Archive of Our Own

It’s slightly closer to his rut than he’d like, but Louis hadn’t said no. Though technically not hiding anything, his Donny mates never really seemed too keen, always throwing out a comment that was just this side of too far. But Louis had never claimed to be thin skinned and it was nothing he hadn’t heard on the playground growing up. He could handle any arseholes looking for a fight. Besides, being an Alpha helped, even if it wasn’t always what others expected of him, he knew when a well placed growl could shut the right people up.

And, well, Louis being Louis - loud, loud, and… loud - helped too. The lads knew if they so much as looked at him wrong, he could kick their arses halfway to London in a heartbeat. He’d proven it enough over the years. So they mostly kept whatever comments he knew they were thinking out of earshot or under their breaths. Plus, they had said they’d be gone. So. That was that sorted.

He takes a deep breath in the mirror, finishing up the last touches on his hair.

He isn’t actually worried about it, chalking the restless way he swings his arms back and forth up to the fact that he’s never technically participated in one of these things. He’d never admit it to anyone, definitely not the lads, but he still doesn’t quite believe the national event is being held right here in Doncaster, of all places. Maybe it kind of feels like a sign. An opportunity? Something. Probably not though.

Patting down his non-existent pockets for his keys as he prepares to leave, Louis can’t help but bite his lip in the mirror as he considers actually leaving the house. See, when the idea had occurred to him back in London, it had been funny. He’d convinced himself it would be a right laugh. Got to live up to the drama in studying theatre, right? Now, he opens the group chat again to check one last time that the lads had really said this weekend was their camping trip.

London, uni, had that effect on Louis. It was just… different. He hadn’t started sporting any rainbow flags or joined any clubs (though he supposed his current attire might send a certain message at this point). Louis never needed any help making friends, especially since the co-op programme he’d gotten in on kept him busy enough as it was. Between a friendly football team and his schoolwork, he hadn’t needed any other commitments. But… Uni had definitely been different and it was hard not to get used to the casual freedom.

At his first party, he’d been hit on by girls and lads alike, not to mention some people he couldn’t for the life of him tell what they would have liked to have been referred to. When a larger, broad chested bloke had offered to get him a drink the first time, Louis hadn’t been able to stop the way his eyes widened, looking around, ready to laugh it off in case it was a prank. When no punchline came, and his widened eyes only served to widen the man’s grin, Louis had blushed like a schoolgirl. The man had confidence written all over him, Louis could smell the alpha on him even past all the different scents mingling at the party. The proffered cosmo was sweet and so was the smirk Louis couldn’t keep off his face at the warm feeling of a large hand on his lower back once he accepted it.

So, different, to say the least. And he quite quickly worked out that he could get a lot further in London with batting his eyelashes than he ever did sneaking a fag with a mate behind the Donny secondary school.

That was London. Louis had worked out that London treated him better than Donny ever had. Maybe it was Louis’ lot that he’d always loved the ones that never loved him back, though, because he still couldn’t resist a summer back home in his favourite haunts.

And now, well, the national pride event is being held right here. Rainbows on the same corner store where his best mate Oli and him had convinced a mate’s older brother to buy them their first beers. Sex-positive themed floats up the road from where Louis had skinned his knee skateboarding down the uneven asphalt hill. Drag queens parading just a few kilometers South of where he’d popped his first knot at the theater watching The Notebook (of all things).

It was no small event either. The uni itself had gone as far as to organize transport for whoever was interested in going. Louis hadn’t needed it, having already planned to spend part of the summer back home, but when he’d overheard his footie teammates mentioning they might attend, he hadn’t been able to shut his mouth. Though, to be fair, he’d rarely been able to do so on a regular day.

“Oi! Yous coming up North to Donny, then?” he had laughed as he laced his regular shoes up after practice. One of his friendlier teammates, Niall, had glanced up.

“Yeah,” he said, pointing at Louis. “You coming with? We heard people dress up and everything!”

Louis would have been worried about a mocking tone if Niall wasn’t the closest a human could come to an actual golden retriever. He just seemed enthused, blue eyes bright and laughing.

“Proper leather daddies, Louis!” he added, waggling his eyebrows. Louis truly could not tell if he was interested, curious, or scared. Likely a mix of all three. (But Louis might have been projecting.)

“Damn, always thought I’d be the only leather daddy back home,” Louis replied, deadpan. Niall’s eyebrows raised, struck dumb for a moment.

“Mate, I’m putting you on,” Louis added, when Niall’s expression didn’t change.

Niall doubled over in laughter, shaking his head. Truly a human-shaped puppy. Ironically, Louis was pretty sure Niall was a beta.

“Right, you’re from that way, aren’t ya?” Niall said, in his now familiar Irish lilt.

The other lads had started dispersing, but the keeper, Liam, was still standing by Niall with his arm around him. “So you're going to be around if we go see the leather mommies and daddies?”

“Front and center, leather leash waiting for you mate,” Louis said confidently, not missing a beat.

Niall turned bright red and burst into laughter again.

“And, please,” Louis said, expression turning to a frown. “Don’t forget the non-binary leather parents, mate.”

So, Louis hadn’t said no. It wasn’t a promise either. He wasn’t even sure they had been serious about coming.

But the thing is, Louis simply isn’t the kind to back down from a joke. He commits to the bit. He’s serious about a good prank. And it’s really quite amazing what you can find online these days.

He rubs a hand over his face absentmindedly, then cringes as he realizes it smudges his eyeliner a little. His eyeliner. His makeup. Oh god.

Okay, no, it’s a laugh though. A proper gas. He squares his shoulders, steeling himself. He imagines Niall’s face: raised eyebrows, slapped thigh, loud guffaw. Definitely worth it.

He shakes out his hands, wincing a little as the chain rattles. Alright, well, it would be a pain to change now anyway. It is what it is. He taps the number “28” hanging by his door for good luck and leaves his room, grateful that his childhood house is empty for once.

“Niall!” Harry tugs on the boisterous man’s shirt, trying not to lose him to the insane crowds of people. He’d been to Doncaster before. He didn’t think it was possible for there to be this many people crammed into the main street. Everywhere he looks there is colour and noise and Harry can’t help but smile.

It’s not his first pride, but it is the first pride he’s dressed up for. When Niall had said he and a few of his footie friends were heading up to Donny for the event, Harry had jumped at the occasion. Harry hadn’t been to any of Niall’s games, but he had seen enough pictures of his teammates to be at least slightly interested in who would attend with Niall. And if some of them were to dress up (or down), well, he would have had to have been blind not to notice the number of abs in the casual pictures Niall had shown Harry from time to time. Technically, he was meant to attend the event with the university’s Queer Omega Alliance chapter, but the members were a bit, well, stuffy.

Harry isn’t a snob. In fact, he is part of nearly any queer club that allows omegas to join. Including Queer Omega D&D, the queer specific chess club, and, inexplicably, the Queer Male Omegas Rock Climbing Association. Though he’d only attended that last group for one very unfortunate evening that had ended in a hospital visit. Also, that group consisted of three friends he suspected may have only chosen to form a club for the financial support provided by the university. One of them hadn’t even been an omega.

So it wasn’t because he didn’t try to fit in. It was just that all the members of the Queer Omega Alliance chapter were female and nearly all of them dated each other. And that would have been fine, really, it was usually fine, except Harry knew what he wanted to wear to pride. And the Jessicas, as he’d taken to calling them, definitely wouldn’t approve. Or rather, they might approve a little too much.

The Jessicas particularly liked when Harry wore anything that distracted from the fact that he was totally and irrevocably tall, broad and male. Harry didn’t really see the point in fighting it. He likes what he likes, and since no one ever seemed to be satisfied with who he was, he had given up pleasing others a while ago.

It hadn’t been a difficult choice: fit, rowdy footballers who could potentially end up snogging him, or a bunch of stuck up omegas who struggled not to wrinkle their noses at him at every turn. Niall’s first words upon noticing him boarding the bus from London to Doncaster had only solidified his decision.

“Harry!” he’d called out, whistling.

“Boys, this is my beautiful friend Harry!” he’d announced proudly to his teammates. The reactions were varied, but Harry only had eyes for Niall’s blinding smile.

“Give us a spin, babe!” he said, holding out his hand to have Harry twirl.

God, he loved Niall. He obliged with a giggle, feeling the light material of his delicate wings flutter with the movement despite the narrow aisle between seats on the bus.

“Gorgeous!” Niall declared and Harry saw at least one of his teammates nod in approval.

“Kiss!” he ordered, pointing to his cheek and kissing Harry’s in return as they got settled.

Harry smiles to himself at the thought as he weaves through the crowded street. He still considers himself incredibly lucky that Niall had been assigned as his roommate at the beginning of term. Having chosen business as his major, he had found himself surrounded by mostly male, mostly pompous alphas and betas in his courses. Niall’s goofy, kind laugh had immediately endeared him when he walked in on Harry with a towel on his head, dancing along to ABBA as he cleaned their shared dorm room.

He counts himself significantly less lucky right now, though, as Niall less than expertly squirms his way around a drag queen and Harry nearly loses sight of him.

“Niall! Slow down!” he barks, panic lacing his words despite his efforts to stay calm. Niall must finally hear him because he turns back to look at him.

“Come on, Harry! We’re going to miss the start!” Niall says, grabbing Harry’s elbow.

“Alright, alright,” Harry grumbles, trying not to get his wings caught on a drag queen’s crown. She puts her hand to her lips in awe as Harry passes her.

“Girl,” she elongates the one syllable word. “You look-”

Harry can’t hear the rest as Niall drags him to a break in the crowd where people are lining the sidewalk to watch the parade that’s about to start. He turns around reflexively, dimples breaking out as a grin takes over his face to respond in kind to the larger than life colourful character who spoke to him and immediately freezes.

Instead of an imposing, regal woman in drag, a rather short, slender person is standing in the throng of people, seemingly arguing with a much larger, much more rugged-looking leather clad man.

“What the f-” Harry says out loud, to no one in particular. Niall is still tugging on his arm, but Harry drops it distractedly, turning to observe the scene before him because this person is… Well, first of all, they’re positively screaming.

“I ‘AVEN’T SIGNED UP FOR ANYTHING MATE, I DON’T FUCKIN’ KNOW YA!”

The person is clearly from around here, Yorkshire accent making the word fucking sound more like “fookin’”. Harry can’t tear his eyes away because the person is sticking their finger into the imposing man’s face as they yell at him. Nothing about the man’s stature or attire seems to be intimidating this tiny, angry creature. And Christ, they’re gorgeous. Harry can barely follow the conversation, but he thinks he gathers the gist of the problem when the larger man rolls his eyes tiredly.

“Come on, Billy, we have to get to the float, the parade’s starting!” he yells back, through the dog-shaped half-mask he’s wearing, also made of leather.

“My. Name.” The smaller person practically growls out, poking their finger into the lapel of the vest he’s wearing (also, of course, made of leather) after each word. “Is. Louis.”

The larger man laughs and Harry winces. Yeah, this little firecracker isn’t going to like that.

“And just what the fuck are you laughing at, you absolute knothead?”

The little… Louis seems to draw themselves up to their full height - which is unfortunately still nearly a foot shorter than this large male alpha. Yet, the larger man can clearly see something in Louis’ eyes because he finally backs down a little and deflates.

“You’re not Billy,” he says slowly.

“He’s cracked it at last!” Louis exclaims, throwing up his hands dramatically and looking around to an invisible audience. How is no one paying attention to this besides Harry?

“Right indeed, clever clogs.” Louis rolls their eyes theatrically so it’s nearly a full-body affair.

“I’ll take that,” Louis says then, taking something from the man, who seems to look a little ashamed. The slighter man promptly turns away from the large, dog-masked fellow who seems a bit cowed, somehow.

The smaller person - Louis, Harry’s brain supplies - turns around and…

“Wow,” Harry says out loud.

It’s crowded and loud, so there’s no way the person heard him, but their gaze is suddenly on Harry’s anyway at the sound. He can’t find it in him to regret the words, though. Nearly says it again when their blue eyes meet his green.

They’re not very tall, especially if they are in fact an alpha. Harry isn’t one to assume gender, or secondary gender for that matter, but he feels in this case it would be difficult not to because Louis is wearing a collar. Not completely unusual for any gender, but right there, in gold lettering, is written, “DADDY”. Harry cannot stop staring. Even despite the small stature, everything about this person screams alpha, at least to Harry.

When his gaze unsticks from that fucking collar, it falls onto a black mesh shirt paired with what appears to be some kind of leather harness. Underneath, Harry can see this person is inked - their chest, their arms… Though the dog-masked alpha is now gone, Harry can sort of understand why he had thought Louis belonged on a parade float because the leather harness bleeds into an all leather mini skirt as well. At least, that’s what it looks like. Short, shiny shorts peek out from under the obscenely tiny skirt and long, tan legs lead to a pair of slightly underwhelming checkered vans. The shoes don’t match the rest of the outfit, but Harry can’t find it in him to care because despite this small, angry person’s eye-catching ensemble, it somehow isn’t what really catches Harry’s attention.

No, this person is quite simply breathtaking. Their lips are pink and their skin seems to positively shimmer. Harry can’t tell if it’s actual glitter - there seems to be an abundance of it at this event - or if the sun just specifically chooses to shine on this particular human being in a special way. It could very well be the latter, Harry feels like he’d do the same given the chance and he hadn’t even had the pleasure of actually meeting this person yet.

And their eyes. God, they are clearly wearing some type of eyeliner, lashes long and fluttering as they stare back at Harry, possibly just as awestruck, probably just wary of how long Harry has been open-mouthed gawping at this point.

Harry snaps his jaw shut and swallows. He is still staring, can’t seem to stop, so he puts on his most winning smile, hoping his dimples make up for whatever his face was doing beforehand.

For a second, it seems as if this Louis person brightens up at the sight of Harry. A huge smirk erupts on their face, like they’re in on some kind of joke that Harry missed in the midst of absolutely melting inside at the sight of them. But then Harry realizes Louis isn’t actually looking at him, but behind him, so he whips around to see Niall doubled over in laughter.

When he turns back around to look questioningly at this stranger that had entranced him so quickly, he finds, with no small stab of disappointment, that they are no longer where they stood moments ago. The disappointment only lasts a moment before all sound seems to shut off at once when he finally hears Louis speak, tone low and sultry and way too close.

“Well hey there hot stuff,” they say, somewhere near Harry’s ear in what sounds like a very thick and awkward American accent. “You dudes lookin’ for a good time?”

Harry can’t help it, he blushes from the roots of his hair down his chest. He’s about to stutter out a response, unsure of what is about to come out of his mouth and terrified it might actually be a whimper, when Niall seems to stop laughing long enough to lean into their space, waggling his eyebrows.

“Why, hello there, sweet thang!” Niall says in an even worse accent, still waggling his eyebrows. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to have yourself any kids with you there, paaardner?”

Louis doesn’t miss a beat.

“No kids, sweet thing,” they say, leaning back and holding out one of their hands as something drops down to the ground. It’s a god damn leash, wrapped twice around their delicate hand with the end of it dangling nearly to the floor. Their hip cocks where their other hand rests on it.

“But I can still be your Daddy, baby.” They whip the leash out so it makes a faint crack as they talk.

Their last words come out so low they’re nearly a growl. Harry is quite sure he does actually whimper then. A soft “fuck me,” falls from his lips without his permission. Louis’ gaze flickers briefly to Harry, but before they can say anything else, Niall, who has never been one to keep a straight face, bursts into peals of laughter, clapping Louis on the back into a hug.

Harry’s mouth is hanging open again. He wonders vaguely if he might be drooling. Niall releases Louis and turns to Harry, presumably to introduce them, possibly to explain literally any single part of this exchange. Then he sees Harry’s face and loses it all over again, doubling over while Harry is left to stare, bewildered, at the stranger in front of him.

Louis, to their credit, drops the act and makes a face, halfway between pride and embarrassment. He shrugs, as if to say, “What can you do?”

Good question, Harry thinks. What the fuck is Harry supposed to do with this?

“Niall?” Harry asks after a moment. Niall is in tears, but he stands back up, at least attempting to control himself.

“Your face, Harry,” he says, still halfway laughing. “Sorry, Harry. Harry,” he starts again, grabbing Louis by the arm. “This is Louis. He plays footie with us at uni, but he’s from around here!”

Harry smiles, still a little lost, a lot intrigued. Okay. Louis. He. Noted.

“Louis,” Niall says, placing a hand on Harry’s waist. Louis tracks the movement, licking his lips. “This breathtaking, beautiful creature,” Niall pauses, bringing his hand up above Harry’s head and encouraging him to twirl again. Harry obliges, shaking his head and giggling a little. Harry fights the flush of embarrassment and pride that threatens to throw him off balance as he spins. “Is my best friend, Harry.”

Incapable of ever getting used to Niall’s easy compliments, Harry actually ends his twirl on a curtsy. Wait, what the fuck? Louis’ eyebrows raise and he tilts his head. He smiles slightly, a smirk, again, and Harry’s eyes widen in mortification. Oh god. A curtsy?

“Oops,” Harry says, part of his long, flowy attire getting caught in one of his wings with the (idiotic) movement. Louis reaches forward to help untangle it with a teasing smile. They’re - he’s…

They’re close, closer than Harry expects when he manages to look up. Louis is still smirking, but his eyes - so fucking blue - are sparkling, not unkind. Harry breathes through his mouth.

“Hi,” he says, quiet despite the noise around them.

“Hi,” Harry says, suddenly shy. And what the fuck. Niall is talking again, but Harry hasn’t heard a word of what he’s saying. At the thought, the rest of the world seems to come back into focus and the noise from the parade and the crowds is suddenly overwhelming.

“Y’alright there, love?” Louis says. He’s nothing like what Harry was expecting after witnessing him yell at a much larger, similarly leather clad alpha. His voice is much gentler when he isn’t poking a finger into someone’s chest, and his eyes haven’t left Harry’s since they’ve met.

“Erm,” Harry says eloquently. “Yes. Yes, of course. Sorry.” His words are coming too slowly, he knows it. And his voice has dropped down an octave without his permission. Alphas don’t like that. Almost a challenge, he knows. Louis doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Sorry, no idea why I just fucking curtsied, actually.” Harry instantly claps a hand over his mouth at the words that apparently just left his mouth.

Louis throws his head back in laughter and Harry can’t help but drop his eyes to the long column of his throat. Fucking gorgeous. His skin shimmers there too. He wants to lean in and scent the length of it. The image is so strong, Harry has to actively take a step back, faltering a little.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Louis says, expression smug, steadying Harry with a brushing touch to his side. Harry barely feels his warmth through the fabric of his shorts.

“M’used to it, really. Only appropriate, don’t you think?” Harry frowns for a moment.

Oh god, was he that type of alpha after all? But then Louis winks and Harry lets out a loud bark of laughter, unable to resist.

Oh. Louis teases. Louis is being a little shit.

“Oh really?” Harry says, lifting an eyebrow. He can play that game too.

He flutters his eyelashes, dipping his head in a suggestively submissive gesture that exposes his own throat.

“Should I be calling you Master, or something, then?” He asks, looking at Louis with an overly coy expression, licking his lips. “Or maybe you prefer Sir?”

Harry has never, ever been this forward. Louis’ eyes just narrow thoughtfully, opening his mouth to respond, brow furrowed.

