, not more. "Daddy."

Louis kisses his cheek and takes the collar back, gingerly raising Harry's head to wrap the straps around his neck. He slips his little finger under it before he snaps it closed, to make sure it's not too tight over his overworked skin. It's one of those tiny things that go a really long way. Even with nothing restricting his airflow, sometimes just the way Louis handles him leaves Harry breathless.

And now there's a collar on him. Claiming him as Louis', but also Louis as his. It's devastatingly beautiful.

Louis keeps soothing him, trailing kisses over his collarbones and speaking to him in a soft voice. "Looks so gorgeous on you," he says, rubbing his fingers under his chin. "I knew it would. I love you so much. I'm so proud to call you mine. Wanna hear about it?"

Harry nods helplessly. He can feel himself getting teary again, but Louis only kisses his forehead lovingly and gentles him with hushed words Harry just barely listens to. "It's made from PVC. Not because it's cheaper, mind you, but because I thought you'd like that it's not real leather, and it's waterproof." He brushes his thumb along the collar and Harry gasps when he feels direct contact right on his Adam's apple, where the heart-shaped hole has been punched out.

"Like that?" Louis asks, rubbing his thumb. "I knew I wanted one with rings, so you'd still feel my fingers on your skin even with the collar on, but I didn't like the thought of metal bruising you. Only I get to bruise you, right?" He sucks a mark into Harry's pec for emphasis, and Harry just makes a weak sound of assent, too many sensations already overflowing his body.

"So I started thinking about collars with holes in the leather, and how that might feel for you. When I found this one I just knew." He presses his lips to where Harry's skin is revealed under the hole, and Harry thrashes under him. "The hole is big enough to go right over your windpipe, so I could hold you like I did before and you'll feel my finger where you need it, instead of the leather between us. Plus, the heart is a nice touch, isn't it? I thought you'd like something cute like that."

Harry opens his mouth as if to answer, but all that comes out is this wrecked sob that makes him blush hard. He's crying freely now, ridiculously overwhelmed, but he can't help it. Louis put so much thought into it, into Harry, and it's his, it's for him to put on whenever he wants, even when he's not with Louis. To feel connected to him again. Louis gathers him in his arms and lets him weep into his chest. He keeps kissing his hair and petting the back of his neck, over the collar. "Baby, tell me you like it. You've never cried like this."

They talked about this, that it's okay for Louis to ask for help in navigating through this, because it's new to them both. Harry told him that it doesn't take away from the dominance Harry needs in the moment, and right now he's experiencing it live. He just feels even closer to him, feels that Louis cares even more. He feels so cherished he just wants to cry harder, but for Louis he manages, taking in a few hiccupping breaths and stringing together a couple of sentences. "Love it. Beautiful. Feels so nice on me. I love you. You do everything right."

Louis holds him tighter and kisses him again. "I love you so much. There's nothing in the world I want more than you. You make me so happy it's like my heart is too big for my chest sometimes. You make me so strong. Shh, baby," he hushes him when a sob tears through Harry again, and he falls apart into Louis' chest, clinging to his every sweet word. "Do you want me to clean you up? You came so hard."

Harry thinks it over, but ultimately shakes his head. "Wanna stay."

"Alright," Louis says quickly, stroking his back. "Let's cuddle for a while, and then I'll make you some tea with honey for your throat. Sounds good, baby?"

Harry nods and burrows into Daddy. "Fantastic."

*

The next morning, Harry wakes up satisfied, cheerful and mostly himself. He stretches out his back and rubs his eyes, running a hand over his face and then gasping when he feels the synthetic leather around his throat. Right. That happened.

Louis' dead to the world next to him, slumped face-first into his pillow. Harry knows he stayed up for a long time after Harry passed out, to check over him and go through the scene in his head. He tends to worry a lot more than Harry, almost obsessive in his need to assure himself that he did well. Harry used to think it was because he didn't trust Harry to tell him if he did badly, but he gave up on that theory. It's just a Louis thing. Harry lets him be.

Anyway, he decides not to wake him. He kisses his bare shoulder and then rolls out of bed on shaky legs, cramped from spending all of yesterday walking around. He vaguely remembers Louis saying something about the collar and a shower, but he isn't sure if it was that it was waterproof or that it would get ruined.

