Archive of Our Own

It’s not that Harry knows at first, at least not really. He spends the first three years trying to surgically attach himself to Louis’ side, strange fear lingering in the back of his mind that the second he eases up Louis is going to meet someone more interesting and then all of a sudden there’ll be this cold spot underneath Harry’s arm that never existed before.

It’s not exactly a normal thought to have, Harry knows, but it’s one that he always comes back to, unable to stop himself. It’s not even his thought, really. Liam had said it to him in passing way back in the X-Factor days, something about the two of them always being pressed up together. It was a fair enough statement, because they really were, and it hadn’t exactly been said in a nice way (it had been really fucking mean-spirited, actually) - it’d been when Louis and Liam were past the point of actively disliking each other, but they hadn’t reached the stage where they could tolerate each other’s bullshit - but it stuck with Harry.

There’s two parts to it, really. The first part is Louis being an omega and lying about that for years. The second, much more complicated part, is that Harry knew that Louis was lying about something for years, even though he didn’t know what it was.

Louis being an omega is an idea that crosses Harry’s mind more than a few times over the years. He’s pretty sure that he’s not the only person who’s ever had the thought, but he’s confident in saying that he’s the only one who wasn’t thinking it because Louis is tiny.

Well. That’s part of it, but it’s only a tiny little sliver. He never thought that Niall was an omega, even though Niall and Louis were practically the same size for a while.

The simple answer is that Harry didn’t know that Louis is an omega until they had sex that first time.

Of course, the simple answer is never the one that accurately sums up the situation.

 

Harry can’t really explain it without going all the way back to Health Class. He didn’t really pay that much attention, mostly because he was too busy fucking around with his mates, but it was also a little bit because most of the stuff they were trying to teach just struck him as completely ridiculous. Like, why were they still trying to teach people that omegas are something sacred and precious and useless for anything other than mating with? It was 2009, people. Time to get with the program.

He’s paraphrasing, obviously, but that was the gist of it. It was also hard to care about how an alpha’s body chemistry reacts to an omega’s and vice versa when he had next to no interest in the actual science of biology, and even less because he thought he’d be having beta sex for the rest of his life.

So Harry didn’t really know much beyond the basics about the body chemistry of alphas and he never cared to learn more. It’s why it took him so off guard when he popped his knot, especially at eighteen years old, which, way to drop the ball, body. He knew more about omegas, because it seems like every film has a helpless, whimpering omega in some form or another, which explains where a lot of the vague thoughts Harry had came from, particularly the more stereotypical ones.

The first time he thinks about Louis being an omega comes from the dream, the one where Harry’s lying flat on his back in a bed somewhere with Louis on top of him, head thrown back, fingers gripping Harry’s side as he comes just from Harry’s knot pressing up against all the best parts inside of him.

It’s not the first sex dream he has about Louis, but it’s the first that involves Harry being an alpha. It takes him a while to realize that Louis was an omega in it, arse too slick around Harry’s cock not to be. He tries to shake it off, a little weirded out about the images his subconscious is providing him with, but it’s recurring. Eventually he gets to a place where he can enjoy it while he’s dreaming about it and wake up completely mortified that he came in his pants and slightly terrified that Louis is going to be able to take one look at him and just know.

So for a while he thinks that his brain just really wants Louis to be an omega, that it’s just something that never fails to get him off so fast it leaves Harry’s head spinning a little. Once he’s used to them, though, he starts noticing other things, things like the way Louis likes to make himself small whenever they’re alone.

Louis is always the biggest person in any room that he’s in. It doesn’t have anything to do with actual physical size, obviously. A lot of it is due to sheer volume - put Louis in a room with someone he even remotely trusts and he can be heard halfway down the hall - and a lot of it also due to personality.

He’s spontaneous and sassy and a little bit venomous if he’s feeling cornered and he’ll fight anyone who says a bad word about anyone he feels responsible for and Harry just loves him a lot.

Harry means the fighting thing figuratively, mainly, but there was that one time that he had to pull Louis away from a seriously heated argument with this random guy about something completely ridiculous. He’s pretty sure that Louis would have hit the guy if Harry hadn’t been there to stop him.