“Nah, mate, you’re supposed to call ‘im Daddy, duh!” Niall’s voice cuts in, leaning into Louis’ space again to point at his collar. “D-A-D-D-Y.” He adds helpfully, and Harry has to keep his hand from shooting up to get Niall’s finger off his alpha.

This person, Harry corrects himself internally. Who may or may not be an alpha. Certainly not Harry’s alpha.

Harry has enough presence of mind to see that Louis is actually blushing. And that’s… Well that’s something.

“Oh!” Harry draws out the word, a false tone of understanding dawning on him. “Okay.” He shifts his gaze back to Louis, schooling his expression into faux innocence with a healthy dose of challenge behind his gaze. “Daddy.”

He says it slowly, eyes boring into Louis’. The flush deepens and Louis’ eyes widen as his lips part, seemingly unconsciously, nostrils flaring as well. Fuck, Harry is so worked up he can’t help but wonder if Louis can smell it. But they’re outdoors. And there are so many people around.

Niall is laughing again, smacking Harry on the back so hard that he stumbles a little, coming closer to Louis without meaning to. Their proximity only emboldens Harry when Louis presses his lips into a thin line, nostrils flaring again.

Do it, Harry thinks, as if silently communicating with Louis. Scent me, Alpha.

And whoa, Harry has never, ever thought those words before. Not even drunk, not even in the deepest throes of passion. He’d definitely uttered them out loud, as a joke or maybe to please a particularly insistent alpha in bed. Especially when it seemed like what might get them off faster, Harry can usually tell which ones like him to play into the submissive omega act. And Harry, well, he’s nothing if not a people pleaser, even in the bedroom. This time, though, the thought pops into his head unprompted, about a perfect stranger. That is definitely a first.

Harry rights himself quickly, leaning away from Louis almost immediately. Louis seems to come back to himself too, shaking his head imperceptibly as he smiles back at Niall, finally tearing his eyes away from Harry’s.

“Can’t believe you actually did it,” Niall is saying, and Louis looks both bashful and proud again.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, this is my normal Saturday attire, Neil,” Louis says, brushing his hands down the front of his (mouthwatering) outfit.

“He’s lying,” Niall says conspiratorially, leaning in to speak into Harry’s ear, loud enough that Louis can hear. “I’ve not seen Louis wear anything but trackies and sweatshirts, all about four times too big for his tiny, fun sized self.”

“Hey!” Louis shouts, pushing at Niall’s shoulder. “M’big!” Louis juts out his chin, pouting as he passes a hand over his forehead as if to fix a fringe, even though his hair is in some sort of messy swirl at the top of his head.

“Sure y’are,” Niall says pleasantly. “Big bad Daddy Alpha. Very attractive. Very cute. Right, Harry?” Niall looks at him expectantly. Louis’ gaze is narrowed, glaring at Niall, but when it shifts to Harry’s face, there’s an uncertainty that wasn’t there before.

“Rugged and handsome, more like,” Harry says evenly. Their voice is deep, slow like molasses. Louis has to fight another blush as the words light up somewhere in his stomach. God. Where the fuck had this person been all this time? He’s sure he would have noticed them around school, remembered them if he had seen them somewhere in London. One did not simply forget a person like that. Louis wasn’t even sure they were human at this point. A faerie, maybe. A fever dream, likely.

It feels like his eyes keep getting drawn to this person - Harry’s - eyes, hair, body, wings… their everything.

And why shouldn’t they? As much as Louis was definitely kidding about this particular outfit being his regular attire, he wasn’t sure the same could be said of Harry. Louis has to work to not feel awkward in the skirt - god, he is wearing a skirt. He had slid on a pair of tight, biker shorts underneath because he was sure he’d expose himself at some point in the day accidentally. Harry, however, shows no signs of discomfort. In fact, Harry seems to float through the crowd, the effect only amplified by the long, pink-ish see-through material hanging off their shoulders and trailing near the ground. Louis doesn’t know a single thing about fashion or fabrics, but the way Harry’s skin glistens with sweat and likely some kind of makeup makes his mouth water.

And there’s so much of it. Underneath the cape-like garment fastened around Harry’s shoulders, they are wearing next to nothing. The only other piece of clothing they’ve got on is a tiny pair of lace shorts, leaving very little to the imagination. The pink-ish hue of the fabric blends into the pale hue of their skin so that they look nearly naked, safe for the straps holding the large, feathered wings on their back. It also means Louis can see every inch of their numerous tattoos: sparrows on their chest, a moth etched into the skin of their taut stomach, absolutely sinful laurel leaves drawn into the V of their crotch.

Louis lifts his eyes up quickly once he realizes where his gaze is headed, a fresh wave of heat washing over him. His only salvation is he isn’t sure he has stopped blushing since meeting Harry, so perhaps they will simply assume Louis is permanently pink.

“Yeah,” he finally says belatedly. He’s not sure how much time has passed since Harry’s comment, but he can’t help the pleased smile on his lips at the thought of it. “Hear that, Niall? Rugged.”

“Alright, you muppet,” Niall says, clapping a hand on Louis’ back once more, the other arm snaking its way to Harry’s waist. Louis fights a frown at the sight, directing his eyes to his surroundings for what feels like the first time since noticing Harry.

“So, boy,” Niall says, grabbing Louis by the neck. “Ethereal and magical creature,” he added, encircling Harry on his other side. “Yous ready to part-ay?”

*

It turns out Niall had brought not only his roommate, but two teammates from football, Liam and Mitch. Thankfully, Louis only has a moment to worry about their reactions before Mitch is laughing, clapping him on the back like Niall had. “You look great, Louis! Amazing,” he says, gesturing to Liam, who only has a confused but encouraging smile on his face.

Well. It’s hard to explain why Louis thought it would be a laugh to dress up as a leather daddy, so he decides not to think about how seriously his teammates are taking him.

The parade itself is loud and vibrant… It should be all encompassing, really, but Louis feels like he’s slowly going insane because he can’t seem to concentrate on anything but Harry.

Harry twirling with a small child wearing a unicorn-patterned dress. Harry’s dimples as they smile wide when one of the cowboy hat clad Farmers Feed Cities float riders uses an imaginary lasso to “reel” Harry in. Harry attempting to twerk with a drag queen. There is so much skin, pale and shimmering despite the typical gray weather. Harry is sunshine in corporeal form. Blinding. Impossible to ignore.

It doesn’t help that Niall keeps nudging Louis every time Harry so much as breathes.

“I know, right?” he says at one point, shaking his head. Louis frowns.

“Context, Niall,” Louis says mildly.

“Harry,” Niall says, as if that explains it. Louis feels like nodding, even if he isn’t sure what Niall is getting at, he can’t really disagree either. “He’s…” Niall shakes his head again. “Harry’s something else. Can’t believe I got so lucky.”

For a moment Louis wonders what that means. Wait… Was Niall Harry’s… Were they…?

“No, no!” Niall says suddenly. Louis’ frown must have deepened. “No, not like that mate.” Niall adds quickly. “I just mean, like, imagine being friends with all of that. Imagine living with him!”

The image of Harry curled up on the couch with Louis pops into his head without his permission. No, he definitely can’t imagine being friends with Harry. All scenarios playing through his mind are decidedly not only friendly. Instead of saying any of this, Louis just laughs, shrugging.

“What are you two chatting about?” comes Harry’s voice. Louis still isn’t used to such a deep tenor coming out of such a delicate mouth.

“You,” Niall says, unashamed. Louis’ cheeks burn.

“All good things, I hope,” Harry says and winks lasciviously. Niall laughs.

“Oh, always, H,” he replies easily. “It’s been fun to see Louis here get to know just how irresistible you are to anyone who lays eyes on you. Kind of nostalgic, in a way. I had no idea what to do with you either at the beginning.”

Louis is both embarrassed and intrigued when Harry’s cheeks darken. He rolls his eyes, swatting at Niall playfully.

“You’re going to traumatize him,” Harry says, bashful. Louis looks between them questioningly.

“Not anymore than witnessing you twerking has!” Niall guffaws. “Besides, it’s nothing bad.” Niall turns to Louis then, smiling wide. “When I first met Harry, it was all band t-shirts and skinny, ripped jeans. It could have been a uniform he wore the same thing nearly every day for the first month.”

Harry is shaking his head, ducking down in apparent embarrassment. Louis grimaces a little, thinking of his own similarly plain fashion sense. Harry was just dressed up for pride, then. This wasn’t habitual, despite how at ease he seemed in the clothes. Well, Louis could relate to that at least.

“Then, one day, I come home a bit early from class, you know? Got halfway there and just gave up on the whole concept and fancied a bit of FIFA at home with Harry,” Niall says, smiling in a self-deprecating way as he tells the story. “So I walk into me own home only to see Harry, hair in a bun, gorgeous pink lipstick on, and sparkly little shoes, dancing around with the broom, using it as a microphone as he sang along to Marvin Gaye in a bright blue sundress.”

Harry is blushing in earnest now, rolling his eyes.

“I thought you’d be in class!” he protests, slapping Niall again. His eyes dart to Louis quickly, gauging his reaction.

“And I’ve never been the same since,” Niall replies, hand over his heart. “No, really, Louis,” Niall says, seemingly sincere. “Harry looked lovely. I think it just about changed my life.”

“I believe it,” Louis says, perhaps a bit too softly. Harry’s dimples reappear at his words, though, so Louis is okay with it.

“He’s so pretty,” Niall says, forlorn. “Like, unfairly so. Haven’t got a chance with him around, charming all the boys and girls.”

“And everyone else, too, I’m sure,” Louis adds. Harry’s gaze turns sharp, snapping to Louis’. He doesn’t have time to add anything before someone else speaks.

“Aw, Niall,” Liam pops up behind Niall, ruffling his hair. “You’re a charmer, too.”

Niall rolls his eyes.

“Oh I know I’m a looker,” Niall says, smug. “But it’s nothing compared to him. Just look at him. The sundress was the least of my worries.”

Harry seems equally pleased and bashful. Louis wants to bite his lips. Niall twirls Harry around again, smiling wide. God, he’s so fucking right.

“Mine too,” Louis says without thinking. “And all I’m doing is imagining it.”

Harry’s eyes widen comically. He looks like a frog. A very pretty, pink-ish frog. Louis ignores the blush on his cheeks and stares back at Harry, smirking.

“Oh, these two are going to have fun,” Niall says to Liam then, laughing and shaking his head. Louis can see Mitch fake a gagging noise behind them.

“They stink!” Liam says, abruptly cut off by Harry shoving him, hard.

Louis kind of wishes he could smell what Liam is smelling, though, because he is quite certain he hasn’t been able to smell Harry at all.

“Hey! Behave!” Liam says, lacing a bit of alpha into his tone, which apparently does nothing but spur Harry on as he leans into Liam, making him stumble into the crowd of people watching the parade by them.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Harry says, sniffing.

He smooths out his cape and adjusts his lace shorts. Louis has to look away quickly when his eyes follow the movement because he is wearing the shortest shorts he has ever seen. He supposes he isn’t any better off with his mini skirt, but still. At least he’s got layers.

“Don’t push me around!” Liam replies, but there isn’t a trace of anger in his voice, just warmth as he recovers, apologizing to an innocent bystander who was very nearly bowled over by a lapful of hulking alpha. He playfully pushes Harry back. “You know I’m not into that kinky stuff you are!” Liam adds, grinning wide. Louis can’t help the way his eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Hey,” Harry says, and the word stretches out into a whine. “S’not my fault you’re weak, Alpha.”

Louis doesn’t know them like that, doesn’t know how this usually goes, but for a moment he’s worried Harry has gone too far. It’s not rude, but it isn’t quite proper, to be calling someone by their designation and challenging their strength that way. His curiosity about what exactly Liam meant by “kinky stuff” burns brighter.

Liam just cackles, shaking his head.

“What can I say, love?” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “You’re very intimidating, omega or not.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that, suddenly a little less playful.

“Don’t know what you could possibly mean,” he says loftily, sarcasm dripping from his words. “M’very delicate. Very omega. Very demure.”

It doesn’t sound like a joke, not really. And the thing is, Liam kind of has a point. Harry is big, for an omega. Louis himself wasn’t entirely sure of his gender until Liam had pointed it out. He’d been trying not to scent Harry, trying to be polite, but he has to admit it comes as kind of a surprise to hear he isn’t an alpha, or even a beta. Louis doesn’t put much stock into gender stereotypes, primary or secondary alike, but the information has him seeing Harry in a different light.

Yes, he is big. Tall, broad shouldered in a way that suggests at least some time spent at the gym, a strong jaw and large hands giving him a distinctively masculine look. But then… There’s the shimmer on his soft, pale skin. The way the translucent material sways around his hips. Louis is quite certain Harry is wearing lipgloss. And those long, brown curls flowing past his shoulders make it easy to imagine running his hands through it, maybe as Harry looks up from his lap, pink lips drawn tight around…

Ok, yeah, Louis can see it now. Harry might seem intimidating, but he is beautiful. The main word that comes to mind when Louis looks at him is soft.

Still, Harry is suddenly tense in a way he hadn’t been yet today.

“Sure, Harry,” Liam says, still chuckling a little. “So delicate. I’ve seen you at the gym, mate. Can’t you basically bench press someone Louis’ size these days?”

Harry’s expression turns sour then, a tick in his jaw appearing and his eyes turning downcast for a moment. Niall looks like he might say something, but Louis finds himself cutting him off.

“Can’t even imagine how hard it is for you,” he bites out quickly. His brain to mouth filter seems to be broken, especially when Harry looks like he might start to cry. Liam looks at Louis then, eyebrow raised. “I mean, sniffing out a date can’t be easy when your head is so far up your own alpha ass.”

Louis knows his response is just past the right tone to really be a joke, but he doesn’t care when Harry’s eyes whip up to his again. He smiles a little and redirects his gaze to Liam, chin jutting out.

“Besides, I actually exclusively hang out with people who can bench press me,” Louis adds, trying to soften his words somewhat with a joke. “I assumed by your size that you could. My mistake, Liam. Not sure we can keep being teammates considering.”

Liam rolled his eyes.

“It’s true,” Niall cuts in. “Louis had all the lads benchpress him one by one when he got on the team. Did you miss that day at practice, Li?”

“Must have,” Liam says, still laughing a little. “Did they just pass you around and have a go one by one then, Tommo?”

Louis laughs outright at that one, the discomfort at Liam’s words about Harry dissipating. It was easier to let it go once Harry’s expression had turned from shutoff to distinctly interested in what Liam had to say.

“Niall had to tag team it with Mitch, here, actually,” Louis says with a smirk. “A little too much to handle, I guess. But sharing is caring, as they say.”

Harry lets out a bark of laughter at that, loud and surprised in equal measure. Louis is laughing too, as are they all, shaking their heads at the ridiculous turn in the conversation.

“You do seem like a handful,” Harry says before they’re done giggling.

“You’ve no idea,” Niall says and launches into an elaborate tale about the time Louis managed to convince the football team’s cheer squad to spell out “TWATS” with their bodies during the game, effectively distracting their opponents and allowing them to score.

“Hey look! It’s your people!” Liam shouts in the middle of another convoluted story about Louis Niall is telling.

Everyone turns to the parade to see none other than a float filled with leather clad people. Some are sporting canine masks, some are nearly naked safe for a harness or leather jockstrap. A small group of five or six mask-clad figures are holding up a large banner that reads, “PUPS: Yorkshire Latex and Leather Club”. Louis feels like he may actually combust when a few of the people on the float point at him, smiling and waving as if he is one of their own.

It’s at this moment that he realizes that what he intended to be a laugh may actually be perceived as a form of kink-shaming and he is deeply embarrassed. Especially after the conversation they had about Harry and his unconventional looks (or tastes, apparently).

Well, in for a penny and all that.

He shrugs, smiles, and waves back enthusiastically. The people on the float cheer back at him.

“Ah yes, forgot to sign up in time for the float,” Louis says as they dance and prance their way down the line.

“Really?” Liam asks. It’s not too judgmental, mostly curious. Louis sighs at the mess he’s gotten himself into. Always way too committed to the bit.

“Ah, no,” Louis says, making a face. “No, actually, I uh, all of this was kind of…” He gestures at his body. “Like, just a laugh. Because of Niall, really.” He tries. Liam just looks confused. Harry is furrowing his brow too.

“Like,” Louis continues, having to speak up because the next float seems to be a high school band, complete with drummers and trumpets. He thinks they may be playing an instrumental cover of Born This Way. “Niall made a joke at footie, about me being a leather daddy… So…”

“I didn’t make a joke about that, you did!” Niall says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Right, well, it was meant to be a laugh is all,” Louis said, fiddling with his skirt. God. Was it worth it, Louis? Really?

“So…” Harry says in his deep, slow monotone. “You’re not a leather daddy.”

Louis blushes for what feels like the thirtieth time in an hour.

“Not…” Louis opens his mouth to deny it when the image of Harry on his knees, wide, glassy eyes looking up at him pops back into his mind. He coughs and clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” He answers instead, reverting back to humour to dodge the question. Harry’s eyes narrow.

“I would,” he says simply, but turns away to clap along to the rendition of Born This Way without further comment.

Niall is explaining the context of the joke as Liam and Mitch laugh appreciatively, so they only clap Louis on the back proudly by the end of the interaction. Louis’ heart hammers in his chest, sure his scent is giving him away with how worked up his proximity to Harry has gotten him thus far.

Soon enough, though, the parade dissipates, until a few police agents are driving by on motorcycles, opening the roads back up behind them.

Niall claps his hands, rubbing them together in a conspiratorial look that spells trouble.

“Ready for part two?” Niall says, grinning wide.

“What’s part two?” Louis asks.

“We’re going out, Lewis!” Niall exclaims, grabbing him by the neck and already walking towards a street littered with pubs.

“It isn’t even 3 in the afternoon yet!” Louis protests, but he doesn’t resist Niall’s grip.

“It’s PRIDE!” Niall insists. “Have you none of it, my queer potential actual leather daddy?”

Louis laughs out loud and follows the group.

“Alright, alright,” he says, rolling his eyes. “So then what kind of pride do you boys have? Allyship pride?” He tugs on Liam’s (rather large) bicep teasingly. “Large and looming buzz cut alpha pride?”

Liam lets out a loud laugh too, shaking his head.

“Allyship?” he cries out, loud enough that two people turn around. “You’ve seen me play footie, now what makes you think I’m not a bit light on my feet myself?”

Louis’ mouth hangs open, not only at Liam implying he may be queer, but also at the expression he’d last heard from the likes of his grandfather.

Harry can’t help but giggle a little at the shock on Louis’ face when Liam admits to not being completely straight. For his part, Liam and him had ended up in the same Art History elective and he’d seen the way he eyed the TA, who was dark, broody, and very decidedly male.

“Definitely an ally, I am” Niall says solemnly, putting a hand to his heart. “S’why I brought Harry, here.” He nods at Harry, moving the arm that was slung onto Louis’ shoulders to reach over and pat at Harry’s head, a few inches above his own. “Gayer than a maypole, this one is.” Harry lets out one of his surprised barks of a laugh.

“Niall!” he admonishes.

“What? S’true, innit?” Niall says, unbothered.

“No,” Harry says. He can’t help but see Louis turn abruptly to him out of the corner of his eye. “I am not gay,” he insists.

Niall rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly. “You’ve told me this one, I know it. You’re a casserole.” He says it so deadpan that Harry doesn’t have a choice but to laugh fondly.

