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“Again?” Zayn asks, leaning on the couch cooly as the tv mutters nonsense in the kitchen, creating a comforting buzz throughout the otherwise oddly silent house.

“We just went there last week.”

Harry rolls his eyes, sipping up another gulp of blood before answering.

“And we’ll go there tonight as well,” Harry says, relishing in the way he’s already feeling stronger, his grip tightening against the cup. He won’t admit to having starved himself this past week, longing for a neck to bite into, a body to curl over possessively as he drinks. Admitting that would mean giving into the intrusive thoughts in his mind that tell him it’s not just any body he wants, just one. A short, curvy silhouette that has plagued his mind relentlessly as of late. And that is just unthinkable.

“Come on, indulge me, Zayn,” he whines, loving the way his maker only gets more exasperated, the years he has over Harry showing clearly in the way he acts like an old man. He also oddly looks like a fond father when he gives in to Harry’s sorry eyes, an art he has cultivated dearly throughout his life.

“Fine, but we leave straight after you’re done with Louis,” Zayn orders, adding a soft kick to Harry’s side as if to emphasize his already apparent hate for Harry’s  plans.

Harry’s about to kick him back when he fully takes in what Zayn has implied. There is just no way Harry’s going there because of Louis, the sexy vampire hunter he’s slept with a couple of times this month. Sure, Harry does like the dangerous aspect of it, the idea of doing completely the opposite of what they’re meant to, getting closer when they should be avoiding each other. It’s 2016 and all, vampire hunting having significantly gone down in the past few years and Louis himself having only actually hunted two really dangerous (to humans) vampires, but it is still daringly uncommon. And yet, Harry swears that’s not it at all, that he hasn’t been hung up since that night when Louis did try and hunt him only to end up blowing him in his car later.

“I never said anything about Louis!” He protests, hating the way it sounds so fake even to him.

“Yeah, sure.” Zayn waves him off, getting up and zipping up to his room, the soft click of his bedroom door following his words.

“Fuck you,” Harry grumbles anyways, trying not to smile at Zayn’s chuckle.

It’s so painfully obvious he can’t even fool himself.

*

The thumping music is almost too much for Harry’s sensitive ears, every bass line digging into his skull as he gently nudges Zayn, both of them heading for the VIP booths at the end. Zayn’s permanent fling, Liam, owns this club, so when they get there, a spacious table is waiting for them, champagne and vodka chilling in the center ice bucket. Zayn immediately plops down and motions for a server, Harry  doesn’t need to hear how he orders for Liam to be informed they’re here. It’s not like they’re not expected, with how much they’ve been here lately, but Harry’s learned not to comment on Liam and Zayn’s relationship a long time ago.

Eyes scanning over the crowd, Harry pauses only long enough to drop his coat, leaving for the bar and ignoring Zayn’s knowing looks. A vodka soda is in his hand before he even reaches the counter, and he slips a bill into Ed’s hands, ever thankful for the service. Turning around, he takes a sip but doesn’t bother sitting. It would be useless, since Harry’s eyes find what they’re searching in a minute.

Louis is already in the middle of the dance floor, his slender body moving to the rhythm, eyes shut, hips swinging. He’s in his own little world even when Harry knows he really isn’t, knows this is all an act, put on every night, just for the two of them. Neither is ready for the curtains to fall and the revealing lights to come on, though, so he stays put at the bar, takes in the whole scene that’s been made just for him.

The song changes then, but Louis doesn’t falter, puts up his hands and fist bumps in the stupidest way that really shouldn’t be attractive. His biceps catch the light, and Harry licks his lips unconsciously, trying not to remember how that soft skin tastes, how the delicious sound of his blood thumping roars in his ears, louder than any bass. It’s hard to stay put, and even harder not to practically salivate all over himself when Louis catches the champagne spray of a nearby group, his shirt begins to stick to his torso, revealing and so terribly teasing.

Harry’s snapped out of his mental debauchery when another vampire steps in front of Louis, his broad back covers the mouth watering sight. Annoyed, Harry steps closer, his instincts yelling at him to interfere, to mark Louis as rightfully his, but his mind keeps him back, the fear of overreacting and playing into something that may not be stilling his feet. He still watches though, fixes his stare on the way Louis doesn’t notice the other guy at first, presumably continues dancing behind him, enveloped in his own world of music and seducing. Harry’s about to mentally cheer and prepares himself to watch the guy run away when he sees Louis’s hands come up his neck, dainty finger circling the stranger’s nape.

It’s not to say that Harry sees red, exactly, but his muscles tense and he’s zooming up to them in a second, almost unaware of how quick he’s being until he’s standing in front of Louis and the guy, staring them down sternly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He all but snarls, fixing the other vampire a stare that has him stepping away from Louis and almost bowing to Harry.

“I”m sorry, I didn’t know he was taken,” by you the vampire doesn’t add, but the look in his eyes speaks of recognition, be it by the aura of age and power Harry carries or by his unusual, unwelcoming stance that only ever seems to come out around Louis.

“Just go,” Harry says, giving the guy one last look before focusing on a very pissed off Louis.

“What the hell, Harry?” Louis snarls, the crowds pushing against them so that he ends up saying it right to Harry’s face, his harsh breaths falling against pale skin.

“I was about to lure him back to my place,” he continues, clarifying once Harry raises his brow.

“To hunt him, idiot.”

Harry scoffs. “Oh please, you couldn’t harm that vampire if you tried , Louis.”

“Excuse me? Need I remind you that I come from a family of respected vampire hunters? I know what I’m doing.”

Harry laughs, circling his hands around Louis’s bicep and skillfully turning him around so that he’s guiding him from the back. Lowering his mouth to Louis’s ear, he continues their discussion.

“You clearly don’t, given how you’re screaming about hunting while surrounded by vampires.”

Louis barely falters, but lets himself be guided, albeit with more reluctance than deserved.

“You distracted me, that’s all,” he justifies himself, words dripping with a bitterness that Harry revels in.

“Funny, I seem to do that a lot lately,” Harry comments, finally reaching the secluded tables, unsurprised at Zayn’s disappearance. He would bet half his money on finding him in Liam’s office right now, and he would most surely win.

He doesn’t direct them to the table though, displeased at the idea of having Louis a whole table’s length  away. Instead, he crowds him against the wall beside it, smirking at how close Louis ends up once he turns him around. Their lips are but a breath away, and neither of them speak for a moment, stares fixed on lips and faces inching closer until Harry, of course, has to comment.

