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wanna taste your heart, don't interfere

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“Harry texted me and the others just a while ago.”

Louis nods, but he doesn’t say anything. He was just with Harry that afternoon—the younger boy called him up, asking if they could talk because he had something important to say. Louis had been worried about that; he thought that maybe something bad had happened to Harry, maybe he got hurt or his family needed to move out again, so Louis had been feeling a little anxious up until Harry finally turned up on his doorstep, looking a little unsure and timid himself.

But as it turned out, Harry just wanted to tell him that he’s presented.

And he’s an omega—just like Louis had expected. Just like Louis had worried about, somewhat, because now it’s going to be a little harder for him to pretend that what he feels for Harry is nothing more than platonic affection.

Louis can still remember the exact moment he fell completely and utterly in love with Harry, when the younger boy peered up at him shyly in the middle of a fair on one knee, white rose in hand. It was around a year ago, and Louis’ only been steadily falling ever since.

Zayn is the only person who knows about this. Zayn also thinks Louis’ an absolute idiot for deciding to not say anything.

He passes him a cigarette, the tip flickering orange in the darkness of Louis’ bedroom. Louis doesn’t smoke, not really, but sometimes he just needs it to calm himself down. He puts the cigarette between his lips, sucks then sucks again, letting the smoke fill his lungs. It used to burn his throat, used to make him cough like an idiot, until Zayn told him, “No, Lou, you’re doing it wrong, let me show you how.”

Now he just tilts his head up, leaning against the wall, and exhales. The taste of smoke fills his mouth, leaves something like mint and bitterness on his tongue. He passes the cigarette back to Zayn.

“What are you going to do now that you know for sure he’s an omega?” Zayn asks, finally. Louis’ been waiting for it.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, Zayn?” he asks back. “Nothing’s going to change. I’ll still look after him, make sure he’s okay.”

Zayn hums. The smell of smoke in the room gets stronger. “You’re not going to tell him?”

There was a time, before, when Louis would play dumb whenever Zayn brought it up. He quickly learned, however, that there’s no point in pretending with Zayn. Zayn is too smart. Zayn is also one of his oldest friends, has been by his side since kindergarten when no one wanted to be friends with the odd boy who spent recess inside the room drawing pictures on bond paper with crayons instead of playing outside, until Louis approached him and told him that he thought his drawing looked sick, but “the good kind of sick, of course!”

So Louis just says, “No. Why would I?”

He watches as Zayn stubs the cigarette out on their makeshift ash tray, a small plate Louis’ taken from their kitchen downstairs. “Listen, Lou. I get it, yeah? I know why you think you shouldn’t tell Harry about how you feel for him.” He finds Louis’ eyes, even in the dark. Zayn knows him too well, probably knew Louis was going to fall even before Louis figured it out for himself. “But, fuck, Lou. You have a connection with him. Everyone can see that. So while I understand your reasons, I still think they’re pretty fucking stupid. I think you’re pretty fucking stupid.”

Louis chuckles, no real humor behind it. “Thanks, Zee.”

Zayn mutters something too low for Louis to hear. Then, “I’m pretty sure Harry feels the same about you.”

“See, that’s the thing right there,” Louis says, pointing a finger at his friend, “I’m the only alpha Harry is close to, and I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to be with me, or something.”

“Liam’s an alpha,” Zayn points out.

“Yeah, but—and it’s nothing against Liam, just to be clear—he’s not exactly close to Harry the way I am.”

“That is true,” Zayn nods, pausing for a second as though he’s thinking. Then, “So you’re saying you’re willing to see another alpha get to Harry first?”

Louis can feel his jaw clenching at the thought, can hear how his voice hardens even before he speaks. Still, he says, “If that’s what Harry wants, then yes.” He stares at Zayn, gaze hard, and continues, “But remember, Harry is a person. He’s not an object, he’s not property. Omega or not, Harry is Harry.”

“I understand that,” Zayn says, patient, “and you know that’s not what I meant. But. But what if you’re who Harry wants?”

“Then okay, fine. Good. Great, even. But I can’t make the first move, Zayn. You know that,” Louis says, sounding a mix of frustrated and impatient. “He might think he’s supposed to accept, or something, just because I’m an alpha. That seems a bit like taking advantage of him, and I don’t want that. I care about Harry. I want him to be happy and make his own choices. I want him to be a hundred percent sure, on the small chance that he does want me to be his alpha. It should be his full decision, not mine.”

“He’s an omega,” Zayn points out quietly, a bit sadly. “As much as I hate saying it, once he gets out of town, once he goes to bigger cities for uni, he’s going to have a hard time. People are jerks, and someone is going to try and take advantage of him.”

Louis is quiet for a moment. His voice is low when he says, “I know. That’s another thing I’m worried about.”




Harry’s been taking his suppressants regularly for two weeks now.

He’s never had a heat, and he’s not really sure if he even wants to experience it at the moment. He’s heard stories about heats, of course, and if he’s going to be honest the thought of blindly bringing yourself to orgasm over and over, craving the touch of an alpha regardless of who said alpha is, isn’t exactly an appealing one for Harry.

He’s a romantic, Harry will be the first to admit that. He likes the idea of going on dates and holding someone’s hand and having slow, meaningful sex. He wants someone who will make him feel safe and protected. It’s a silly thought, he knows, but that’s what he wants.

That’s what he wants with Louis, if he’s going to be completely honest with himself. But he’s not sure how Louis feels about him.

He’s always been attracted to his alpha friend. He likes to think that he’s not too obvious about it, but sometimes he’ll catch one of the boys looking at him knowingly whenever the five of them hang out and he tends to stare a little too long at Louis. It’s a bit worrying, not because Harry thinks any of the boys would tell on him, but because maybe one of these days Louis himself would notice that Harry’s interested in him as more than just a friend.

And now that he’s fully presented, he can’t help but… smell Louis more. It’s a bit addicting, Louis’ scent. It’s something like tea and damp grass and menthols, and something just uniquely Louis. It’s a scent that haunts Harry even hours after he and Louis have parted. Something in him just naturally reacts to that scent, and it’s getting a little harder for him to keep his cool, especially whenever Louis touches him or cuddles too close.

He and Louis have always been physical with each other, is the thing. They’ve had very little sense of personal space, have been practically attached at the hip since they were thirteen and fifteen when Harry’s family first moved into the house right next to the Tomlinson’s.

Harry just hopes he’ll be able to control himself from here on whenever he’s around Louis.


Harry isn’t sure why he always agrees to this. Peer pressure, probably.

“Pass it over here, Harry!” Niall is shouting at him, and Harry tries his best to kick straight at his friend. The ball rolls across the grass towards the general direction of Niall, which Harry counts as a success, but then Louis’ appearing from out of nowhere and stealing the ball right before Niall can even touch it with the tip of his shoe.

Niall curses loudly and gives Harry a wide-eyed look, one that he returns with a helpless shrug. The blond starts chasing after Louis, and Harry would do so as well, but he knows his limits. Running after someone, he can do. Mostly. Sometimes he’ll trip over his ever-growing limbs though, since he’s still in that stage where he’s just starting to grow into them; Anne reckons he’s gonna have a growth spurt soon.

But running after someone and trying to steal a ball from them just by using his feet? That’s something next to impossible.

So Harry just plops down on the grass, breathing heavily. He watches Niall try to get a kick in, but Louis’ too quick. Harry isn’t quite sure how Louis’ managing to do… whatever that is he’s doing with his feet, but it’s all very fascinating to watch.

They’ve split into two teams to play their modified game of footie. Harry and Niall are on one team with Liam guarding their goal, and Louis’ on the other with Zayn. It probably looks a bit unfair being two against three, but really, Harry spends more time watching the way Louis’ thighs flex whenever he kicks the ball rather than actively participating in the match, so it’s an even game.

He can’t help it. Louis’ just really great to watch. Harry can probably sit here all day and just admire what the older boy is like. In fact that sounds like a much better way of spending his time instead of playing, because as much as he loves the sport, he’s not really the type to actually physically participate in it.

He watches, knees pulled up to his chest with his hands curled around them, as Louis aims for the goal. Liam is quick but not quick enough, and the ball goes in the upper left corner of the net.

“Score!” Louis shouts, lifting both arms in the air. “We win!”

From where he’s sitting, Harry claps and whistles loudly. Niall shoots him a glare and points an accusing finger at him. “You’re on our team, Harry!”

Harry just shrugs, grinning sheepishly.

Niall’s expression changes into one of exasperated fondness before he turns to Louis and punches him on the arm. Niall is probably the toughest, most carefree and openly aggressive, don’t-give-a-damn-about-norms-and-societal-standards beta Harry’s ever seen. Of course he’d punch an alpha on the arm.

“You haven’t won yet, you tosser!” And call him insulting names. Niall’s one of a kind, really. “You just scored a goal. Who’s keeping track of the scores?”

“We’ve been playing for the last half hour,” Harry whines. “And I think it’s time for lunch.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry!” Zayn calls out from the opposite goalpost. He’s yawning, slumped and leaning against one of the metal posts like he doesn’t have a care in the world, looking very less-rumpled compared to the rest of them. He hasn’t exerted much effort into the game, clearly, but that’s most to do with Niall and Harry’s poor attempts at making a goal more than anything else.

Louis pats Niall on the back cheerfully. “See, even Zayn is hungry! I say we go eat somewhere, then we can maybe play again later or something.”

Niall grumbles half-heartedly, but he seems appeased at the promise of food and a rematch in the afternoon. Liam just sighs, probably also hoping for the match to continue but unwilling to argue, and then the five of them start heading out of the public footie pitch. A bunch of children come scampering onto the grass the moment they step out of the field, and Harry briefly wonders how long they’ve been waiting for the five of them to finish so they can play. Hopefully not too long. Harry’s always had a soft spot for children.