“You’re pan,” Louis says then, looking up at Harry with eyes crinkling at the corners from his smile. He’s quick.

“Uh,” Harry answers shyly. “Yeah. Most people don’t know what that means, I feel like. They just think I’m gay and can’t admit it or something.”

“Means, um,” Louis says uncertainly. “You don’t care, right? You’ll sleep with whoever, regardless of gender?” Harry frowns. Louis’ eyes widen immediately, clapping a hand over his mouth and another one coming to palm at his forehead. “No!” he said loudly, squeezing his eyes shut in a wince. “No, sorry. Not what I meant. Just. Just,” he rushes to explain. “Like, you don’t mind. Could be any gender, s’not what’s important, like, the outside…”

Harry stares at him with the same somber expression for a few seconds longer, enjoying how Louis’ accent thickens and his speech accelerates as he panics. He finally lets his expression morph into a smile, letting him off the hook when it seems like Louis may actually hyperventilate.

“I didn’t mean to call you some sort of, like, cockslut…” Louis’ mouth drops open in horror at his own words, evidently mortified. Harry is truly laughing out loud now, head thrown back at the absurdity of Louis’ words.

“Louis,” he says, as the alpha looks as if he is praying for the ground to open up and swallow him. “Lou,” he says, finally catching Louis’ eye. “It’s okay.” Louis has a pained expression on his face still, so Harry reassures him as best he can. “I understood what you meant. Yes, the… packaging isn’t what interests me the most. I like the person first, whatever their gender or presentation.”

Louis nods, pressing his lips together. Harry is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Unless, of course, they come in this,” Harry gestures to Louis’ outfit, “kind of packaging. Then I am really quite interested.” Harry waggles his eyebrows. “In the package.” Louis rolls his eyes, still face-palming at himself.

“Sorry, that came out all wrong,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I swear I am not some weird biphobic asshole. I google shit. M’not ignorant.”

“Didn’t think you were,” Harry says easily. “Besides,” he lets his voice dip lower. “I much prefer cockslut to casserole.”

Louis just about chokes as Harry beams back at him, fully enjoying the way his golden skin pinkens.

Louis is saved a response because they finally make it to the entrance of a pub that isn’t insanely crowded and seems to have an outdoor seating area out back a little quieter than inside, where someone has already started a loud bout of karaoke. They follow the hostess to their table and grab a seat to peruse the menu.

*

“I can’t!” Harry cries, covering his face in his hands. Louis’ thigh had slipped closer and closer all evening and the leather of his mini skirt was brushing up against Harry’s tulle cape. God, what he wouldn’t give to just reach out and touch.

As it is, Harry is already four fluorescent pink and blue cocktails in, not counting the two shots Niall had coaxed him into downing earlier. Harry can barely keep track of his own drinks, so he couldn’t be sure, but he is relatively certain Louis isn’t faring much better. And he is a cute drunk.

To be fair, nearly everything about Louis is attractive. Throughout the past few hours, Harry had learned that Louis is from Doncaster, lives nearby, and is in his first year of university, double majoring in English literature and drama. Louis has five sisters and two brothers, has owned at least six goldfish (all sadly deceased) in his life, and cannot cook or clean to save his life.

Harry also learned that Louis is an absolutely adorable drunk. All squinty eyes and slurred, sassy comments. His sharp wit is only slowed by his fumbling lips, which he has the incorrigible habit of licking whenever he speaks, leaving them shiny and wet. It is difficult to pay attention to anything else, really. Harry has surmised that Louis doesn’t wear makeup very often, too, because his eyeliner is starting to smudge with how often he rubs at his eyes, and the lip gloss from earlier is nowhere to be seen. Still, Louis looks positively delicious and Harry is famished for more information about him.

“So,” he says loudly, interrupting Liam in the middle of a story he is telling. Liam makes a sound of protest, but Harry flaps his hand dismissively, turning his body so it’s angled toward Louis, so his knee just about brushes Louis’ leg, though the thin material of his cape still separates them. “So!” he starts again, distracted. “Secrets time!”

“Spoken like a true Aquarius!” Niall says, nodding solemnly.

“Wouldn’t that be more of a Scorpio kind of thing?” Liam asks, and Louis giggles.

Oh God, he actually giggles.

“What the fuck are you on about, lads?” he says, cracking up. Except the more alcohol he consumes, the more his Yorkshire accent is prominent, so it comes out more like, “Wot the fook are y’on about, lads?” Harry bites his lip.

“What?” Niall says defensively. “Barbara showed me my birth chart and it’s been very informative.” He looks smug.

“Oh really?” Louis is unimpressed.

It’s Harry’s turn to giggle, but he doesn’t really know why other than it’s nice to have an excuse to look at Louis.

“What are you laughing at, princess?” Louis says, raising a brow at Harry. Harry can’t help the way he giggles again, hiding his mouth as if it helps. “That’s a load of bullshit, horoscopes are the opium of the people, or something.”

“Pretty sure that’s religion, Louis,” Mitch says lightly.

“Wait so you don’t believe in horoscopes?” Harry asks, his outrage only partly put upon.

He wants to rile Louis up. He wants the puffed chest, the pointing fingers, the wild eyes he saw earlier.

“Well, nothin’ to believe in, is there, love?” Louis says, smug. Harry laughs.

“Spoken like a true Cap,” Harry says knowingly.

He is guessing, has no way of really knowing what Louis’ sign is. It’s worth it when Louis fish mouths at him though.

“Wha-” Louis says, frowning. “Which one of you told ‘im?” Louis accuses, pointing at Liam, Mitch, and Niall in turn.

Harry laughs wholeheartedly, throwing his head back now. He feels his curls bounce as he shakes his head and smiles a little wider at the feeling. God, it’s been a while since he’s had this much fun.

“No one told me, Louis,” he says, still shaking his head. “You just give big Cap energy, what can I say?”

Louis splutters in disbelief. Speechless, he seems to resort to pouting. Prettily.

“Aw, little baby,” Harry says, reaching to touch Louis’ lip, but stops himself before their skin makes contact.

“M’not little,” Louis says petulantly, eyeing Harry’s finger where it hangs suspended between them. Harry drops it, finally, chuckling a little.

“So a big baby, then. Sounds about right,” Harry says and Louis’ eyes widen when they meet his gaze. “My poor…” Harry pauses for effect. “Baby.”

Harry would have never said it without the liquid courage in his veins, loosening his lips and making the flush on Louis’ cheeks impossible to ignore. He holds the eye contact a little longer, enjoying the way Louis looks down, then back up through his long, long lashes. Too quickly, the sound of Niall and Liam’s guffaws ruin the moment somewhat. Mitch, for his part, watches on with his signature sardonic smirk.

“So,” Niall says loudly. “When are yous two gonna fuck?”

Now both Harry and Louis are spluttering.

“Us?” Louis says, pointing between Harry and himself with an incredulous look.

Unfortunately this draws attention to how they seem to have gravitated much closer than the others at the table. Harry can’t help but hide a smile behind his own hand. Alright, maybe Niall has a point.

“No,” Liam says, completely deadpan. “He was referring to me and Harry actually.”

Harry punches Liam’s pec. A bit too hard if his wince is anything to go by.

“Oops,” Harry says apologetically. “Just,” he says defensively. “No. Not- not Liam. And me. There’s no Liam and me.”

Liam and Niall burst into laughter again, as Louis’ expression goes from confused to smiling shyly.

“You should be so lucky,” Liam says, sniffing. “I’ll have you know I am an amazing boyfriend. Kind. Caring.”

“Absolutely enormous knot,” Niall completes solemnly.

“Oh, well in that case,” Harry says, rolling his eyes.

“Damn,” Louis says, sighing loudly. “I knew my micropenis would never be enough for you, Harry.”

“It’s not the size of the pitch,” Niall quips, petting Louis’ hair, mussing it slightly.

“It’s all about the kit, you’re right,” Liam cuts in, gesturing at Louis’ clothes.

“Overcompensating,” Louis nods, directing his gaze at Harry. He makes a small circle with his delicate fingers. “Half an inch, but I mean, just look at the packaging.” He gestures to his outfit, shrugging and holding his hands up. “Gotta count for something, right?”

“At least you know he’ll work for it,” Niall says through another bout of laughter.

“Very hardworking,” Louis agrees. “Diligent. Dedicated.”

“Daddy.” Harry completes, throwing his head back in laughter.

“There’s that marketing degree!” Liam shouts, as the rest of them dissolve into laughter again.

It’s another hour later when Louis finally realizes it’s getting a bit late. In fact, Mitch has already fucked off and Louis is suddenly very aware that they are in his hometown, miles away from uni, where these people belong.

“Oi!” he interrupts Niall. “How’re you bellends making it back tonight?”

“We’re not!” Harry responds with a grin.

Louis can’t help smiling back, hasn’t been able to help it for most of the day. His cheeks hurt.

“Livin’ rough tonight then?” Louis asks. “Or were you hoping you’d charm me into a free bed?”

“Seeing as we didn’t even know you’d be around, that wasn’t exactly the plan,” Liam says, ever the sensible one.

“Nah,” Niall says, waving off Louis’ question. “We’ve brought a tent!”

Louis is not sure what his face is doing, but he is sure it’s not good.

“You’re CAMPING?” He all but yells. Niall shrugs.

“The bus back left an hour ago, I’ve been drinking… we didn’t want to worry about it!” Liam explains. “Besides, it’s a big tent. And Harry said he could sleep in my car if his giraffe limbs don’t fit.”

“Nah, mates, come on now,” Louis says, shaking his head. His family is out of town this weekend, apart from his sister Lottie, who he’s sure will end up at her boyfriend’s flat anyway. Even if it had been a full house at the Tomlinson’s, camping was certainly not acceptable. No matter how good of an idea it seemed to an inebriated Liam.

“It’s fine,” Niall says dismissively. “Liam’s been aching for a cuddle and you know that’s my specialty.”

“That may be so,” Louis acquiesces. “But we can’t let Harry,” Louis continues, “beautiful, sweet Harry, sleep in a car!”

The worst part is that Louis kind of believes his own bullshit for a moment, especially when Harry ogles him with wide, wonderfilled eyes.

“Oh,” Niall says, looking at Liam guiltily.

“Well Harry said it was ok,” Liam says unsurely, looking at Harry, who seems like he may be about to agree.

“What is it you said Niall?” Louis tries not to let his words slur, wants to make sure he’s clear. “Such a breathtaking and ethereal creature,” Louis adds solemnly, eyes pausing briefly to meet Harry’s when he says it. “Can’t possibly be left to shiver alone in a car.”

Niall and Liam, to their credit, don’t even laugh. They just look slightly guilty. Harry, for his part, is blushing prettily. And Louis did that.

“Besides,” Louis says, flapping a hand as if it isn’t a big deal. “We’ve got room at ours. If you don’t mind sleeping in a child’s room or a bunk bed.”

When he first started university, he could have never predicted his Donny life coming in contact with his London life. He could have never imagined a couple of footie mates potentially sleeping in his twin sisters’ bedroom. Then again, he’s not sure he would have imagined himself in a leather mini skirt, shamelessly flirting with a so-called ethereal creature clad in blushing pink lace shorts either. He was grateful his family was out of town all the same, the Donny lads too. It made it easier to offer up this piece of him.

“If it’s free,” Niall calls out. “It’s for me!”

Liam smiles guiltily.

“Um, if you’re sure, Louis,” he says shyly. Louis claps him on the back.

“‘Course, mate,” Louis says. “I’ve got FIFA. We can pick up some beers and keep the party going!”

Louis can’t help but chance a look at Harry. He can’t help the way his own smile widens at the sight of Harry’s dimples and bashful grin.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, almost too quiet for him to hear. But Louis has begun to figure out that he can pick out Harry’s voice anywhere.

“‘Course, Hazza,” Louis says in kind, his eyes crinkling at the nickname. “S’my pleasure.”

“Glad I won’t be shivering alone in a car after all,” Harry adds, expression hopeful. Louis bites his lip.

“Now, what kind of friend would I be if I let that happen?” Louis asks rhetorically, unwilling to let the conversation end.

“So we’re friends, then?” Harry answers with a question. His eyebrow lifts slightly, expression a tad playful. Louis’ bottom lip remains firmly under his front teeth.

“Uh,” he says eloquently. “Well,” he hesitates, looking down at his glass. “We’re… friendly, I think. Right?”

Harry positively beams.

“Yeah,” he all but whispers. “Definitely friendly.” Louis can’t do anything but smile back.

He knows they’re staring. He knows there’s something, something more between them. It’s why he hasn’t touched. Hasn’t given into the urge to press their bodies together. Hasn’t scented Harry’s long, delicate neck, his shimmering skin. He doesn’t know what is happening between Harry and him, but it’s unexpected, unplanned, and Louis doesn’t want to fuck it up.

*

It’s another forty minutes before they settle up at the bar, finally deciding to call it a night and head to the off-license before Louis’ place. They decide on a bottle of tequila (Niall’s idea) and a 24 pack of cheap beer before piling into one of the many taxis hanging around the area. It’s only ten minutes or so before they stop in front of Louis’ house.

Suddenly, Louis is nervous.

“Um, alright,” Louis says, feeling slightly unsteady on his feet.

He wonders vaguely if the fact that Lottie’s car isn’t in the driveway means she’s already at Lewis’. He thinks about his room and the piles of clothes left on his floor. The kitchen garbage hasn’t been changed since Tuesday and he can’t remember if he rinsed out the toothpaste he spat into the bathroom sink.

“Uh, listen, I didn’t plan on inviting anyone back to me place after this…” Louis starts.

“Oh, you weren’t planning on pulling?” Niall asks.

“In that outfit?” Harry adds, smirking.

“Fuck off,” Louis says, laughing softly. “Just didn’t plan on having three men over after the fucking pride event in me hometown!”

“Does the fact that there are three of us change what you would have done in preparation?” Liam asks in confusion.

“Three at a time definitely needs some preparation,” Harry says seriously, nodding. “Especially for an alpha,” he adds, completely deadpan.

“Yeah, come on, Li,” Niall says, but he’s much less successful in his attempt to tamp down a smile. “Louis only prepped for one of us.”

Louis punches Niall’s arm, making an annoyed noise in his throat.

“But he has experience,” Niall adds. “Mitch and I tag teamed him, remember?” Harry and Liam erupt into giggles, as Louis grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Will you” he says, grabbing Niall by the scruff of his neck. “Shut the fuck up and get in?” He walks up to the house then, only releasing Niall when he has to fiddle with his key in the lock.

“It’s okay Louis,” Niall says, giggling now. “We won’t judge you.”

“Seeing as it’s a free bed for the night, I should fucking hope not!” Louis says, but still kicks the two pairs of shoes he left in the entrance this morning under the couch on his way in.

“Just,” he says quickly, trying to rearrange a couch cushion as he walks hurriedly by. “Could you maybe count to twenty before following me downstairs?”

Harry lets out a squawking laugh. Niall just starts counting out loud, quite fast.

“No!” Louis says, already backing up towards the stairs. “No, slower. Slower, please. Then you can come down, ok?”

Niall laughs, shaking his head, then starts counting slower.

“One… Two…”

Louis rushes down the stairs two at a time, quickly grabbing a discarded towel on the floor of the basement bathroom and running the tap in case there is in fact toothpaste still in the basin. He grabs a handful of wipes and heads to the main room. He picks up two bags of crisps, running one of the wipes across the coffee table at the same time. He throws the blankets he had been wrapped in last night when he fell asleep in front of the telly into a messy pile, making room for at least four people to sit on the large couch. He heads over to the door to his room, kicking a stray shoe into it and closing the door.

Overall, he’s impressed with the improvement he manages with only a twenty second head start, even though he knows the place isn’t exactly spotless. Still, he can hear the three boys coming down the stairs and he doesn’t feel too embarrassed by the state of the basement on the whole.

“Just give him another minute,” he hears Harry whisper as they descend the stairs.

“Oh bugger off,” Niall says. “I don’t give a shit how tidy it is, we’re just playing FIFA, Harry!”

“I think he cares, Niall,” Harry argues in a hushed tone.

Louis can’t help but smile a little at him coming to his defense.

“Well come on then!” He shouts. He can’t have his reputation as a little shit be completely destroyed. “Did you forget how to count to twenty? I thought we went over that Niall!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall is saying as he comes to the basement landing.

“Um,” Louis says, gesturing. “This is it!” He indicates the couch. “You can sit. And, uh, loos are here.” He points to the door to the toilet.

“So…” Liam says.

For a moment, Louis is scared it’ll be awkward.

“FIFA?” Niall asks, holding up the case of beer.

“FIFA!” Louis cries.

*

Louis sits out the first two rounds, taking a moment to put the beer in the fridge and make sure fresh sheets are on the beds in his twin sisters Phoebe and Daisy’s room for where Liam and Niall will sleep. Lottie doesn’t seem to be home, but Louis still sets up his younger siblings’ room for Harry, just in case she makes an appearance and isn’t too thrilled by a random omega in her bed.

When he finally comes back, he’s only slightly disappointed to see Harry cuddled up with Niall and Liam sitting by the empty spot on the couch. Harry doesn’t seem to be playing the game, but is still watching lazily from the way his eyes dart left to right on the screen. Louis instantly hates the way Harry stretches a little, nuzzling his nose into Niall’s side where his head is half buried in Niall’s t-shirt.

“Not playing then, love?” Louis says, coming around the back of the couch. Liam glances up and shifts over a spot, so the empty place is now between him and Harry. Louis can’t help the way his eyebrows rise in surprise, but Liam only offers a small shrug and a wry smile. Huh. Alright, Liam.

“Hmm?” Harry says, raising his head from where it was resting on Niall, hair mussed and eyes drooping. “M’tired.”

“You look it, mate,” Louis says, chuckling. “You can head over to bed, if you like, just finished setting up your rooms. Figured Liam and Niall could bunk together in that room, and you could take the other.”

He motions to their respective rooms, but Liam and Niall barely glance at them. Harry, for his part shakes his head, sitting up straighter as Niall adjusts distractedly.

“Aw, come on!” Liam yells at the screen as Niall scores and laughs. Harry seems more awake and inches a bit closer to Louis.

“So who do you think will win, Lou?” Harry says, leaning into Louis as if he is telling him a secret.

It’s difficult to concentrate when Harry’s hair is nearly brushing his collarbone, even more difficult because Louis has been drinking all night and the sun, the alcohol, the emotion of the day are catching up with him. He does his best not to give in and scent him, right there on the sofa, but he’s pretty sure the deep jasmine mixed with cedarwood smell isn’t coming from anyone but the sweet creature perched in front of him.

“Hmm,” Louis says, giving himself time to answer, time to not scent Harry. “I’d say Liam.” He says it because Liam moved over a spot. “Because who doesn’t love an underdog.” He says that part because he’s Louis.

“Let’s play a game,” Harry says then, smiling wide.

“You wanna take next?” Niall asks, but Harry is shaking his head.

“No, no, you lads keep playing,” he says, grabbing his beer and handing Louis one of the unopened bottles left on the coffee table. “Louis and I will play a game too.”

Louis takes the beer bottle and opens it easily, confused but acquiescing.

“Alright, how are we playing?” he asks. He sees Harry’s eyes dart down to his collar - god, he really should have changed by now - and back up again.