Then there’s also the whole play fighting thing. Harry’s yet to see Louis lose a play fight, regardless of who it’s with. He fights dirty, Louis, the second that he realizes that he’s losing. One time Patty tried to smack him to the ground - justifiably, because Louis is the most annoying person in the world when he puts his mind to it and he had definitely put his mind to it - and Louis just kneed him right in the balls.

Patty. Patty, who’s almost literally twice Louis’ size.

It had sent him to his knees immediately, and Louis had crowed about it for days afterwards to anyone who stood still long enough. It had been a terrible idea, bragging about it, because Patty has that quick Irish temper, and while he’d never hurt Louis for real he wouldn’t even hesitate before taking all of Louis’ clothes and forcing him to walk around in a bathrobe for a couple of days.

Harry had hidden him out of sight for a couple of days, pretending to need Louis’ help with a really lame art project. Louis hadn’t bought it, but he also hadn’t questioned why Harry was lying about it, so Harry had counted it as a win.

Harry thinks that it all boils down to a deep seeded need not to be seen as small, which makes sense even before everyone knows that he’s been hiding the fact that he’s an omega. Everyone and their mother knows that Louis has issues with being short, and it’s never been something that he tries to hide. Whether he’s conscious of how actively he goes out of his way to seem bigger or not, Harry doesn’t know, but he’s like that with everyone but Harry.

It takes a really long time before Harry figures out that it’s not necessarily that he wants Harry to make him feel small, but that he wants Harry to make him feel taken care of. And, well, if he feels taken care of by curling up in Harry’s lap and being quiet for a few minutes it’s not like Harry’s going to stop him.

Get the two of them alone in a room together for long enough with no one likely to walk in on them and they’ll end up like that ninety percent of the time, at least for a few minutes.

It gets worse if Louis is upset. He tries to hide it - he gets louder and more hyper, energetic to the point that people start wondering whether he actually does have ADD and it’s just gone undiagnosed all this time. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does Harry just. Makes him still.

Harry doesn’t want to say that it’s strange, because it’s never felt strange, not even the first time that he did it, before they even made it past the Judge’s Houses, but it kind of is.

Being the only person who Louis will ever willingly go still for, it’s. It was indescribable during those first three years, when the thought of Louis being an omega was just that, and now.

Now it’s like having everything he’s ever wanted in reach all at once.

The things that Louis did when it was just the two of them, the ways that he treated Harry differently than anyone else, make so much more sense after they’ve have sex, but at the time Harry just chalked it up to the Louis lying thing. He tries really hard not to fall into the trap of assuming that someone is an alpha or an omega just by their characteristics, but it’s hard not to associate Louis with him being an omega now.

He doesn’t know if Louis would take offense to Harry thinking like that, because Louis has some pretty serious hang-ups about being an omega, even now, but. There’s just so much about their relationship that makes so much more sense after Harry’s been inside of him, after Harry’s kissed his mouth for real - not those bullshit little presses of their mouths together to tide them over until Louis let them become a real thing.

So it’s not really that Harry knows that Louis is an omega before they have sex so much as he has weird dreams about it and weird feelings about it and even weirder feelings when he thinks about Louis not being an omega.

 

“Me an’ Liam are gonna play glow in the dark paintball,” Louis says, and Harry only has to take one look at him to know that he’s already had too much tea today, even though it’s barely noon.

Harry has some really good non-caffeinated herbal teas, but Louis always screws up his face and starts shouting about how Harry’s betraying his motherland when he tries to get him to drink them. He’ll let Harry give him the non-caffeinated lemon one when he’s sick, and he even asked for it last time, but that’s about it.

“Paul’s gonna let you go to play glow in the dark paintball?” Harry asks doubtfully. If he gets Paul in on it they can probably prevent Louis from starting a feud with someone he doesn’t even know. Too much caffeine does bad things to him. Last week he tried to steal someone’s baby.

Louis grins brightly. “We’re not gonna tell him,” he informs Harry. His grin says that he knows exactly how much of a terrible idea it is and exactly how much trouble they’re going to be in when they get back.