“So,” Louis says, walking a little ahead of them. He looks every bit like an alpha, Harry thinks, like the natural leader of their little group. Even Liam seems willing to follow Louis around, even though he’s an alpha himself. It’s probably the charm that does it, Harry thinks. It’s impossible not to hang onto every word that comes out of Louis’ mouth. Like, Liam can be pretty charming himself, too, sometimes, but he’s not the Louis kind of charming. Or maybe Harry is just really biased

Okay, he’s mentally rambling to himself again. He shakes his head to and tunes back in to the conversation, just in time to catch Louis asking, “Where do you lads want to eat?”

“I could use some nuggets right now,” Liam answers.

“McDonald’s, then.” It’s not really a question, but they all still nod their agreement. Louis grins, pausing slightly in his tracks so he can wait for Harry to catch up to his pace and throw an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. Harry’s immediately assaulted with the faint smell of whatever body spray Louis uses combined with fresh sweat. It should probably be a bit disgusting, but all Harry wants to do is press his face against the collar of Louis’ jersey so he can breathe him in.

God, he needs to get a hold of himself.

They find a table right beside the windows, the kind with long cushioned seats on either side of it. Naturally, Liam, Zayn and Niall squeeze themselves together into one of the seats, leaving Louis and Harry to sit beside each other on the other seat.

Louis slides in first, nearly dragging Harry into the seat with him because he still has an arm around Harry. Harry stumbles in after him, blushing when Louis chuckles fondly at him.

Niall and Zayn are the ones to get up to order their food, and Liam excuses himself to the restroom to freshen up. He’s probably just going to splash water onto his face, but that sounds appealing to Harry now as well. He’s still a little sweaty from playing football earlier, his shirt clinging slightly onto his back and chest, and he wouldn’t really mind splashing some water onto his face to cool off.

That would require removing Louis’ arm from around him, though, and Harry’s not quite willing to separate himself from the older boy just yet. He scoots a little closer to Louis on the booth, until he’s pressed against the older boy’s side and their thighs are aligned.

Louis just squeezes the arm he has around Harry’s waist, not seeming put-off in the slightest, which. That’s good. That’s really, really good. Ever since Harry presented and came out to Louis about his sex two weeks ago, there’s been this niggling fear in the back of his head that things might not be the same between them anymore. Louis’ an alpha, and Harry’s an omega. Despite how good and stable their friendship is, how close they are platonically (though Harry can’t help the wishful part of him that hopes they’d be close as more than just friends), the vast difference of their sexes might’ve gotten in the way of that.

Thank god it didn’t.

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

It certainly doesn’t help that underneath all of that, Harry can catch the scent of the Yorkshire tea Louis drinks every morning, bitter with only a splash of milk (Harry knows how to make it by heart now, what with the amount of times they’ve slept at each other’s places and made breakfast together the morning after), along with the faintest trace of menthol cigarettes that Louis sometimes smokes with Zayn.

Harry blinks, dazed, before he remembers where they are and he forces himself to pull away from Louis, just a little. Louis looks a little curious but he lets Harry sit up straighter, and Harry smiles at him, just quick enough to show that he’s fine.

He’s totally fine. He can deal with this.

Except he can still smell Louis, even after Liam comes back from the loo, the fringe of his hair slightly damp, even after Niall and Zayn return with two trays filled with cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets and chips. He scoots an inch away from the alpha, playing it off by grabbing a cheeseburger for himself and taking a bite.

After a few minutes he manages to adjust, getting lost in the conversation and absently dipping his chips into Niall’s sundae. The blond squawks at him and they all start laughing, and Harry can’t help but lean towards Louis again, his body just naturally drawn to him.

Louis’ clean hand somehow ends up playing with Harry’s curls while he eats his burger with his other hand, and Harry’s eyes flutter shut at the action. He sighs in contentment, the conversation around him fading into background noise as Louis’ fingers card through his hair, and before he can stop himself a sound that’s something too close to a purr escapes his lips, loud enough for everyone on their table to hear.

Everything suddenly stops for a few seconds. Harry’s eyes shoot open at the same time Louis’ fingers still where they’re still tangled in Harry’s hair. Niall freezes where he’s about to suck on the straw of his drink, and even Liam and Zayn stop their conversation to glance at Harry.

Harry feels a blush come up his cheeks. Fuck, did he really just make that sound? He can feel everyone’s gaze on him, now, and he’s just about to pull away and excuse himself from the table to save himself from further embarrassment, when Louis’ fingers rub at his scalp, reassuring almost, and says, “I think someone’s getting rather sleepy, huh, Hazza?”

It’s obviously an attempt to diffuse the suddenly tense atmosphere on their table, but it works. Niall cackles before biting on the end of his straw, teasing Harry about how he’s like a cat. Liam shakes his head at the blond, smiling, but Zayn—Zayn gives Harry a curious look, before his gaze flicks to Louis for one brief second.

It’s only quick, gone when Harry blinks, so he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. He doesn’t think about it for too long, though, instead just nuzzles his head against Louis’ shoulder, hoping that the older boy would understand Harry’s silent ‘thank you.’

Which just makes Niall tease him more about being a cat, but oh well. Harry would take ‘cat’ over ‘infatuated and kinda weird best friend’ any day.


Harry isn’t exactly sure where he is. He’s… in a bed? But this isn’t his bed, and the room looks a bit unfamiliar, but also not at the same time. Kinda like he’s been here before, but. It’s still not his room though.

And he feels hot. Really hot, like something close to a burning, though not exactly unpleasant. He’s sweaty, panting, and naked. He can’t remember how he got here. He’s not even sure if he cares at all to find out.

There’s movement beside him, the mattress shifting, indicating that he’s not alone. Before Harry can turn and investigate, a body suddenly moves from seemingly out of nowhere, getting on top of him. Harry freezes just for a second, but then the body shifts above him, and—oh, they’re both naked. Harry is in bed with another naked person, a boy, if the hard line pressing against his hip is any indication.

And Harry’s hard, too. He’s not sure when that happened, but oddly enough he’s not feeling any panic. There’s no fear bubbling in his chest where there should be, no urge to scream and thrash on the bed and fight the person above him. No. Instead there’s just calm, and contentment, and—and the smell of sweat and grass and tea.

He’s not surprised at all when the person’s face comes into focus and he sees that it’s Louis. In fact he just smiles, reaches up to wrap both of his arms around Louis’ neck. Louis leans down to press a kiss just below his ear, and Harry lets out a soft noise from deep within his chest.

His back arches up slightly, legs squeezing shut for a second before they fall back open, letting Louis fit in the space between them more properly. Louis starts pressing a trail of kisses down the length of Harry’s neck, slowly rocking his hips down, pressing himself against Harry, and suddenly Harry can feel himself starting to get wet.

It’s—it’s a little odd, at first, but then it’s just hot. He lets out a whine, half-embarrassed and half-pleading. Louis just keeps pressing open-mouthed kisses down his neck, lower at the base of his throat, on the dip between his collarbones, lower still—down his chest, his stomach, his hips.

Harry sucks a breath and holds it in, staring down at Louis. The alpha just looks back up at him, eyes dark, and then suddenly fingers are touching Harry where he’s wet, slipping in, and he can’t breathe—he can’t

He shoots up in bed, startling awake and panting. His skin still feels hot, still feels like he’s seconds away from bursting into flames, and most importantly he’s still hard.

Okay. That was—he just had a wet dream about Louis. He just had a wet dream about his best friend. His alpha best friend.

Harry groans, squeezing his eyes shut and falling back against the sheets. This isn’t good. He shouldn’t be having fantasies about Louis. He tries to will his hard-on to go away, but it’s like he can still feel a hot line from his neck down to his hips from where dream-Louis’ mouth touched dream-Harry’s skin. There’s also the faint scent of tea and damp grass still lingering in the air, making his nose tingle. It doesn’t help at all in killing his hard-on.

He kicks his feet in the sheets, frustrated, which makes him realize just how aroused his body is exactly. He lets out a slow breath like he’s bracing himself, before squeezing his thighs together and—yes, fuck, he’s wet. He’s actually producing slick, oh god.

He’s… Harry’s never been wet like this. He’s never actually been too turned-on for his body to respond this way, but of course all it takes is a single dream about Louis to get him like this. He touches the sheets beneath his arse and finds that they’re slightly damp. Great. So he’s not just wet, he’s actually leaking as well.

His face feels hot, embarrassed even though there’s no one else in the room to see him like this. Maybe he should just try to sleep it off, forget this ever happened so that he can still look Louis in the eye come tomorrow.

But his cock’s still hard, begging for attention, and every time he shuts his eyes fragments of his dreams come back to him. He can’t help but clench his legs together.

Louis had been slipping a finger into him in the dream. Harry’s never really tried that before, even though he’d been curious. It just—it all seems a bit terrifying, thinking about putting his fingers there. But at the same time, he knows it’s meant to feel good, especially for an omega like him. He also knows how it’s supposed to work. He’s done a fair bit of research before.

Well then. Maybe now is a good time to try this out.

He turns his head to check the time, eyes finding the glow of his digital clock on the bedside table. It’s just a few minutes past three in the morning, and Harry’s certain that everyone else in the house is asleep at this time. Okay then.

He tries to rationalize this in his mind. He’s a sixteen-year-old omega, of course it’s normal to be curious about his body at this age, to explore and discover what feels good for him. And this is basically just masturbation. That’s—that’s normal.

Taking a deep breath, Harry kicks the blankets off of him fully. The sheets feel cool beneath his heated skin, and he takes a few more breaths, before he slowly trails a hand down his chest. He lets his eyes fall shut, trying to keep his mind blank, trying not to think of anyone or anything specific. He tries to just focus on the feeling of it.