Whatever, he risks it. There's no way he's taking it off. He spends fifteen minutes just standing in front of the mirror and inspecting it, how it fits him so well and makes his neck look longer and prettier, how Louis managed to find the one collar that looks dainty, has an adorable heart instead of threatening spikes or whatever else there is on collars. It's perfect, but more importantly, it's perfectly Harry.

He practically skips to the shower in delight, humming to himself when he scrubs clean, washing everything but the collar. He considers buying them some breakfast, but there's still a huge part of him that can't stand the thought of straying that far from Louis, so that's out. The flat is small and cosy and quaint, which is Harry's dream come true, but it means he can't make anything without waking Louis up, either.

Eventually he just goes out to the quaint little balcony and sits down with his journal, breathing in the fresh morning air. It hits him hard and sudden, the fact he's in Paris. He can see the Eiffel tower in the distance, and the smell of pastries wafts from every direction, and he's got a perfect boyfriend named Louis sleeping off a night of the most amazing sex either of them has ever had. He's so happy he feels like he could float away.

Louis shuffles outside maybe an hour later, fluffy-haired and wrapped in a duvet. He's squinting at Harry from under his glasses, and then looks outside and sighs. He's adorable. He's also holding two cuppas Harry's highly interested in.

"Bonjour," Louis greets with an accent, handing Harry his tea without even looking. He moves on and leans his elbows over the railing, small hands clasped around his brew for warmth.

Harry blows on his own tea and takes a long sip, hoping it'll make his voice sound less raspy than it's been all morning. "Très bien," he finally replies. His voice still sounds destroyed. Louis just laughs. Whatever. "We'll make un français out of you in no time."

"Why thank you," Louis says, flipping his shaggy hair dramatically. "I only watched Beauty and The Beast 200 times."

"Naturally," Harry giggles. He looks down at the journal spread over his lap and bites on the end of his pen. "Lou, d'you prefer it's 4 AM and I know that you're with him, or 3 AM? Three's like... more clubby."

"Go with four, it sounds better," Louis decides quickly. "Also, who the fuck is him?"

Harry smiles up, catches Louis frowning at the view. "It's just a song."

"Well, it sounds a bit sad, innit?"

Harry shrugs. "I think songs need to be a bit sad."

Louis hums like he doesn't necessarily agree. "As long as the songwriter isn't sad. I still think you need to write songs about your amazing mindblowing sex life." He walks back to ruffle Harry's hair distractedly, still looking out the balcony. "You can be the boss, Daddy, you can be the boss."

"Please," Harry snorts. "I've never seen you drink malt anything."

Louis flicks his ear at that, and drinks half his tea defiantly. "For your eighteenth birthday I'll take you clubbing and ply you with alcohol. We could have public sex like normal people."

"You... realise having sex in public will still be illegal when I'm eighteen, right?"

Finally, Louis turns to face him, scandalised. His expression softens when he gives him a good look, though.

Harry half-expects Louis to comment on him sitting with his knob out, but his gaze is stuck on Harry's neck. (It makes sense; Louis' come to terms with Harry's exhibitionism. They sort of started fucking with the door open when they know Zayn is home. Harry's still waiting to see where that goes.)

"It's still there," Louis mumbles, touching his own bare neck.

"Aren't you sharp." Harry grabs Louis' other hand and tugs until he stumbled into his lap. Thank god, practice keeps him from elbowing Harry's balls or spilling hot tea on them. Harry wraps his arms around Louis' waist and pulls him even closer, and Louis puts both their mugs away and then drapes the duvet over them. It's nice and toasty. "Is it okay?" Harry asks. "Or is it like, weird if we're not in a scene?"

Louis clasps his hands behind Harry's neck, flicking the back of the collar with his thumbs. "Whatever you want. It's really hot, actually. Why do you wanna keep it on?"

"Dunno. It's comforting, I guess. It's yours but it's mine. No one else has it. Or you. Or me. I can take it off if - "

"No, you should keep saying sweet things. How do you feel?"