“Your heart is speeding up, love,” he says, living for the ashamed look that crosses Louis’s face before settling into defiance, the kind that Harry has been trying to bring out of him since he first caught a glance. Now, in the secluded corner and caged by Harry’s arms, he knows Louis is about to give it to him.

“That’s what usually happens when I’m hunting,” Louis retorts, his eyes meeting Harry’s with a challenging stare.

Harry hums, shifting so that his legs press against Louis’s, warmth seeping into his own chilly skin.

“Really? And who, do tell, are you hunting right now?”

The amused tilt to his words isn’t lost on Louis, who replies in the same manner, their little game getting interesting at last.

“Just this easy target,” Louis comments, words coming out as unaffected as if he were describing the weather.

“Old vampire, handsome face and green eyes, thinks he’s the shit when really, he’s falling for it so damn easily.”

There’s a grin plastered on Louis’s face as he says it, his whole face lit up because of it, and Harry wants to match it, feels like laughing at what he has just said. He can’t do that though, not when Louis has directly insulted him and they’re supposed to hate each other. A vampire has no right being delighted by a vampire hunter, no matter how adorable said hunter looks when he thinks he’s stumped him.

“I think your ego is a bit too large, babe,” Harry counteracts, closing in on Louis now that the music has somehow gotten louder. It leaves him speaking almost directly onto his mouth, lips a hair away from grazing as they form the words.

“As I see it, I‘ve got you trapped here.”

Louis takes a disdainful look at Harry’s arms and replies cooly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Harry shoots him a look, flexing his arms so that the underlying muscle shows through his impenetrable, pale skin.

Louis inches closer, the tip of his nose tickling Harry’s cheek as he turns his head and heads for the ear. If Harry’s heart was still beating, he bets it would be going nuts right now.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Louis says, his voice not a whisper due to the noise but private nonetheless, lips brushing against Harry’s ears, feeling every consonant tickle his ear.

Harry’s got a bad feeling about this, but he’s never been one to stop his curiosity, so he nods, feeling Louis’s stubble tickling his skin.

“I’m only here because I want to, babe,” Louis teases, repeating Harry’s term of endearment in an excessively slow syrupy voice. It’s obviously mocking, but it distracts Harry long enough to allow Louis to duck out of his arms and back into the club. Though this time, he doesn’t stop to  dance with a random guy. Instead, he powers through, turning around a couple times to make sure Harry’s following (which, duh, he is, since he didn’t come here for nothing).

Frustrated, and more than a little turned on by the game, Harry chases him from a few steps back, stare fixed on the way Louis stands out, even in the crowd. Every time he squeezes past someone or shimmies randomly to the beat of the song playing, Harry’s stomach flips, head spinning at the knowledge that by the end of the night, that body that everyone’s watching will only be his. The way Louis keeps shooting him sly, knowing looks over his shoulder doesn’t help, and by the time they get to the door, Harry’s exiting behind Louis without a second thought.

The cold air hits Harry at full force, chilly even for him, so his eyes immediately dart to Louis, who is clearly shivering from a few steps ahead. Instantly, Harry speeds up until he’s next to him, removing his jacket and draping it over Louis’s shoulders in one swift motion.They don’t look at each other, but the way Louis hides his smile is enough for Harry.

For a moment, they don’t speak, instead they head towards where Louis must’ve parked his car, the streets silent apart from the occasional group of drunks. Spare glances are stolen, and when the silence becomes too comfortable, Louis breaks it with a sneaky smile and a twinkle in his eye.

“So,” he begins conversationally, as if they don’t know where they’re going, what they’re both inching towards and have been anxiously picturing for the last hour.

“We’ve evolved to stalking now, I see.”

Harry’s snort brings a small cloud of air into view.

“If I recall correctly, that’s your specialty, not mine.”

Louis’s blush could either be from the cold, or the allusion to their ‘not so recent’ past, to mornings in each other’s presence veiled by flimsy excuses.

“Just doing my job, you know how it goes,” Louis brushes off uselessly, the spaces between their bodies thinning as they walk.

Harry hums pensively.

“The job must’ve evolved a lot to include what we’ve been doing.”

It’s a risky move, since neither of them have actually acknowledged the sex, the evenings spent together in bliss as they pretend not to live for the other’s next touch.

Louis shakes his head, a thoughtful smile framing his words as he looks up, shaking his fringe off and staring into Harry’s eyes.

“Well, I never claimed to do it by the rules.”

Still, there’s something empty and unfulfilling in his answer that makes Harry want to press further, to urge him for some explanation of what this all is. He’s about to ask about it when Louis speaks, his words rushed like he knew the question that would come if he didn’t.

“You should cut the job questions and maybe ask yourself what you’re doing,” he mutters somewhat defensively, realizing halfway through and bringing back the teasing tone that the stillness in the street had silenced.

“Going to a hunter's house, that’s just asking for trouble.”

Harry takes the diversion to their chat and plays along, figuring that maybe, they’re not ready to face it just yet.

“So that’s where we’re going?” He asks in fake surprise, sounding so silly that he’s too glad the street is almost empty.

Louis hums in agreement.

“I thought we were headed to the dark alley for some fun, babe,” Harry says,”you know, add a little more cliche to the situation.”

Louis laughs, the sound of it echoing off empty brick walls.

“I forgot my wooden stake, so I guess it’ll have to do.”

Harry giggles this time, feeling somehow lighter than he has for a while.

“That’s a pity,” he adds, frowning and living for the way Louis’s whole face has brightened up.

“I brought my cloak and all.”

Louis flashes Harry the smile that seems almost etched into his face now.

“Next time.”

They’ve reached Louis’s car by then, both of them getting in without a word, Harry folds himself into the now familiar passenger seat, wondering, not for the first time this week, why they even bother going to Louis’s. There’s a much more spacious car parked not two streets from here, though Harry reasons that involving Zayn in this would be too much. They’ve established the parameters for this relationship sometime between the relentless teasing and the first times they actually went through with sleeping together. Somehow, they’ve evolved into something along the lines of involving no one else and never, ever it seems, questioning it out loud. As long as everyone plays along, this charade can go on forever. The way even the faintest idea of the sex makes Harry’s dick twitch proves just how worth it still is.

Louis starts driving right away, and Harry shifts around so that the hard plastic of the dashboard isn't digging into his knees. The tires scratch against the pavement in a constant hum that plays as background noise, Louis’s breath and heartbeat dance around on top of it. Harry’s already learnt not to pay attention to the road when he rides with humans, their delayed reactions too worrying and frankly aggravating if he does. So instead, he turns his head and watches Louis, the smooth line of his throat, leading to his collarbones, the streetlights casting shadows onto them. He’s beautiful, from the way his eyes shift and twinkle to the slow rise of his chest, and Harry thinks, not for the first time, that he could watch him forever.