He closes his fingers around his cock and gasps, giving himself a few slow tugs. He’s not entirely sure what’s the best way to go about this for him, so he just bends one knee and plants his foot firmly on the mattress, letting go of his cock and sneaking his hand around the back of his thigh.

He gasps again when his fingers touch the slick skin around his rim. He breathes in and lets it out slowly, teasing himself, running the tip of his index finger all over the wetness between his legs. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets, fingers twisted into the fabric in nervous anticipation, and then with a shaky breath he pushes the tip of his index finger in.

It’s odd, at first. Harry’s eyebrows furrow as he sinks his index finger in up to the first knuckle, pausing to try and feel. It’s smooth inside, wet, hot. It’s not exactly a good feeling, not yet, but it’s not a bad one either. It kinda feels like his body’s trying to suck him in further, though, so he keeps pressing his finger until it’s completely inside.

He bites his lip, shifting his hips a little. He tries crooking his finger a little, to get more of a feel around inside. He’s not sure how exactly this is meant to feel good, but he’s willing to test it out further. If he remembers his research correctly, he’s supposed to find his prostate. He’s not exactly sure how to go about just doing that, though.

He tries pulling his finger out and pushing it back in, slowly. That feels a little better. He keeps at it for a minute or so, before he feels brave enough to add a second finger into the mix.

This time, the stretch burns a little more. He gasps quietly, back lifting slightly away from the sheets as his fingers pause, halfway inside his body. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths, before he continues pushing two fingers inside.

He feels fuller now. But it’s also better, somehow. Harry’s breathing stutters as he tries scissoring his fingers apart, actually feeling the way his body stretches open slightly, as though he’s actually preparing himself to get taken.

A moan slips past his lips at that sudden thought, cock twitching against his stomach. He’s nearly forgotten about it, too caught up in the fingers inside his arse, but now that his attention’s been brought to how hard his cock is still, he can’t help but let his mind wander to… other things. Like, other people’s cocks. A specific someone’s cock.

Oh god. Now that Harry’s let himself start thinking about it, his carefully blank mind’s suddenly filling with images—with images of Louis—and he can’t make himself stop. His traitorous mind starts providing him with images Louis above him, of Louis’ eyes looking down at him, of Louis’ fingers inside him.

His own fingers twitch, hard, and then suddenly this entire thing is ten times hotter.

He can’t stop himself, not now, not that he’s started. Later, he’ll just blame it as a heat-of-the-moment thing, because everyone’s gotten off to weird things, surely he’s not the only one who thinks of their fit friends in moments like these, right? But right now, he can’t really be bothered to care. He’ll just justify his actions as that of a horny sixteen-year-old omega later, because now he’s more focused on getting off.

He lets his mind wander, lets himself imagine Louis in the room with him, sitting between his legs and staring at him with dark, hungry eyes. He thinks of Louis murmuring sweet, filthy things at him, a mix of praise and encouragement to keep him going.

His thighs spread further apart on their own. He’s getting even wetter now, and he hadn’t thought it possible, but here he is, getting his hand wet. Dripping. He’s probably making a complete mess of his sheets by now. He fucks his fingers inside himself further, picturing Louis looking down at him, watching him hungrily. He imagines that it’s Louis’ fingers pushing inside himself instead of his own, preparing him, stretching him, getting him ready for Louis. For Louis’ cock, for Louis’ knot.

The thought makes Harry’s hips twitch, his fingers jabbing against a spot inside him for one, blissful second. His brain feels like it short-circuits for a beat, blinded by the pleasure that suddenly shoots up his spine, and he tries to chase it, tries to get his fingers to press there again.

He can’t find it, though, and he whimpers, frustrated. He releases his death grip on the sheets and reaches down to wrap a hand around himself, tugging his cock quickly as his fingers continue to fuck into him. It’s messy and it’s hot and it’s filthy, the room smelling strongly of sweat and slick, and with another push of his fingers inside and the thought of Louis’ cock pressing into him, Harry comes, biting on his bottom lip harshly to keep himself from shouting.

He spills all over his fingers, painting stripes over his lower stomach. He can feel himself clenching down tightly around his fingers, can feel the hot squeeze of his body, and he faintly thinks of how good that could feel for Louis if it were his cock inside of him.

That thought sends a little aftershock through Harry, makes one last shiver go through his body. He slumps back onto the sheets after a few seconds, lazily pulling his fingers out of his arse. He feels content, sated, like his limbs have turned into jelly, and there’s about half a minute of nothing but a sleepy post-orgasm haze before his mind catches up to him, and the full impact of what he just did hits him.

Fuck. He just actually got off to the thought of his best friend fucking him. Harry groans, squeezing his eyes shut and rolling onto his side. There’s a dull ache in his arse and he feels all dirty, sticky with drying sweat and slick and come. He can’t believe he just did that. Oh god. How is he supposed to face Louis now? How is he supposed to look his best friend in the eye?

But, Louis doesn’t know this happened, Harry thinks to himself, just a tad bit desperately. Louis has no idea that Harry fingered himself while thinking of Louis, and as long as Harry doesn’t say anything Louis won’t find out. And besides, Harry reasons with himself, this is just a one time thing. He’s not going to be doing it again.

Okay. He’s good. He’s fine. He’s not going to make everything weird with Louis now. Not at all. He’s got this.

He’s totally got this.




Harry’s been acting strange. Louis is confused and also slightly worried.

He wasn’t sure if he’s just imagining it at first—Harry ducking his head at the last minute to avoid eye contact with him, Harry drifting away from his small touches, Harry sometimes putting space between them whenever they’re sitting side by side—but after he’s tugged on one of Harry’s curls and the younger boy started blushing furiously, fumbling through an excuse of needing the loo yesterday while they were having lunch out with the rest of the lads, Louis’ pretty certain now that Harry is avoiding him.

Not outright, but avoiding him nonetheless.

Louis isn’t sure what it is he did. They’ve been okay, good really, since Harry told him that he’s presented. Everything’s been normal, they weren’t weird around each other despite the difference of their sex, and Louis’ pretty sure he’s been doing a splendid job of keeping himself in control, of keeping his own emotions hidden even though it’s harder now that he can actually catchHarry’s scent sometimes, if they’re too close—

Wait. What if that’s it? What if… what if he’s not actually been doing a good job of pretending that he’s unaffected by Harry, and Harry’s managed to catch onto Louis’ attraction to him? What if Harry doesn’t want Louis and is just too nice to actually go and tell Louis outright? Or maybe he’s too scared, since Louis’ an alpha and he doesn’t want to speak out of line.

Fuck, no. Louis doesn’t want Harry to be scared of him. That’s the last thing he wants to happen. He’ll be okay with Harry hating him, or ignoring him even, but not—he doesn’t want Harry to be scared of him.

He should probably go and talk to Harry, ask him what’s going on just so they’ll both be clear about this. Louis has enough sense to know that he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions, even though his mind’s running a mile a minute with possible explanations as to why Harry’s been subtly avoiding him. He’s going to talk to Harry and clear this up, they’re going to have a proper conversation, and it’ll be all okay.


They don’t get to talk the following day, because Niall’s apparently made plans for the five of them to have yet another movie marathon in his basement. He’s really making the most out of this summer, Louis thinks.

He had narrowed his eyes suspiciously when Niall gave him a call to let him know of the plans, asking, “Are you planning on smoking up in there?”

“God, I wish,” Niall had answered, sounding like it physically pained him that there won’t be any weed present. “But m’parents are both home and Greg’s being an arse about his secret stash again. Might manage to sneak in a few beers, though.”

“Okay,” Louis had replied, “should I bring anything?”

“Just your lovely self,” Niall said, managing to sound both cheerful and sarcastic at the same time. “I’ve got the food and the films covered.”

“We better be watching good movies, Ni,” Louis had warned playfully, “you know there’s nothing I can’t stand more than awful movies, and your taste isn’t exactly reliable.”

“Hey!” Niall had protested indignantly, “I’ve got great taste in movies!”

Louis snorted. “You think anything with explosions and bloodshed and naked body parts is good, Nialler. But whatever, see you tomorrow.”

As it turns out, the movie does have a lot of explosions and naked body parts in it, but thankfully not that much bloodshed. Not explicitly, anyway. Louis knows Harry can get a bit queasy at the sight of too much blood.

He glances at Harry leaning against the other end of the couch, anyway, just to check how he’s holding up.

The other boys have probably already noticed the bit of… Louis wouldn’t call it tension, not exactly, but he’s not sure what other word fits to describe whatever it is that’s going on between him and Harry. But point is, the others have caught on, and Louis can safely say that they’re all just as confused and baffled as Louis is.

So much so that none of them decided to occupy the free space on the sofa, where Harry and Louis are sitting on opposite ends of. Niall’s lounging on the carpet near the telly, throwing bits of popcorn every once in a while at Zayn who’s taken one of the two bean bags. Liam is sprawled nearer the couch Louis and Harry are on, his head propped up on the remaining bean bag. It doesn’t look all that comfortable of a position to Louis, but Liam’s not complaining so he’s not going to say anything.

It’s clear that the overall atmosphere between the five of them is also affected by the change between Louis and Harry, and Louis honestly doesn’t like it. It feels weird, a little awkward, and even Niall’s jokes sounded a bit forced earlier, his laughter a little strained.

Harry looks like he’s also slightly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say anything to try and break the tension. In fact, he hasn’t said much since he arrived here.

The movie ends in a typical explosion, and Louis doesn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Niall just wordlessly sets the popcorn bowl down and changes the film, putting a new one in. “This one just came out,” he says, the menu flashing on the screen, and it’s immediately evident that the film is a horror one. “It’s supposed to be really fucking scary, I heard.”