Harry’s already pulling out his phone. “Did you find a place already?” he asks, catching his jacket when Louis throws it at his face.

“That’s what you’re for,” Louis says, digging through Harry’s bag until he finds Harry’s sunglasses and wallet.

“What ever happened to Liam being the responsible one?” Harry wonders, already pulling up directions to the place. They’ll have to catch a cab but it’s only about a five minute ride, so Paul can’t get too mad at them.

Probably. He’s sure that Louis can spin it so that they don’t get yelled at for three hours. “Liam is the responsible one,” Louis says absently, still digging through Harry’s bag on his knees. Sometimes Harry can’t stand how beautiful he is, especially when he’s wearing ratty sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s three times too big for him that he must have stolen from one of the security guys.

“If he’s the responsible one then why am I the one stuck looking up directions?” Harry complains, pulling Louis to his feet when he holds out a hand expectantly.

Louis gives him an odd look. “Liam takes care of the band,” he clarifies.

“That’s my point exactly,” Harry agrees, tucking Louis’ credit card into his wallet before shoving the whole thing into his back pocket.

“You’re so dumb,” Louis says, hurling himself into Harry with enough force that they almost go falling over.

It leaves Louis’ nose pressed uncomfortably hard against Harry’s throat, but complaining would only make it worse, so he resigns himself to his fate and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, hauling him up just enough that his feet are off the floor and walking him towards the door.

Louis shrieks and wiggles, but not in a way that means he wants to be put down, so Harry just grins over his shoulder and manages to get them out the door somehow and to the lift. He sets Louis down while they wait, not because he’s heavy - because he’s not, and Harry could hold him like that for a whole lot longer - but because something about it feels a little weird, being outside the privacy of the hotel room and having his hands all over Louis like that where anyone could see.

Maybe it’s just because he wants to put his hands all over Louis like that all the time.

Louis steps away and presses the down button insistently, even though Harry’s already pressed it, until the lift arrives. He smacks the lobby button seven times before he deems it acceptable. Harry hopes that this isn’t the time that the lift decides to protect Louis’ mistreatment and break down with them trapped inside.

“Liam takes care of the band,” he says abruptly. Harry raises his eyebrows at the side of his head. “You take care of me.”

Harry’s breath catches. They don’t talk about the thing between them, the thing that’s so clearly more than just friendship, even though it’s been two years and counting. “Lou,” he says.

Louis holds up a hand. “If you ever say anything about it I’m going to punch you in the balls.”

He looks almost exactly like he does in the dreams, small and fey and pink and flushed, eyelashes sweeping against his cheeks, clean shaven for once, chewing on his lower lip. He looks so much like the omega from Harry’s dreams and Harry wants to touch him so badly.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asks desperately, fingers itching at his sides to press Louis back against the wall, to snog him until they’re both breathless and so hard that it hurts, to let the lift doors open and let everyone see them, see how gone for each other they are.

“No,” Louis says immediately. Harry sighs and sags back against the wall. He didn’t actually expect to get a yes but it would’ve been nice.

“Don’t pout,” Louis says chidingly, and then he’s sliding across the floor until he can lean his head against Harry’s shoulder and curl their fingers together.

Of course, it last for about six seconds before they arrive at the main floor, but Harry’s heart feels like it could burst out of his chest anyway. Every time he starts to think that it’s never going to happen Louis will do something that suggests otherwise.

He can keep waiting. When he doesn’t have to spend every waking moment being tortured by Louis’ presence he’s sure that they’ll get there eventually.

 

 

The part about knowing that Louis is lying, that’s a lot more complicated.

It’s obvious that Louis isn’t telling the truth, or at least the whole truth, about something right from the beginning. It took about ten minutes of knowing Louis to be able to figure out exactly what kind of person he is.

Mainly because he’d been standing in the middle of the stage shouting about how ‘pat the dog, screw the lightbulb’ was the epitome of dance moves and that they needed to be using it, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that once Harry knew Louis it wasn’t hard to figure out that he’s loud and brash and impulsive, the kind of person who pulls people out of their comfort zones without it freaking them out.