“You’re staring” Louis’s voice interrupts, his eyes shifting momentarily to land on Harry, who smiles sheepishly.

“Just choosing a spot to drink from, babe,” Harry smiles, noticing the way Louis’s cheeks have gone a hint red.“Got too many favourites.”

Louis huffs.

“In your dreams, Styles, there’ll be no biting tonight, only hunting.”

Harry hums, shifting so that he’s not leaning against the door but towards the middle, catching the way Louis’s shoulders tense as he gets closer. His torso is now bent over the console and into Louis’s space, all in the span of a few seconds, and when he responds, his words come out softer, no need for volume when he’s all but whispering them into Louis’s ears.

“You sure about that?” Harry asks, lowering his voice so it comes out as deep as it can, eyes catching the way Louis tries to stop a shiver, his hands tightening around the wheel.

“Ye-” Louis begins, his voice cracking until he clears it and repeats, “yeah.”

Harry pauses, as if he is considering what they both know isn’t even up for discussion.

“So you don’t want me to bite you on the inside of your thighs,” Harry describes as Louis’s pupils widen, “close to your dick but never quite there?”

The words sound foreign on the otherwise silent car, yet Harry doesn’t care, taking in the way Louis’s legs spread unconsciously, tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s enough of an acknowledgment for Harry to dare sticking his hand out and onto his thigh, fingers splayed out so his pinky grazes the inseam of Louis’s jeans.

“Harry,” Louis warns, his voice waving dangerously, car gaining speed until he breathes out and the word levels again.

Crashing isn’t one of Harry’s worries, not with how he can handle all of the stimuli and still pay attention to the road, so he keeps going, inching his hand towards where the clear outline of Louis’s bulge is.

“You’ve just got to say the word and I’ll stop, you know that,” Harry reminds him quietly, still teasing but needing to say it, to keep things under control and within the lines.

“Yeah, I know,” Louis acknowledges, not adding anything more, not stopping Harry. For as much as they pretend they don’t know where this is going, once they do, it’s intense from the get go.

With the newly voiced permission, Harry leans into Louis even more, moving his hand so that he’s not merely grazing but fully cupping him through his jeans. Louis’s hips shift into his touch when he does, and Harry adds a hint of pressure, a taste of what they both know will be coming.

“Just picture it, spread out under me, all for me to feast on,” he continues, Louis swallows audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing and drawing Harry’s attention to his tempting neck. It gives him a evil, genius idea, so he leans down slowly, listening to the way Louis stops breathing as Harry’s nose touches the tender skin, the cold left behind etching a map of his journey.

It’s irresistible, being this close, mouth an inch away from where Harry knows would be the best place to bite, to get a real taste of Louis. The memories don’t give it justice, surely, faded ideas are incomparable to the immediate thumping of his veins, the flush of heat and the way the moment feels paused, like they’re both waiting to see if he’ll go through with it.

“Or maybe I’ll bite you right here,” Harry ponders, letting his breath wash over the skin, leaving goosebumps on it’s way, “so everyone can see how good you’ve been for  me.”

Harry can feel Louis’s cock hardening against his palm, which has remained firm and there for him to rub against. When he does lay the ghost of a kiss to Louis’s clavicle, his cock twitches, and Harry longs for it, wants them to be naked and on a bed within  seconds. He’s been without it, without Louis or his cock or this closeness for far too long already, and waiting even more is almost torture.

It seems almost fate when the car slows down to a stop and Louis shakily announces that they’ve arrived , Harry snaps out of the almost trance he’d been in. He detaches from Louis and is by the door with only a spared thought to the closeness, the urgency to get his hands on him for real propelling him to move. Louis follows behind in the same fast pace, and it takes them almost nothing to be inside.

Harry’s so taken by the need invading every bit of his brain that he doesn’t notice Louis opening the door and switching them around, finding himself crowded against the wood without any recollection of it.

Louis must recognize his confusion, because he smirks, leaning in as close as Harry was before.

“What?” Louis asks, his voice quiet and airy, though his demeanor is everything but.

“Did you seriously think I was gonna let you boss me around in my own house?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way he says it, in the challenge that he’s brought back on the table, that has Harry raising a single brow, preparing for another round.

“Sure seemed like it in the car,” Harry comments, shaping his words and stance to show how blase he is about all this, even if that's the biggest lie he’s ever told. He never thought that semester in drama school would be useful for anything, but alas, it proves useful for strange wooings.

Louis rolls his eyes and cocks his hip out, his body curving into a pose that makes Harry’s hands twitch with how much he needs to get them on him.

“You have no idea,” Louis scoffs, mouth turning upwards in a sly smile, lips glinting in the dim light that must’ve been left on from before.

“I’m never easy, but my prey shouldn’t even try to order me around.”

It takes Harry all but a second to come up with his comeback, the role comfortable and worn.

“That sounds like a challenge,” he notes, noticing the twinkle in Louis’s eye as he does exactly what he knows Louis wants him to do. He also ignores the way he’s just been called a prey, knowing full well it’s all part of the routine.

“Well don’t get too excited, because there won’t be a repeat of last time,” Louis tells him, the way he’s inching closer and closer proving his words are pure lies.

“I’m going to hunt you for real now, Harry.”

“If this,” Harry says, rolling his hips so that they rub against where Louis is most definitely still hard, “is what you mean by hunting, then count me in, babe.”

Louis doesn’t answer for a second, breathes in deeply but keeps his hips close, shifting in a way that gives them both some minimal relief and a better angle.

“I don’t think you’re taking me very seriously here,” Louis says, leaning in even closer so that Harry can take in every inch of his face, from his dilated pupils to the strands of hair falling over them.

“I’m sorry, it’s just the fact that you’ve been all talk until now” Harry notes, thinking that the way his brain is fogging up at the closeness definitely makes him question his statement.

“Does this,” Louis begins saying, pushing his whole body so that it’s touching Harry’s front, fingers reaching out for Harry’s hands and circling his wrists, “seem all talk to you?”

Objectively, Harry knows that his strength does allow the opportunity  to free himself quite easily. However, his mind completely clouds when it processes the way he’s been held, possessively and like he’s given up all control. Leave it up to Louis to find out kinks he didn’t know he even had.

He’s so worked up he almost forgets to answer, remembering only when he meets Louis’s expecting eyes.

“Not at all.”

Louis’s face breaks out in a pleased smile, Harry’s cock twitches at the sight.