It's a serious question, pointed. Last night Harry passed out before Louis could really question him. How does he feel? Like I can still feel your fingers there. Like I'd do it again for you every night. He settles for, "Spectacular."

Louis makes a displeased little sound and burrows into Harry's neck, biting on the collar lightly. A collar. His collar. He tries to be more specific. "Still a bit spacey, but like, warm and fuzzy, not cold."

"D'you need anything?"

"No, just wanna stay like this."

Louis hums into his neck. "Always up for a cuddle. What's the plan for today?"

Harry turns a few pages in his journal to his scribbled list. "Wanted to go to Montmartre, it has all these quirky little shops. Place du Tertre is fun too."

Louis keeps humming and kissing over his collar, sinking into him. Harry just tilts his neck back to give him more room. "And marché de Montreuil is a huge flea market..." Louis trails his tongue under his jaw, where his fingers were pressing last night. Harry flushes. "And maybe go back to bed."

"Oh, I like that one, what happens there?" Louis asks, like he was aiming for that from the second he found himself in Harry's lap. Cheeky little shit.

"I carry you back inside. Put you on the bed. Kiss you."

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck and drapes his short legs over the crook of Harry's elbow, careful of the journal. "Go on then."

Harry will probably never be over the fact he can carry Louis places. Or pin him down or wrap around him or just do whatever Louis wants him to. Right now he picks him up bridal style and doesn't bother closing the blinds after they go inside. He dumps Louis on the bed and then jumps in after him, running his hands all over his body before Louis climbs on top of him. He gives his ear a friendly little nip and whispers, "What if I said I have another surprise?"

Harry throws his arms out so he's lying spread-eagle. "Do what you want with my body."

"Jesus," Louis says, laughing. "You're the most ridiculous boy, naked except for a collar and quoting Lady Gaga."

"You know what you can do to shut me up." He cranes his neck enticingly, the stretch making the collar tighten slightly.

Louis sucks in a breath. "I don't want to choke you that often, if you're not bothered. Gets... intense."

Harry nods, all smiles. "We'll save it for special occasions. Birthdays and anniversaries."

"Anniversaries?" Louis asks, shooting him a teasing smile. "How many are you banking on?"

Harry's so happy and blissed-out from last night, he doesn't feel like lying. "Until my neck is all wrinkly and gross and you don't even wanna give me a single lovebite."

If he expected Louis to freak out, he gets a minor heart attack from the huge smile he gets instead. He attaches himself to Harry's neck and kisses one row above the collar and one under it. "Unlikely. I'll choke you for your hundredth birthday. And since you'll be using an oxygen tank you won't even feel it."

Harry isn't sure that's how it works, but his heart is too busy exploding to figure it out. "Do it now," he whines.

"Nope," Louis says, tapping his nose. "We could try gagging you, though. Shoving something in your pretty mouth so you'll have to keep all your beautiful sounds in."

Harry stretches his legs out, lets the heat from those words rush through him. "You brought a ball gag as well as a collar? This trip was very well-planned."

Louis takes the compliment for only a second. "Not a ball gag, but there's, um. Zayn's got all these fabrics around the house since he keeps having designers over. They're soft and pretty. Enough. For you. We checked that the threads won't fall apart and make you cough, too, your throat must be scratchy."

Harry has ten questions about the logistics of that, but. "They won't leave a mark, though. You know I like souvenirs."

Louis thinks for only a second. "But you can keep the gag itself as a souvenir."

"And what? Carry it around?"

"Wrap it 'round your head like a headscarf, I don't know."

Harry giggles. "What colours?"

"Well, I actually brought them with me."

Very well-planned. "Oh?" Harry asks, keeping his mouth hanging open suggestively.

"Not for this." Louis shoves two fingers in his mouth suddenly, making Harry's eyes widen and body jump. He tightens his lips around Louis and hums, pressing his tongue up where Louis presses his fingers down. "This is for Daddy, isn't it?"

Harry nods, getting riled up just from the way Louis' looking at him, all-business now. He accidentally bites down on his knuckles, and Louis reacts by pushing them deeper. With his other hand Louis takes Harry's wrist and presses it to the other one, pinning them down to the mattress over Harry's head. Oh.