His personality is what Harry fell in love with, though, really and truly, and the best and worst part of it is how flirty he is. He told Harry that he had a nice dick, for chrissakes, the very first time they spoke, after they took a photo and just before wandering away. They spent the next three years flirting - like, hardcore flirting, hands slipping up each other’s inseams during interviews, fake kissing, holding hands, making flirty jokes, watching each other all the time, trying to corner each other at inopportune moments -

The list goes on. It doesn’t hurt that he’s honestly the most gorgeous person that Harry has ever laid eyes on, either, and some combination of all those things has Harry enamored with him almost from the start.

But for all that he’d initiate the flirting most of the time, he’d never take it any further and he’d shy away a little if Harry tried. By the time it was beyond bumbling teenage flirting with your crush Harry knew that he was in it for the long haul. It never particularly mattered why Louis would always pull away, so long as he came back in.

At least not then.

 

Harry tried so hard to always be the person that Louis was looking at that by the time he started cluing in to the fact that maybe everything was not what it seemed it didn’t even matter. It’s not like it really took that long - two weeks into the X-Factor he already knew all of Louis’ tells - but Harry’s a romantic, deep down, and he’s always been willing to wait for the one, even if sometimes he thinks that the one needs to pull his head out of his arse.

Maybe the romantic part of Harry is buried a little deeper than he thought.

After the bus accident Harry’s shaken up, enough that he pushes things a further than they’ve ever taken them before, desperate to feel Louis’ body underneath his hands, to make sure for himself that Louis is okay.

He doesn’t really regret it. Can’t regret it when it gave him such a clear picture of what sex with Louis would be like.

It was clear that Louis needed to take his time after that, though, for whatever reason, and it became so much easier to just let him without asking questions. Harry’s had more than a few theories over the years, ranging from the simple to conspiracy theories. Sometimes they watch too many spy films.

That night also made it clear that they’d get there eventually, though, and once Harry knew that they were on the same page it was easier to let Louis do it at his own pace.

(They weren’t on the same page, but Harry wouldn’t realize that for a while still.)

So before they had sex Harry didn’t know why Louis was hiding something, or what it was, but he knew that he’d know eventually. For the first couple of weeks after the first time they had sex it didn’t even matter, because it was Louis, and Harry was so caught up in it, in having pretty much every single fantasy he’d ever had coming to life.

It took him a while to catch up.

 

They have sex the second time, and it’s wonderful, amazing, literally everything Harry could ever want from sex. Louis is so responsive, so easy to read, and it’s easy to understand what he needs. Harry gives it to him, because he wants to and because he wants Louis to have everything that he wants, but there’s a few minutes of doubt, afterwards.

Sex is different than how Harry thought it would be. He went through puberty with the expectation that he’d be a beta and have beta sex with another beta, dreams about knotting Louis non-withstanding. Before he popped his knot, he expected sex to feel good. He expected sex to be giggly and happy and sweaty, mostly because he was expecting it to be with Louis, even then.

There was always the smallest, tiniest little part of him that always insisted that it’d be better if he got to hold Louis down, to hold him still, that came out when he was wanking, especially after that week in LA.

After he knots inside of Louis and realized what’s happened, it seemed like everything just settled into place. It explained so much about the way they are together, the way Louis is with Harry that he isn’t with anyone else, the way Harry treats Louis that he would never treat anyone else.

There’s not a single other person in the world that Harry would let be so mean to him. He can take care of himself, and he can shut down people who want to hurt him, despite what the entire world seems to think, but he’ll let Louis prod at all of his sore spots.

There’s not a single other person in the world that Harry would be so mean to either, not even Gemma. Louis delights in it, though, in getting Harry so angry that he’ll point out all of Louis’ flaws. He says that it makes their relationship stronger, the fact that they can yell terrible things at each other and make up an hour later, because they love each other too much to let each other go.

He’s only said it once, when he was drunk, but it sticks with Harry for a long time. He’s not sure that it’s particularly healthy, especially not with all of the things that he wants from Louis, but there’s no changing the fact that it’s true. The thought of letting someone else put their hands all over Louis, the thought of someone else’s knot in Louis’ arse, spilling come into him, it makes Harry want to throw up.

