Chapter Sixteen
"Forgot how much I love that," Harry muses, whispering sweet words into Louis's cold chest.
"Love what?" he presses.
His arms are tight and secure around Harry's slim waist. The air smells like sex, sweat, and uncertainty. Louis can barely see Harry's facial features, illuminated with the white moonlight that streams in from the nearby window. He looks angelic, with a sparkle in his pretty green irises.
Harry bites his lip shyly. "Having someone... take control, I guess." When Louis gives him a confused look, he clarifies, "I'm a stripper, so if I ever get laid, I'm usually the one doing all the work. Customers always expect me to because it's my job, but I— I like feeling taken care of."
Louis understands. He likes taking care of Harry, too. It gives him a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment. Harry is his fledgling, after all, and he needs to look after him. He needs to take over sometimes and be the one in charge.
He presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "Well, if you're so eager, we could do it again."
Harry giggles into his neck. He looks up with dimpled cheeks and glowing eyes. "I need to relax, old man. You wore me out."
"Old man?" Louis repeats, offended. His mouth gapes open.
"You're two hundred and twenty-six years old," Harry grumbles. "It feels like I just had sex with my great, great, great, great grandfather."
"I'm not your grandfather," Louis huffs, squeezing his hips firmly. "I'm your daddy."
Harry whimpers quietly, squirming. Louis feels his thighs press against him, nice and smooth and freshly-shaven. He wants to lick his endless legs and speckle them with bites. He wants to do everything with Harry. They have all the time that the word has to offer, indefinitely.
"Gonna make me hard again," Harry complains.
Louis smirks. The effect he has on Harry is incredible. He can't wait to rile him up in the most inappropriate places, now that he knows his weakness.
"Yeah? Does it turn you on when Daddy claims you?"
Harry gulps, subtly rutting his cock against Louis's hip. His eyes flutter delicately, like butterfly wings. "Fuck, Daddy. Yeah," he exhales.
Louis's nails bite into his waist and pull him closer, skin-to-skin. "Good boys don't use bad language, Harry."
He whines and bites down on his bottom lip. His fangs look sharper and longer now, Louis notes, which fills him with pride. They're shiny and white and perfect. His messy, brunette curls are splayed over the white sheets, contrasting beautifully. His pale skin feels as cold as ice.
"Want Daddy to spank you?" Louis inquires. "Want Daddy to take you over his knee and smack your pretty arse until it's pink?"
Harry gasps and thrusts forward, grinding up against Louis. The eldest can feel his erection pressing up against his hip. It's firm and needy and desperate. Louis reaches down and squeezes his perky bum, kneading his cheeks into his palms.
"But you'd enjoy that too much, wouldn't you?" Louis taunts. His voice is dripping with unbreakable confidence.
Harry doesn't reply. He just starts humping Louis's leg like a horny teenager, clinging to his shoulders, as if he might drown if he lets go. His breath hitches. He's never been so needy and dependant on another person. It's a strange sensation, and he doesn't know whether or not he should feel excited or scared.
"Enough," Louis commands, nudging him away. Harry's mouth falls open as Louis creates a gap between them. Harry looks up desperately, pleading, begging. His cóck is swollen and red now, aching for friction, but Louis won't give it to him.
(At least, not yet.)
"Go take a shower," Louis orders.
Harry whimpers pathetically. "But—"
"Don't make me repeat myself," Louis warns.
Harry's shoulders slump. He ignores his painful erection as he stands up from the bed. His thighs tremble and his leg limps as he wobbles towards the bathroom. Louis watches his arse sway back and forth, giving his naked body a quick once-over.
"Oh, and don't even think about touching yourself when you're in the shower," Louis reminds, causing Harry to pause in the doorway. "Don't forget, I can enter your thoughts whenever I want, love."
Harry flushes before he shuts the door. He immediately stands in front of the mirror to recollect his jumbled thoughts. He stares at his lack of reflection and can only imagine how blushed his cheeks must appear. Holy shit. He's never been this horny in his entire life. Curse Louis Tomlinson and his flirtatious, sexy, manipulative ways.