“Um,” Harry says. And if Louis didn’t know better, he would think Harry was making this up on the spot. “When your champion scores, I have to drink. When mine does, you do.”

Louis puts on an unimpressed look.

“You’re on,” he says, leaning away to clap Liam on the back to encourage him, as well as attempt to create some semblance of space between Harry and him.

“Lima bean,” Louis whines. “You’re making me look bad you absolute shit!” His biting comment is slightly ruined by the slur in his words.

Harry giggles. Honest to God giggles. He wishes he could blame it on the alcohol, but he thinks it might be the way Louis is swaying in his seat and the leash - the fucking leash - keeps brushing up against where Harry’s ankle is resting on the couch. Well, it could probably be a combination of both of those things, actually.

Louis’ outfit looks a little worse for wear, his eyeliner delightfully smudged where his eyes keep crinkling with laughter. His harness is askew and his fishnet shirt has ridden up so his tummy is showing. He looks delectable and Harry fights the urge to lean over and smell the crook between his neck and sharp little collarbones.

Louis has been losing, so his eyes are slightly unfocused as he smiles at Harry. He’s close, so close Harry doesn’t even really have to sniff in order to smell the smokey, citrus scent of him. Harry is still smiling too, because it’s not like Liam hasn’t scored either. Harry is pretty sure he’d be drunk on the sight, sound and smell of a tipsy Louis regardless. He doesn’t know how, but they haven’t even touched, not even once. And suddenly this seems completely impossible. Unfair even.

“I’m knackered!” Niall says suddenly, throwing down the controller as the screen announces his team’s win. Liam yawns, tossing an empty bag of crisps onto the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he says, stretching pointedly. “Think I’ll head to bed too.”

“Oh, um,” Harry begins, thoughts not moving quickly enough to come up with an excuse to stay up.

“You said there were two beds in here, right, mate?” Niall says, gesturing to Louis’ twin sisters’ room. Harry looks to Louis, who seems just as confused as himself at the abrupt change of pace.

“Everything ok?” Louis asks then, his words coming out slowly. His eyes are narrowed suspiciously.

“Yeah, mate, great!” Liam responds grabbing the rucksack he had left by the stairs on the way in. When Louis still eyes them both suspiciously, Liam shakes his head. “Really, mate,” he says, putting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “It’s late. Niall and I will take this room, alright?” Harry then sees him raise his eyebrows and look over to Harry, quickly returning his gaze to Louis.

“Yous two keep the party going if you like,” Niall is calling from the bathroom through a mouthful of toothpaste. “Just really, really knackered,” he repeats. Harry sees him wink exaggeratedly.

There’s a beat of silence as Niall closes the door to the bathroom and Liam seems to go into the bedroom to change.

Louis is still very much in Harry’s space, despite the empty couch offering up plenty of room. Harry, for his part, can’t help a flush rising high in his cheeks because, well, his friends weren’t being particularly subtle.

“Uh,” Louis says, bringing a hand up to rub his neck. “Are you… Are you tired?” he asks tentatively.

Objectively, it’s nearing one in the morning. Objectively, Harry has been awake since seven am. Objectively, his friends have gone to bed and he is sitting on a couch with a person he has met less than twenty four hours ago and who is an alpha no less. Harry hates that he knows this now by smell alone.

“No,” Harry responds, blinking at Louis slowly. Louis’ eyes dart down to Harry’s lips. Harry realizes it’s because he is licking them.

“Ahem,” Niall says loudly. “Alright, lads, going to bed.” He opens the door to the bedroom, making his way into the darkened room. “Wear protection!” he calls out, before shutting the door immediately.

Louis’ eyes widen, a gorgeous blush creeping up his neck. Harry licks his lips again.

“Um,” Louis’ voice comes out raspy, nearly a whine. Harry swallows, eyes fixed on Louis’ throat. “Do you want to watch something?” he asks. Harry’s eyes unstick from his skin to meet the other man’s gaze again.

“Okay,” Harry says, the short word elongated. His voice has dropped down an octave and he winces at the sound. He clears his throat. “Sure,” he adds, voice slightly more even.

He’s nervous. Louis has seemed interested all day, staring and even flirting at times. But Harry knows he isn’t what people expect. Ever since he presented, he’s watched men he’s been interested in frown in confusion at his size or his voice. Too tall. Too broad. Too deep. Too rough. To Harry, he was just himself. He had stopped paying attention to what people had to say about his appearance, his too-deep voice or his boisterous attitude a while ago now. When he’d shown up in his cape and shorts, Niall hadn’t batted an eyelash. Harry was Harry, that’s all there was to it.

And Louis… Well, he’d seemed to be picking up what Harry was putting down. Mostly. Maybe.

“I, uh, don’t have much in terms of streaming down here,” Louis says, shrugging a shoulder. “We’d have to move this party to my room if we want the telly with all the services on it…” He scratches the back of his neck again. Nervous, Harry thinks. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure we have a good old DVD player on here… With…” He clicks a button on the remote to switch the input and a familiar title sequence lights up the screen. “The Princess Bride?” Louis finishes, a giggle at the end of his sentence making it sound like a question.

“Oh, a classic,” Harry says, smiling. “Love this one!” he adds sincerely. Louis beams.

“As you wish!” he says, snickering at his own joke. Harry smiles at him.

“Can’t believe you’re still wearing all of that,” Harry says as the opening credits commence. Louis glances down at himself as if he’s forgotten what he is wearing. He looks up at Harry with a crooked smile, blushing. Then his eyes widen in faux offense.

“Why, Harry,” he says, scandalized. “Are you trying to get me out of my clothes?” Harry can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him.

“Wha- No!” he splutters. But Louis is shaking his head.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he says, chiding. “You get a few drinks in me and suddenly you’re after me virtue!” He tsks. “M’just not that kind of girl, love.”

His words are still slurring a little, tongue slow in his mouth. He’s looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, a playful smirk on his lips. Shy Louis was adorable, teasing Louis is breathtaking.

“Such a naughty boy,” Louis says, voice dropping a little so Harry nearly misses the words.

Harry nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Um,” he says, eyes wide. Louis is eyeing him, considering. The look lacks the heat Harry is expecting, instead calculating and methodical.

“Hmm,” Louis says, bringing a finger up to Harry’s chin without actually touching it. “No.”

Harry frowns, biting his lip. He realizes he is holding his breath, unsure of what he is waiting for.

“Maybe…” Louis tilts his head, eyes still examining Harry’s face as if it’s a puzzle.

Harry doesn’t want to break this moment, odd as it is, so he stills, heart racing in his chest. Louis suddenly looks unsure, his gaze lowering for a moment. His eyes snap up to Harry’s a moment later, though, and he bites his lip too.

“Such a naughty… girl.”

It’s a statement, but Harry hears a slight question. Louis traces the finger hovering under Harry’s chin down to the feather shoulder piece that connects to his translucent cape.

“E-Either,” Harry says, breath coming out in a rush. “Both. Whatever. S’fine, actually,” he adds, staring at Louis. “It, um, depends?”

Time seems to stand still for a moment as Louis and Harry just look at each other. Louis’ hand is a grounding weight on Harry’s shoulder, even if they’re not really even touching yet.

Harry has never really been so explicit about it. Niall calling him a “beautiful creature” and his friends never batting an eye at his outfits had always meant Harry hadn’t needed to really say anything. So he hadn’t. And neither had anyone he really trusted. Sure, many people had seemed uncomfortable in the past, there were dirty looks or confused faces. But Louis… It feels like Louis gets it, somehow, because he’s nodding like Harry’s answer makes sense.

“Hmm,” Louis says and his look turns considering again. “Okay,” he says, straightening up a little and dropping his hand.

Harry misses the touch, indirect as it was, instantly. He turns to the screen, focusing back on the movie playing. Harry does the same, heart pounding in his chest.

“Um,” Harry says suddenly, the sound tumbling out of his mouth before he really fully formed his thoughts. He needs… A break. Space. Something to calm the jackhammer pace of his heart. “Sorry, um, just. Loo?”

Louis turns to him, eyes wide, expression open and questioning.

“Yeah, love?” he says, after a moment. Harry frowns.

“Um, like,” Harry says and he wants to slap himself for how slow the words are coming to him. “I mean, I’m going to head to the loo, ok?”

Louis laughs, bringing his palm up to his face. When Harry looks at him questioningly, he shakes his head.

“Sorry, thought you… Thought you were just saying me name,” Louis says, chuckling a little. Harry grins.

“Oh, no,” Harry says, smiling wide and looking down. “No, um, just thought I’d announce where I was going. For some reason.”

“Right,” Louis says with a smile. “I’ll pause it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to! I’ve seen it before,” Harry says, reluctantly getting up from the couch.

“Nonsense,” Louis says. “You have to experience it in its entirety, Harry. It’s the rules.”

Harry is walking around the back of the couch when the words naughty boy come to mind. Well. In for a penny.

“Well, in that case,” Harry says, walking backwards to the bathroom door. “I’ll have you know I can follow rules. M’a very good boy.”

He narrowly avoids the doorframe and nearly ruins it all. But thankfully he recovers his balance and has just enough time before the bathroom door closes to see the back of Louis’ head snap up, his back straightening. He can only imagine the surprise on Louis’ face and can’t help but smirk as he goes to relieve himself behind the closed door.

Louis is both relieved and frustrated by Harry’s departure. On the one hand, the last three minutes have provided him with an inordinate amount of information to process. It feels like parsing the combination of loaded looks, innuendo, and blatant flirting may have actually caused him to overheat. On the other hand, Louis had never been a patient person. His inner alpha even less so. And though Harry’s scent lingered in the room - jasmine and cedarwood - Louis couldn’t help but mourn the loss of his beautiful creature.

Well, not his per say.

Louis is still debating the use of possessive pronouns inside the confines of his own mind when Harry emerges from the bathroom again. This time, he has opted to remove his wings and cape, so that all that remains on his body are the tiny lace shorts. Louis has to suck in a steadying breath through his mouth at the sight.

“Ah,” Louis says, nodding and pointing to Harry’s near naked body. “Yeah, should probably do the same…” He gestures to his own body, where the harness is slightly askew and where he knows his makeup is likely smudged. Harry shrugs, coming to sit on the couch.

“I don’t know,” he says, biting his lip. “S’a bit cold.” Harry looks up at Louis through his lashes and Louis can’t help the sharp intake of breath at the sight.

Beautiful. So beautiful.

“Well, that won’t do,” Louis says, frowning. Harry’s expression turns distinctly hopeful for a moment. “Do you, uh,” Louis starts, looking around himself for a moment, his thought process slowed by the alcohol, but suddenly desperate to make sure his omega is comfortable. “Do you need a blanket or…?”

Not his omega. Not his, he reminds himself.

Harry shrugs again, eyes not leaving Louis. He inches slightly closer, and Louis can’t help the way his eyes roam all that pale skin on display.

“Fuck.”

Louis feels it more than he says it, the word coming out as a deep rumble he’s nearly never heard himself make before. Harry’s eyes widen at the sound and Louis wonders if he should feel embarrassed or apologetic. All he can really feel is the sweet, tingling rush of arousal low in his belly as Harry, without breaking eye contact, stretches out his shoulders, rolling them back and puffing out his naked chest. Slowly, Harry brings his hands up to his neck, as if to rub at an imaginary ache, and rolls his head back over the couch cushions so that the long column of his neck and collarbones are on full display. It is positively obscene.

“I,” Louis says and finds his voice is trembling slightly, raspy. He clears his throat. “Maybe, maybe we should finish the movie another time.”

Harry glances at the screen for a split second, then back at Louis, expression unreadable.

“Yeah,” Louis says, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna…” He gestures to the bathroom vaguely.

“Okay, Lou,” Harry says softly.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and doing his best not to touch any part of the sprawling limbs on display.

Harry knows he is being unfair. He’s not some innocent virgin. His first year at university had been eye-opening in many ways and it wasn’t (exclusively) through research that he had learned what he liked or didn’t like in a partner, in an alpha.

And perhaps, over the years, he hadn’t been completely oblivious to the way alphas’ heads seem to turn whenever his shirt came off. He was too tall, too broad, too brash for an omega, he knew… But he also knew for a fact that sometimes those shortcomings could be overlooked, especially with a healthy dose of eyelash fluttering and lip-biting.

And there had been looks all day. So many looks. So many half-serious comments and innuendos.

So Harry mutinously thinks can’t be blamed for feeling more than a little thrown by Louis excusing himself almost immediately after Harry came back from the bathroom nearly naked. He had never known an alpha to resist a well-timed stretch and whimper.

At the same time, Louis was so different. Louis hadn’t so much as grazed his arm today. Every time Harry thought he might, they might… Louis had backed off, had joked, had somehow managed to diffuse the situation. It was maddening. Harry felt like he was burning up with frustration and the intense curiosity of what so much as a fleeting touch might bring.

Harry takes out his phone for a moment, flipping the camera on to see how he looks. He’s more than a little tipsy, so his cheeks are flushed. His hair, still falling loose in curls down to his shoulders, was an acceptable amount of frizzy considering the late hour. He licks his lips, wondering if he should grab some lip gloss from his rucksack while Louis finishes up in the bathroom, but he can’t help but feel that might look like he’s trying too hard. He frowns a little at his reflection, making a funny face just because he can, then locks his screen and sighs, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly.

He drums his hands on his bare legs, tracing the letters of the tattoo just above his knee. O-U-I. He adds an imaginary L and an S with his finger and giggles to himself. L-O-U-I-S.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’!” Louis calls from behind the couch.

Harry can’t tell if it’s because it’s late or because of the amount Louis has been drinking, but his Northern accent has gotten thicker as the night wears on. It’s adorable.

As Louis hops over the back of the couch, Harry’s eyes are drawn to his change in outfit. As far as he can tell, Louis has tugged on a large, fuzzy green sweater and gotten rid of the leather skirt. All that remains are sinfully tight black shorts, only slightly longer than the hem of the oversized jumper and what seems like endlessly long, tanned, shimmery skin. He looks so tiny, only the tips of his fingers visible at the edge of his sleeves. Harry swallows as he notes Louis hadn’t removed his collar despite the wardrobe change.

“No worries,” Harry murmurs, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes. But Louis is looking at the telly, remote in hand, and starting the movie again.

“Inconceivable!” he shouts suddenly, pointing at Harry. Harry laughs, only slightly belatedly.

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Harry says, in a terrible imitation of Inigo Montoya’s accent.

Louis positively beams at him, laughing so that the corners of his eyes crinkle. Harry grins back, unable to keep from leaning further into Louis’ space. Louis turns back to the screen, mirth still dancing in his eyes. Harry doesn’t bother, the real show is right beside him.

Louis must feel that Harry isn’t watching the movie, or maybe he feels the pull of Harry’s stare too, inevitable, irresistible. Either way, Louis turns back to Harry soon enough, this time with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“If I use my right, it’s over too quickly,” he quotes in time with the character on the television, making a lewd gesture with his right hand.

He waggles his eyebrows, then winks exaggeratedly. Harry shakes his head, unable to keep from chuckling a little.

“People in collars can’t be trusted,” he says, using his deep voice to his advantage this time to modify the character’s line.

Louis is smiling fondly, not bothering to turn back to the television now. Harry is vaguely aware that one of them should really break eye contact, but he knows it won’t be him.

It’s subtle. Quick. Louis is the first one to look away, down, and Harry is sure it’s to his lips. A second later, Louis’ eyes flit back to Harry’s and he licks his own lips unconsciously.

Well. He’d tried the stretch and whimper. The sight of Louis drowning in that ridiculously soft sweater has Harry at his limit.

“This is nice,” he said softly, bringing his fingers to brush the edge of Louis’ sweater. He is sure he hears Louis’ breath hitch. “Seems comfy.”

“Yeah,” Louis’ voice comes out raspy. He clears his throat. “Yeah, was a bit cold, like you said.”

“Oh,” Harry says, looking down at his nearly naked body. “Right.”

Louis’ eyes dart down to Harry’s chest as if he’s finally been allowed to look. Harry can see his gaze trace across his broad shoulders, the swallows adorning his chest, all the way down to the moth tattooed on his upper stomach. Harry’s mouth is dry. Louis remains silent.

Harry runs his finger up Louis’ sleeve to his collar, thumb toying at the edge of Louis’ shiny clavicle, not touching yet. Now he’s sure he hears Louis’ breath hitch, and the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing has Harry swallowing hard too.

“Looks good, too,” Harry says, eyes on his own fingers, still toying with the edge of Louis’ collar.

“Mm,” Louis hums.

His eyes are hooded, unfocused. Still, he hasn’t done anything. Harry wants to scream. Taking in Louis’ parted lips and flushed cheeks, Harry makes a decision.

“If I’m being honest,” Harry says then, voice dropping low, like he’s telling Louis a secret. “Not a look I really expected from you…” Harry moves his finger up to the leather collar, his thumb nearly grazing Louis’ neck. “Daddy.”

It could have been a joke. Harry figures he can play it off as such if Louis really isn’t interested. But he has a feeling he won’t have to. He’s about to school his face into half a smile, ready to offer up a teasing chuckle at Louis’ silence when his hand slips.

Harry’s thumb does graze Louis’ neck then and they both freeze.

It’s not his rut.

Louis knows how to pull. He knows the delicate features and smaller stature sometimes work for betas or even some of the more progressive alphas. He has even been with a few omegas, though they generally wanted something from him he has a harder time giving. Regardless, he isn’t some kind of touch-starved virgin.

But Harry… Sweet, quirky, beautiful, and distinctly omega, Harry has elicited something in Louis he can barely recognize in himself. He’d thought it was his rut, at first. He’d tried to avoid touching him, worried it might trigger something, but now…

It is definitely, definitely, not his rut.

Louis had slipped out of his harness and put on a large, comfortable sweater. He knew what he looked like - soft, small, decidedly un-alpha. It was a last ditch effort, a sort of “fuck you” to the gender norms that had plagued all his relationships, if they could even be qualified as such, in the past. A warning, a barrier between him and the endless expanse of soft skin on display beside him. Still, he kept the collar on. He’s only a man.

It was all for nothing anyway.

As soon as the rough pad of Harry’s finger brushes up against the thin skin of Louis’ neck, he knows. He knows.

He feels, more than hears Harry’s puff of breath and realizes Harry must be feeling the same things: heart racing, sweat breaking out on his skin, the sudden feeling of a cord between them being strung so tight it might snap.

“Oh,” Harry says, too soft for what is happening.

Calm, even. So calm that Louis briefly wonders if he has simply lost his mind. But there’s no mistaking the way Harry’s irises take on a golden hue. No mistaking the sharp smell of jasmine and cedarwood in the air, or the way his lips part in a shaky breath.

Louis can’t think of a single thing to say, everything is moving so fast, yet so slow all at once. He can’t believe he thought something as banal as a sweater would ever be enough to keep him from Harry, from his Omega.

“Um,” Louis says, hand instinctively coming up to join Harry’s where it feels like it’s burning his collarbone. “Um, Harry, I-I think…”

Harry is nodding, eyes wide, mouth still parted. He takes a deep breath through his mouth, his lips puckering into a small “o” when he blows it out.

“Yeah,” Harry says, seemingly unable to decide where to look.

His eyes land on Louis’ collar, his hand on his, his lips, his eyes, then back to the hand. He looks nearly frantic, his other hand clenching and unclenching at his bare thigh, knuckles white with how hard he presses into his tattoo of a tiger there.