“Good,” Louis notes, fingers tight and restricting in the hottest way.

Due to the situation, or to the fact that he’s seemed to realize that letting Louis get his way is the closest route to sex, Harry waits for him to continue, to map out the next step in this crazy dance. He doesn't expect Louis to detach himself from him though, making that the second time this happens tonight, and tugs at him from where he’s held.

“Come on,” Louis instructs, letting one wrist go so he’s leading Harry up a series of stairs with more force than should be necessary, Harry’s hazy mind struggling to catch up to the new development.

“Can’t have you stain all my lovely carpet down there,” Louis answers to a question Harry never asked but assumed, his wishes are starting to mix with his expectations dangerously.

The space between them as they climb the stairs is enough to bring some of his focus back, but he still follows Louis willingly into his room, waiting for him as he flips the light switch. Harry ends up standing just in front of the bed, with Louis a couple steps away.

“I wouldn’t have,” he chooses to answer, clarifying when Louis doesn’t connect the statement to his earlier one, “stained your carpet, that is. Vampire abilities, remember?”

It feels good to say it, to remind himself, and Louis, that he’s got control even if he doesn’t exercise it. Plus, the way Louis looks at him with an annoyed yet amused expression gives him instantaneous joy.

“Which is why I’m about to tie you up, love.”

Louis says it as a statement, voice conversational yet implying something more, something that could be so good that Harry’s dick still hasn’t flagged a bit. Still, it’s also a question, revealed in the way he doesn’t move yet, waits and checks Harry’s reaction before acting. If Harry wasn’t about to pass out from how hot that idea is, he would be touched.

“And how,” Harry speaks, struggling to keep his voice level and cool when his insides feel like a flame has just been set alight. He’s got to at least pretend to fight back, though, so he swallows and finishes his thought.

“How exactly do you plan to do that?”

Louis’s quick answer proves of exactly how thought out this whole thing is.

“Rope,” he says simply.

Harry can’t help but laugh.

“Rope? That’s not gonna work on me, love.”

Louis’s defying stance, feet spread, shoulders squared and hip cocked slightly, punctuate his next words.

“It will if you want it to.”

It’s an acknowledgement of the power Harry’s giving up, plain and square, and still it doesn’t bother him, not when it means they’re getting so much closer to what he truly wants.

The silence between them only aggravates the statement, though, so Harry puts up what he feels is one of his last defences, the will to defy Louis taken over by the desire to fuck him.

“And what says I do?”

Louis is the one laughing this time, the sound a short, mocking one that lets Harry know he’s definitely much more transparent than what he admits.

“The bulge in your jeans, for one,” Louis responds, taking the steps to face Harry directly, placing his hand on his firm chest and pushing back, watching with a sly smile as he falls back on the bed. He’s held up by his forearms, watching as Louis towers over him now, with a power that suits him terribly well.

“The way you look like you want to  be hunted.”

He’s left to think about that when Louis turns to his side and rummages for a second, coming up with two pieces of black rope. They look tangled, and Harry’s mind goes red for a second as he pictures them being used on other people. It doesn’t last long, can’t, when Louis unties them swiftly and brings them up to the bed again, this time actually getting on the mattress, knees bracketing Harry’s thighs.

It’s too close and too much, their crotches centimeters away when they’re on a bed, the possibilities so near and almost tangible now. Harry feels like he’s been hard for ages, his whole body thrumming with need as Louis shifts up and surveys him for a second, his eyes calculating.

“I need you to scoot up to the headboard,” he plainly says, lifting himself up on his knees and allowing Harry to scoot up and away him. Harry longs for Louis’s weight and warmth as soon as it leaves his thighs. There are no further orders, but Harry’s done this before with other people, given himself up for them to take what they want, so he spreads his arms towards the brass headboard, and wraps a hand on each pole.

Louis continues to stare  at him as if he’s pondering something, so Harry decides to give him one last push, opening up his thighs and putting on the most seductive look he can.

“What, do you want me to do it?” He asks, knowing full well he sounds like a magnificent asshole, but a hot and bothered one at that.

“Hunters just can’t be arsed about the small things nowadays,” Harry adds with put on disdain, finding the words were just what was needed because as soon as Harry’s finished his sentence, Louis’s eyes snap back into focus with a clear ferocity. Then, he’s on top of Harry in a second, strong thighs back to bracketing his own and the black rope stretched tight around his fingers.

“We don’t have to, since you lot are just begging for it,” Louis defies, dropping one of the ropes onto Harry’s chest and getting to work on Harry’s left wrist. The way his fingers fly over the threads and the little time it takes prove he's definitely had some experience with it.

Harry’s right hand is still free, so he takes the opportunity to run it up Louis’s side, satisfying the urge to touch the warm skin before he’s tied for God knows how long. It pauses Louis’s movements for a second as he shivers, the contrast between their bodies, hot and cold, pale and sun kissed, making them both marvel. Harry can hear Louis’ heart pumping warm, fresh blood into his veins, and it makes him even hungrier for a taste. It doesn’t last long though, as Louis takes his free hand and brings it back to the headboard in no time, securing Harry firmly.

It shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, the feeling of finality that comes with the last knot being tied, but it does, it sends a wave of calmness down his body, relaxes his every limb so he’s laying on the bed in this half dazed state. Louis scoots down a bit until he’s resting over Harry’s thighs, his ass pressed against them. It leaves him too far down for Harry to get any friction on his cock, just Louis’ perfect bum tempting him with its  fullness in the wrong place instead.

They both pause for what seems like the tenth time that night, eyes meeting for a series of meaningful glances: Harry’s urgent and needy and Louis’s still somewhat pensive. His blue eyes roam over Harry’s body, taking in every inch, making him hot under his gaze. If Harry could flush, he’d be pink all over, covered in evidence of how much this affects him, even if there’s nothing really happening. Louis is just hot enough to pull it off.

“I should go get the instruments now,” Louis comments with a distracted tilt to his voice, a sort of wrongness in the way his eyes still haven’t left Harry’s body, hands coming up to rest on his slightly chiselled stomach.

“Instruments?” Harry urges Louis to clarify, unsure if he really means that as in actual hunting or as in wicked things to debauch you with.

Louis doesn’t respond straight away though, moves his hands up and down Harry’s torso absently, his fingertips tracing the line of his tattoos. He stays an extra long time tracing the laurels with a small smile on his face, which reveals how engrossed he’s become. Harry can’t say he’s not enjoying it, etching every trace of Louis’s fingers into his memory as he watches, stomach quivering under Louis’s touch. Still, there’s the possibility of relief hanging over his head, excruciatingly out of reach so far, and there’s always time for oddly soft touches later, so he repeats the question, shifting his thighs so that Louis is slightly shaken.