The thought of someone else saying mean things to Louis until he cries makes Harry so angry that he wants to put his fist through that imaginary person’s face. It’s not easy to handle, but it becomes so much easier when Harry realizes that there’s a reason for it, that biologically he’s inclined to protect the person that he wants to be his mate from everyone but himself.

It’s still not easy.

 

Before that, though, there’s a week in which Harry goes to LA, about a year and a half after they were formed as a band, sometime after their first album has come out but before the second one. There are a lot of reasons why he goes - management telling him to so there’s less of a spotlight on his friendship with Louis, to make some connections, do some PR, maybe even get in a little bit of sightseeing if he can swing it.

Mostly, though, it’s because he and Louis had a big, blow out fight over nothing. Harry’s feelings are still hurt, and he’s adult enough to realize that he’s running away, but he’s not quite adult enough to stay and talk it out when he’s feeling so stomped on.

The first couple of days drag by, minutes ticking so slowly that Harry feels like he’s going out of his mind. His phone isn’t silent, of course, because he has people phoning and texting him all the time, but he doesn’t get anything from Louis, save for a very eloquent photo of his middle finger.

On the third day he meets a girl. She’s loud and vibrant and slightly maniacal, a little bit unhinged. He spends a day hanging out with her, and then another when she shows absolutely no interest in who he is.

It’s not until the third day that he realizes that he likes her so much because she reminds him of Louis. He feels especially stupid when he does, and really bad for comparing her to somebody else, but she takes it with grace when he says that he’s going back to London early and doesn’t ask if he’ll be coming back.

It’s more of a reprieve than he deserves. That week in LA is the first time that Harry associates the word soulmate with Louis, and he doesn’t know if he would have gotten there without her. She deserves so much better than Harry could ever give her, and it’s not like they ever really did anything aside from hanging out, but Harry still sends a huge edible arrangement to her house. He doesn’t put a note in, but he’s pretty sure that she knows why he sent it.

Soulmates, though, it’s not something that Harry ever really gave much thought to before Louis. It has a lot to do with the whole knowing that Louis is lying thing, soulmates. The two things are so entwined that Harry can’t really talk about one without talking about the other.

Harry feels like being convinced that Louis is his soulmate means that he knows Louis better than anyone else in the world, and he knows that Louis would scoff at the idea, but he’s pretty sure that he’s right. He knows a lot of things about Louis that no one else knows, and one of those things is how desperately Louis wants to be with someone.

He’s never actually said it out loud, but he doesn’t have to. Harry sees him watching happy couples in the streets and in movies and especially Zayn and Perrie with this look on his face like he thinks that he’s never going to be able to have that.

And that. That’s something that just doesn’t make sense, because Harry’s willing to admit that he’s a little biased but he’s pretty sure that everyone would agree with him when he says that Louis is a catch. People love him - everyone loves him. Harry’s going to be the only one who gets to have him, but it’s not like he doesn’t have options. A lot of options. So many options that Harry wants to start throwing punches, sometimes, and maybe this is not where Harry meant it to be going but he thinks it sums up the situation pretty well, nonetheless.

Louis has options. Louis has options, but he’s holding out for Harry. Louis has options, but he’s holding out for Harry, even though Harry’s wanted to be with him since the day they met. Louis has options, but he’s holding out for Harry, even though Harry has made absolutely no secret of exactly how much he wants to be with Louis. Practically the entire world knows.

Louis is hiding something.

 

 

Harry knows that he’s meant to talking about something else, something that’s a little more sexy, maybe something about how Louis is the most gorgeous fucking thing he’s ever seen, but this is his boy, and Harry wants to take care of his boy.

So it only feels natural to hear, “You wanna have pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” slipping out of his own mouth, even as he works his way into Louis’ body, inch by torturous inch, hot, tight heat clinging to Harry’s cock in the best way possible.

Not that there’s really a bad way.

Louis’ answer isn’t really an answer, but Harry shouldn’t really expect anything else from the boy who steals Harry’s phone for eighteen hours at a time when Harry doesn’t make him tea when he’s having some, even if Louis isn’t in the room and hasn’t been around for four hours. “This is what the sex has come to, talking about what we’re gonna eat for breakfast?”