Louis forces himself to remove his hand from Harry’s, also clenching his fist and backing away from Harry so they are no longer touching.

Harry’s eyes widen further, somehow. He looks stricken, eyes wet when the smell of fear fills the air. Louis is still adjusting to smelling everything Harry, instantly, completely.

“Sorry,” Louis says, coming closer so that their knees are brushing. Safer. Better. “Um, sorry, it’s just. I don’t want you to feel like… I think maybe we should…”

Maybe it is his rut, too. He can’t seem to get the words out, but he doesn’t want to assume. Christ, he’s only really heard about this type of thing in movies, he didn’t think it actually happened anymore. Harry’s scent doesn’t get much better, though, so he tries to keep talking despite the hammering in his chest.

“I, um, Harry, I…” Louis wants to punch himself right in the mouth. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he nearly growls. Harry recoils a little and Louis can’t help but reach for his hands. “Sorry, sorry,” he says again. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just didn’t -- I’m a bit…” Louis takes a deep breath and looks into Harry’s eyes. “Love, I think we may be, like, true mates or summat.”

He isn’t sure what he is expecting, but it definitely isn’t the loud burst of laughter that falls from Harry’s lips.

“Yeah, Louis,” Harry says, expression fond. He brings his hand up to Louis’ face, finger just barely touching his lower lip. “I think we are.” His eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, but he is grinning so wide. Louis wants to touch, taste, bite.

“So,” Louis says and Harry pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and finger, eyes still fond. “What, uh,” Louis tries to speak, words coming out slightly garbled by Harry’s fingers. Harry does not seem bothered in the slightest, apparently fascinated with Louis’ lip.

“What, er, do you want to do now? I don’t want to pressure you, but, um, my rut was already close and I think this might have - I mean, if you were open to… It would be nice if…” Louis continues bravely.

Harry moves his thumb down to Louis’ chin, holding it in place, smile turning seductive, scent turning warm. Louis fights a whine at the back of his throat.

“Come on,” Harry says, voice low. “Don’t get shy on me now, little alpha.”

Louis blushes furiously at the endearment, but before he can react Harry’s plush lips are on his in a heated kiss. Louis whimpers. He actually keens at the touch and he would love to think Harry doesn’t hear, but he knows he does because his omega immediately grabs a fistful of Louis’ short hair and tugs, opening his mouth to run his tongue against Louis’ lips. Whatever worries Louis may have had about propriety or dubious consent drown in the rumble of Harry’s moan when Louis finally recovers his wits enough to tangle his tongue with his. Still, still…

“Wait!” Louis all but shouts, tearing his mouth away and holding Harry by his shoulders. “Wait, wait.” He’s breathless and Harry’s glassy gaze isn’t helping matters much. “Okay,” Louis says, bringing his hands out in front of him, palms out.

Harry scowls at the loss of touch, but Louis just shakes his head.

“Okay, sweetheart, I get it. But maybe,” Louis tries to reason, even though Harry’s fingers are already sneaking under Louis’ sweater. Louis doesn’t exactly bat them away, either. “Maybe we can go - oomph!” Harry pushes him back on the couch, gaze focused on Louis’ lips as he pins Louis’ hands to the couch cushion easily. Well, that won’t do.

“Harry,” he tries again, voice still soft. “Love,” he continues, when Harry doesn’t pause, choosing to instead lick a stripe up Louis’ neck. He’ll smell like Harry, like his Omega.

“Oh, god, baby…” Louis breathes, hips shifting up unconsciously.

He feels Harry smile in the crook of his neck, still scenting him, still no doubt leaving marks all along his throat. And the thought of that, of having to explain what those are to others, of everyone knowing who made them has Louis snapping to attention.

“Hey!” he says, sharper now. He tugs his hands from under Harry’s grip. Harry is strong, sure, but Louis is his Alpha. With his rut approaching and the wicked burn of arousal in his veins, it doesn’t take very much effort to displace him. Instead of resisting, Harry immediately goes pliant where he’s straddling Louis’ thigh. Harry’s eyes are down and he’s biting his lip, shifting restlessly where he sits.

“Harry,” Louis repeats, a bit softer. Now that his hands are free, it’s his turn to bring Harry’s chin up to meet his gaze. “Baby.” His voice is lower than he’s ever heard it, but he tries his best not to let his hand shake where it holds Harry’s face. “Bedroom?” He means it to be an instruction, maybe even an order. But it comes out as a question, and he hopes Harry understands what he’s asking. Do you want to stop? Is this okay?

Harry nods enthusiastically, eyes snapping back up to Louis’.

“Yes!” he says. “Yes, yes.” He is suddenly standing up, grabbing Louis’ hand.

“God, I thought…” he starts, his voice a gravelly, deep rumble.

Louis immediately regrets the suggested venue change because his inner alpha is screaming at him to chase, pounce, claim.

“I thought maybe you’d say we had to stop,” Harry is saying, pulling on Louis’ hand until he gets up.

He stops tugging at Louis for a moment, facing him.

“I really don’t want to stop, Lou.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”

His heart feels like it is going to burst from the affection blooming in his chest. Okay. Harry wants this too. True mates, fuck. He doesn’t have much time to process, though, because Harry is back to pulling him to the stairs.

“Where’s your room, Louis?” he says, bouncing a little on his feet, a kid on his birthday.

Louis shakes his head, trying to clear it enough to remember his own name and, incidentally, where he spent most of his childhood sleeping. Thankfully, it’s only a half flight of stairs away.

“S’here,” Louis says softly at the doorway. Harry walks in, his gaze moving from the pile of discarded clothes by the mirror, the David Beckham poster next to his tiny, simple bed to the pair of platform leather boots peeking out from under the bed. Louis’ eyes follow and widen when they land on the footwear.

“Uh,” Louis says, for the umpteenth time tonight. “Those were, ah, a bit ambitious. Wore me vans after I nearly twisted an ankle just standing in front of the fuckin’ mirror.”

“Hmm,” Harry says, crouching down to pick one of the boots up. He looks down at Louis, gaze considering. “It gets better with practice, don’t worry.”

Louis knows he’s gaping at Harry now, several follow-up questions on the tip of his tongue.

“Not really my style, but I can see how it would have complemented your outfit,” Harry continues conversationally. “I’m more of a stiletto gal.”

Louis makes a strangled sound and abruptly decides that they have been apart far too long now.

Harry can sense the shift immediately after he makes the flippant comment about stilettos. It’s not even a lie, really. He does have a few pairs at home, even if he really only wears them on special occasions. He knew he’d be on his feet today, so he’d opted for a pair of glittery gold chelsea boots that had quickly ended up in Liam’s rucksack anyway. His pink pumps would have probably gone great with his outfit today too, though.

Before he can say as much, Louis is in his space, hands coming to rest on his hips, fingers brushing the dip of his hips. God. The feeling is unreal. True mates. True mates, true mates, true mates. Harry can’t stop thinking it, can’t stop the burning need for Louis, no one but Louis.

“Lou,” Harry whines, but it comes out just as deep as usual. Louis doesn’t seem to mind as he nips at Harry’s throat at the sound.

“You are a fucking menace,” Louis growls, and Harry feels the back of his knees hit the single bed.

Thankfully, Louis had the presence of mind to close the door behind them because Harry has the distinct feeling he won’t be getting up again soon.

“These shorts,” Louis says, grabbing at Harry’s hips, grasping the lacy material in his fist, “are fucking obscene, baby.” Harry isn’t sure he’s ever made sounds like this before.

“All day, everyone’s eyes on you in these tiny,” Louis reaches a hand under Harry’s thigh, grabbing the muscle there, “lacy,” he snaps the waistband of them with the other hand, the weight of him balanced on Harry’s inner thighs, “shorts.” Louis’ look can only be described as hungry. “Everyone looking at you, wanting you. You loved it. You love the attention, baby, don’t you?” Louis bends down to nip at Harry’s taut stomach. “You love knowing they’re watching, knowing they want you. They want to touch your skin, smell your scent, taste you where you’re slick and wet just from their eyes on you. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry whines, trying desperately to just fucking breathe. He shifts his hips, needing something, anything.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Louis says darkly and he actually chuckles. Harry’s eyes snap open at the sound, skin flushing in equal parts arousal and embarrassment. Holy shit, Harry can’t say he expected this. Louis is confident, sure. His voice is like caramel, rich and smooth. But this is something else entirely… Harry has never felt so compelled to just obey. And he hasn’t even been using his Alpha voice.

“I know, baby, I know” Louis says, hand coming to rest on Harry’s lower stomach, thumb teasing at the shape of Harry’s cock, visible through the thin lace of the shorts. He buries his head in Harry’s crotch, inhaling deeply through his nose and rubbing his stubble along the crease in Harry’s thigh.

“Louis, please,” Harry whines, hands restless, touching his own chest, his hips, running through his hair. “Oh, God, fuck,” he tugs at the Louis’ sweater sleeve, which he is still somehow wearing. Harry feels naked, exposed, in comparison.

Louis is still smelling him, inhaling without shame or reserve at where he’s sure his cock is leaking under his shorts. A small kitten lick to where Harry’s shorts have ridden up into the crease of his thigh feels like an electric shock when Louis pulls back a little to look up at Harry. Louis leans back a bit further to pull the sweater over his head.

“Sweetheart,” he says, throwing the sweater into a corner of the room. “So pretty,” he coos, hands coming back to Harry’s hips. Harry mewls.

Louis smirks at him. The sight sends a shiver of want through him. If Harry thought he looked good drowning in that sweater, it’s nothing compared to this version of Louis.

Having gotten rid of the fishnet shirt and leather harness, Louis’ chest is bare, save for that damn leather choker around his throat. His eyes are hooded when they look down at Harry and he can’t help but feel a whine rising in the back of his throat at the sight.

“Fuck,” Harry says, blinking up at Louis. His vocabulary has apparently been reduced to Louis, fuck, oh god, please.

Louis leans forward and for a moment Harry is sure he will kiss him, but instead, Louis grasps Harry’s chin, thumb dipping into his lower lip.

“Been watching you all day,” Louis says so quiet and low that Harry realizes he is holding his breath so he doesn’t miss a word. “Couldn’t help meself. So fucking pretty, Hazza. So beautiful. My baby.”

Harry squirms, he can’t help it. God, what was this man doing to him?

“Wanted to touch you,” Harry manages his first full sentence since Louis started touching him. He feels this deserves recognition considering how turned on he is. “Wanted you. Want you.”

“Mmm,” Louis says, closing his eyes briefly and looking up at Harry with a dark look. “Tell me,” he adds. It’s not a request.

“Saw you,” Harry blurts out, eyes widening and cheeks burning. “From far, before - before you saw us.” Harry bites his lip, hoping Louis doesn’t immediately assume Harry is a total stalker. When he braves a look, Louis just looks intrigued. “I, uh, saw you getting mad at someone bigger than you. You scared them a little, I think. ‘Was cute,” Harry says, smiling. Louis shakes his head, clearly remembering the moment.

“Hey,” he says, wounded, but he’s smiling a little and biting at Harry’s skin again. Harry is so relieved at the reaction that he ducks his eyes and giggles. “M’not cute,” Louis grumbles, effectively disproving himself immediately.

“Cute,” Harry proclaims, reaching down to touch Louis’ nose. “Hot,” he adds, dropping his finger down to Louis’ lips. Louis responds by opening his mouth and letting it slip in. “Strong,” Harry continues, and Louis raises an eyebrow when Harry goes to move Louis’ hand where it was resting on his stomach. Louis resists easily, pinning Harry’s hand to the bed. Harry’s heart jumps to his throat, even though they’ve barely done anything yet.

“My little Alpha,” Harry breathes, and Louis’ eyes widen, the expression wild.

“My baby,” he all but growls at Harry. “Mine,” he reiterates, and Harry can feel the heat of Louis’ dick like a brand against his own.

“Yours,” Harry nods. “Only yours.”

He spares a thought for the fact that they met less than 24 hours ago, but Louis squeezes his wrist almost painfully and he forgets to care.

“So many people looking at you today, sweetheart,” Louis continues, punctuating his words by small kisses along Harry’s waistband. “Twirling and showing off.” He slips his hand further up to squeeze Harry’s arse. “So fucking pretty and on display for everyone to see.”

Harry nods, little whimpers falling unbidden from his mouth. Louis pauses, fingers grazing Harry’s waistband hesitantly.

“Yeah, Louis,” Harry says, encouraging him. “L-liked it,” he says, feeling like he might combust. “Can’t help it,” he whines, feeling actual tears well in his eyes at the thought. “Wanted you to see me,” he adds.

And god, it’s true. He hadn’t cared what anyone at that parade thought, but once he noticed Louis, it’s like all he wanted was for Louis to notice him. He had felt desperate for his attention all day. He had always been somewhat gregarious, but under Louis’ furtive glances, Harry burned at the idea of Louis watching him, only him. He danced, he struck up conversations with strangers, he twirled non-stop.

“Mm, all that was for me, baby?” Louis asks, eyebrow raised. “You wanted me to see you?”

Harry nods vehemently.

“Words, sweetheart,” Louis admonishes.

“Yeah- yes,” Harry says, still nodding like a bobble-head toy.

“You twirled around, dancing with strangers, letting them watch you,” Louis asks, frowning a little at Harry. “Touch you,” he adds.

Harry whines again. God, he is just so turned on. Like a livewire under Louis’ steady gaze, he feels a pulse of slick between his legs at the squirming sense of having disappointed Louis, disappointed his Alpha.

“No,” he whispers, unable to keep the distress out of his voice and scent. “No, I… I…”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you wanted everyone to look,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Sounds greedy, Harry,” Louis says, tutting slightly.

Harry can’t answer. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tries not to touch himself. He’s not sure, but he doesn’t think Louis will let him if he does.

“Am I not enough for you?” Louis asks, tone harder. Harry makes a noise he has never heard himself make before. “Don’t trust your little Alpha to take care of his needy Omega? Don’t think my knot can fill you right?”

“Fuck, no!” Harry knows he is being way too loud, but he can’t be blamed.

He knows, rationally, that it makes no sense. Harry didn’t even know Louis before today. Even if he liked the alpha’s attention, he didn’t plan an elaborate scheme or actually want strangers to fuck him. But it was as if Louis was tapping into all his fantasies, all the times he’d wished the people he slept with would take control. Despite his size. Despite his looks. Harry had never felt this desperate for a hand, a mouth, something.

“No?” Louis asks, finger dipping below Harry’s waistband now. Harry’s cock visibly twitched. “You sure, baby? Look at you,” Louis says, finger dipping even lower. “So needy. So fucking desperate for my knot, can’t even think straight, can you? Poor baby.”

He suddenly surges forward, hand leaving the front of Harry’s shorts and his mouth coming up to Harry’s ear. Harry feels tears prick at his eyes again.

“So fucking wet for me,” Louis says against the shell of Harry’s ear. His hand, still under Harry, slips past his shorts, into the cleft of Harry’s arse. Harry squirms at the feeling, knowing a fresh wave of slick is now coating Louis’ hand.

“Yes,” he says, leg kicking out. “Yes, Louis, just for you. Only you, please.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Louis chuckles again. The sound feels like warm honey sliding down Harry’s spine. “You sound so good when you’re desperate. So good for me, baby.”

Louis rubs at where his finger is now petting at Harry’s entrance.

“M’good,” Harry agrees nonsensically. “Good for you, Alpha,” he adds, eyes closed and concentrating on the feel of Louis’ finger, just playing with his rim, unhurried.

“Want you,” Harry repeats. “Want your knot, please. Please, Lou.” He can feel a tear make its way down his cheek, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal to do anything about it.

“Not yet, baby, just getting started,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s neck. “Know what you need, love. Gonna give it to you.”

He pauses for a moment and Harry can feel another small hesitation. He opens his eyes to try to see Louis’ face, but it’s too close and he nearly goes cross eyed in the attempt. Louis seems to take a small breath before -

“Such…” he says, then clears his throat. He leans back and takes Harry’s chin in his hand again so he can look at him. His voice is louder when he speaks again. “Such a little cockslut for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Harry’s feels the word hit him like a wave. Surely Louis can feel the gush of slick on his hand, smell the thick arousal in the air. Oh, god.

“Yes,” Harry all but cries out, before he can think any better of it. “Yes, D-Daddy!”

“Oh, fuck,” Louis mutters, pressing his chest down to Harry’s so that he’s surrounded by him - scent, sweat, skin. Harry, Harry, Harry.

“Fuck, Harry, unh!” Louis’ hips grind into Harry’s without his permission. He can’t help but wonder if all of this is real. This day, this person, this life.

“Daddy,” Harry whines and Louis is going to lose his goddamn mind.

He’d been kidding, really, truly joking about the Daddy thing. But hearing it in Harry’s voice, wrecked and pleading, smelling his scent, feeling the slick pooled where he was open and aching… Yeah, it doesn’t feel very funny anymore at all.

“Shh,” Louis says, squeezing Harry a little in their embrace.

“I know, baby,” he whispers into his heated skin.

Harry sheds a few tears, his eyes shut tight when he moves his head side to side. Louis can’t help it, he is quickly becoming addicted to the noises Harry makes and he hopes the novelty hasn’t worn off yet when he opens his mouth to speak again.

“You’ve been so good,” he says, his own heart hammering in his chest at what he plans to say. “Such a good Omega, just for me, just for Daddy.”

Louis truly cannot believe the filth coming out of his mouth. Worse than that, he can’t believe how unbelievably hard it’s making him. Jasmine and citrus are blending together in the air and Louis isn’t sure he’s ever smelled anything sweeter.

“Unngghh,” Harry groans, hand flying down to his own crotch and squeezing himself firmly. “Just for you, just for Daddy, please!”

They’re being way too loud, but Louis cannot find it in himself to give a single shit.

“No one else gets to touch you like this, right baby?” he asks, even though he has no real right to. Even though they barely know each other.

“Just you,” Harry says, thrashing his head from side to side as his hips lift into a steady thrust against his own hand, against Louis’ weight. Well, that won’t do.

“You want to be good, though, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asks, letting his voice take on a sharper edge.

Harry slows down, peeking up at him. Louis isn’t sure he has ever really been this way, with anyone. But his inner alpha is helpless to the way Harry reacts, the way he sounds, smells, tastes. Louis would give him anything he asks. He will, he’s sure of it.

“Y-yes,” Harry says shakily, not completely still yet, but eyes wide.

Louis schools his expression into what he hopes is something nearing disappointment. They probably should have talked about this a bit more than flippant conversations in front of friends. They probably need to have a real conversation about this. They will, Louis promises himself. They will. He looks down at where Harry’s hand is still cupping himself, then back up to Harry’s eyes, cocking an eyebrow. Harry bites his lip, cheeks blotchy and red.

“Need,” Harry hisses. “Need you, Alpha.”

Louis doesn’t know if it’s the whole soul bond thing, but he knows Harry is playing it up, knows he’s trying to get what he wants. He can’t find it in him to be anything but impressed. Images of Harry looking up at him with the same coy look in the future briefly flip through his mind… from the couch, from the car, in the grocery store. He’ll have Louis wrapped around his little finger one day… Already does, really. Louis shakes his head to clear it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “but what’s this?” He brings a hand to cover Harry’s where it is rubbing his dick under the shorts.

“M’trying, Alpha,” Harry says. He’s actually pouting. “Wanna come.”

Louis tuts again. He pauses, lifting his hand.