“Oh, yeah, they’re in the other room,” Louis finally says, still not moving, still not taking his eyes off Harry’s body, though his gaze does shift upwards to where he’s tied. It’s such a change from what they’ve been doing so far that Harry can’t help but think this must not be intentional, that Louis is so caught up in whatever must be going through his mind that he’s forgotten what they’ve been playing and what the roles are supposed to be.

Harry almost startles when Louis does finally move, lifting himself up so that he’s not touching him, getting as far as the edge of the bed before stopping again and licking his lips, not unlike a cat about to catch its prey. It’s insanely attractive, and Harry’s always had a small thing for being watched. He feels his dick throb weakly, begging for a touch, some relief, anything. Louis is still fixed though, and Harry’s about to nudge him with his foot when all of a sudden Louis sighs and shakes his head.

He must not think Harry’s paying attention, probably chucking it up to the sort of haze he’s somehow still in, for he whispers to himself like he thinks Harry’s not going to hear him.

“Oh fuck it,” he swears and, out of nowhere, he swiftly climbs onto the bed and kisses Harry, joining their mouths with a forceful, unexpected pull.

It’s not the best angle, with Harry having been surprised while looking down and Louis hurrying over, but it’s incredibly hot nonetheless, Harry is able to do nothing but take it as the kiss deepens. With a head tilt and a slight change in angle, it gets unbelievably better, Louis’s hands hold onto Harry’s cheeks and keep him in place.

Harry’s dick had flagged slightly from all the moving around, but with Louis’s body touching his in all the right places and the heated way their tongues slide together, it’s back to craving release in a second. It’s so good that Harry can’t help but moan when Louis pulls back for a kiss, wrists pulling tightly against the restraints, the urge to get his hands on Louis, after just a taste, mind numbingly overwhelming.

He’s about to speak when Louis interrupts, his pupils dilated and lips reddened.

“One last time, okay?” He clarifies desperately, eyes glued to Harry’s mouth as if pulling them away might mean losing the chance to go at them again.
“One last fuck and then we’re done,” Louis continues with a phrase Harry’s sure he himself doesn’t even believe is anything more than a temporal allowance given to solve the desperation clearly pumping though both their bodies.

Harry nods anyway, sighing in relief when it gets Louis to kiss him again, though rougher this time, as if the excuse has allowed him to finally give in completely. Harry’s in no position to move himself, with Louis completely lying on top of his torso and bracketing his legs, so he tries to relax and enjoy the kiss, figuring Louis will take charge and move things along when he’s ready. He’s proven correct when the kiss turns into slow grinding, Louis working his ass up and down over Harry’s clothed cock.

The thought reminds Harry that they’re somehow still fully clothed, so he reluctantly breaks the kiss, revelling in the pressure from the friction a second longer before grunting out a “clothes off” that should suffice.

Louis looks mildly annoyed at his interruption, but he complies, grabbing the ends of his top and pulling it off, revealing his slim stomach and marked biceps. He goes to work on Harry’s shirt next, but they both realize instantly that the ties won’t allow him to take it off. When Harry makes a frustrated sound, Louis shushes him and ruffles up the shirt up to his armpits, lowering his mouth to rest over his sternum.

“You’ll just have to stay like this then,” Louis murmurs, his lips brushing over Harry’s skin, “half clothed, like you just couldn’t control yourself  any longer.”

The words get to Harry in ways he can’t fully comprehend, so he lets out a low whine, figuring it’s enough motivation for Louis to keep peppering kisses all over him like he’s doing. There’s a pause over his right nipple when Louis gets to it, and Harry holds his breath, lets it all out in a big whoosh when Louis’s lips close around it. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pleasure making his back arch and his lips part in an aborted plea for more.

Louis switches from one to the other after a moment, giving it the same slow, maddening treatment, Harry grows more and more desperate with every swipe of his tongue.

“Come on,” he urges, battling himself on whether he wants this to go on forever or would rather see Louis’s pants come off. It’s a pretty clear winner when Louis does so, shooting Harry an exasperated, and perhaps somewhat fond, look, popping the button of his trousers and shimmying out of them.

It reveals his tight black briefs and the sinful, muscled expanse of Louis’s thighs, and Harry wishes to marvel in the sight forever, his mouth salivating and fangs threatening to pop down at the mere idea of biting into them.

He’s so taken by them that he doesn’t realize his own pants are being taken off until Louis’s breath falls over his stomach, face too close to Harry’s dick for him not to gasp. The agile hands make quick work of his pants, and a second later they’re being thrown over to the side, both of them down to boxers only, Harry’s shirt is still slight inconvenience at the top of his chest.

“You’re so hard,” Louis whispers, almost in marvel, his palm shooting out to press against Harry’s bulge, the friction too good for him to muffle any sound.

“So needy,” Louis continues, his movements minimal, as Harry squirms under his gaze.

When his eyes meet Harry’s, wonder is replaced with wickedness, Louis shifts so that he’s really grabbing his dick through the fabric, the touch is maddening after the drawn out wait, but not enough for how worked up Harry is.

“So desperate for me that you’ve gone and become the perfect prey,” Louis remarks, clearly loving the power he has, the pinky on his other hand creeps under Harry’s waistband, close but too light.

“Please,” Harry begs, giving in and arching his back so that he comes closer to Louis, tries to get him to do something.

His ploy backfires completely when Louis pulls away instead of getting closer, his eyes sharp and focused, a new plan, or perhaps a reveal of what he’s actually been thinking all along, evident on his face. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Harry’s tempted to beg for his touch again when Louis shifts back onto his legs, sitting on top of Harry but not on top of what matters.

“Oh, so you think you can beg, huh?” Louis asks, his hands resting on top of Harry’s laurels, hot over the cool skin, teasingly close.

Harry stays silent, waits it out with nothing more than an inquisitive look, hands twitching where they’re tied, itching for a feel of that smooth skin.

“Let me tell you a little secret,” Louis says, pausing for effect, as if they haven’t waited long enough already, Harry’s head spinning out of control with desire.

He leans in when he says it, almost secretive. Harry’s foot is almost at the point of shaking with impatience.

“You’re not coming until I do, babe.

He whispers it as a fact, and Harry’s body immediately stills, only one word echoing in his mind.

“What?”

Louis nods, brow arched and lips pursed into a self satisfied smirk that makes Harry want to buck his hips and throw him off (to definitely not ravish him after).