"For these," he clarifies. "Want your voice for what's gonna happen."

He pulls his fingers out and Harry gulps in air, blinking up at Louis. "What's gonna happen?"

"My surprise." Louis smirks at him, but leaves him on the bed without explaining. Harry doesn't dare unclasp his hands.

When Louis comes back he's not wearing his glasses, and he's got a long strip of fabric wrapped around his fist. It's forest green and shimmery, and might actually be silk. He spreads his legs over Harry's waist again but doesn't actually sit on him, kneels up and trails the fabric down his chest. It sort of tickles, but it's nice, gets his nipples hard. Harry likes how the colour looks against his pale skin. "Nice?" Louis asks, brushing over Harry's abs.

Harry nods and watches his muscles tighten, his cock slowly hardening. "Yeah. Is it silk?"

Louis nods proudly. "The best for my boy."

Harry puffs out his chest and beams. "And it's not even my birthday."

Louis makes a shocked sound and gapes. "Shit, you're right. I need to save something for February."

He makes a show of unwrapping the fabric and moving to chuck it away, and Harry can't stop him with his hands so he ends up whining and bucking his hips to smack into Louis' thighs. "No, I want it now. We'll figure out something else in February."

Louis shrugs and unrolls the fabric, stretching it over his upturned palm. "Somehow I don't doubt it." He stays quiet then, looking from the fabric to Harry, and Harry drums his fingers to maybe prompt Louis into tying him up already.

He's pretty shocked when Louis ends up wrapping the silk around his cock. Which is to say he gasps and thrusts up into his hand so fast he nearly knocks Louis off him. It feels fantastic, so much better than a sock or anything he used to use. It's soft and smooth, and Louis' got a tight hold around him, wanking him fast. Even when his eyes start fluttering closed on their own he forces them open, has to watch the deep green between Louis' fingers. He gets rock hard in no time, the combination of the new sensation and Louis pumping him expertly doing him in.

He curses when Louis slows down and then brings his silk-covered thumb up to the head of his cock, rubbing the pre-come around and pressing at the slit. It feels incredible, but more than that, Harry can see the fabric getting darker. Louis keeps pumping him with his other hand and getting him wetter, soaking the fabric through.

He doesn't stop, is the thing, and Harry gets hotter and hotter and tries his best to breathe, to count, to look anywhere but at his own fat cock wrapped in soft silk. He's feeling the telltale signs and he thinks he gasps a little desperately, because Louis squeezes him even tighter and makes him arch up. "Lou."

Louis ducks down to kiss over the fabric covering the head, and Harry's sure as shit not going to be able to hold off for long. He scratches his own hands and whines. Louis sounds kind of amused when he says, "You realise this isn't the surprise, right? Just taking the edge off. You can come, baby."

Harry does before Louis even finishes his sentence, shooting into the silk and feeling his dick get wet when his come slides down. He stretches his body out in pleasure, his neck arching.

It shouldn't be surprising when Louis scoots up and presses the dirty fabric to Harry's lips, but it still is. Not enough to shock Harry, though. His mouth falls open and he reaches his tongue up to lick the silk curiously, marvelling at the texture of it, tasting his own come. Just when he starts sucking on it, Louis pulls it out with a soft, "Fucking hell, Harry."

Finally he stretches right over Harry's head and grabs his hands. He loops the wet silk over each wrist and then wraps it again over them both, so when they're joined it's the fabric that rubs together and not Harry's wrist bones. Harry leans up and kisses Louis' stomach for his consideration. Louis just laughs and kisses the back of Harry's hands.

At home they usually cuff Harry to the headboard too, but Louis doesn't seem inclined to get off the bed and finds another piece of fabric. He just presses Harry's hands down, a silent be good. Harry always is.

Louis moves back down his body and just gives him a long, admiring look, like he's only now waking up properly. "Fuck, do you have any idea how good you look right now?" He kisses him, sudden and hard, licking into his mouth and biting his always-sensitive lips. "So happy you're mine. Got a collar on you and everything. My gorgeous boy."