“Okay,” Louis says, trying to keep his tone steady, even as his inner alpha is screaming at the loss of contact. He leans back. “You can come.”

Harry stills, jaw falling open. Louis doesn’t move, fighting a knowing smirk.

“Wh-what?” Harry says, words garbled.

“Go on, love,” Louis says calmly, sitting back on his knees. “You want to come, don’t you?”

“You…” Harry says, bringing himself up to lean back on his elbows. His eyes are so wide, confusion giving way to a pretty pout again. “I…”

“Thought you needed it, Harry,” Louis says, lifting an eyebrow.

God, this is fucking fun as all hell. It’s not a performance, not even something he feels he’s giving to Harry. It feels like Harry is the one giving him something he never knew he wanted.

“Louis,” Harry says, pouting and rocking forward to grab at Louis’ hips.

Louis ignores the way his blood sings with the skin to skin contact so he can shake his head, feigning disinterest. Not well, by any means, but it’s the thought that counts. Harry scowls, using his grip on Louis’ hips as leverage to pull himself up so they’re face to face.

Harry lets go of his hips and hooks a finger in Louis’ collar, tugging at it. Harry licks his lips, Louis can feel his breath on his own.

“Want you to make me come, though,” Harry says, still pouting, but a smile is hiding there too. Louis is so fucked. So, so fucked.

“Want you,” Harry repeats. He pauses, and Louis knows it’s coming but it doesn’t help him feel any more prepared.

“Please,” he whispers. And he smirks. Fucking smirks. God, he really is Louis’ Omega. “Daddy.”

Then Harry is pulling him down to the bed by his collar when he goes limp and falls onto his back.

“Such a naughty, little,” Louis kisses Harry’s neck, biting a little. “Slut.”

A noise rumbles in Harry’s throat. It’s closer to a growl than a mewl, but it’s just as beautiful as all the whimpers and whines he’s heard so far.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” Louis says and he means every word.

It feels real, the way they’re pushing and pulling. As much as Harry had seemed delicate and soft, Louis loved the way submission looked on him. It wasn’t just wide eyes and bitten lips, but sly smiles and knowing exactly which buttons to push to get what he wants.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, and he looks a little uncertain. Louis wonders who made him wonder if he wasn’t. Perfect, that is.

“So perfect, baby,” Louis says, tracing his tongue along Harry’s throat and coming up to kiss his nose.

“Love your sounds,” he says, when he feels that rumble he is quickly becoming addicted to.

“Your scent,” he inhales deeply at Harry’s jaw. “You’re so pretty, baby, I can’t get enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says, rolling his hips. Louis nips at Harry’s bottom lip.

“Mmm, never want to stop touching you,” Louis says, only half aware of what’s coming out of his mouth.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t even mind the shift in dynamic. He wants Harry in every way, any way. Louis shifts again so that he can touch Harry’s chest, his sides, the lines where his abs lead down to those damn shorts.

His hands come up to Harry’s chest again, fingers tracing each of the swallows on either pec. Harry is staring up at him and his expression is startlingly vulnerable. Louis spreads his palms out over his pecs, squeezing a little. Harry’s breath hitches. Louis pushes his hands together so that Harry’s pecs are touching, forming a bit of cleavage. Harry’s mouth drops open and his eyes close in a strained frown.

“Harry?” Louis questions, letting go of his pecs and watching Harry carefully.

“Um,” Harry says, a thread of fear weaving into the one word. “Um, sorry,” Harry says, throwing an arm over his eyes and turning his head into the pillow as if to hide.

Louis doesn’t miss a beat, gently pulling Harry’s arm away, making sure they can see each other once he speaks.

“Don’t apologize.” Louis says, firm. “Is it okay?” He wants to be sure he’s getting it right.

He doesn’t know much, but he wants Harry to feel good, for it to feel right.

Harry nods, silent. Louis smiles a little, inclining his head without speaking. Harry huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yes,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s - it’s o-okay.”

“Just okay?” Louis says, bringing his palms back to Harry’s pecs, kneading the muscle there.

“Um,” Harry says, blushing fiercely but maintaining eye contact. “S’good,” Harry says, nodding quickly. “Um, Louis?” His voice is low, so low it’s nearly inaudible.

“What, baby?” Louis says, hands still touching Harry’s chest, softer now. “You can tell me anything. I’m here, baby, what is it?”

Harry laughs a little, rolling his eyes and biting his lip. Louis can see his eyes are glassy with unshed tears and tries his best to keep his scent, stance, energy or whatever the fuck, welcoming, reassuring. It must work, at least slightly, because Harry swallows and nods to himself.

“You could, um,” Harry all but whispers, bringing a hand up to cover Louis’ where they lay on his chest. “You c-could, um, do that. Again.”

“What, Haz?” Louis says, even though he has an idea of what he’s asking, he still wants to be sure. “What do you want, baby? Tell me,” he brings one hand up to cradle Harry’s cheek.

“Can you, um,” he hesitates. “Can you maybe…” Harry swallows. “Call me, um, p-pretty?” Harry says finally, looking down.

“Please?” Harry says. “Again, I mean?” He adds, daring a look up at Louis.

The fragile hope in his gaze makes Louis ache.

“You are,” Louis says, soft. “You’re beautiful, baby. So pretty.” He reaches down to take Harry’s hand in his and brings it up to his mouth, to kiss gently. “So soft,” he says, trying to communicate with his eyes. What exactly, he’s not sure, but he just hopes Harry knows that he is safe. They’re safe.

“Louis,” Harry says, a little brokenly. There are a few tears now and Louis brushes some of them away with his thumb. “Thank you,” Harry says then, so quiet.

“For what?” Louis asks. “S’the truth, baby. I see you. Anyone can. You’re breathtaking.”

He isn’t lying, not even a little. Harry is beautiful. Even here, with red-rimmed eyes and pink marks all over his skin. Maybe especially here.

“My beautiful Omega.”

Harry makes a noise, the tiniest bit of hesitation. Louis bites his lip.

“Louis?” Harry says, when Louis moves his hands back to his chest, running his fingers over his tattoos again.

“Yes, love,” Louis says, dipping down to brush his lips against the wings of a swallow.

“Can you, um,” Harry says, and Louis feels him swallow against his lips. “Would you,” Harry’s voice cuts off, so Louis looks up to make eye contact.

“Baby,” Louis says. “What is it? Tell me, sweet boy,” he repeats, eyes searching.

If he hadn’t been watching he may not have noticed the brief shadow that passed over Harry’s face. Oh. Oh.

“Baby?” he says again.

“Um,” Harry says, and Louis can definitely smell something, like cloves or cinnamon, clashing with the jasmine. It makes Louis want to take Harry into his arms, hold him close. “Um, am I… Can I be…”

“Harry,” Louis says, trying a different tactic and making his voice slightly firmer. “Tell me.”

“Iwanttobeyourgoodgirl,” Harry says, so quickly that it nearly sounds like one single word. “Please?” Harry looks up at Louis, eyes so expressive, so pleading.

“You are, love,” Louis says, just as quickly. “You are. You’re so good, baby.”

Louis feels tears prick at his own eyes and he isn’t even sure why.

“I’m,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m so proud of you for asking me,” Louis says.

God, is it normal to feel so fucking much? After less than a day?

“Louis,” Harry says helplessly, sniffling a little.

“You did so well, baby,” Louis says, kissing Harry full on the mouth. “My beautiful,” he dives in for another taste. “My sweet girl.”

Harry whimpers.

“Mine,” Louis says mindlessly, hips grinding down onto Harry. It suddenly feels like they’re not close enough, like it’s nowhere near enough.

“Wanna taste you, baby,” he growls. Harry nods fervently. “Can I? Can I taste you, princess?”

“Yes, yes,” Harry says, breathless, pushing Louis’ head down. “Please, Louis, yes!”

Louis chuckles a little, letting himself be guided down between Harry’s thighs where those lacy shorts are straining against the omega’s hard cock. It’s big, hard to miss. Louis’ mouth waters at the sight as he imagines taking it in his mouth. With a bit of work, maybe even riding it, making lazy circles with his hips. It’s the thought of using Harry’s slick to open himself up that has Louis lifting his omega up a little so he can finally remove the ruined shorts. Fragrant slick has soaked through the thin material, leaving a growing wet spot on the sheets that Louis has to refrain from sniffing or lapping at. It’s easier when he spreads Harry’s cheeks to see a glistening, pink hole he can pay attention to instead.

“Oh!” Harry says, surprise evident in even such a small word. Louis looks up from where he is bending Harry’s knee to slip the shorts off.

“I thought you meant,” Harry says, and cuts off. “You’re going to… You’re…”

“Wanna taste you,” Louis says, gaze steady, but heated.

“You’re so wet baby,” he adds, tracing a finger through the slick that is pooling at Harry’s entrance.

“Let me,” Louis says, and even he can hear the hint of desperation.

He is past caring. His baby looks positively fucked out and his alpha has waited too long already.

“Okay,” Harry says, nodding again. “Yeah.” Louis feels a hand grasp at his hair.

“Yeah, Louis,” a sharp tug. “L-lick me.”

Louis groans, a deep ache in his chest opening up like a chasm.

“Gonna taste you,” he’s mumbling, kissing and licking at Harry’s hole. “Gonna eat you so good, baby,” Louis doesn’t even care what he sounds like, he feels insane, lost to the scent and taste of his omega. He barely feels his own arousal so consumed by his need to please Harry.

“You’re so messy, baby,” Louis keeps talking. “So wet for me, so filthy, baby.”

He dips a finger in, only a little, barely to his knuckle. Harry jerks, thrusting into the air, desperate for friction.

“Mmm,” Louis moans, lapping at the fresh slick covering his finger.

“Oh, sweetheart, taste so good,” he babbles. “Wanna do this forever. Wanna lick you,” Louis dives in before he can stand to finish his sentence. “Wanna drink you.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” Harry’s voice is coming out in breathless little moans, whining. “Please, Louis! Please! God!”

Louis buries his tongue beside his finger. Everything is Harry, he’s surrounded by the taste, the smell, the feel of a tight, dripping rim around his tongue. Harry tastes floral, with a deep musk that makes Louis think of forest green and earth. He wants to drown in it, suffocate. If he died right here, he’d die happy, he’s sure of it.

“Louis, I-I think,” Harry is saying, breath hitching as Louis lets his teeth graze along sensitive skin. “Oh, god, please!”

Louis goes back to fucking his tongue in and out, fast and in tandem with his finger.

“S-so good, Louis. M’close, m’sorry, Daddy. Too good, please!” Harry cries out.

Sorry? Louis frowns, pulling away for a moment to speak.

“You can come, baby,” he says, bending down to lick a stripe up Harry’s cock where it lies hard and wet. “Let go,” he encourages. “Being such a good girl for me.”

Louis dives back into Harry’s slick with renewed energy when his omega tries fucking down onto his mouth.

“I’m-” Harry says, hips thrusting sloppily. “I’m s-so-”

Louis brings the hand that isn’t busy fingering Harry up to a nipple, pinching hard.

“Fuck!” Harry cries, and Louis feels a spurt of warm come hit his arm. He scrambles up to watch Harry’s orgasm, instinctively wrapping his fingers around his omega’s length to work through the last of it.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry says again, hips coming to a rest.

“Baby,” Louis says, softly, tracing his fingers through the come splattered across Harry’s chest. “So pretty.”

Harry looks both blissed out and a little bashful.

“You taste so good, baby,” Louis says, closing his eyes at the memory. “Wish I could lick you all night,” he sighs, moving to pull his finger out slowly, but Harry’s hand instantly shoots down to stop him.

“I- You’re still,” Harry gestures to where Louis’ cock stands hard, precum glistening at the tip.

“It’s okay, baby,” Louis says, moving to remove his finger again. Harry’s grip is firm though.

“No,” Harry actually pushes Louis’ finger deeper, moaning a little at the sensation. Fuck. “Just…” Louis is at a loss for words when Harry whines, needy. “Want to come again.”

“You sure, baby?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Want to come on your cock, Daddy.”

Well, alright then.

Harry feels his face burn with that intense mix of self-consciousness and lust at the sound of his own words. But he doesn’t allow himself much time to worry about it, grinding his hips down onto Louis’ hand so that his finger slips deeper inside. Harry closes his eyes, moaning at the feeling. When he opens them again, Louis is staring at him. His gaze is nothing short of adoring.

“Baby,” Louis coos.

Harry will never, ever get tired of his voice and the way he calls Harry his baby. He’s had less than an hour to get used to it and he’s less certain of how he’d do without.

“So good for me,” Louis continues. “My sweet baby girl.”

Harry’s cock twitches at that despite having come so recently and he can’t help the way his hips grind down again. It’s sensitive, almost too much, but also exactly what Harry wants, all at the same time.

“Louis,” he says, biting his lip. “More. Please.”

“Mmm,” Louis nods, adding a finger without even arguing. “Take it so well, baby,” he adds, when Harry makes more needy noises. “Smell so good, Harry. So pretty, so filthy, baby…”

Louis is babbling between kisses to Harry’s hips, lapping at the drying come there as he fingers Harry slowly. He runs two fingers through the release splattered on Harry’s skin and sucks them into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart.”

Harry wants to scream. He has an overwhelming urge to grab Louis’ hair and make him go faster, make him do something, anything, more. Even though he is pretty sure Louis wouldn’t insist or try to control Harry, not really, he wants to be good for him.

“Please, Louis,” Harry whimpers at the thought.

He wants to hear it again, wants to hear it all the time. It makes him squirm just to think about asking for it so he’s hoping Louis knows what he wants and will give it to him.

“Oh, Harry,” Louis says, finally adding a third finger without much warning.

Harry inhales sharply at the feeling of fullness - so much and not quite enough at the same time. He feels a rush of slick at the sensation of Louis’ fingers stretching Harry open, slowly, so slowly. He’s getting hard again, already.

“You said you wanted to come again. You said you wanted to come on my cock,” Louis is saying. Harry nods, shifting his hips minutely to try and fuck back down on Louis’ fingers.

“You look so desperate for it, baby,” Louis says, faux-concerned.

Harry loves the way he can (mostly) tell when Louis is being serious or not. It makes him wonder what it’ll be like with more time to get to know him. It makes him wonder what other secrets he’ll be able to glean from a single look, a sniff, a touch.

“Want to be filled so bad, don’t you? Want to feel me stretch you open so you won’t be able to think of anything else all week, baby?”

Fuck, Harry isn’t going to survive this. He will lose his goddamn mind.

“Taking my fingers so well, baby, but you know my cock is bigger,” Louis says darkly, and suddenly he gets back up on his knees so that he can grab at one of Harry’s hands and bring it to his own clothed erection.

“Feel that?” With his hand on Harry’s, Louis squeezes his own cock. He’s right. It’s quite… big.

“You did that to me, Harry,” Louis says, almost matter of fact. Harry’s mouth fills with saliva imagining how Louis might feel coming down his throat. “Got Daddy so hard, baby girl.”

Harry nods even though it’s not a question, hoping Louis is just as far gone as he is, the nickname sending a jolt of arousal through him again. God, will that ever get old? He’d like the opportunity to find out.

“You’re so,” Louis thrusts in particularly deep with three fingers. “Fucking.” He angles his wrist and fingers differently. “Wet.” He twists his fingers upwards until…

“Fuuuuuck,” Harry’s voice becomes a low growl, almost a purr-like sound that Harry isn’t sure he has ever made before.

“Oh,” Louis says, high-pitched even though there’s an underlying rumble in his chest. Harry wishes dazedly that it was possible to lick a sound. “You like that?”

“Y-yes,” Harry responds, helplessly rutting, cock fully hard now. He squeezes where Louis’ hand still covers his between his legs.

“Ah!” Louis gasps, thrusting into their hands in time with his three fingers. “Mmm, so bloody wet for me,” Louis mumbles, eyes half closed and lips parted, slick with spit.

“Fuck!” Harry clenches around Louis’ fingers a little, wanting, hoping it can spur Louis into action. When that doesn’t immediately work, Harry redoubles his efforts in stroking Louis through his boxers.

“Louis, Louis, Louis.” His name is falling from Harry’s lips on a whispered loop. He feels lost with the feeling of fuckmatebreed that hangs thick in the air, thick in their combined scents. It’s jasmine and cedarwood, tobacco and citrus. It’s light and dark and Louis and Harry. He wants to drown in it. He might.

“I thought about you,” Harry starts, trying to concentrate as Louis thrusts in particularly deep, leaving him a little breathless. “From the minute I saw you, I knew I wanted you,” Harry continues, emboldened by the way Louis nips at Harry’s hips, tracing over a laurel leaf with his tongue. “Your little fucking skirt,” Harry says, biting the words out as he raises a hand to the top of Louis’ head, running his fingers through his hair. “This little quiff,” he adds, effectively destroying Louis’ look and not concerned about it in the least . “Your eyes,” Harry sighs, whimpering as Louis glances up at him, gaze soft, not an ounce of performance in the way he looks at Harry. Raw. Vulnerable.

“I wanted to know you,” Harry continues.

He’d meant to make it dirty, meant to make Louis squirm the way the absolutely filth he’d said had affected Harry. Instead, his words are just this side of too sincere, not quite the dirty talk he’d planned.

“I wanted to show you all of me, wanted you to know me, too.”

Louis makes a small noise, closing his eyes as he slows his fingers down, thrusting at a snail’s pace, deep and strong. Harry sighs again, feeling the now familiar prick of tears.

“God, Louis,” Harry says, biting his lip to keep from saying too much, to keep from really going off the rails. It doesn’t matter because Louis locks eyes with him and he knows they both know anyway.

“Haz,” Louis slurs, curling his fingers just right so that Harry sees stars. “Haz, Hazza, Harry…” Louis continues his slow torture, letting go of where Harry is still petting his dick to run his free hand along Harry’s thighs, palming at his cock, briefly. Harry jerks at the touch, almost forgetting that he is stroking Louis too.

“I-” Harry starts, cutting himself off. “I can’t believe we only just met.” He finishes his sentence in a different way than he intended. Louis nods feverishly, his expression both incredulous and deeply aroused.

The eye contact lasts a few seconds longer, though it could be minutes, Harry’s not sure, and then Louis moves to pull his fingers out. Harry can’t help it, he whines, loudly.

“Shh,” Louis soothes, pressing down on Harry’s hips with his free hand. “Gonna give you what you need, baby,” he says, hushed. Harry whimpers and nods, feeling a teardrop run down his cheek.

Harry has to let go of Louis’ cock when he reaches over into his bedside dresser, rummaging around until he finds what he’s looking for, then pulls his fingers out. He is quick to slick up his cock, unwrapping the condom and putting it on in one swift movement. He looks up at Harry when he dips his fingers back into Harry’s hole, getting a hand back on his prick and using Harry’s slick to get himself wet.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry says, licking his lips as he stares at Louis as he works himself over.

“Wanna smell like you everywhere,” Louis mumbles, thrusting into his own hand. “Could drink you, baby.”

Louis brings his fingers back to where Harry feels a fresh wave of slick. Instead of slicking himself up again, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, moaning obscenely.

“I could fucking drown in you, Harry.” He groans, thrusting up into nothing and looking down at Harry as he does it.

“Please,” Harry cries out. “Fuck me, Louis. Please, Alpha! Need you.”

Harry doesn’t even know what’s coming out of his mouth. He feels like he may be crying now.