“Niall,” Louis admonishes before he can stop himself, “you know Hazza doesn’t like scary films.”

Harry seems to jump at the mention of his name, and everyone seems to collectively hold their breath for a second, looking back and forth between Harry and Louis. Harry’s got a flush on his cheeks, Louis can see. “Uh. It’s fine, don’t worry. I can handle a bit of a scare every now and then.”

So Niall plays the film and turns off the lights for added effect, before plopping down on the bean bag beside Zayn instead of his original position. Liam crawls a little closer to the telly as well, dragging his bean bag with him, leaving Harry and Louis on the couch by themselves.

It’s obvious ten minutes in that Harry’s not okay. He’s all curled up on his end of the sofa, the front of his jumper pulled halfway up his face. He flinches every time a loud sound comes from the speakers, so Louis decides to ignore the tension between them because Harry obviously needs comfort.

He reaches out and pats the space between them, trying to catch the younger boy’s attention. Harry jumps before turning to look at him, wide-eyed, and had the situation been different Louis would’ve cooed at him. As it is, he just offers a soft smile and motions for Harry to come closer so they can cuddle.

He’s glad to see that Harry only hesitates for a second before he’s moving in, crowding against Louis’ side and pressing his face against Louis’ shoulder. Louis wraps an arm around him and murmurs soothingly into his hair.

The first thirty minutes of the movie passes by in a blur to Louis. He’s not really focused on what’s going on, more aware of the warm body pressed against his side, of the boy curled up against him. Harry’s got a fist clutching onto the front of his shirt, probably wrinkling it pass the point where an iron can smooth it back out, but Louis doesn’t mind. He hasn’t been this physically close to Harry in a week.

This close, he can smell the apples of the shampoo Harry uses and the sweetness of the cologne he sometimes sprays on. But underneath that he also manages to catch Harry’s natural scent, something sweet and warm like newly-bloomed flowers on an odd summer day. Louis leans his head down against Harry’s so he can subtly press his nose into Harry’s hair.

His attention suddenly gets turned back to the film when he hears wet kissing sounds, and what? Wasn’t this supposed to be a horror? When he looks at the screen he sees a couple making out, obviously about to have sex in a dark room.

Louis snorts. Of course. Even in horror films there has to be a sex scene.

It’s just the typical clothes-grabbing, dry-humping scene, something that Louis’ wholly unaffected by. He bets one of the two will die the moment they step out of that room. He watches, bored and disinterested, as the guy—who’s obviously an alpha—pulls the girl’s top off before pushing her down onto the bed.

But then—but then Harry suddenly shifts beside him, and Louis’ attention is pulled away from the screen, focus now back on the boy curled up against him.

Harry shifts again, the grip he has on Louis’ shirt loosening. Louis’ hand freezes where it’s been absently rubbing up and down Harry’s arm, and—is Harry getting affected by this?

Louis stays very still when Harry starts squirming slightly, as though he’s torn between pulling away and pushing further against Louis’ side. He’s starting to feel warm, the heat of his body pressing against Louis, and suddenly the room seems like it doesn’t have enough air in it.

On screen, both bodies are completely naked now, but the shot’s from far away. The movements of the man’s hips is obvious, though, and—isn’t this a little too graphic of a sex scene to be included in a horror film? If Louis didn’t have a squirming omega half on his lap right now, he would’ve been making loud, annoying commentaries at the telly.

And then it hits him the same time a wave of Harry’s scent and obvious arousal do: he’s got a squirming omega, an omega he’s strongly attracted to, half on his lap. Fuck.

Louis’ not sure if the other boys have noticed anything going on. It’s too dark in the room, and they’ve all got their backs turned to them so Louis can’t see their faces anyway. If he looks closely, though, he thinks he can see that Liam’s shoulders are stiff, and—no, a voice growls in Louis’ head. He suddenly feels like snarling at the other alpha in the room, arm subconsciously tightening around Harry.

Okay, no. He’s got to get himself under control. He loosens his grip around Harry, but the younger boy doesn’t move away. Oh god, Louis can smell him now, they’re so close. Harry’s obviously getting bothered by what’s playing on the telly, and when the fuck will this scene end? Can’t they just fucking die already, Louis finds himself thinking angrily.

He’s not affected by it at all, but he is affected by Harry being affected, and his cock’s starting to stir in his jeans. He grits his teeth and tries to control himself, tries to tamp down on the urge to turn to Harry and push him down against the couch, bite him and mark him and just claim him, take him—

A new scent assaults Louis, suddenly, at the same time Harry finally flinches away. The younger boy suddenly gets up on his feet, shaking, and tells the room, “Uh, I—I gotta go, I’m sorry, but I just remembered I have something to do, and—and. I need to go.” All eyes are on him now, and even in the dark Louis can tell that his skin’s flushed red. “Thanks for the movies, Niall. I’ll see you all around.”

He doesn’t even let anyone say anything else before he’s climbing up the stairs, opening the door to the basement and heading out. Louis frantically finds Zayn’s eyes in the dark and Zayn nods at him, before getting up and going after Harry wordlessly to make sure he gets home safely. Thank god Zayn knows Louis well enough to be able to understand him without speaking.

The mood’s obviously been dampened after that, none of them really in the mood to finish the film and find out who the killer is. Louis just stays long enough to see the alpha get killed onscreen before he’s saying goodbye as well, rushing to get home.

He locks himself in his room and tugs one off, eyes shut. He comes with Harry’s name on his lips, the smell of the omega’s arousal and slick still burning his nose minutes after he’s come down.

He’s well and truly fucked.


He texts Harry the following night, sends him a simple, u ok h ? x

He makes sure to add an ‘x’ at the end so that Harry knows he’s not mad at him or anything. They haven’t really seen each other much today, Louis’ sisters demanding that they spend some time together at the park, so Louis didn’t get the chance to talk to Harry about what happened in Niall’s basement the day before.

They should really talk about it, clear up whatever’s going on between them. Louis isn’t sure whether Harry’s just feeling awkward around him, especially since he’s just presented as an omega, or if it’s something else entirely. Maybe he’s still trying to figure himself out, unsure as to how to control his natural urges. Maybe he’s worried that being too close to Louis would trigger his heat, though Louis’ pretty sure that he’s on suppressants. Or maybe Harry is actually attracted to him, perhaps not in an emotional sense, but at least on a physical, sexual level. Louis isn’t ruling out the possibility, though something swoops in his belly just at the mere idea.

It’s just—on the chance that Harry is attracted to him, then that’s good. Even if it’s just for sex, then Louis can live with that. Maybe. But maybe it’s not just for sex, since Liam’s an alpha too, and Harry isn’t exactly being all shifty around him. Maybe Louis actually has a chance.

But… whatever it is, Louis knows he can’t really do anything about it until Harry says something to him first.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing with a reply. yea, just fine. sry about yesterday :(

Louis bites his lip, thinking about his reply. He finally settles with, wanna hang out tmr ? mum n dan r goin out, sisters gonna b at nan’s .

The reply comes a bit faster this time. r u sure?

‘course i am haz x

okay then, is Harry’s reply, quickly followed by see u xx


They’re playing FIFA in Louis’ living room, and Louis can tell that Harry really isn’t into the game. To be honest Louis isn’t really into it either, but he thought this’d be a good way to loosen the tension a little before they start talking.

Sighing, Louis pauses the game, making Harry look up from where he’s fumbling with his controller. “Lou?” he asks, sounding nervous. “Is there something wrong?”

Louis shakes his head, turning his body so that he’s facing the younger boy. He smiles softly, runs a hand through Harry’s hair to reassure him that he’s not mad or anything. Harry’s eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“I just wanted to ask you something, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes blink open, and they stare at Louis, wide and waiting. “Oh. Uh, what is it?”

Louis pulls his hand away, expression changing into slight concern. “Is there something bothering you?”

There’s a look that passes over Harry’s face, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be, but then he schools his expression back into a confused one. “No, not really. What makes you say that?”

Louis watches Harry for a moment, notices how his posture is a bit tense. “Well. I just, uh, noticed that you’ve been a bit off lately. I feel like you’re avoiding me? And I wanted to know if it’s something I did, or, I don’t know. Do you need space? Is it because I’m an alpha?”

Harry looks conflicted for a moment, like he’s deciding on whether he should say anything or not. Louis just waits patiently, wondering if he should ask about what happened yesterday at Niall’s as well, or if that would just make things more awkward between them.

Finally, Harry breathes out, “Please don’t kick me out.”

“What?” Louis asks, confused, brows furrowed. Harry’s got his eyes squeezed shut, shoulders tense, and Louis says, “Haz, why would I kick you out?”

“Because,” Harry begins, voice small and unsure, “because I just. I don’t—I have been avoiding you, a little, yeah, but it’s not—”

“Harry,” Louis cuts in, hands going to Harry’s shoulders, “Breathe, babe, breathe. Whatever your reason is, I’m sure I’ll understand. Just be honest with me right now, please, and tell me—”

“I like you,” Harry blurts out, and his eyes snap open not even a second later as though he can’t believe he’s just said that out loud.

Louis can’t quite believe it either.

A part of him, a part of him that somehow already knows, is screaming in something like victory and relief. But mostly he just feels shocked into silence, unsure whether he’s heard it right or if he’s just actually dreaming. Harry feels and looks very real, though, so that means—Harry likes him. Harry feels the same way about him.

They just stare at each other for a moment, frozen in place. Harry’s eyes are wide, slightly scared and unsure and a tiny bit hopeful, and Louis can’t—he can’t fucking think. He doesn’t know how to react, his hands are frozen on Harry’s shoulders, and he’s not even sure if he’s breathing. He’s not sure if Harry is breathing.