Harry feels warm all over, glowing. He only barely notices Louis bringing the lube to the bed, a tube they brought from home because they didn't trust French brands. He spreads his legs serenely, come-dizzy, but Louis doesn't move between them after getting his fingers slick. He stays hunching over Harry's middle and staring at his collar. Harry isn't one to refuse Louis' attention. He looks right back, admiring Louis' beautiful eyes and high cheekbones and wild, long hair.

Then Louis makes the softest of sounds, and Harry's eyes snap down faster than lightning. Oh, god. Louis didn't plan on fingering Harry at all. He can't really see it, but Louis' definitely got his fingers in himself. Harry's throat is completely dry as he watches, his brain struggling to take in the full picture because it's just too much. He's hard again in a bloody instant.

Louis' biting his lip prettily and there's a nice flush high on his cheeks, where his lashes are sweeping down. Harry guesses he's started thrusting his finger in, because his chest is heaving and his cock is hard and flushed and curved up. His tattooed bicep is bulging when he stretches his arm back. Harry's never struggled more to stay still. He wants to run his hands over Louis' sides and feel his curves and have him grind against him. He wants to kiss his pink lips and reach around and feel what he's doing.

As if he's been reading his mind, Louis grits out, "Wanna see?"

Harry blinks, still fascinated by the quick, practiced way Louis' swinging his hips. "What?"

Instead of bothering to answer, Louis swings around so he's not facing Harry, careful both not to kick him in the face and to keep his finger in. Only. Harry's jaw drops. He's three fingers in. His thumb and pinky are spreading his lovely arse and he's fucking himself on three of his thick fingers. It's ridiculous, but Harry's awestruck, feels like he's the one bouncing on three fingers. "Lou. Three."

Louis laughs breathlessly, maybe at Harry's reverent tone. "Have you seen your cock?"

Harry glances down automatically. Alright, it does seem intimidating this hard, but that's no reason to give Harry a heart attack. Louis' back is curved beautifully so his perfect arse is jutting out, and his fingers are moving fast, his tattooed, delicate-looking wrist twisting every now and again. Harry's pulling on the silk so hard it's bound to rip apart soon.

It takes him a few seconds, but then what Louis' just said hits him. Hard. He curses loudly and his cock twitches, right under Louis, because holy fuck, he's going to fuck Louis. Louis laughs again and puts his free hand on Harry's thigh, digging his short nails in. "Alright, baby?"

Harry gulps dumbly, can't stop staring at Louis' graceful body. "I..." He has no idea what to say. How is anyone meant to communicate with all this in their lap? "Daddy."

Louis looks over his shoulder then with the mother of all smirks plastered on his face. His hair is wild from all the bouncing and he's a bit red and a lot beautiful, pupils blown and – he just looks so smug, like he knows exactly how needy he's making Harry. His fingers start moving faster, slamming into himself more impatiently than Louis would ever get with Harry. Harry's sweating and he hasn't moved a muscle in ten minutes.

Finally, Louis turns back around and stops fucking himself for long enough to drizzle more lube onto his palm. He looks hesitant for a second, and then instead of tucking his fingers back inside himself he wraps a hand around Harry's cock. He strokes him fast from base to tip, and Harry's already five steps ahead, consumed by the thought of burying himself in Louis' arse and fucking into him. The only thing that could distract him is Louis' voice. Of course he starts talking. "You wanna be a good boy? Do what Daddy says?"

Harry nods helplessly, squirming under Louis' touch because it's getting progressively harder to focus. "Yeah."

Louis grips him just that much tighter. "Don't come before I'm done. Think you can?"

Harry looks up, kind of panicked, but Louis' looking at him encouragingly. Maybe... maybe he can. After thoroughly losing every ounce of his other virginity, this shouldn't be that much of a shocker. After all they did yesterday, he can't disappoint Louis now. After all they've done in this relationship, he can't not give Louis a good ride. "I can."

Louis gives him a wide smile, and it's the best reward in the world.

Okay, no, the best reward in the world is when Louis squats over Harry's waist and aims his cock up. They're both holding their breaths, Harry thinks, clenching the sheet under his bound hands. And then it's showtime.