He sounds breathless, nails scraping down Harry’s back in a way that’s definitely going to leave marks. Good thing they’ve got a week for them to heal.

But. “I just. I wanna take care of you,” Harry says, because sometimes he’s incapable of not telling Louis what he’s really thinking.

Louis’ expression is something. Something a little broken hearted, something a little resigned. Something a lot longing. “You’re taking care of me right now.”

Harry stops moving. It’s not enough. It’s not enough to be taking care of Louis right now. It’s not enough to be taking care of Louis for a night at a time, for however many hours they can steal away from security and Paul. It’s not enough to only be allowed to have this where people can’t see them - not the sex, obviously. The laughter and the joking and the teasing and the love, because there’s so much of it that Harry’s overwhelmed, sometimes, by how much he can possibly feel for this boy.

He watches Louis filching his necklace. It’s not enough. “Just for the week. Lemme feed you and kiss you and hold you and just. Let’s be together for the week.”

“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” Louis says. He’s not looking Harry in the eyes anymore, and Harry just. He’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t want to be with Louis all the time. He’s so tired of it that he arranged this week long holiday for them, but he doesn’t know if it’s going to be enough and it’s definitely not going to be enough if Louis won’t even let them try.

“It’s not that different from when we’re at home,” Harry says. It isn’t. When they’re at home they’re the two biggest fucking idiots on the face of the planet, kicking each other and kissing in the kitchen and sleeping in the same bed even though Louis always pretends that he doesn’t want to and staying up until three o’clock in the morning, whispering stupid fake secrets to each other.

Louis’ face isn’t saying that he agrees. Louis’ face also isn’t saying that he doesn’t want to, so that means that Harry should convince him.

Harry can do that.

He tips Louis’ hips up a little, until they’re in the right position to make it feel the best for him. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, determined to make Louis come once before his knot becomes too big to ignore.

Louis is whimpering, lower lip caught between his teeth in a way that’s going to leave marks for a while, marks that Harry will have to kiss better later, flushed and sweaty and jesus christ sometimes Harry can barely stand to look at him, he’s so gorgeous.

There’s a deep, possessive part of him that thinks and he’s mine, always drawn a little closer to the surface when he has Louis underneath him like this, a part of him that always used to scare him a little, before he knew that he was an alpha. It makes so much more sense now, the part of him that’s always wanted to have all of Louis’ attention, because he’s biologically pre-disposed to it, the same way that Louis is biologically pre-disposed to wanting all of Harry’s attention.

“You wanna come?” Harry demands, thrusting in a little harder. The pressure on his cock is amazing, but if he thinks about it too much his knot’ll be too big to even get inside.

It’s never happened before, but it’s bound to at some point. Louis’ arse is too good for it not to.

Louis rakes his nails down Harry’s back instead of answering and clenches down tight. Harry draws blood from the inside of his own cheek and gets a hand around Louis’ cock to jerk him off. He wants an answer but he’s not sure that he’s capable of getting one without starting to come, and he wants Louis to come first even more.

“Please please please,” Louis says. Harry rests his forehead against Louis’ and watches his face as he comes, eyes mostly closed, lashes resting heavily against his cheeks. He lets his rhythm falter, just for a few seconds, while he listens to Louis gasp out, “Harry, Harry, oh, please,” because Louis can never keep it together enough to notice if Harry’s rhythm is steady while he’s coming.

When Louis starts cluing back in Harry picks it up again and wipes his hand off on Louis’ side, biting his own lip as he tries to keep the rhythm. He can probably make Louis come again before he has to knot.

Louis’ fingers trail over his jaw in a way that means that he needs something, and Harry can’t stop his attention from snapping back to him instantly, doesn’t even want to. “You don’t have to prove that you’re capable of taking care of me, babe.”

That’s literally all Harry can ever think about lately. “Just for a week,” he says desperately, “Just lemme take care of you for a week. Baby. Please.”

His knot pushes into Louis’ body as he agrees, because Harry’s knot clearly knows what’s up.

“Gonna make you the happiest boy in the world,” Harry slurs, as soon as he’s capable of forming coherent speech. “No one else is ever gonna be able to make you as happy as I do, no one ever makes me as happy as you do.”