“You heard me,” Louis confirms, moving his hands slowly up towards Harry’s chest, the pads of his fingers grazing Harry’s nipples where they stand hardened and sensitive.

“I’ve got you tied here, and it would be a terrible waste if I didn’t take a little advantage, don’t you think?”

The power he holds over Harry, the amount of control that makes Harry stay put under the flimsy ropes and nodding along dumbly as he speaks, becomes as evident as ever, and Harry’s cock throbs. It takes a minute for him to find  the words, but when he does he’s stumbling over them, hearing himself with a hint  of shame and amusement at how worked up he’s become.

“Yes, okay,” he nods, desperate to agree and move on, “what do you want?”

Louis smiles coquettishly, taking the time to savour his words, to run his fingers over Harry’s nipples and watching goosebumps erupt all over his skin.

“I’m going to sit on your face,” Louis simpers, not as an answer to Harry’s question but a statement of what he’s going to do. Still, he pauses for a second to look into Harry’s eyes, only continuing with his show when Harry makes eye contact and nods for real, trying to convey through a  look the way his whole body has come alive with the idea, mouth almost watering at the thought of having that bum on it.

“Of course you agree, love,” Louis comments as he begins to move, lifting himself so that he’s no longer straddling Harry but kneeling besides him, “you’re just gagging for it, taking anything I give you because you know you’ve played into my trap.”

Harry simply lays there and lets the words wash over him, relishing in how hard he is, in how even now, with no stimulation, this is easily one of the hottest encounters he’s ever had.

Louis scoots up the bed until he’s right next to Harry’s face, his clothed dick inches away from Harry’s mouth. It’s teasing in the most evil way, and it gets worse when Louis grips the waist of his briefs and begins pulling them off, inch after inch of skin revealed to a helpless Harry. When they’re all the way off, Louis’s curved dick is just barely distanced from Harry’s mouth, and Harry feels hungry for it, famished in a way he hasn’t been for a while.

“Go on,” he encourages, fearing that if he were to tell Louis off or call him out on his slowness he’d do it even slower on purpose, thoroughly enjoying the mess Harry would make all over himself in the meantime.

Louis gives him a look and nothing else, reaching for Harry’s boxers and taking those off until they’re mid thigh and Harry can kick them off swiftly, not able to even handle the idea of Louis stalling even longer with that excuse. It’s almost as if they’ve forgotten they were there, Harry’s sole attention being Louis and the impending promise of his bum on Harry’s face. Everything else, the mess on the floor, the way Harry’s shirt is still tangled up around his armpits, falling away into carelessness.

“How eager,” Louis comments with a sly smile, but Harry isn’t really listening, can’t when Louis shifts so that he’s straddling Harry once again, though this time, it’s his tempting bum that just hovers over where Harry wants it.

Harry tries reaching out, tongue out like he’s about to devour a feast, but Louis is still too far away. He can't help but make a frustrated noise, unable to see how Louis reacts but for the way he chides him, words still cool and controlled but with a nervous, or perhaps expecting edge.

“We’re taking this at my pace, love,” Louis reminds him, and Harry can’t be angry, not when Louis breaths out and lowers himself a little more yet still not enough.

“Now, you stop if it’s too much to handle, okay?” He challenges, and before Harry can say anything, Louis’s bum is right in his face, hole so close Harry just has to crane his neck a little bit for the tip of his tongue to trace it.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis breathes out in a rush, his knees slipping so that he’s fully seated on Harry’s face, cheeks spread over his mouth.

All Harry can see, feel, and taste is Louis,, and it rips a moan out of his mouth, hips snapping up on their own. It’s so much and so good, his tongue reaching out to swipe over Louis’s hole again, using the whole surface this time, getting him wet.

Louis doesn’t say anything else, breathes out slowly as Harry does it again and then a third time, getting used to the taste without a second thought and going for it, wanting to make it as good as he can.

“Yeah, like that,” Louis encourages when Harry begins setting up a pace of broad swipes over his hole, his hips shifting slightly so that he’s almost rocking them onto Harry’s tongue. It doesn’t feel like he’s meant to be doing it, like he wants to ride Harry’s face (not that Harry would be opposed) but more like he can’t help it, as if his body is slowly starting to go crazy on its own.

The breach in control makes Harry want to continue breaking down his cool facade, so he redoubles his effort, alternating between long stripes and short, hard ones, ears perked for the way Louis’s breath slowly becomes more harsh and laboured.

“You love this,” Louis says, his voice wavering and completely cutting off when Harry lets his bottom lip drag over his hole, mixing up the sensations and surprising him enough to make his words cut off abruptly.

“You really love this, fuck,” Louis tries saying again, words shaking by the end until he gives up, swearing just as Harry lets his blunt teeth slightly graze the sensitive skin of his bum, the idea of a bite enough for both of them to lose it a little.

Harry’s neck would be getting tired if he were human, lungs hurting from the way he’s practically smothered by Louis, but thankfully he isn’t, so he can keep the pace he has going on with no problem. The constant rhythm seems to be doing it for Louis, whose thighs have gotten slightly tighter around Harry’s face, caging him in a world of only Louis and his pleasure, his dick all but forgotten.

“Harder, go harder,” Louis instructs him, his words a hair away from being a beg.

Harry points his tongue and slightly pushes it inside at the request, feeling Louis tense and then melt even more around him, a gasp falling from his lips. He fucks the tip in and out slowly once, listening for a reaction, for an indicator if this is what Louis meant.

He gets it when Louis indicates it with the sound of his hands smacking against the headboard in what Harry thinks may be a somewhat desperate search for something to hold on to.

Encouraged, he points his tongue even more and fucks in and out of Louis with more vigor, spit beginning to pool around his mouth, falling to the side and making a terribly hot mess of everything. Louis rewards him with a groan that goes straight to Harry’s dick, though it feels relegated, this wave of arousal, to Louis’s own, as if Harry’s pleasure only comes second to making Louis come.

“God, yes,” Louis pants, his hips grind down onto Harry’s face with intent this time, Harry’s tongue giving him the desired friction exactly where he wants it.

It almost makes Harry want to smile, the way Louis is losing it, but he’d be ignoring the way he is too, lost in this world of responding to every clue he’s being given. It feels like they’re building up to something, though, so Harry brings out his best trick, hoping to surprise Louis and push him through the last bit of control he has into giving himself up completely. When he fucks out of Louis the next time, he doesn’t go back in or swipe his tongue over him, instead tilting his head to the side and slightly biting the skin there, sucking until he can feel Louis’s blood rushing to the spot.