“M’yours.”

Whatever Harry is babbling seems to finally break Louis’ resolve because he grabs Harry’s hips, flipping him over easily onto his hands and knees. Before Harry has time to adjust, Louis is using one hand to guide his thick cock into Harry in one smooth motion.

“M’yours.” It’s nothing more than a mumble, a slurred word in a string of the nonsensical phrases Harry has been uttering since Louis has touched him. Louis isn’t even aware of the growl that leaves his lips at the sound of it and before he knows it, he has Harry flipped over and is guiding his cock into the burning heat of his omega. Harry, Harry, Harry.

Fuck. Fuck. Holy shit. It’s too much, Louis can already tell it’s too much. He won’t last, can’t. There are no words. Louis isn’t sure he could form them even if there were. He can feel his knot already threatening to pop and he has barely moved yet. He would be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the tears he can see streaming down one cheek, for the scent of scorching arousal, for the way Harry’s mouth is drooling onto the pillow where it’s open in a constant whine.

“Move,” Harry says, after a minute or two hours, there’s no way to be sure. The tone is sharp, commanding almost. Louis bites his lip, leaning back to be able to see the way Harry’s skin flushes, sweat pooling and mixing in with leftover glitter. God, they should shower at some point. They’re filthy, both of them. He fucking loves it, loves this.

“Mmm, princess,” Louis says, stalling a little, affecting a teasing tone despite the chaos inside him. If he moves right now he might actually explode. “Ask nicely, baby.”

Harry’s eyes are dark, eyebrows drawn into a scowl and tiny mewls coming through short, laboured breaths.

“Please, fucking - unh - please!” Harry thrusts back a little on Louis’ cock so that he slips in further and back out a little.

The drag is intense, bright, liquid fire down Louis’ spine. Still, he places his hands on Harry’s hips, holding them steady. Another sharp whimper.

“Please, what?” Louis asks, not even sure what he wants to hear.

Please give me your knot? Please, Daddy? He doesn’t care, as long as it comes in that broken, mewling voice. As long as it’s Harry calling out for him, for his Alpha.

“Please,” Harry says, suddenly dropping down, arching further while reaching back to cover Louis’ hands and squeeze almost painfully. “Fuck me, Alpha,” Harry says, looking back at Louis, challenging. “Fill me.”

It’s Louis’ turn to whimper, dragging his cock out slowly, with intent to fuck back into the welcoming warmth immediately. Before he can thrust back in, Harry is talking again.

“Take me, Lou.” Red lips and sparkling green eyes dance in front of Louis’ eyes. “Want your knot, Daddy, oh! M’so empty, please! Please, Alpha, please. I need you,” Harry locks eyes with Louis then, just as Louis fucks back into that sweet heat. “Breed me.”

Louis can’t be held responsible for the way his hips stutter, fucking forward unconsciously. It’s hard, fast, a little out of control. A rational part of his brain knows Harry - soft, complex, intricately beautiful Harry - is biologically male. This means the chances of a pregnancy are significantly low, if at all possible. He knows that for a male omega to bear any children is not only rare, but only really possible with the use of fertility treatments and a lot of support. It had been required learning back in grade school and it’s what made most male omegas less desirable to many alphas, as the likelihood of pups was much, much lower.

Not to mention the fact that Louis is currently wearing a condom. He feels the need to remind himself because the words “breed me” keep echoing in his brain.

“Yeah?” he says when Harry blushes a deep red but looks at Louis with determination. With trust for this vulnerable, secret part.

Louis decides then and there that he will do everything in his power to make sure Harry never feels that trust is misplaced. For the rest of his life, or as long as Harry will allow him to.

“Gonna fill you up,” he continues, giving in to the basest desires. They will really need to have a conversation after this. Many, hopefully. “Gonna fuck you full of me, of us.”

Harry is nodding into the pillow, fresh tears leaking out. Louis redoubles his efforts, squeezing at Harry’s arse harshly as he drives into his omega with renewed vigour.

“You like that, baby?” he asks. Rhetorical - Harry is pliant under him, eyes unfocused and mouth slack. “Came once already, didn’t you? Got yourself loose and ready for my knot, for me to fill you up until you’re leaking with it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry is saying, completely fucked out.

Louis is gonna come, he is so close, but he wants Harry to get there first. Wants to feel the clench, the gush of slick around him as he comes, too.

“M’close, sweetheart,” Louis can’t help the way his voice rasps in a high whine. “M’gonna come inside your perfect little hole, fill it up with pups. Breed you up good, baby,” Louis rambles. “My gorgeous omega. My baby girl.”

God, he’d never be caught dead saying this type of shit to anyone. Less than twenty four hours with Harry and he sounds like a bad porno. The worst part is, he doesn’t even fucking care.

“Oh!” Harry cries, meeting Louis thrust for thrust.

The sound of desperation, submission, complete and utter trust is loosening something deep in Louis’ chest. His thrusts get sloppy, raw. He feels feral.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it baby,” Louis can’t shut the fuck up.

He’s never been this way in bed, especially not with an omega. He’s always quiet, going for the strong silent type all the while constantly worrying about every high-pitched rasp of his voice, every accidentally too soft touch. Ironically, with Harry, he’s not sure he’s ever been farther from a soft touch in his entire life.

“Harry,” he all but shouts when the walls around his cock tighten further. “Oh fuck, baby, yes!” his hand comes down on Harry’s arse sharply.

It’s not quite on purpose, but the second it connects in a sharp slap, Harry is clenching down on his cock so hard he thinks he might pass out from the pleasure-pain.

“Fuck!” Harry cries brokenly, humping into thin air.

“Sorry, I-” Louis tried to say, but Harry’s head shakes immediately in protest, even half buried in the pillow.

“No!” Harry says and that determined look is back when their eyes meet. “S’good, so good Louis. Don’t stop, please! M’so close.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s arse, dipping a finger into the cleft to touch where the thin skin is stretched around his aching cock.

“You’re so wet, baby, fuck,” Louis says, quieter. He keeps thrusting, his thumb rubbing up against Harry’s hole, where another wave of slick is dribbling out onto his fingers. “Bet you could take even more,” Louis says on a whim. “Bet I could just,” Louis feels a little insane, like none of this can be real. He tugs a little at the rim, thumb catching at it a little where his knot is starting to form.

“Holy shit,” Harry’s voice is muffled by the pillow, but the sentiment is clear in the way it shakes. “Yes, yes, yes, do it. Do it, Louis, do it! Fuck!”

A little bubble of incredulity nearly makes Louis laugh, inexplicably. It’s just… It’s impossible. It doesn’t feel real. Louis has dreamed this up and he will wake up tomorrow with a hangover and unrealistic expectations for every future fuck of his life.

“Take me so well, Haz,” he says, thrusting in deep, thumb still dancing along his quickly forming knot. “Made for me. Mine, baby. My Hazza.”

It’s not even coherent, Louis is losing it, he knows. Harry doesn’t seem to care, body nearly limp in Louis’ grip and expression slack with pleasure. Suddenly, Louis wants to see. He grips Harry’s hips with purpose, pulling out briefly, earning a panicked, if muffled, whine.

“Shh, baby, wanna see you,” Louis says, and seconds later he is fucking back into his omega, staring into a tearstained, wonderfilled face.

“Oh,” Louis says softly at the sight and he fucks into Harry harder, fast. “Oh, fuck!” he screws up his face, trying to stave off his impending orgasm.

“Harry!” he cries, gripping the back of Harry’s knees and pressing further, deeper as his hips rabbit forward without his permission. “Oh, Harry, I’m, I’m-”

Harry looks absolutely wrecked. Louis has the presence of mind to think of putting a hand on Harry’s cock, doing something to at least ensure his omega won’t be left high and (well) dry, so to speak.

“Lou,” Harry says, folding nearly in half to reach around to Louis’ arse. “Fill me, Apha! Please!”

Louis creates just enough space to squeeze his hand between them so his thumb is back to tugging on Harry’s slick soaked hole.

“Gonna breed you, baby,” Louis growls. “Gonna knot you,” he can’t stop it now. “Fill you up with our pups, get you nice and round with them.”

He’s imagining it, and the thought of it is intoxicating. Harry at home, barefoot, soft, all curves. Harry, so desperate and wanton that Louis has to fuck his seed into an already swollen belly.

“I’d fuck you pregnant,” Louis promises. “Still full and growing our pups, I’d fuck you over and over just to see if I could do it twice.”

Harry shouts, bearing down on Louis’ cock.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Louis says, urgent. He can’t stop fucking into Harry, can’t stop the tide rising inside. “Come for Daddy, baby.”

Harry’s eyes roll back in his head, body suddenly limp as long white ropes of come paint their skin. Louis has no control over the way his own body releases into the condom, thrusting messily into Harry as his omega clenches rhythmically on his cock, knot fully forming and slipping past Harry’s rim.

“Fu-uck,” Louis says through a sigh. He feels a dribble of come spurt from his cock as Harry shifts a little on the bed. “Baby.”

“Lou,” Harry mumbles back, reaching up blindly to pull Louis down to his body.

The alpha falls forward without complaint, the movement causing a slight tug at where they’re tied. Harry whimpers, sensitive, but too blissed out to really do anything about it. Louis rumbles, apparently beyond words too, but it sounds like an apology to Harry at least. He noses at Harry’s neck, rubbing his rough stubble against Harry’s jaw, no doubt leaving his scent in its wake. The thought of hugging Niall in the morning or sitting next to Liam in the car… Them smelling Louis on his skin, knowing Harry has been marked by another alpha… It sends a shiver down his spine he doesn’t quite manage to suppress.

“Baby,” Louis says again, almost a whine as his hips tremble a little at Harry’s slight movement.

Harry revels in it, loves the way he can feel Louis all over, overwhelming and all consuming. If he wasn’t so tired it might even be enough for him to go again. He wonders idly if his heat is approaching or if this is just the Louis effect. Sweet, strong, delicate Louis. Harry wants to feel like this all the time, never wants to be any farther apart from his alpha ever again.

“Do you think we could eat like this?” Harry asks.

Louis looks up from where he is sucking a mark into Harry’s collarbone. He looks adorably confused, hair a mess and eyeliner smudged halfway down one cheek.

“I mean,” Harry says slowly. Between the time of night, the drinks from earlier, and the absolute shagging of his life, Harry’s brain feels fuzzy at best. “Like,” Harry tries again. “To eat.”

“Hungry?” Louis asks, looking down at where they are still tied together in concern. He looks around, as if a cheeseburger might appear on his bedside table. Considering the mess, there may very well be a snack hidden somewhere, but Harry feels the need to clarify because he isn’t hungry at all.

“No,” Harry replies. Louis frowns, and it’s so damn cute that Harry can’t help but lift a finger to the crease between his eyebrows. He wonders if it’s even worth it to explain. “Just… Never wanna move again.”

Louis is still frowning.

“Stay here forever,” Harry says mindlessly. “Have dinner, go to class… stay in me forever.”

Harry is too tired to explain any further, but Louis seems to finally grasp what he’s suggesting because his frown clears and he chuckles a little.

“Might get arrested showing up to school knotted,” Louis says wryly, tracing along Harry’s swallow tattoos.

“Conjugal visits,” Harry mumbles. Louis chuckles again, shaking his head. Harry smiles dopily, eyes already closing.

“Sleep, baby,” Louis says, reaching up to pet Harry's hair. Harry leans into the touch.

“Don’t wanna,” he mutters stubbornly. “Wanna keep…” Louis’ thumb brushes up against Harry’s lips, which have formed a bit of a pout. He bites at it, nipping at Louis’ digit without real intent. “Feeling…” Harry sighs dreamily, forcing his eyes open so he can look at Louis. Blue eyes meet his, sparkling and fond.

“So good,” Louis murmurs, shaking his head a little and moving his thumb to Harry’s cheek. “Beautiful.”

Harry doesn’t have the energy to blush, but he still feels the heart rush at the word. He hopes he never gets used to it, this pleasant ache in his chest that has only grown stronger since touching Louis’ skin.

“Love this,” Harry sighs again. “Feels perfect.”

Louis stiffens a little, but relaxes almost instantly and noses at Harry’s neck again, little kitten licks against his jaw.

“You can,” Harry says, trying to focus his eyes on Louis’. “You know, if you want.” He tilts his head a little further so that Louis has more access to his neck. Louis’ expression is shocked and Harry quickly clarifies. “I mean, not - not a bite!”

Harry is suddenly wide awake. Considering the whole soul bond thing, it’s not like he doesn’t want a bite… eventually. Possibly. But like not tonight, necess- Harry shakes his head, eyes wide and worried.

“Not, like, ever! Just…” Harry jerks his palm up to his face. “For Christ's sake. I just wanted you to fucking lick my neck.”

Louis laughs in his little raspy way, expression fond again and now, apparently, Harry’s body is able to blush again.

“It’s been Daddy this and breed me Alpha that, but asking me to lick your neck,” Louis says teasingly. “Now that’s embarrassing, innit?”

Harry feels like he’s going to die as everything they just did floods back in high definition behind where his palm is still hiding his face. He scrunches his nose, fighting a wave of shame despite Louis’ good-natured tone. God. Harry has always considered himself pretty progressive and open. As shamelessly kinky as he proclaimed to be, he hadn’t ever quite gotten to a level of trust in which these particular proclivities had felt safe enough to explore.

Less than a day with Louis, however, and some of his most heavily guarded secrets were already out there in the open. Niall may have often teased that Harry spent most of his time naked if he could help it, but right now Harry has never felt more exposed. He suddenly feels the come drying on his torso, Louis’ knot already starting to shrink, the marks that are certainly peppering his skin.

Louis must sense a shift in energy because he pries Harry’s hand away from his face and brings his own fingers up to smooth where Harry’s face is still scrunched up in embarrassment.

“Hey,” he says, soft again. “Look at me,” he says gently. “Baby.”

Harry tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a whine, throat burning in shame.

“Harry,” Louis says again, moving his hand to Harry’s chin and holding it steady.

The touch grounds him, somehow, and he un-scrunches enough to peek through his eyelashes. Louis’ gaze is calm as he waits for Harry to relax his face. Once he’s sure to have Harry’s attention, he moves his thumb back up to Harry’s cheekbone, palm pressed to his cheek.

“I loved it,” Louis says, firm. It settles Harry a little just to hear it. “Every second of it. You were amazing. You are amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like his sentence is quite finished, so Harry doesn’t unclench completely at the words.

“But…” he says, instead, prompting Louis to keep talking.

“No, baby, no buts,” Louis says, still maintaining steady eye contact. “No buts. You are amazing and this was probably the best sex of my life and… we should probably talk…” Louis hesitates. “About the… you know…”

“The Daddy thing? Or do you mean calling me baby girl?” Harry says, unable to keep the miserable note out of his voice.

He can’t help it. There’s always a second shoe, always the caveat after something like this. Too good to be true.

“Or maybe you mean when you said you wanted to fuck me so hard I got pregnant, only to fuck me again just to see if you could defy the laws of science and impregnate me twice somehow,” Harry adds, a tiny hysterical giggle bubbling up inside him.

It’s Louis’ turn to bring his palm to his face and look embarrassed. Harry quite likes the role reversal and he’s on a roll so he says the thing they haven’t said yet. Somehow the bigger thing than any of the other absurdly raw moments they shared in the past few hours.

“Or…” he says, bracing himself. “We could probably talk about the fact that we might have some kind of cosmic soul bond that scientists still aren’t sure is totally real and until now I personally thought only existed in movies.”

Louis makes a face somewhere between a wince and a smile.

“Um, yeah, maybe we can start there,” he says, adjusting their position so that they are laying face to face on their sides.

He tries not to revel in the way Louis so casually moves Harry’s body as if it weighs nothing. The movement tugs at Harry’s rim and elicits a tiny moan from both of them, but Harry can feel Louis slip out of him a little as his knot has almost completely gone down. He bites down the instinctive whine at the back of his throat at the thought of being empty again and tries not to move. Okay. Talk. Right.

“So…” Harry says, drawing out the word. “Thoughts?”

Louis huffs a little laugh.

“Um…” he says.

When no other words are forthcoming, Harry laughs a little too.

“Eloquent,” Harry replies.

“Quite,” Louis snips.

There’s a few beats of silence, then they both speak at once.

“What do you-”

“Should we-”

“You first,” Louis says quickly, at the same time as Harry says, “You go!”

They are both biting back smiles and shaking their heads slightly where they lay.

“I think,” Louis says, looking down at the bedding and picking at the stitching with the hand that isn’t holding his head up. “That maybe this is a good conversation for, like, tomorrow, maybe?”

“God, yeah,” Harry says, relief flooding his body. He didn’t realize how tense he was until just then. “Yeah, okay, sure. ‘Sounds brilliant.”

Louis looks up at him, catching his eye.

“So, um,” Louis says, and Harry isn’t sure he’s seen him look this unsure yet. “So you’ll still be here, then, you know, like, in the morning?”

Harry frowns.

“Uh… Yes?” he says, not totally understanding the question. Then it dawns on him. “Wait, unless - oh. Oh. Um, unless you don’t… want, er… Are you - are you kicking me out?” Harry has to make sure. It hadn’t even been a possibility in his mind, he’d just assumed. Then again, they had only met today, of course.

And oh, Harry thinks suddenly. What if Louis had someone else already?

He’d heard of cases like that - where people were in a long term relationship and then one day they met someone else and claimed they were true mates and it caused all sorts of problems. There were tests to verify the “validity” of true mates, but they were costly and complicated to get a hold of. Some people used it as an excuse. Not that Harry could really comprehend the idea of ignoring this now that he’s felt what he feels. Now that it feels like his body is attuned to every shift in Louis’ scent, like no matter where he goes in life, an invisible string will connect him to Louis. Always. Anywhere.

But oh God, what if Louis hadn’t wanted this at all? What if, for him, it was just hormones. Maybe, despite this… this feeling, Louis didn’t really believe in true mates. Maybe he was actually just trying to figure out a way to get rid of him before morning so that-

“What?” Louis balks, startled. “No!” He says it so fiercely it’s nearly a shout. “No, sorry. Just. I, uh, want you here,” he continues, somewhat calmer. “I mean, if you want, of course.”

Harry lets out a breath.

“I mean, yeah, Louis,” he says, a relieved laugh on his lips. “Yeah I fucking want.”

Louis smiles then, so wide his eyes crinkle around the edges. He looks down again, biting his lip.

“Alright,” he says, looking back up. “Um, right then.”

He covers his mouth with his hand as Harry marvels at how he could go from filthy-mouthed, manhandling alpha to adorable tiny faerie-boy within the same goddamn hour.

“I’ll, um, text Niall,” Harry says then, trying to control the way his heart beats faster at the thought of waking up next to Louis. And maybe, possibly, spending a bit more time with him. “Tell him- let him know we might not get up early enough to see them off. Liam said he’s got a shift tomorrow afternoon. I know they, uh, wanted to head out pretty early, originally. But I could… I could catch a bus in the evening? If you want?”

Louis nods eagerly.

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at Harry hopefully. “Yeah, ok. If that’s ok. Could take you ‘round Donny a bit.” His expression turns cautious again. “I mean, after we, uh,” he coughs. “Like, depending on our talk,” he says. “Obviously.”

Harry smiles back at him for a moment, before it registers that he needs his phone to text Niall, which is downstairs. Which means he needs pants. He glances around, locating the lacy shorts in a damp heap on the floor and looks back to where Louis has followed his gaze.