Louis is so hard in Harry’s hand, cock wet with his own come, but that only makes it easier to make him feel even better.

There’s nothing better than the feeling of Louis caught on his knot while Harry starts coming into his arse, so that’s the only explanation for why Harry says it. “I love you, baby, I love you so much.”

For a second, he thinks that Louis hears it. There’s this look on his face as he comes, spacey and longing and needy and a little bit resentful, like he’s feeling so many things that he can’t decide which to concentrate on.

He doesn’t come back, though, at least not right away, and if he had have actually heard it he’d probably be freaking out right now as Harry comes and comes and comes.

After a couple minutes Harry can’t look at Louis’ face anymore, not without wanting to push it until Louis snaps and admits to everything he’s been lying about, admits to everything that Harry’s been suspecting for weeks now, until Louis just lets them be together for real.

It’s so fucking shitty to not be sure that it’d happen.

The very first second that Harry laid eyes on Louis something in him just clicked into place and settled. He’s still convinced that they’re soulmates, but soulmates doesn’t lessen the suffering. He just. He wants to be with Louis, like, for real, all the time, and all of a sudden he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this for.

Maybe it’s not so sudden.

“Let’s have pancakes and waffles for breakfast,” Louis says, stroking his hands down Harry’s back like there’s a part of him that knows something isn’t right. Harry doubts that he’s conscious of it, of his urge to try to make everything better all the time.

“There’s cream, yeah?” Louis continues. Harry shoves his face into Louis’ shoulder a little harder and blinks back the tears. “So with homemade whipped cream and strawberries. Maybe even peanut butter banana pancakes, what do you think?”

He wants to take care of Harry just as much as Harry wants to take care of him, this boy, and Harry’s been struggling to deal with the fact that he can’t have Louis properly for what feels like forever, now, and that he won’t be able to have him until Louis decides to let him.

He doesn’t resent Louis for it, but not resenting him doesn’t lessen the ache in Harry’s chest.

Harry will let himself have this week. He’ll let himself have this week, and it’ll be amazing and hot and they’ll have so much sex and laugh at stupid shit and watch bad movies and cuddle at night and it’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough.

“I saw this recipe for whole wheat oatmeal pancakes,” Harry says, not lifting his head. He just needs a few more minutes. He can keep this between himself and Louis’ shoulder if he tries hard enough.

“I thought you wanted to take care of me, not kill me,” Louis says, but his voice has taken on this lilt like all of a sudden he’s getting more pleasure than he was expecting. Harry would normally give him another orgasm, but he’s so drained that he feels like he can barely move.

He’s not too drained to kiss Louis’ pretty little mouth, though, so he moves until he can get at it, stroking his thumb along Louis’ cheekbone. It doesn’t take too much longer for Harry’s knot to go down enough to pull out, slipping out of Louis’ body and instantly missing it.

Louis looks tired, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks like he’s about to pass out with Harry still on top of him. Harry’s tired, too, rolling onto the mattress but staying close enough that their legs are tangled together, but there’s still something left that they have to address before he can let either of them fall asleep.

“I think that counts as you losing,” Harry says, and he should be expecting the pillow to the face but he’s not.

It doesn’t take him long to wrestle Louis back onto his part of the bed, making half hearted grabs for Louis’ wrists while Louis deals out sharp pinches to Harry’s torso. “I didn’t lose,” he hisses, and, well, that’s obviously untrue enough that Harry stops playing and grabs his wrists for real.

There’s really only one thing for Harry to say, and he does. “You lost, Tommo. Don’t be a sore loser, now.”

He’s surprised when Louis just slumps back out across the bed. Louis is nothing if not a sore loser, and it probably shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “Well if I lost you’re not sleeping here tonight,” Louis announces, like he thinks that’s a thing that’s actually going to happen. Harry’s come is still leaking out of his arse, of course Harry is sleeping here. He’s going to wake Louis up in the morning by turning him over onto his belly and eating him out a little, probably.