And then Harry’s speaking, words tripping over each other as he rushes to get them out, “Oh my god, I mean—I didn’t—I’m so fucking sorry, please don’t be angry. I just. I wasn’t thinking, please don’t kick me out. Forget I even said anything, I just.” He lets out something like a desperate whimper. “Louis, say something, please.

And Louis, he just… he just snaps.

It’s like something in him just suddenly goes out of control and he’s leaning forward, shutting Harry up with his mouth. Harry stills for a second, and then he’s melting, melting, melting into Louis’ touch and Louis can sense it, can feel the relief as though it’s coming from himself. And maybe it is, Louis isn’t really sure. He’s not sure of anything at the moment, only aware of the feeling of Harry, soft and sweet Harry, and so, so fucking lovely.

Harry’s lips are soft, yielding, parting easily when Louis flicks his tongue out against them. He tastes of sugar and tea, sweet and addictive, and Louis hears a growl, realizes seconds later that it came from himself, deep and rumbling in his chest.

He’s never felt like this before, never felt so out of himself. He faintly registers the way Harry’s gripping onto the back of his shirt, is more focused on the sounds Harry is making high from his throat. He can feel Harry’s chest rising and falling against his, can feel the younger boy panting beneath him, breaths hot and coming out in puffs. Louis makes another sound close to a growl, biting on Harry’s lower lip and tugging. He pulls back a second later, attaching his lips to Harry’s neck, and he’s never been like this, never felt this almost animalistic need to just—

“Lou,” Harry gasps, suddenly, and it feels like someone’s suddenly poured a bucket of cold water over him, snapping him back to his senses.

He flinches back like he’s been burned, eyes wide and wild, chest heaving. He looks down at Harry, sees that the younger boy’s mouth is swollen, a bruise sucked onto the pale skin of his neck. Louis immediately feels like the worst fucking person ever.

He sits back, on the far end of the couch away from Harry, feeling dread and hatred for himself weighing down on his chest as the seconds tick by. He told himself he wouldn’t ever take advantage of Harry, his best friend, and yet here he is. He almost did.

Harry’s still lying flat on his back—Louis can’t even remember when he pushed him down—and Louis can see the way his chest is rising and falling with each heavy breath. He looks like a flushed mess, and a part of Louis happily rumbles at the sight. He immediately crushes that part of him down, feeling sick, feeling like he’s the worst, feeling angry at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally, when the silence gets to be too much.

That gets Harry sitting up, and there’s a confused look on his face. His hair’s a mess, eyes a bit glassy, and something tugs low in Louis’ gut at the sight of him. He clenches his fists and digs his nails into the skin of his palm, thinks, Control yourself.

“Why,” Harry has to clear his throat to get his voice out properly, “why are you apologizing?”

Louis tries to look away, but he can’t. “That wasn’t—I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

Hurt colors Harry’s expression, and he suddenly pulls his knees to his chest, curls in on himself as though he wants to be smaller. Louis’ first instinct is to reach out and comfort the younger boy, but he stops himself because he did this. He’s the one who fucked it up and he has no right.

“Okay,” Harry begins, voice breaking slightly, “I understand, if you don’t—that you don’t feel the same. But you don’t have to apologize, I’m an idiot for assuming.”

And no. No. That’s not what Louis meant, he’s apologizing for losing control like he just did. Of course he feels the same, he’s been in love with Harry for so long now, rushes to tell the younger boy this. “Harry, Hazza, no. I didn’t mean—that’s not—”

But Harry isn’t listening to him anymore, backed up against the other end of Louis’ sofa with one foot already on the floor. He almost looks ashamed, and Louis hates himself a little more for making Harry feel like this. “I’m sorry for springing that up on you. You’re an alpha, of course you’d react that way at first. I wasn’t thinking.” He gets up slowly, and Louis can see how he’s shaking. “I’m just. I’ll go now, I’m sorry.”

“Harry, no, wait—” Louis reaches for him, but Harry backs away from his touch. He spares Louis one glance and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before he’s walking out of the living room, trying not to trip over himself.

Louis sits there on his couch for a long time after, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in his ears.


“I fucked up.”

Liam unhelpfully pats him on the head in response. At least, Louis thinks it’s Liam. He’s got his head buried in his arms so he can’t really see, but the touch is heavy so he doesn’t think it’s Zayn.

“You should’ve gone after him, you fucking idiot.” Now that’s Zayn.

Louis looks up, knocking the hand on his head away, and tries his best to level a glare at Zayn. “And tell him what, exactly?”

“That it’s fucking mutual.”

“I don’t—it’s not that simple, Zayn,” Louis argues.

“Of course it is,” Liam pipes in, finally, “Harry likes you, you like Harry. What’s so complicated about that?”

“You don’t understand,” Louis turns to Liam, eyes a bit pleading. “I have to make sure that Harry actually likes me for me, and not just because I’m an alpha and he’s close to me, and now that he knows he’s an omega he feels like he’s obligated to be with me and—”

“Wow,” Liam cuts him off, eyes moving to Zayn for a second before they’re back on Louis, “Zayn’s right. You are an idiot.”

Louis groans and kicks them both out of his room.




Harry isn’t feeling too well. It’s been two days since Louis kissed him before pushing him away, and he’s still not sure what to do about it. He’s been in his room most of the time since, watching movies on his laptop by himself or sleeping with his nose pressed against the sheets. It smells like Louis, for some reason. Everything smells like Louis.

He keeps hearing Louis’ words in his head, I wasn’t supposed to do that playing on a loop, and he hates how stupid it makes him feel. He honestly thought there was a possibility that Louis felt the same about him, especially since the incident at Niall’s—Harry was pretty sure he could smell Louis reacting to him, as embarrassing as it was for Harry to get all hot and bothered over a stupid sex scene in a horror film of all things. In his defense, though, he’d been on edge and tense around Louis since the night he came while thinking about the alpha, and he just happened to be easily aroused, especially pressed that close to Louis.

But apparently, those were just Louis’ natural urges. Of course it doesn’t mean he’s romantically interested in Harry. How stupid of Harry to assume.

Gemma comes knocking on his door, and Harry forces himself to sit up from where he’s been lying on his side, picking on the sheets. She offers him a small smile, like she’s asking permission, and Harry nods once, wordlessly saying that she can come in.

“You’ve been locked in there for the last two days,” Gemma says, pushing the door open a bit wider. “I was thinking of maybe having a movie night? Just you and me, like old times?”

Harry doesn’t point out that all he’s been doing these last two days is watch movies, because he can really use the company right now. He smiles a little in agreement and Gemma’s face splits into a grin.

“Great! I’ll just go get some ice cream, go choose a movie!”

Harry’s got Rise of the Guardians paused on his media player by the time Gemma comes running back in, practically jumping onto the bed and plopping down beside Harry. She’s holding a tub of chocolate fudge and two spoons, and Harry gratefully takes one from her.

They eat and watch the movie in silence for a few minutes. Once Pitch makes his appearance, though, Gemma nudges Harry on the shoulder and says, “So, what’s been bothering you baby bro?”

Harry bites his lip, shrugging. He’s not really sure whether he’s ready to share what’s happened, but then again, maybe letting it out and opening up to someone he trusts would help him move on. He sets the laptop down onto the bed, pausing the movie and digging his spoon into the ice cream. Gemma sets the tub aside, patiently waiting for him to speak.

Harry takes a deep breath. Might as well be completely honest and direct to the point about this, then. “I—I told Louis that I had feelings for him.”

Gemma blinks, face suggesting that she’s not really expecting that, but at the same time she’s not really all that surprised. Maybe Harry isn’t all that good in hiding his feelings, or maybe Gemma just knows him well.

Louis also knows him well, Harry can’t help but think. What if Louis’ known all along and was just feeling bad, so he didn’t say anything to Harry?

No, Harry thinks to himself, shaking his head. No use thinking about it now. What’s done is done.

Exhaling shakily, Harry turns back to his sister. “He doesn’t feel the same about me.”

Now Gemma looks surprised. “What? Really?”

Harry nods, pulling his knees up to his chest and shrugging. “Well, he kissed me at first, but then… but then he pushed me away after a while and said he shouldn’t have done that. I think that’s a clear rejection.”

Gemma’s expression darkens, brows meeting in the middle and lips setting into a frown. “That doesn’t… that doesn’t sound quite right.” Her face turns a little murderous. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No, Gems,” Harry says, touching Gemma’s arm. “It’s—you don’t have to do anything. Can we just not talk about it?” Gemma looks like she’s going to argue, so Harry quickly adds, “Please? I just, I want to stop thinking about it for a while.”

Gemma closes her mouth and looks at him for a few seconds, before she sighs and tugs Harry into a hug. “Okay. But Louis’ a right dick for doing that to you. He’s on my hit list right now.”

Harry chuckles weakly, clutching onto his sister. “Yeah, okay. Can we continue watching the movie and eating the ice cream now?”

“Of course,” Gemma says, squeezing him once before they settle back into their previous positions.


Harry finally goes out of the house the following day. Locking himself up in his room and feeling sorry for himself isn’t at all healthy, and he’s determined not to let this affect him more than it should. He’s still not sure if he can face Louis just yet though, feeling embarrassed and a bit angry and just mostly hurt by the rejection, so he peeks out of their living room window to make sure the coast is clear before he shoves his beanie over his head and steps out into their front yard, head ducked down.

He’s out of their front gate when he hears the call behind him.


Freezing for a second, Harry screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, before forcing his feet to move. His steps feel heavy, and he can hear footsteps behind him, too, running slightly to catch up to him. He ignores the thudding in his chest and shoves his hands inside the pockets of his baggy trousers, clenching them into fists. He wills himself to walk faster, but it’s like he doesn’t have full control over his own body, and then Louis is there, flushed and panting slightly, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

Harry doesn’t look at him for too long, turns his eyes back onto the sidewalk and stares at his shoes.