“Fuck!” Louis all but screams, the headboard shaking slightly as he grips himself tighter, bracing, Harry guesses, for the moment he’s bitten.

Harry doesn’t do it though, figuring two can play at this game, and instead changes sides to the other, sucking a bruise and grazing his blunt teeth over it. It’s incredibly tempting for him, having such soft, easily punctured skin right there for him to taste, but he can rein it in, concentrating on the string of curses Louis lets out above him. To ease the bruises, he runs his tongue over them, passing over Louis’s hole and alternating bites and swipes, changing up the pace as he goes.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” Louis curses, voice beginning to sound hoarse, giving away just how much he likes it.

There’s still one final barrier to be crossed, so Harry puts in his final effort, craning his neck slightly so that he’s as close as he can be, tongue slipping out and fucking in at an inhuman speed, almost vibrating with how quick he’s being.

“Shit,” Louis whines out, giving out all of what was left of his weight and completely sitting on Harry’s face.

It’s so much, even to Harry, that he doesn’t hear what Louis is chanting over and over at first,  too preoccupied with the way his hips are snapping rhythmically over him, saliva, tongue, and mouth dragging over whatever Louis decides needs his attention. When he does, he can’t say he’s surprised, but he still has to slow down his actions for a bit to make sure.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Louis is begging, crying, his voice hoarse and desperate like he has been trying to hide all night. That’s it for Harry, who stops it all and breaks the ropes easily, tearing his bunched up shirt off his chest in the same manner and shifting them so quickly that Louis looks almost dizzy when he lands on his back with Harry on top.

“Do you mean it?” Harry checks almost frantically, eyes dilated, focusing on Louis so that he doesn’t get a hand on himself, dick suddenly important again now that he’s not smothered by Louis’s ass.

“Yes, yes, fuck me,” Louis pleads, one of his hands shooting out to grip his cock, fingers wrapping around where he’s leaked precome all over himself.
“Please.”

Harry doesn’t need to hear any more confirmation after that, practically tearing apart Louis’s drawers and coming back with lube and a condom on hand in a second. He pops the cap off the tube and drizzles lube over his fingers, rubbing them together almost maniacally to heat them up quickly.

“Gonna put my fingers in you now, yeah?” Harry says, waiting for Louis’s frantic nod before circling his rim once and pushing the tip in.

He’s somewhat loose from the rimming, but Louis still keens, back curving so that the long line of his throat is spread out temptingly. Not one to resist himself, and even less so in this state, Harry immediately dives for it, latching his lips onto one spot and sucking with force as he circles his finger, not yet pushing it all the way in.

“Come on,” Louis pleads, echoing the same words Harry had said before, the roles reversed as Harry had anticipated. Still, it gives him the leverage he was looking for, this new arrangement, so he doesn’t comply, switches spots and gets talking instead.

“So you’re finally begging for it, babe?” He asks, lips grazing Louis’s skin, finger inching in slowly, not offering any friction not more than a slow drag.

Louis doesn’t reply with anything other than the harsh sound of his heavy breathing, chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as Harry has begun to move his finger. It goes in easily, no resistance to be had where Harry’s mouth was just minutes ago, relaxing him from the inside out.

“We both knew this would happen, really,” Harry continues, taking out one finger and teasing Louis’s rim with two, listening for the way his breath catches in his throat. He still doesn’t agree with Harry or say anything else, so Harry doesn’t proceed with two fingers. He holds them back expectantly as he gazes into Louis’s eyes.

“Didn’t we?”

There’s a hint of annoyance in Louis’s tone when he hums back in agreement, but the fact that he does, and even more so in the breezy tone he uses, is testament of how gone he really is.

“Yeah, knew it was all for show,” Harry says, adding both fingers and crooking them- Louis moans at the first real friction against his prostate. It’s more than enough of an encouragement, so Harry does it again, lets the pads of his fingers trace every bit slowly, teasingly.

“Knew you just wanted me to fuck you.”

There’s something in the way Louis pauses in response, his cheeks flaming slightly, that tells Harry he’s not as embarrassed as he should be about Harry calling him out. There’s a part of him that thinks Louis has done it all just for this moment, this bit where Harry calls it all out and strips it to what it really is: an elaborate plot to get Harry to fuck him in the dirtiest, roughest manner.

“But you’re not,” Louis comments, moving his hand towards his dick before Harry intercepts it, faster reflexes making it so that it’s pinned to the mattress in no time.

“No,” Harry corrects, keeping up the same pace as before but adding his third finger, feeling  the way Louis stretches around him, stilling as his body adjusts to the stretch.

“I don’t think I’m done playing with you just yet.”

Louis groans, shifting his hips into Harry’s fingers, getting them in deeper than before, eyes rolling and back arching again. Harry’s mouth waters from where he’s moved back to speak, so he inches closer again, peppering kisses over the skin as his hand pumps in an out lazily.

It’s when he crooks his fingers and grazes his teeth over the skin that Louis speaks, a small “please” falling from his lips like he just couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Please what?” Harry asks, wanting to hear it again, for Louis to beg for it until he has no voice and has to whisper his curses.

It’s not that that comes out of Louis’s mouth though, not a plea for Harry’s dick but for something else entirely, and the second he says it the pull in Harry’s groin threatens a sudden orgasm.

“Please, bite me, fuck,” Louis moans, tilting his head back so that Harry has more access, can focus on the smooth expanse of his skin. Harry’s fangs click down on their own accord, hungry for what he thought would be off limits. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, the complete opposite really, but he hadn't actually entertained the idea that it was going to happen tonight, much less have Louis outright asking for it. Once he has, though, Harry knows there is a high chance of him coming when he does, so he reaches for the condom instead of focusing too hard on Louis’ request, rolling it on with the hand not currently fucking into Louis.

“Okay baby, I will,” Harry agrees while he slicks himself up, noting how gone Louis is and figuring some reassuring is needed, “but I have to fuck you first, yeah? Gonna come before I even get to, if not.”

Louis doesn’t reply, letting out a breathy ‘fuck’ when Harry rubs his prostate one last time and following his every movement with his eyes, which are more pupil than anything else. He looks fucked out before they’ve even truly fucked, and the way he’s kept his hands off his dick, like Harry has shown him to, only means he’s splayed out, cock dripping and making a mess all over his tummy. Harry’s mouth feels dry from just looking at him, and he has to stop himself from stroking his own dick, feeling like he could come all over Louis and still keep going.