Sighing, the stripper pulls open the shower door and twists the knob towards the red 'H.' Whilst he waits for it to heat up, he uses Louis's minty mouthwash to freshen his breath. He tastes like salty cum, regret, and guilt.
When the air starts to steam up, Harry steps into the wet, hot shower. The prickling on his icy skin reminds him that he's capable of feeling, despite his vampire capabilities. It's a reassurance that part of him is still alive.
As he's standing there in silence, a sudden feeling of loneliness seeps into his stomach. It hits him like a drug withdrawal. He craves Louis's attention again wants to feel his warm embrace. He wants to kiss his pale, chapped lips and feel the sharp sting of his fangs scraping over his neck.
He whimpers and presses his forehead against the shower wall. He sighs at length and takes a deep inhale, tries to focus on breathing.
Want me to join you?
Harry jolts slightly in surprise. Louis's voice cutting into his thoughts never fails to catch him off guard. He stares down at the shower drain and watches the water swirl around.
"Yes," he whispers, barely audible.
A few seconds later, the bathroom door opens, and Louis steps into the shower. It's cramped, but it's lovely, and they make out as the glass walls fog up with condensation. Louis curls his fingers through Harry's wet, dripping hair and pushes him up against the tiled wall.
"Don't ever feel lonely," Louis murmurs, touching their foreheads together. He presses his hand flat against his chest, over his heart. "I'm always right here, baby."
Harry realizes that he must've read his gloomy, lonesome thoughts. Louis cares about him so much. It's overwhelming, but not in a bad way— it's just different. He loves that he can always rely on Louis to make him feel better, no matter what.
"I think we need to talk," Louis says quietly.
Hot water pours around them, drenching them completely. The air smells like floral shampoo and clean-scented soap. The floors are slippery and wet, despite the yellow mat that covers the bottom of the shower. And even though they're both completely naked, all Louis can think about is Harry's feelings and emotional well-being.
Harry loves that about him.
"Later," Harry murmurs against his lips.
Louis nods slowly. "Alright."
Harry lets him wash his hair, and he glows the entire time, purring like a kitten. Louis peppers him with soapy kisses until the water runs cold.
~
Later that afternoon, Louis and Harry lounge around in Louis's extravagant office. Whilst the blue-eyed man types away at his laptop, writing a report about drosophila genetics, Harry sits in the corner and watches him fondly. He loves Louis's passion for science and medicine. He could spend hours and hours talking about chemical reactions, and Harry would just listen and nod along as if he understood.
A variety of taxidermy animals decorate the walls and wooden shelves, from a horned owl to small mice. Their glass eyes watch over them as Louis works tirelessly, fingers skimming over the black keys. Harry chews on the inside of his cheek and examines one of his feather pens. It's soft and smooth and has a sharp, metal tip with dried ink. His feet are perched up on Louis's desk, invading his workspace, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Do you have to work again tonight?" Louis suddenly speaks up, but his eyes never leave his screen.
Harry nods. "Yeah."
"I can give you a ride to the club, if you'd like."
Harry hesitates. "I don't wanna disrupt your work. I can just ask Zayn or summat."
Louis hums. "Why don't you drive yourself, then? I mean, don't you have your license?"
"Of course I do. I just can't afford a car."
Louis chuckles. "Well, money isn't a problem, H."
Harry raises an eyebrow suspiciously. "What are you implying?"
"I can buy you a car. I reckon you're an Audi man, yeah? Maybe a Mustang?"
Harry gulps. "I don't need your money."
He waves his hand dismissively. "I like taking care of you, H. Buying you a car would make both of our lives easier."
"Well, if it's really a big deal, I'll just move back to my flat and start walking to the club again."
Louis laughs softly, eyes flickering over his glowing laptop screen. "Yeah, that worked out great last time," he muses with sarcasm.
Harry's hands tighten with anger. "I don't want your money."
Louis looks up curiously. "Why not? I'm a millionaire, love."
"Because I'm capable of taking care of myself," Harry grumbles. "And frankly, I wouldn't care if you had a billion pounds. I'm not letting you buy me a bloody car."
Louis huffs softly. "Alright. I'm just trying to help."