He can almost sense Louis’ hesitance, and Harry feels so fucked up, the omega in him telling him that he has no right to treat an alpha this way. His own feelings are stronger, however, so he stands his ground, refuses to give in and grovel for forgiveness because he’s still hurt. There’s a pain in his chest that’s too much for him to just ignore and forget about.

“Harry,” Louis says, finally, laying a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. For a second, something in Harry preens at the touch, perhaps after being deprived of contact from the alpha for days, but then he snaps back into himself and he flinches away. He gets a quick look at Louis’ face in the process, sees the hurt there, and Harry doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand why Louis looks like this when it’s Harry’s heart that’s been broken.

“I don’t,” Harry’s voice cracks and he pauses, clears his throat and tries again, “I don’t really want to talk to you right now.”

“Please,” Louis pleads, and it’s all so wrong, an alpha pleading for an omega to listen to him. A voice in Harry’s head tells him to just give in, listen to what Louis has to say, to stop going against his instincts, but. But. “I need to explain. Back there, when I kissed you and told you I shouldn’t have done that, I didn’t mean it like you thought. You didn’t understand.”

Harry frowns at that, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he can wrap his arms around himself instead. He doesn’t want to do this here, not right now. “Louis, can we not do this right now?” he says, though he can hear his voice faltering, can hear his own hesitation and the slight fear that comes with the difference of their sex. What if Louis uses his voice? “I just—please? I don’t think I can talk to you just yet.”

Louis looks like he’s going to push some more, get Harry to talk to him, but he must see something on Harry’s face because he snaps his mouth shut and just. Nods. Deflates.

Harry takes a proper look at him now, and he doesn’t understand why Louis looks like this, like he hasn’t been sleeping properly either.

It’s like they’re both just as affected by what happened, and Harry doesn’t get it.

He isn’t sure he wants to find out, either, at least not right now. Smiling tightly, he takes a step away from Louis and, with a murmured “I have to go now,” he walks away, leaving the older boy standing in the middle of the sidewalk looking after his retreating back.

It’s like Harry can feel Louis’ eyes still on him, even when he’s reached the park and sat down under one of the trees, burying his head in his hands and feeling more confused than ever.




“Don’t look now,” Zayn says from where he’s looking out of Louis’ bedroom window, “but Gemma is coming over at this very moment and she doesn’t look too happy.”

Louis’ head snaps up from where he’s lighting a cigarette, and he hurries over to the window, just in time to catch Gemma stepping onto their front porch before she’s out of view. He takes the cigarette out from between his lips and gives it to Zayn, who pats him on the shoulder in good luck. Seconds later, the doorbell rings, and Louis closes his eyes, says, “Shit.”

“I thought you talked to Harry yesterday?”

“He didn’t want to,” Louis says, a bit miserably, and the doorbell rings again.

“You better answer that, mate.”

Louis reluctantly walks out of his room, glancing at Zayn over his shoulder. Zayn makes a sympathetic face and makes waving motions with his hand, urging Louis on. Taking a deep breath, Louis goes down the stairs and hears the doorbell ring once more, and he’s glad that his sisters are out at the local mall with their mum today since he doesn’t really want them to see or hear whatever’s going to happen next.

He opens the door, finally, to an angry-looking Gemma.

She opens her mouth to probably yell, but then she takes a look at him and seems to think better of it. One of her eyebrows lifts up and her eyes move up and down to take Louis in, and then she’s saying, “You look like shit.”

Louis shrugs. “Do you want to maybe come in?”

Gemma bumps him on the shoulder, probably on purpose, on her way in. Louis winces at the impact and closes the door, before turning around and finding Gemma standing there with her arms crossed, looking stern. “Listen. You hurt my baby brother.”

And it just hurts. Knowing that he’s hurt Harry, that he caused him pain even though that’s the one thing he swore himself he’ll never do, it makes Louis feel fucking awful. He hangs his head down, says, “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt him,” Gemma repeats, skeptical.

At that, Louis looks up sharply. “You know just as well as anyone else that I’d never, never, hurt Harry on purpose. You know that, Gemma.”

Gemma stares at him for a long while, and Louis holds her gaze the entire time. The suggestion that he’d hurt Harry on purpose, even the mere idea of it, has a part of Louis shaking angrily. He’d never, not intentionally. Harry is very important to him.

Finally, Gemma speaks, “I know that, Louis. I know you care about my brother. I know you’ve taken it upon yourself to look after him, especially now that he knows he’s an omega. And,” her voice softens, just slightly, but it’s enough for Louis to pick up on, “I know that you’re in love with him.”

Louis takes in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything.

“Which is why,” Gemma continues, voice taking on a firmer tone once more, “I don’t understand why you had to push him away.”

“It’s not—it isn’t that simple,” Louis argues, the same thing he’s been telling himself and Zayn and Liam and everyone else, “I can’t just—”

“You can’t just what, Louis?” Gemma asks, but this time the question doesn’t come out as sharp. She sounds curious, as well, and just a tad bit confused. “You can’t just go and tell Harry that you’re in love with him, when he basically told you that he is, too? You can’t just be together, when it’s so obvious that you both want to?”

And the thing is, Louis’ resolve has been crumbling, slowly but surely, these last few days that he’s been out of touch with Harry. Right now, he doesn’t fully believe himself either when he says he’s just doing this for Harry, because it just ended with Harry hurting and Louis hurting and everyone around them either confused or angry or just as tired as Louis feels.

“Talk to him,” Gemma says, snapping Louis out of his thoughts, “go talk to Harry. Fix this.”

“I tried talking to him yesterday,” Louis says, “but he didn’t want to.”

“So you’re just going to stop trying, then? You’re just going to give up? That’s it?” Gemma pauses, and when Louis doesn’t respond she says, “Listen, Louis. Harry likes you. A lot. He hasn’t told me specifically that he’s in love with you, but I know he is. And I know you really love him, too. You’re good for each other, and instead of this dumb situation you two are currently in, you could be happily together instead. So try again, go and talk it out. Things haven’t been quite right since you two stopped talking to each other, and frankly, it’s all very fucking weird.”

Louis manages a weak laugh at that, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. He leans against the nearest wall, tilting his head up and staring at the ceiling. It’s only been five days, and yet it feels like it’s been forever since he and Harry were sitting on his couch, playing FIFA.

“What are you so afraid of?” Gemma asks after a while, voice quiet now.

Louis keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he shrugs. “Right now? I’m not entirely sure, either.”


Louis finds Harry in the park the following day. He’s sitting alone by the side of the lake, and Louis watches him for a moment, unsure.

sHarry must have sensed his presence somehow, because he suddenly turns his head and catches sight of Louis.

He looks so small, sitting there on the grass with his arms wrapped around his legs, knees tucked under his chin, and Louis wants to touch, to reach out and pull the younger boy into his arms and stroke his hair and tell him that it’s okay, that he’s sorry, that they’re okay.

Harry breaks eye contact first, turning his gaze back to the lake and acknowledging Louis with nothing more than a small, weak “hello.” Louis approaches slowly, waiting for a few seconds to see whether Harry will say anything more.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk to you just yet,” Harry says after a while.

Louis sits down on the grass as well, stretching his legs in front of him. “That’s alright. But maybe you could, I don’t know, listen to me? Because it really was a misunderstanding, and you kinda ran away from me before I could explain myself, and. Well. I’m not going to lie.” He chuckles, no humor behind it. “I’ve been feeling like utter shit since.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, but he stays seated where he is, anyway. Louis takes that as a good sign and goes on.

“So. I’m an idiot. Zayn thinks so, at least. Both Liam and Gemma seem to agree, so I guess I am one. I should’ve gone after you when you left after we—after I, um. Kissed you. But I didn’t because I didn’t know how to explain everything to you. To be quite honest I still don’t know how to explain everything to you right now, but I’m willing to try because I really miss you so fucking much.” He pauses for a second, glances at Harry and sees a light flush on the younger boy’s cheeks. He can’t keep looking at him, though, can’t get his thoughts in order when Harry’s too close, so he looks back in front of him and stares at his shoes instead.

“Listen, Harry. When I told you I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not because of what you think. I’m actually in—I like you, Harry.” He hears a sharp, sudden intake of breath from beside him at that, but he doesn’t look, not yet, just crosses his legs and plucks a blade of grass from the ground, tearing it to shreds. “I like you a lot. And I kissed you because I wanted to, but. It was a bit scary for me, you know? I lost my self-control for a few minutes there, and I don’t—I was scared that I was going to hurt you, or… or do something worse that we’re both not ready for.”

Harry’s still not saying anything, but Louis can feel the younger boy’s eyes on him now. He continues, “To be honest, I’ve liked you for a while now. Like, a really long while. I guess I’m kinda in love with you, to be completely honest?” He chuckles, shaking his head, and if he strained his ears hard enough he thinks he can hear the way Harry’s heart is pounding against his chest quickly. Something in the air shifts, but Louis ignores it for now, pressing on, “And I’ll take you not running away right now as a good sign. So, um—”

“I don’t understand,” Harry says, finally, and Louis’ head snaps to the side quickly. Harry looks confused, so adorably confused, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes, too, and Louis holds onto that.

“I was an idiot, Harry,” he says, “I kept telling myself that I wouldn’t ever force myself on you, because if I told you about how I felt you might just feel obligated to me since I’m an alpha. So that’s why I told you I shouldn’t have done that, because, because...” he trails off, not sure how to finish.