They’ve both been waiting for this all night, though, so he lines himself up, one hand holding him up by Louis’s shoulder and the other guiding his cock. Louis’s hole is red and wet from all the attention Harry’s given it this entire time, but the minute Harry begins to push in it sucks at his cock greedily, Louis’s drawn out, hoarse moan punctuates the slow intrusion.

“I’m ready, please,” Louis begs, spreading out his thighs so Harry can pick them up and place them over his shoulders, bending down so that with every inch of dick pushed into Louis, he’s bent more and more for Harry.

There’s a desperate edge to the way Louis grips at his own hair, so Harry bends the rest of the way down and kisses him, allows Louis to bite and lick his eagerness out on Harry’s lax mouth as he waits for him to adjust. When he’s sure Louis can take it, and the kiss has become less frantic, Harry pulls back and thrusts back in, groaning at how tight and perfect Louis feels around him.

They both don’t put much effort into the kiss after that, Louis’s mouth falling open to let a series of moans fall out, sounds punctuated by the short thrusts of Harry’s hips. It’s evident they’re not going to last long, not with how Harry has to bite back a different curse with each deep thrust, hair falling all around his face. Louis doesn’t seem to mind, too blissed out and moaning his way to a sore throat. However, his plea from earlier hasn’t escaped Harry’s mind, the urge to bite Louis getting stronger with each passing second. The urge is so strong that Harry feels Louis’ heartbeat increase in speed, can hear it pounding in his chest.

With that in mind, Harry breaks what can’t even be called a kiss anymore and settles on Louis’s throat once again, though this time he aims for the spot by his ear where his crazy heartbeat is the loudest. His fangs have been out for a while now, Harry being so blissed out that the thought of retracting them hasn’t even crossed his mind. With them, he grazes the spot first, his hips bucking uncontrollably into Louis when a hint of blood touches his tongue.

“Harry, bite me please, please,” Louis begins saying and then sobs, his voice wrecked beyond repair as he continues spewing out a series of curses, pushing his throat onto Harry’s mouth so that his fangs catch on his skin again and again, drawing blood.

Realizing this is it, and unable to hold out anymore when the taste of Louis’s fresh blood is invading his every sense, Harry wraps a hand around Louis’s dick and tugs a couple times. As he does so, his fangs puncture Louis’s skin and he bites into him, the rush of warm blood is so  much that he barely feels Louis’s come spilling over his fingers, the drag of his hand turning slippery and not as rough. It feels like a permission, the way Louis has gone tight and then lax, so Harry follows through and comes, his every sense invaded by Louis’s warmth and taste.

Neither of them move for a second, Harry is thankful for the way his muscles can’t get tired yet again as he softly pulls out, licks the bite to heal it and ties the condom, aiming his throw towards the waste bin in the corner. Louis has this blissed out look on his face, tummy covered in come and hair a mess as he breathes in and out in a slowing rhythm, eyes still fixed on Harry. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen in all his many years of life.

“Good?” Harry questions, not wanting to overwhelm Louis with talk when there’s a healing bite on his neck and a beautiful flush colouring his cheeks that doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.

“I think you killed me,” Louis croaks, lifting one arm tiredly to his neck, feeling for the tender spot Harry’s left as a reminder. The soft smile on his face says enough about his feelings for it.

“Not a problem babe,” Harry reminds him, getting up to fetch the remnants of his shirt and using that to wipe at his own groin, heading afterwards for Louis’s, “I’ll just bite you again and make you a vampire, I don’t think you’d mind.”

The answering grin Louis gives him would make his heart stop if it were beating.

“Fuck off.”

*

Contrary to popular belief, vampires aren’t harmed by the sun, but they are, in fact, very bothered by it, senses so hyper aware that the brightness has Harry waking up with a raging headache.

“Really?” He groans, rolling over and away from Louis’s arm to pick up his phone and check the time. Six thirty in the morning, it tells him, right above a text from Zayn asking him not to come home before noon.

Don’t worry, I won’t come in and scare Liam, he sends in reply, looking for the ‘sent’ tick and locking his phone again.

Even if he doesn’t need it, he still likes sleeping, so he makes the quick decision to get out of bed and close the blinds they must have left open yesterday. It does cloak the room in complete darkness, and Harry finds he can’t go back to sleep, blaming it either on the shift in positions from where they were cuddled or the fact that he’s been moving around keeping sleep away.

Bored, and perhaps feeling some leftover arousal from yesterday, Harry inches his hand towards Louis’s groin, finding him unsurprisingly hard. His mouth waters slightly at the idea of blowing him in a way that  he didn’t get the chance to yesterday, figuring it’ll be a nice surprise. He’s just stroked him twice and inched closer to get in position when Louis’s gruff, sleepy voice interrupts him.

“It’s too goddamn early for your frisky business, Styles.”

The way his voice is evidently wrecked from last night makes Harry smile as he replies.

“Your dick doesn’t seem to think so,” he says, stroking Louis a couple more times. He doesn’t reply straight away, and instead closes his eyes and lets Harry have his way.

“Well my dick didn’t get fucked into oblivion yesterday,” Louis shoots back, his sentence not really making much sense but keeping the smile on Harry’s face nonetheless.

“You didn’t seem to mind it that much, if I recall correctly,” Harry replies cockily, keeping his fist towards the tip and taking in every twitch of Louis’s face.

“Shut up, I hate you,” Louis groans, tilting his head to the side and burying it in the pillow, showing off the row of teeth marks adorning his neck.

“That’s no way of speaking to someone who’s planning to get you off and make you breakfast afterwards,” Harry informs him, quietly lamenting the fact that this probably won’t turn into the blowjob he wanted to give, strokes not really speeding up but more of a gentle touch.

“You’re staying?” Louis asks, as if Harry hasn’t stayed over and well into the next day the last couple encounters.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Harry replies, so mindlessly that he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s implied until Louis stills under him. When it does, his eyes immediately find Louis’s, realizing that the look on them resembles hope.

The room is quiet, the only sounds that can be heard are from their breaths, and it’s because of that that Harry can catch Louis’s reply.

“I think I might just want to keep you forever,” Louis mumbles, but the way his eyes have gone soft reveal a much deeper meaning.

“Forever?” Harry confirms, his tone as soft as Louis’s had been, reluctant to break the atmosphere that has settled over them and that has them revealing truths they’re not quite ready to face yet.

“Well, I’m keeping you until you finish me off, that’s for sure,” Louis jokes, and the mood is suddenly broken, Harry lifting himself up to join their lips together in a gentle kiss.

They may not be at that stage yet, but as Harry kisses Louis, he’s one hundred percent certain that they will be, someday. And if they keep having the amazing sex they’ve been having up to now, he doesn't exactly mind waiting.