It's the slowest Harry's ever seen Louis move. He can feel Louis' thighs tensing and quivering as he sinks down, taking the head of Harry's cock and then a couple of more inches before he stops and throws his hands on Harry's chest, hanging his head low.

It's a shocker. It's... Harry couldn't have imagined it this good. Louis' so tight around him, enveloping him in heat and pleasure and fuck, how does Louis do this all the time, Harry feels like he's on fire.

Louis catches his breath for a few more seconds, and then he finally takes Harry in all the way and settles in his lap. He's struck dumb, it seems, just sits and breathes harshly and blows Harry's fucking mind. When he looks up there's a dark look in his eyes, fierce and hungry. His lips are wet and swollen from how hard he's been biting them, and Harry's staring at them so intensely he almost misses Louis actually speaking. "Be good."

Louis starts moving for real then. It starts small, teasing, when he grinds his hips back and forth. It's not enough friction to make a difference to Harry, but it makes a big difference to Louis, going by the high-pitched little moans he's letting out and the way his eyes get more unfocused. Harry can't believe he gets to watch this, feel this.

When Louis lifts up and slams down for the first time, Harry throws his head back and their moans mingle together beautifully, breathing out each other's names. Fucking Christ, Louis' tightening up around him, giving him unbelievable friction that just doesn't stop, even when Louis does. He's so overwhelmed he can't breathe, but he has to focus, has to last.

The only way to distract himself from how good Louis feels is to drown himself in how good Louis looks. How his abs clench when he bounces up, how he gets more sweaty and breathless by the minute, how he has so much control over his body, taking just what he needs from Harry. He wishes he were half as graceful when the positions are reversed.

Harry's efforts are completely derailed when Louis starts talking. It's like a whole different vocabulary this time. Instead of a measured tone, Louis' voice is high-breathy-beautiful, and instead of telling Harry how tight he is, he opens with, "Fuck, such a big boy, feels so good inside me, can't believe how long I waited for this."

His voice gets shakier the harder he rides him, but he doesn't stop whispering, not even when he strokes his cock so fast and punishing that his tattoos look blurry to Harry. He's not even making sense anymore, just loud yeah and fuck and give it to Daddy. It's nothing short of a miracle that he comes before Harry's head explodes.

Louis' as beautiful as he always is when he comes, that one perfect moment he can't control. His mouth gapes open and he's startlingly loud, three whiny inhales and then a long moan and he starts spurting over his belly and tattooed hand, clenching around Harry's cock like a damn vice. Harry's gagging for it by now, but he's transfixed, has to watch Louis fuck himself on his cock. It's something that should always be burned on the backs of his eyelids.

Louis' hair is hanging over his face and he's still letting out these tiny, overwhelmed sounds. He opens his eyes slowly and must see how desperate Harry is, because he leans down and spreads his come-covered palm over Harry's mouth, getting his lips and chin wet. Harry just licks up with the flat of his tongue. It's not about the taste, it's about Louis giving him something, something familiar in the middle of this brand new experience.

His eyes flutter shut gratefully and he tilts his head up, opens his mouth just a little wider, trying to tease Louis' fingers into his mouth just to have that moment, just to suck on something so he could come his brains out. He's been on the edge ever since Louis sank down on top of him, it's dizzying and lovely and he just needs something to push him over.

So Louis takes his hand away, leaves him dirty and panting. Harry whines a little in protest and opens his eyes, only to find Louis staring down at him, unimpressed and devastatingly controlling. "Did I say I was done?"

Before Harry can even figure out what that might mean, Louis lifts off his cock completely, and then bears down fast and hard, squeezing around Harry and making him cry out. He's just – fuck, he's just going to keep riding him. Harry's hands twist in the sheets and his heels dig into the mattress and it's about all he can do, really. The rest is just taking the impossible heat of Louis' body and the friction on his cock when Louis grinds and grinds and grinds.

He wants to come so much it hurts, but Louis still isn't done torturing him. He might be going for a second orgasm, and oh, when Harry thinks about that he can... focus. "Daddy," he rasps. He just wanted Louis' attention, didn't mean for him to moan and rock down harder on him. "Fuck, Daddy, wanna be good."