Harry doesn’t say anything, and Louis just keeps looking at him, waiting for him to speak. Finally, Harry blinks, and, shaking his head he says, “You’re an idiot.”

Louis tries for a smile. “Join the club.”

“I’m—I told you I like you. I told you I have feelings for you,” Harry says, and he looks overwhelmed and confused, like he’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel.

“And that should’ve been enough, yes,” Louis says. “But like I said, I got scared. I lost control for a bit, and I—I never want to hurt you, Harry.”

Harry blinks rapidly, as though he’s having a bit of a hard time processing all of this. “I… I trust you, Louis. I know you’d never hurt me, or take advantage of me.”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles faintly, “but I’m not sure if I trust myself. Or, the alpha in me, more specifically.”

“I want to try,” Harry says, sounding sure. “Louis, I want to try to be with you.”

“I want that, too,” Louis admits quietly, “I really want that, too.”

“Then stop being an idiot about this,” Harry says, “because I’ve been miserable these last few days, and I miss you so fucking much and everything’s been really weird so just—please.”

Louis looks at the younger boy, takes in the way his face seems so open and sincere and hopeful, and Louis just. He doesn’t want to deny himself anymore, either, tired of holding back. So he says, voice soft and only meant for Harry to hear, “Okay.”

Harry’s face lights up, and Louis’ chest clenches at the sight. “Yeah?”


Harry moves as though he’s going to hug Louis, but then he hesitates. Louis just smiles and opens his arms up, and Harry’s there in a second, clinging onto him tightly. Louis hugs back just as tight, and it’s only then that it hits him how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed Harry.

“We’re going to be okay, yeah?” Harry murmurs, and Louis smiles, presses a kiss on top of the younger boy’s head.

“Okay, yeah.”




Harry is sad, like that one Lana Del Rey song that he’s heard Gemma play over and over in her room a few months ago.

Summer break is coming to a close and in a week Louis is going to have to go away for his first year of university. Harry knows this, of course, since he’s the one who helped Louis pick a university to apply to months and months ago, since he’s the one who talked Louis into taking drama and literature when the older boy had doubts about whether he’d be good at it, since he’s the first one Louis called when he got the letter saying he made it in. But in the middle of, well, everything that happened, it kinda slipped from Harry’s mind, and it’s like someone’s poured a bucket of water over him when Louis mentions university while they’re cuddling one night in Harry’s room.

Blinking, Harry pushes up from where he’s curled against Louis’ side and says, “That’s in a week?”

“Well, five days, actually, since I need to go check out my dorm.” Louis frowns. “I kinda forgot about it, to be honest. Didn’t really realize I’m set off to go to uni until mum told me my dorm application’s been approved the other night.”

“You forgot about going to uni,” Harry says flatly.

Louis smiles sheepishly. “I was thinking about stuff! Like making sure you’re okay and—” he cuts himself off, sitting up straight so suddenly as though he’s just realized something. “Wait. I’ll be far away from you.”

Harry nods, a bit sadly. “Well. I’ll be starting Sixth Form, so I guess I’ll be busy, too.”

“But what if people at school bother you?” Louis asks, though the question isn’t really directed at Harry. It’s more of a question for himself, really. “I wouldn’t be there to make sure you’re fine.”

“You’re not obligated to protect me,” Harry says, though a part of him is glad that Louis genuinely worries about him that much.

“I’m your alpha,” Louis says absentmindedly, and Harry flushes at that, pleased. Louis seems to realize what he’s just said a second later because he chuckles a bit nervously, and adds, “Well. Not officially, I mean.”

Harry nuzzles his flushed face against Louis’ neck, presses a kiss to his pulse point. “I want that, you know.”

“Harry, you’re 16 and I’m 18. We’re too young—”

“Not right now,” Harry clarifies, “but someday, yeah? I, uh, have a strong feeling that we’re going to work out in the long run, you and me.”

Louis’ fingers tug on the back of his head, making him look up. Louis smiles at him, soft and fond as though saying, “Yeah, I feel the same,” before he ducks his head down and claims Harry’s lips in a kiss. Harry sighs, melting into it, easily opening up to the touch of Louis’ tongue. He moans softly when Louis licks into his mouth, feels the gentle touch of Louis’ hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing gently underneath his eye.

Harry tilts his head back, an invitation for Louis to deepen the kiss, and Louis complies, pulling back for a second to bite on Harry’s lower lip before surging back in, kissing Harry harder. Harry makes a soft noise in his throat, and he twists his neck further up, craving more of Louis’ lips. The angle is a bit uncomfortable, however, and after a moment he pulls back, laying down on his back and tugging Louis along with him.

Louis hesitates for a moment, but then he follows Harry down, hovering half on top of him and waiting for a second. Harry watches Louis watching him, heart hammering in his chest. Louis’ so close to him he can feel every breath the older boy lets out against his skin, can almost taste it on his tongue, and—and they haven’t done anything sexual at all, haven’t gone past more than a heated snog (though they’ve both sheepishly admitted to each other that they’ve gotten off to thoughts of the other a few times before), but right now there’s something thrumming in Harry’s veins, something that’s making his skin heat up with want.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that, in a week, Louis will be in a different city and he won’t be seeing him regularly anymore, or maybe it’s something else, more of a basic, almost primal need. Whatever it is exactly, though, Harry can’t contain the part of him that craves for an alpha’s touch—craves for his alpha’s touch. He just wants Louis so much, right now.

Louis lays a hand on his chest, right where Harry’s heart is, and says, “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Harry can feel it, too, can feel the way it stutters when Louis’ fingers brush over his skin through the fabric of his shirt, and he whispers, “Please,” before he can think it through.

And then Louis’ kissing him again, and it’s more heated this time, loaded with more purpose. A part of Harry purrs happily, and he gives up all control, just surrenders himself to the feeling of Louis’ mouth over his, Louis’ fingers wrapping around his wrist and pinning his hand on the bed right beside Harry’s head. He can smell Louis, too, the older boy’s scent strong and maddening, tea and damp grass and mint and cigarettes, making Harry feel pleasantly dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. He wonders if his own scent is getting stronger as well, if Louis is finding it just as addictive.

Louis breaks the kiss after a moment, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. His eyes seem darker, and Harry shudders when he looks into them. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out even before Louis can finish the question, “yeah, I want to. I want you, Louis. I really do.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, and his thumb brushes over the skin on the inside of Harry’s wrist, gentle even in the heat of the moment. Just like that, Harry knows that Louis’ going to take care of him, no matter what.

He makes sure to meet Louis’ eyes when he says, voice as steady as possible, “Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Louis smiles and kisses Harry on the nose, before he attaches his lips to Harry’s neck. Harry gasps, throwing his head back against the pillows to give Louis more access. He can feel Louis giving small bites to his neck, grazing the skin with his sharp little teeth, and Harry nearly stops breathing when Louis’ mouth pauses over the spot where Harry’s neck and shoulder meet, right where his mate would someday mark him, bond with him.

He feels Louis brush his nose over the spot, before he presses a soft kiss over it, like a promise of one day. Harry can definitely wait.

Louis kisses over Harry’s throat next, mouths at the hollow between his collarbones, and Harry shudders. Louis’ fingers sneak under his shirt, grazing heated skin, and Harry makes a soft sound in a silent request for more. Louis kisses the corner of his mouth in response, pushing his shirt up until it’s bunched under his armpits and his chest is on display.

“Baby,” Louis murmurs against his skin, laying butterfly kisses over his skin, before he’s pausing to swirl his tongue around one of Harry’s nipples.

Harry moans, Louis continuing to lick over the hardening bud, his hand coming up to play with the other one. Tiny sparks of pleasure are shooting up Harry’s spine, his fingertips tingling, and oh, oh, he’s starting to get wet.

He whimpers at the realization, spreading his legs subconsciously so that Louis fits between them, slotting together perfectly. That just makes him moan. Oh god, he’s getting wet all because he’s getting his nipples played with. Part of Harry finds it embarrassing, but mostly it’s just hot, his arse throbbing.

“Louis,” he whimpers, hands tugging frantically at the alpha’s shirt, “Lou, wanna—please—wanna feel you—”

Louis gives his nipple one final lick before pulling back and tugging his shirt over his head, tossing it aside carelessly. Harry openly stares at Louis’ chest, fingers itching to touch the golden stretch of skin in front of him. Before he can do anything, however, Louis’ pulling his shirt off all the way, too, and Harry just lifts his arms, lets Louis do the work for him.

Once they’re both shirtless Louis lays back down on top of him, and Harry shivers pleasantly at the feeling of skin against skin. Louis’ lips find his once more, and Harry wraps his legs around the older boy’s hips, needing friction. His cock’s throbbing in his sweats and he’s getting wetter and wetter with every passing minute, aching to feel Louis inside, and it’s all driving him mad.

Louis grinds down on him, suddenly, and Harry throws his head back at the feeling of Louis thick and hard against him. Something inside him keens, craves even more to feel Louis everywhere, and god, he’s leaking now, he’s so, so wet.

He grinds back up against Louis, planting his feet flat on the bed so he has more leverage to thrust his hips up, but then Louis’ hands are there, pinning him back down on the mattress. The natural, submissive part of Harry makes a pleased sound at that, and then Louis’ fucking his own hips down, rubbing off against Harry.

“Do you like that?” Louis asks, panting just slightly, and Harry isn’t sure if it’s an actual question or not but he nods anyway, wishing there were less layers between them.

As though Louis’ read his mind, the older boy pulls back and tugs Harry’s sweats off, only struggling a little in the process. Harry lays there, naked and flushed down to his chest, cock hard against his tummy and getting slick on his sheets.

He must smell good, because Louis inhales deeply and moans, eyes getting darker. Harry’s cock blurts precome onto his stomach, and it’s a bit embarrassing how affected he already is, but Louis’ looking at him with dark eyes and pure want so the embarrassment quickly goes away.