“We should probably, uh,” Louis leans back a little and gestures at the admittedly disgusting mess across Harry’s chest and their crotches, where Louis’ cock has finally softened enough that come and slick are dribbling out onto the mattress.

“Yeah,” Harry says, still looking forlornly at his ruined shorts, reluctant to leave Louis’ side, but even more reluctant to feel a likely cold and sticky pair of shorts on his skin.

Before he can do anything, Louis is reaching up and over Harry to his bedside table, extricating a pack of wipes. Instead of offering one to Harry, he takes one out and starts gently rubbing at Harry’s chest himself. The gesture is so soft and intimate that Harry’s skin heats even under the cool touch of the wipe.

“Oh,” Harry says softly. “Thank you.” Louis looks up from where he has managed to clean the worst of the mess and smiles at Harry.

When he’s done, rolling over to take care of himself, Harry makes a move to retrieve his shorts.

“Pants are in the top drawer,” Louis says, almost absentmindedly as he rubs himself down. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t protest and opens the drawer to look for a pair of briefs.

As he moves a few pairs of socks aside, his fingers brush something silky and smooth. Startled, he retracts his hand a little too quickly and knocks his wrist against the edge of Louis’ dresser a little loudly.

“Y’alright there, love?” Louis looks up, concerned. Harry looks at his hand, where he’d pulled out a pair of black briefs. He rubs at his wrist and nods quickly.

“Yeah, uh, just knocked my-” he shakes out his wrist and as he does so, something blue and shiny flies off the pair of plain black briefs.

Both their eyes follow the silky material as it soars through the air and lands, as if in slow motion, on the floor, next to the platform boots.

It’s a pair of silk panties. There’s lace along the seams of it. Harry can see Louis’ mouth form a little “o” as they both seem to tear their gaze away from the underwear to each other’s faces.

“I can explain,” Louis says hurriedly.

Harry is too shocked to say anything yet, but he wonders again whether Louis might have a partner or something he hasn’t told him about yet.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Harry blurts out, before he can stop himself. Louis’ jaw drops further.

“Uh, absolutely not!” Louis replies, sharp.

“A boyfriend then? Any kind of, like, partner, I mean,” Harry amends. “Are you single?” he finally asks.

“Course m’single!” Louis cries, then narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes! ‘Course I’m single,” Harry says, then his eyes dart back to the tiny garment on Louis’ floor.

“So…” he says, tone questioning.

“They’re mine,” Louis says quickly, avoiding eye contact.

Harry can’t help the sharp intake of breath at the admission.

“They’re - they’re yours,” he says tonelessly.

Louis has a pair of lace and silk panties. Louis owns a piece of light blue, silky smooth lingerie. Does he own any more? Does he wear them? For whom? Does it bring out the blue in his eyes? Harry has lost his ability to process information, he fears.

“Y-yeah,” Louis says, looking back up at Harry. His expression hardens a little. “Problem?” he asks, folding his arms and managing to look disdainful, even naked and a little wrecked.

“Not at all,” Harry replies honestly. “Like, really, really not,” he adds for good measure. “Do you have… Do you have any more?” he asks, cautiously curious.

Louis stares at him for a beat, eyes calculating. Then he smiles and shrugs. Smug. Self-satisfied. Harry can’t help the smile breaking out on his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, sniffing. “Didn’t you have a text to write, Harold?” he asked pointedly. Harry fish-mouths at him, shaking his head.

“You-” he starts, bending down to step into Louis’ briefs and pointing an accusing finger at Louis. “This isn’t over,” he huffs.

“Promises, promises,” Louis says, smiling teasingly. “Guess we can add that to the list of discussion topics.”

Harry’s heart picks up again and nearly trips over his own feet as he makes his way out of Louis’ room. God. He hopes he’ll get a lot more than just a morning-after.

Harry returns a few moments later, flushed and smiling and wearing Louis’ pants. They settle into the admittedly tiny bed and, after a moment’s hesitation, Harry turns so that Louis is snug behind him.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Harry says, yawning. “I like being the little spoon.”

Louis wakes slowly, warm and surrounded by a comforting scent. He hums happily, tightening his hold around the source of the delicious smell and welcoming heat.

“Good morning, little Alpha,” comes a deep voice. Louis stiffens for half a moment, then is immediately and vividly reminded of last night’s events.

“Mmm,” Louis rumbles again, unable to keep from squeezing the pliant omega in his arms again. “Baby.”

Louis nips at the back of Harry’s neck, eyes still closed and hips flush against the back of Harry’s thighs.

He feels Harry chuckle, scooting back a little in his embrace and nuzzling into the shared pillow on Louis’ bed.

“Could get used to this,” Harry murmurs and Louis hums in agreement. God, could he ever.

“Me too,” he answers truthfully, mouthing at Harry’s neck. He tastes like something sweet and slightly bitter. Louis can almost taste his own citrusy flavour on Harry and he can’t get enough of it. He licks a little, mouth positively salivating.

“‘Time is it?” Harry says, yawning and stretching, intentionally pushing back against Louis’ front.

“Half ten,” Louis replies, voice half muffled by his mouth full of curls. He bites at Harry’s shoulder, making a small sound at the back of his throat.

“Mmm,” Harry replies, wiggling a little. Louis reaches a hand down to squeeze at Harry’s bum. “Think the boys left already?”

Louis nods. He had heard Niall and Liam unsuccessfully attempt to leave quietly, their plan ruined by Niall accidentally knocking over a broom in the stairway. It clattered all the way down to the basement and Louis heard a whispered, “D’you think he heard that?”.

If it weren’t for Harry sleeping soundly and curled up against him, he would have shouted out a yes. As it was, he had fumbled for his phone and typed out a “YES” with a middle finger emoji for good measure. All he’d received in return was a string of eggplant and smug emojis with a very rude “fuck off ur welcome mate”. Louis had been too tired to argue. Besides, he was already planning on getting Harry to bake Niall and Liam some cupcakes or something.

He stiffens at the casual thought of seeing Harry after today. Though he usually manages to avoid it, hope blooms stubborn in his chest. Surely it’s not just him. Surely Harry feels it too - that inexplicable feeling that life without each other would inevitably be much worse.

Then again, Harry’s first reaction at seeing Louis’... unconventional choice of undergarments had been to ask if he was dating anyone. Dating a girl, no less! He frowns. He thought he had been obvious. And even if he hadn’t, they had had sex at that point. Did Harry take him for a cheater?

Harry must sense Louis overthinking because the omega squirms again, turning around to face Louis.

God. Harry looks beautiful, all mussed hair and sleepy eyes. Louis watches the way eyelashes fall on pale, slightly freckled cheeks when Harry blinks slowly.

“What is it, little Alpha?” Harry asks, and there it is again.

That nickname that makes Louis’ stomach swoop uncomfortably. It’s endearing. It’s embarrassing. Louis wants to hear it every day, multiple times a day, until he dies.

“M’just thinking, baby,” Louis says, ducking his head as Harry cups his cheek with large, long fingers.

“Oh, is it time then?” Harry asks, expression cautious. Louis shrugs.

“I guess we could,” he says, noncommittal. God, he’s nervous.

“Ok,” Harry says, backing up a little so there is more space between them and Louis can see a steady green gaze without going slightly cross-eyed.

“Ok,” Louis repeats. Harry smiles shyly and Louis can’t help but smile back softly.

“Um, well,” he starts, looking down at where he is tracing the laurels on Harry’s hip. “So… We’re true mates?”

It sounds like a question and Louis winces at the lack of confidence in his words, but Harry doesn’t seem flustered. He nods solemnly.

“Yeah,” Harry says, a little dreamily. “Didn’t really think they were real.” The rest comes out a little rushed, almost whispered.

“Right?” Louis says, too loud. But it’s true, he wasn’t sure he had believed it before. “I sort of always thought it was some excuse people used to step out on their partners to be fair.”

“Same!” Harry agrees. A beat.

“And… now?” Louis asks, tentatively.

“Now, what?” Harry frowns.

“Um, what do you think of them now?”

“Well, I am pretty sure they’re real, Lou,” Harry says, chuckling a little. Louis smiles, thin. Pretty sure isn’t sure. Harry looks at him curiously. “What about you?”

“Uh,” Louis stutters. “Well… Yeah, I guess.” He’s a coward.

“I mean, the feeling of being irrevocably and permanently linked to you, wanting to be close to you so badly that I’d crawl inside your skin if I could, has done a good job of convincing me that, yeah, the whole true mates concept could possibly be real,” Harry deadpans.

It might be the most Louis has heard the other man speak all at once, so it takes a moment for the words to register.

“Oh thank god,” Louis sighs. “Okay, yeah, fucking same.”

Harry giggles and a delicious blush is overtaking freckled skin again. Louis smiles too, bashful.

“So,” Harry says, slow. Louis huffs a laugh.

The relief of knowing Harry felt the same pull, that the omega wasn’t going to just up and leave was like opening the floodgates. Hope, battered and bloody, rises up again in his chest.

“Are we supposed to just like, marry each other now, or…?” Harry asks.

The question is genuinely curious, but Louis still nearly chokes on his spit. Harry seems to realize what he said and claps a hand over his mouth. Louis is laughing in full now.

“Let’s maybe start with full names,” he cackles. “A date or two, perhaps.”

Harry is giggling again and the sight is so lovely that Louis can’t help the fond expression likely overtaking his features.

“Harry Edward Styles,” Harry says, once their laughs mostly subside. A hand appears between them, a silent request for a handshake. Louis grasps it firmly.

“Louis William Tomlinson,” he says, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Perfect, now I know what name I’ll be repeating at the altar,” Harry says, deadpan. It throws Louis into another full bellied laugh.

“Last night was…” Louis starts.

“Lovely,” Harry cuts in with a small smile.

Louis can’t help the way his gaze is drawn back up to Harry’s, heart beating frantically in his chest.

“Really lovely,” Louis says softly, nodding.

“I really liked everything,” Harry adds eagerly. “All of it.”

Louis smirks a little.

“Liked it, huh?” Louis asks, feigning offense.

“Really liked it, Lou,” Harry insists.

“Hmm,” Louis says, sighing a little. “Too bad. Thought you loved it.”

Before Harry can protest, Louis moves a little closer, kissing Harry’s bottom lip and taking it between his teeth for a second.

“Thought you loved being my little cockslut,” he murmurs, watching for a reaction.

Harry’s eyes widen, pupils widening and mouth parting in a slight gasp. Louis smiles.

“Y-yes,” Harry says belatedly, realizing Louis was waiting for an answer or reaction.

“Yes, what?” Louis asks. Harry’s lips press together.

“Yes, D-Daddy,” Harry whispers, finger coming up to Louis’ neck.

He had removed the collar to sleep, but at Harry’s gesture Louis feels the ghost of leather pressing against his skin.

“Good boy,” Louis says, trying not to make it a question but still looking into Harry’s eyes purposely. Harry blinks slowly, nodding slightly.

“Okay,” Harry says, shaking his head a little. “Okay, okay.”

Louis bites his lips, smiling slightly in apology.

“Right,” he says. “Sorry.” He chuckles a little at himself. “A bit hard to resist,” he admits. He brings a hand back up to Harry’s chin. “So pretty,” Louis says, sincere.

He takes a deep breath and blows it out, avoiding sending the air into Harry’s face despite their proximity.

“So,” Louis starts again. “Let’s… talk about it, I suppose.” Louis grimaces a little. “Daddy. Um. How… How do we feel about that?”

“Good,” Harry says quickly. “Great.”

He looks slightly embarrassed, but responds eagerly, as if worried any hesitation might convey anything other than enthusiasm.

“Okay,” Louis says slowly. “Does it… Do you want that… Every time?”

God, the words are harder to get out than he anticipated. But he doesn’t want to do anything Harry doesn’t want to do, so he can manage the discomfort. Especially when Harry is squirming a little against Louis’ thigh, skin sleep-warm and a little flushed.

“Doesn’t have to be every time,” Harry mumbles, snuffling close. “But s’nice.”

“Yeah, s’nice,” Louis agrees, squeezing him a little. He takes a deep breath. “Good boy. That was ok today, then?”

Harry freezes. He looks up at Louis with a guilty expression. Louis tries his best not to react too strongly, keeping his expression gentle and curious.

“Yeah,” Harry says, biting his lip. “Uh, today that’s ok.” He sighs. “M’sorry. It’s really fine all the time, you don’t have to like, adjust. It’s so complicated for nothing.” He shakes his head, ducking down a little so his face is hidden. Louis frowns.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s not complicated and it is certainly not for nothing, Harry.”

He doesn’t pretend to know exactly what Harry feels or when he feels like it. He does feel a strange sense of pride, misplaced as it might be, that after only a day he’s guessed right. He can sense it, sort of. Harry just… felt like a good boy this morning. As much as last night he had felt like a good girl. It wasn’t something Louis felt he could put into words and he was prepared to be wrong at times.

“Harry,” he repeats, getting his omega’s attention. “It’s not complicated, I just want you to be you. You’re you, that’s enough for me.”

“But,” Harry protests, then shakes his head, biting his lip again.

“But, what, love?”

“Just…” Harry sighs. “Last night I was a good girl, now m’a good boy… I don’t know. Won’t you… Won’t you get tired? Won’t it bother you one day when you come to kiss your boyfriend and suddenly you’ve got a girlfriend?”

Louis is about to answer, but Harry isn’t finished it seems.

“Like, wouldn’t it just be easier to stick to one? I’m clearly a boy in all the ways that count and like, it’s not a big deal if you don’t remember to ask or if you can’t tell…” Harry trails off. “Sometimes I can’t even tell. It’s so stupid.”

“Harry.” Louis is firm, tone serious. “It is absolutely not stupid. There is no part of you that is stupid. I’ll not have you talk about my Omega that way.” Harry blushes so hard Louis can almost feel the heat coming off his face. “I don’t care about easy. I care about you. And,” Louis licks his lips, a little nervous. “I won’t get tired. I think I’ll be quite happy coming to kiss my spouse as long as that partner is you, Harry.”

Harry buries his head in Louis’ chest, curls tickling Louis’ neck.

“Spouse,” Louis hears Harry whisper.

“I hope so,” Louis says, quiet, turning to bury the words in Harry’s hair. “One day.”

Louis feels Harry vibrate a little as a small purr erupts in his chest. He feels his heart swelling, the scent of a happy mate making him a little dizzy.

“I know we just met and maybe it’s too early to be making demands,” Louis says tentatively. “But, Haz, I’m serious. You are as much a girl as a boy in every way that counts. Nothing counts more than anything else.”

Harry looks like he’s about to argue, so Louis barrels on through his uncertainty, unsure if he’s using the right words but suddenly adamant that Harry understands.

“‘Might not always say or do the right thing,” he continues, pulling back to look Harry in the eye. “And I know, I know. It’s early days yet. We’ve not promised anything to each other. So I’ll start by this. All I ask is that you tell me when I fuck up. Because I will.”

“You’re promising you’ll fuck up?” Harry interrupts, mouth twisting in a half grin even as his eyes hold a million emotions.

Louis huffs.

“I’m promising to do my best,” Louis says, exasperated. “If you’ll have me, I’ll do my best.”

Harry looks up at him, smiling through shiny eyes.

“‘Course, Lou,” he says gently. “Thank you.”

It comes out barely a whisper and Louis can’t help the way he shakes his head.

“I just want to know you,” he says truthfully. “I want to know all of you, baby.”

“It really shouldn’t be sexy to hear you say something so corny,” Harry quips, wry.

Louis chuckles a little and takes the humour for what it is. Acquiescence, a break, a necessary reprieve from emotions a little too complex for a random hookup.

“You love it,” he scoffs.

“True,” Harry says, shrugging a little.

His eyes are tender when he sneaks a glance up at Louis. Soon they are both grinning at each other as the moment stretches on.

“Was it,” Harry asks and interrupts himself to clear his throat. “Was it okay on your end too? I mean, everything?”

Louis’ eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Yes, of course,” Louis says. “Was so lovely.”

Harry settles a little, but not completely.

“Even the…” Harry starts. He takes a deep breath. “What about the, uh, kind of weird stuff?”

Louis tries to think of what they’ve done that could be considered weird. Any one of the things they’ve discussed so far could be seen as weird, so he tries to think of what they haven’t talked about yet.

“Oh!” Louis exclaims. “D’you mean that I wear women’s knickers sometimes?”

Harry swallows.

“Oh, uh, no,” he says, voice a little strained. “That’s… that’s not weird, Lou.”

“No?” Louis asks, genuinely curious.

“Well, maybe not usual. But, um, I get it,” Harry says quickly. Louis raises his eyebrows. Well, alright then.

“So…” Louis prompts.

“The, um, the,” Harry’s voice is a little higher pitched, uncertain. “The breeding thing,” he mumbles, fast enough that Louis has to take a second to decipher the words.

“Oh!” he says, understanding dawning on him. “Oh.”

“Like, I know it’s weird,” Harry rushes to say, pinching the sheet between his forefinger and thumb distractedly. “And, like, I am still careful. Obviously. I am not trying to just like, get pregnant all of a sudden.”

Louis honestly hadn’t considered that possibility. He thinks about the words he had uttered and the fire it had stoked in his belly, the thought of Harry pregnant and round with pups, with their pups.

“Right,” Louis says, but isn’t sure how to convey the complicated nature of his feelings about that particular kink. The terrifying realness attached to the thought of spending his life with Harry, of actually sharing parenthood with Harry, of tiny Harries and Louis running around a garden one day.

“Not weird,” he decides to say. “I enjoyed it too.” Harry’s head snaps up to look at Louis.

“Did you?” he asks, expression cautious.

“Yeah, love,” Louis says, chuckling a little. “I really liked it. Didn’t you hear me last night?” Louis ignored the pink in his cheeks at the memory. Harry nodded, a little awestruck.

“Thought maybe you were doing it for me,” Harry mumbled, expression still hopeful. It made Louis’ chest ache.

“Nah, Haz,” he reassured him, because it simply was the truth. “I really liked it too. Loved the idea of you barefoot and pregnant.” Louis nearly whispers the last sentence, hoping it won’t scare Harry off.

When he dares a glance at Harry, however, he knows he needn’t have worried. Harry is positively beaming.

“Hey,” Harry says. “I really, really like you, Louis.”

Louis laughs.

“I really, really like you too, Harold.”

“That’s not my name!” he protests. Louis kisses the top of his head.

“Sorry,” Louis apologizes. “I really, really like you, princess.”

“Much better,” Harry says, all cheek. Louis chuckles.

“So, um,” Harry says again. Louis wracks his brain to try and figure out what they possibly needed to talk about further. “Should I call you my boyfriend, or…?”

Louis barks out a laugh. Oh, right.

“We should probably go on at least one date, you know, for posterity,” he says, sly.

“To seal the deal, so to speak,” Harry nods, adopting a faux-serious expression.

“And I mean… There are lots of words you can call me. I’m easy,” Louis says, a little more seriously.

“Don’t I know it!” Harry says, pumping his fist as if he’s won the lottery. Louis chuckles, shoving at his shoulder.

“You know what I meant,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

Harry’s smile is bright, dimples out in full and he nods.

“My little Alpha,” Harry murmurs, as if to himself. “My Lou.”

“My Hazza,” Louis responds, a rumbling purr breaking out in his chest. “My baby.”