"Yeah?" Louis gives him a long look, trying to decipher what he meant without stopping the movement of his hips. Of course he gets it. He always does. He plants his knees on the bed and puts his hands on his thighs, steadying himself. "Wanna fuck me good?"

Harry just nods, doesn't trust himself to speak. Louis slowly pulls up until just the tip of Harry is inside him, and then he looks at him with challenge in his eyes. "Get your knees up for leverage and push up when I come down. Meet me in the middle, love."

Harry raises his knees enough so he can plant his feet on the mattress, and then waits for Louis to nod before thrusting up. It tears a beautiful sound out of Louis, and his brows furrow like he's trying to focus. "Good boy. Harder now, don't be shy."

Harry bites his bottom lip and flushes, but when Louis bears down the next time, Harry slams into him so hard he nearly topples over. That's a beautiful sound. Louis moans raggedly and keeps nodding, more to himself than to Harry, mumbling for more and moving his hips back and forth and around, lets Harry do the work even though he's on top.

Harry fucks into him and he knows his pace is sloppy, that he can't stay in control of his own movements when he's so overwhelmed by everything. Still, it must do the trick for Louis because he slumps more and more over Harry's chest, starts to really lose it. He's panting and his fringe is sticking to his forehead, jostled every time Harry snaps his hips.

He's slightly alarmed when Louis gets deathly silent all of a sudden, practically vibrating over him with the force it takes to stay perfectly still. And then he breaks apart. "There, fucking – fuck, keep going, keep – there, right – Harry."

Jesus Christ, how can Harry not repeat whatever just happened? He's anything but timid now. Louis' arching back against Harry's knees and keeps cursing and moaning every time Harry rocks into him. Harry moves faster and faster, doesn't wait for Louis to sink down before pumping up, and Louis just works himself over his cock frantically.

He's not talking now, just gasps and trembles over him. Harry would give anything in the world to touch him, but it's somehow better with his arms outstretched behind him. He likes feeling helpless, likes feeling like he doesn't deserve to put his hands on Louis when he's like this. Likes feeling pushed.

Louis comes untouched, and he thinks they're both astounded by it. Louis' even more gorgeous the second time around, suspended in the height of pleasure for what, to Harry, feels like days. He throws himself back on Harry's knees so his torso is all stretched out, tight muscles and tattoos on display, and he comes and comes, adding to the mess already on his belly. He sinks down heavily but Harry keeps going, thrusting up and making Louis choke out more sounds.

He doesn't think he could stop. Just watching Louis has Harry close to tears, he's aching to come too. He might even be begging, he doesn't know, all he can hear is Louis Louis Louis. He's been so close for so long that he's afraid he couldn't come, will have to wait for –

Louis lies down on top of him, so suddenly Harry's cock almost slips out of him but not quite, and then he kisses Harry's lips, steals the gasps right out of his mouth. There's no friction on him but it doesn't really matter at this point, Harry doesn't need that to come. He's one step closer when familiar words start spilling in his ear sweetly. "You're so good, weren't even trying, were you? Did Daddy so proud. You've earned this."

He finds just the right button to push for Harry to finally lose it. Harry's nearly forgotten about the collar, too caught up in everything else, until he feels Louis slip a finger under the strap resting on the side of Harry's neck. The leather starts to slowly tighten against his windpipe and Harry can't even make an appreciative sound, can't do anything at all when his vision starts swimming again. Anything but come inside Louis.

He's pretty loopy for a while after, but definitely not as long as yesterday. When he comes down, Louis' already released his hands and is busy rubbing his thumbs into his wrists to help his blood flow along. When Harry looks down, he sees that he's bruised dark purple, which never happens with the Velcro. He fucking loves it. He always cherishes his marks, but this time it's a sweet reminder of a particularly sweet moment. "Jesus Christ," he mumbles.

He just fucked Louis.

Louis looks up when he hears Harry's back. He's instantly all over him, leaning on his chest and kissing the side of his mouth. "How are you doing, love?"

"Fucking brilliant. That was good thinking, with the." He rubs his numb hands over the collar. "Might just be my button."

"An instant orgasm button? Are you actually an android?"