“Baby, are you…” Louis doesn’t finish his own sentence, instead just moves his hand right below Harry’s balls, touching the slick skin around his rim. Harry makes a high noise in his throat at the sudden contact and Louis groans, sneaking his fingers lower until he’s touching Harry’s hole, already dripping. Harry would’ve been embarrassed if Louis weren’t looking at him like that, like he wants to make Harry fall apart piece by piece. “You’re so wet, baby, fuck.”

Heat creeps onto Harry’s cheeks, and he can feel himself clenching on nothing. He wants to feel something inside, wants Louis to finger him open and then fill him up with his cock after. He chokes on a breath at the thought and he pushes his hips down against Louis’ fingers, embarrassment fading away as the want takes over him completely. “Please, Louis. I need you, I need—”

“Shh,” Louis hushes, “I know what you need, babe.” And then he’s nudging his finger in, making Harry choke on another breath. It slides in easily enough due to how wet Harry is, and Louis groans lowly, says, “You feel so hot, fuck, Harry.”

Harry clenches around the single digit inside him, and then Louis’ dragging it back out completely, tracing around Harry’s rim with the tip for a few seconds before pushing back in. He repeats this a couple of times, movements slow, before he’s adding another finger in. He crooks them once inside, as though searching for something, and Harry’s fists clench on the sheets, cock blurting more precome onto his stomach. He’s dripping by now, he can tell, can hear the slick sounds of Louis’ fingers working into him, scissoring him open. It sounds so obscene and Harry blushes, face hot.

He nearly screams when Louis’ fingers rub over a spot inside him, the spot he couldn’t reach by himself when he first put his fingers up his own arse. His cock dribbles more precome, adding to the mess on his lower stomach. Louis makes a sound that’s something like a low growl as he rubs over the spot some more, Harry clenching around his fingers tightly. “Oh, oh—Louis, right there, more—please.”

Louis crawls up a bit, keeping his fingers over Harry’s prostate. He brushes Harry’s hair off his sweaty forehead and presses a kiss there. Harry lets out a small cry when Louis squeezes in a third finger, stretching him further, and Harry can’t take it, he can’t, he just needs more, needs Louis, needs his alpha to—

“Hush, babe, shh,” Louis says, soothing, stroking his free hand up and down Harry’s side. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” Harry cries, shifting his hips, wanting more of Louis inside, needing to feel him, feel his cock, feel his knot stretching him open. “Louis, fuck me please. I need you in me.”

“Harry,” Louis says, and he sounds a bit strained, teeth clenched slightly, “I’m here, okay, darling? I’ve got you. Just—just give me a minute.”

He pulls his fingers out and Harry whines, feeling empty and needy, dripping and in need of something to fill him up. He watches Louis unbutton his jeans, finally, and it feels like decades pass before Louis manages to take them off.

Harry’s mouth waters when he sees the outline of Louis’ cock in his boxer shorts, hard and thick, and he wants it inside his mouth, too, wants to feel the heavy weight of it on his tongue, stretching his lips wide and nudging the back of his throat—but that can wait another time, because right now, Harry just needs Louis to fill him up, wants to feel his knot in his arse.

Louis tucks his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and then he’s pulling them down, Harry actually whimpering out loud when he sees Louis’ bare cock, stiff against his stomach and flushed red. He can’t wait, can’t wait to feel it stretching him, stretching him open and making him feel full.

“Do you have lube, love?” Louis asks, stroking his cock a few times.

Harry shakes his head, curls flying wildly, before he’s biting his lip and reaching down between his own legs. He gasps, feeling how wet he is with his own fingers.  God, he’s dripping so much, he’s making such a mess on his sheets.

“I don’t need—m’wet enough, please.” He spreads his legs wider, bends his knees and plants his feet on the mattress so that he’s open, all for Louis to take.

Louis groans like he’s torn, and in the end the part of him that craves for touch wins because he shoves his fingers back inside Harry. Harry gasps, pushing down onto Louis’ fingers, and then Louis’ pulling back out. He tries to coat his cock with Harry’s slick, giving himself a few tugs.

Harry holds his breath when Louis finally positions himself, pressing the head of his cock against Harry’s entrance. He teases for a short moment, rubbing his cockhead up and down Harry’s crack. Harry whines when it catches on his rim, and Louis gives a strained chuckle before he’s pressing forward and—and.

Harry can’t breathe. He feels like his lungs are too full, feels like there’s too much air and not enough all at once as Louis pushes the head inside. Once it’s in the rest of his shaft slides in easily, aided by Harry’s slick, and Harry feels so full, stretched like he’s never been before. He stares wide-eyed at the ceiling as Louis pushes all the way in, feels the older boy’s hips press against his own, and it’s so good, Louis’ cock feels so hot inside of him—

“Fuck,” Louis grunts, leaning on his hands on either side of Harry’s torso, “you feel so—fuck—you’re so tight. So hot.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, overwhelmed but also needing more, “move, please, I need—” He’s cut off when Louis pulls his hips back about halfway, before pushing back in slowly. The drag of his cock inside feels so good, and there’s a small ache, a burn accompanying it that just adds to the sensation.

“This okay?” Louis asks, panting, hips moving steadily. Harry can only nod, words failing him at the moment as Louis fucks into him. He wants it faster, though, needs it harder, but he can’t find his voice, too choked up on the feeling to actually form words. So instead he just lifts his hips and shoves them downward, fucks back against Louis, fucks himself on his alpha’s cock and then clenches tight.

Louis curses, chest grumbling with a low growl, and then he’s pulling out almost all the way, just until the head remains inside. He shoves back in hard, Harry throwing his head back against the pillows and exposing his neck. Louis bends down, gripping the back of Harry’s knees and pushing them up slightly as he latches onto the skin of Harry’s neck with tongue and teeth, sucking bruises into his skin.

Louis keeps his pace slow but hard, Harry holding his breath on every pull out, anticipating the push back in. He feels so stretched, split open around Louis’ thick cock, and he can hear the way it sounds every time Louis fucks in, wet and obscene in the silence of the room. They’re both breathing heavily, Harry whimpering on every push in, and then the head of Louis’ cock is suddenly pushing against that spot inside him.

Harry cries out loud, pleasure shooting up his spine and making his toes curl, cock blurting precome and making a mess on his stomach. “There, Lou—right there, fuck me right there, please.”

Louis kisses his throat, adjusting his grip on Harry’s knees, and then he’s changing his thrusts into quick, shallow ones, keeping the angle. Harry wails as his prostate gets nailed, and he wraps his arms around Louis, digging his nails into the alpha’s back and clawing down when Louis shoves in even harder.

Louis hisses at the sting of Harry’s nails on his skin, but other than that he doesn’t complain, simply fucks in faster, Harry clenching around him every few thrusts. Harry’s cock is trapped between them, smearing precome all over their stomachs, and the rough friction adds more to the pleasure. Heat twists in Harry’s stomach, clenching low in his gut, and it’s so good, everything is so good—

Suddenly Louis’ pulling back, pulling out, and Harry clenches on nothing. He whines, reaching out weakly for Louis, but the older boy just shakes his head and flips Harry onto his side. Louis then lies down behind him, propping one of Harry’s legs up and guiding his cock back inside Harry with his other hand. Harry reaches down between them, taking Louis’ cock in his own hand and whimpering happily at the pleasured hiss Louis lets out. He presses Louis’ cock against his entrance, then, before he pushes his hips back, taking Louis back inside.

The stretch feels just as amazing, and Harry whines once Louis’ fully inside again. Louis keeps his leg propped up, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, and then he’s moving again, fucking up into Harry short and quick. He finds Harry’s prostate easier this time, aims at it with his cock, and Harry can do nothing but take it, the heat in his gut building up slowly another time.

His own cock slaps against his stomach, and Louis presses his lips against the shell of Harry’s ear, murmurs, “Touch yourself for me, love.”

Harry whines, wrapping a shaky hand around himself and moaning at the sudden contact. He tries to tug himself in time with Louis’ thrusts, squeezing himself at the base and twisting his hand around the head. Louis’ whispering in his ear but Harry can’t make out any words, too caught up with the pleasure of it all to think. The sound of Louis’ voice is enough for him, though, and he finds himself getting closer and closer to the edge, clenching around Louis tighter until the older boy is cursing right into his ear.

Louis’ hand suddenly joins his around his cock, and then Harry’s gone just as Louis tugs and shoves his hips in, hitting Harry’s prostate dead-on. He comes all over their hands and stomach, nearly screaming at how good it feels, and then Louis’ fucking into him erratically, hips rabbiting until he shoves in deep and stays there.

Harry almost gets hard again at the feeling of Louis spilling inside him, warming him from the inside and making him feel stickier than he already was. He whimpers at the feeling of Louis’ knot swelling inside him, locking them together and making him feel so, so full. Louis bucks his hips against Harry’s arse a couple more times, riding out his orgasm, before he’s tugging Harry closer and kissing behind his ear, murmuring soothing words to him.

They stay like that for minutes after, Harry clenching every now and then around Louis’ knot. He feels so full, sated, and he sighs happily as he snuggles back against his alpha. Louis has an arm wrapped around his waist, the other one stroking Harry’s hair away from his sweaty forehead.

Harry’s just starting to drift into sleep when he hears Louis say, “I’ll be coming back home every week. I’ll make sure to visit you as much as I can, and I’ll call everyday.”

Harry smiles at that, putting a hand on top of Louis’ by his waist, and murmurs sleepily, “Okay. We’ll be okay.”

The last thing he remembers before falling asleep is the feeling of Louis smiling against the back of his neck, and Harry knows that they’ll be alright.