Harry frowns sympathetically. He scoots closer to his desk and places his hand over Louis's, preventing him from typing. Louis glances up and meets Harry's apologetic gaze.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me," Harry assures, "but I can still do things on my own, y'know."
Louis swallows hard. "I can't help but feel guilty, Harry. This is my way to compensate. I'm the one who caused this mess, after all."
"Hey, it's alright. You can't undo the past," Harry murmurs. "I know you're sorry."
"I am. I really am."
"I know, Louis."
"I shouldn't have ever made assumptions about you," Louis says quietly. "You're not worthless, H. You're one of the most amazing people I've ever met."
Harry stays silent, unsure of how to respond. He just rubs his thumb over the back of his hand and hopes his gentle touch will communicate his thoughts.
"Do you wanna come to Fool's Gold later?" Harry prompts, changing the subject. "Tonight is fem night."
Louis cocks an eyebrow. "Fem night?"
Harry smirks. "Every now and then, Liam has us dress up in feminine clothes. Y'know, fishnet tights, high heels, skirts, lipstick. It's just a way to switch things up from the everyday routine."
Louis's breath catches in his throat. He tries his best not to imagine Harry wearing women's lingerie, snaking up and down that golden pole, smacking his red lips. Christ. His legs would look absolutely beautiful in black tights.
"As tempting as that sounds, I should probably run a few errands. I'll drop you off at the club, though. It's actually on the way."
Harry slumps back with disappointment. "Oh."
"Don't pout, baby."
"I'm not pouting. I just wanted you to see me all dressed up."
Louis's eyes rake up and down Harry's body. Currently, he's wearing some black skinny jeans and a loose, button-down blouse. He can still see the fading bite marks and swollen bruises that decorate his neck and collarbones. His skin is a pale, blank canvas, just begging to be painted upon.
"But you always look beautiful, no matter what you wear," Louis retorts. "Besides, maybe you can give me a private show later, yeah?"
Harry blushes a little. "Yeah, maybe."
Louis clears his throat and pats Harry's thigh lightly. "Anyway, babe, I was wondering if we could talk about us."
Harry gulps with nervousness. "Us?"
"Yeah, about our relationship," Louis says, shutting his laptop to give Harry his undivided attention. "We haven't really talked about labels."
Harry squirms uncomfortably in his seat. Labels have boundaries, and he doesn't like boundaries. That's why he ran away from home in the first place. He doesn't understand why everything has to have a pristine definition.
"We had sex, Louis. I dunno what else there is to talk about."
He tilts his head apprehensively. "You have feelings for me, babe. You said so yourself."
"So what?" Harry sighs loudly. "I told you before: I don't like commitment. I never have, and I never will. Monogamy is completely unrealistic for my lifestyle."
Louis frowns, but tries to hide his disappointment. "Okay. So we're not boyfriends?"
"No, we're not."
"Then what are we?"
"I dunno."
Louis crosses his arms over his chest. "We're both consenting adults, Harry. I think we can handle this conversation with maturity, yes?"
"I'm trying," Harry drawls out. "It's just... difficult."
Louis nods understandingly. They fall silent for a few seconds. Harry mindlessly fiddles with the silver rings on his fingers, and Louis just stares at his desk, gazing over the sea of scattered papers and dull pencils.
"We're bond-friends," Harry says after a minute or so.
Louis falters. "Bond-friends?"
"Yeah, kinda like boyfriends, except it's... not as exclusive, I guess. And we have a bond."
Louis doesn't like the idea of being in an open relationship. He can't bare the thought of Harry touching other men, kissing other men, fucking other men. It makes his brain burn in jealousy and possessiveness. His heart aches with rejection. Harry's lifestyle is supposed to be wild and crazy, not tied down to one person, and perhaps he should've predicted this.
But that doesn't make it hurt any less.
"Okay," Louis says eventually, voice gone quiet.
Harry smiles and pecks his lips, but it doesn't feel warm anymore. Kissing Harry no longer brings him flames of excitement and bursts of energy. It's as cold as the blood that runs through their dead, vampiric veins.
"Bond-friends," Harry giggles against his lips.
Louis just laughs and mumbles something about needing to finish his research report. And when Harry leaves his office to give him some privacy, Louis breaks down in tears.
But nobody has to know.