Harry giggles and makes robot noises. "Were you always this funny after and I was just too under to notice?"

Louis rolls over onto the mattress, taking the pressure of Harry's chest. "So you're not under now?"

Harry considers it, trying to put his thoughts in order. It's quite hard with Louis looking more fucked-out than he's ever seen him. "Don't think so. Maybe I always am a little, but not a lot right now."

Louis immediately sinks into the bed, probably relieved that he doesn't have to take care of Harry right now. He changes a little, lets his ragged panting sound more obvious, lets his muscles relax and his eyes droop a little. Harry's amazed, keeps thinking back to what Louis' said, how he waited for this.

"How are you?" he asks, a lot more interested in that.

Louis makes a breathless sound and shivers, looking pleased as anything. "Fucking sore, to be honest. I've gotta start working out more, my thighs are killing me. How do you do it all the time?"

Harry laughs way too loudly. "Ah, you forget I have youth on my side."

"Now who's being funny?" Louis waves a clumsy hand and tries to poke his nose, but Harry's quick enough to bite his fingers playfully instead. He's fascinated, like he always is after they try something new. He goes to touch Louis' thighs, maybe give him a little massage, and Louis curls into him instantly, extra clingy. "Fuck, I wanna have a smoke."

"Filthy habit," Harry claims, frowning.

Louis nips his shoulder sleepily. "Gimme a break, I just had my brains fucked out."

How brilliant is that? Harry beams to himself. "Your brains?"

Louis scoffs. He's being a lot less careful with Harry than he usually is after, and Harry wonders if it's because he senses Harry doesn't need it, or because he's really out of it. "Did you miss the part where I came without touching my dick? That was top-notch." He looks at him finally, and a big smile spreads on his sweaty face. "You're a lovely shag, Harry Styles."

Harry's face is flaming. He wants to bury himself in the mattress, he's so pleased. "Thanks. Learned from the best and all that."

Louis ruffles his hair, scratching him pleasantly. "Gotta say I don't like feeling this useless. I'm gonna take a shower. I expect kisses when I come back."

Harry puckers up to show just how willing he is. Louis gives him a smacking kiss and then stumbles to his feet, swinging his hips ridiculously. Harry wonders how long he'll be uncomfortable for. Harry's also staring at his arse shamelessly. He just fucked that. Maybe he's still dreaming.

He pulls himself up the bed to rest on the pillows comfortably, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt a little. He fucked Louis and made him come twice, one time without even touching his dick. Top-notch. He feels like a sex god again.

Thankfully, Louis comes back before Harry has to get up and text Niall about his sort-of-virginity-losing. Harry spreads his arms and Louis makes a show of rolling into him and jutting out his chin, cheekily asking for attention. Harry kisses him for what feels like hours, until they're both giggling breathlessly. They only stop when Louis yawns loudly and cutely. Harry kisses his nose. "I vote for a nap. Then food."

Louis nods approvingly. "Then... maybe another go?"

Like he's going to say no to that. Still, for appearance's sake, he whines. "Lou, we're gonna miss out on Paris."

"Hazza, it's the city of love, innit? We're supposed to make lots and lots of love in it."

And how is he supposed to say no to that? "That's almost poetic."

"What can I say? I'm in love."

Harry's always been a little weak for that. Honest, open adoration from Louis. He feels it so fiercely for Louis all the time, even more since they came here. It's a bit astounding to think even half of it is reciprocated.

But he believes it. It wouldn't work otherwise. They wouldn't work so well if they weren't head over heels, wouldn't do the things they do if they weren't... forever. There's a padlock with their names on it somewhere in Paris, and there's going to be a heart on Harry's sleeve to match Louis' arrow, and one day there might be rings on their fingers, and Harry will feel as settled as he does right now for the rest of his life.

It doesn't feel that far-fetched.

He curls up around Louis and lets his eyes drift shut.

----

For Harry's eighteenth birthday, he gets Louis Tomlinson. He gets to take him home and he gets to hold his hand and he gets to change every display picture on his phone to their most sickening picture from Paris and he gets to brag to anyone who will stand still for more than two seconds.

He gets to have it all.

Harry Styles was always meant for greatness.