“I don’t know how you think you’re going to stop me,” Harry points out, glancing between his hands holding Louis’ wrists together and Louis’ face.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep and then I’ll push you out of the bed. Maybe I’ll even put your hand in warm water and see if you piss yourself,” Louis says, smile already tugging at the corners of his lips. Harry has no doubt that he’s actually going to do it, because it’s exactly the type of thing that Louis does, and his heart swells a little.

He just. There’s a whole lot of reasons that he loves Louis, and he gets just as annoyed with him as the next person, but it’s Louis and he’s Harry’s. Harry can be as annoyed with him as he wants and there still won’t be anything that changes the fact that he’s looking at the rest of his life right here, in this bed.

He just wants to get there already.

“I’d like to see you do all that when you’re about five seconds away from falling asleep,” he says. He wants Louis, all of Louis, and he’ll have him eventually, but for now he’ll make do with this week.

It’ll have to be enough.

 

It’s not enough. It’s almost worse, actually. They’d spent the week making fun of each other and curling up in bed together, just talking, and yeah, there was sex - there was a lot of sex - but the best part was just being able to be together without anyone breathing over their shoulders.

Now that Harry knows what it’s like he wants it even more. They haven’t had that since they first moved in together, before people started telling them that they looked a little too friendly and that they should tone it down, before people started breathing over their shoulders.

Well. Minus the sex part, obviously.

They’re back on tour, in America, and every time he looks at Louis he’s viscerally reminded of what he’s missing, of everything he’s not being allowed to have.

He doesn’t resent Louis for it. Louis has his reasons, whatever they are, and Harry doubts that he’d agree with them, but they’re obviously important to him. He tries really hard to be what Louis needs him to be, but it’s getting harder with every passing hour that he can’t just hold him.

It’s just. Harry wants them to be together. He’s wanted them to be together since the day they met, and now, nearly four years later, not having that is taking its toll.

He doesn’t intend to start pulling away, not at first. He just needs a little bit of time to himself. As much as he loves spending time with Louis it also hurts, a deep, constant ache in his chest that never quite goes away, not even when they’re allowed to just be.

It lessens when he doesn’t have to watch Louis careening around a room, playing at everything still being the same, so he takes to stealing Lux whenever he gets the chance, and it helps, at least a little. It’s a distraction, and a good one, at that.

He just needs some time before he can go back to being the guy that fucks Louis once a week without pushing for more.

 

Everything changes when Louis goes into heat. The sex has always come easily, and that part is the same. Knowing what Louis needs, sexually, is something that Harry’s never really had to think about, and he’s never been more grateful for that than he is right now. It makes it so much easier to concentrate on all the things that have been niggling at the back of Harry’s mind over the years, things that he knows to be true even if he’s never said them out loud before.

Louis is lying.

He’s lying when he says that he doesn’t remember how he took the birth control but forgot to take the suppressants, and Harry just. He’s had enough. Something has to give, and Harry’s tired of being the one always giving.

He means to do something about it right away, but he gets yanked into a meeting with management on the trek between his room and Louis’. He’s already been lectured at for fifteen minutes about going to Louis’ room or having Louis in his room, but this is too much for Harry to stomach.

“So what exactly are you asking me to do?” Harry asks. Paul’s standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest, face blank. He doesn’t agree, Harry knows that he doesn’t agree, because for all that he gives them shit whenever he finds them together there’s always this look in his eyes like he thinks they’re endgame, Harry and Louis, and he gives them so much more leeway than he’ll ever admit to.

Paul’s in their corner, but he’s the only person in this room who is.

“We think that it’s best if you start paying more attention to how you treat Louis,” Mary says. She looks uncomfortable as she says it, like it’s something that she wishes she didn’t have to tell him.

Harry’s a nice guy, but he’s not nice enough to be able to commiserate with her. “I’m pretty sure that we’ve already had this conversation.”

“How you treat him all the time, not just in public,” Mary says gently.

Harry’s chest tightens. “We already have our every move scrutinized by you guys. I’m not sure exactly what you want us to do differently.”

“Let me put it to you this way,” Mary says. There’s another six people sitting around the conference table that have yet to say a word. Harry wonders how she got stuck doing the dirty work. “The media has been all over this. It’s the biggest story of the year. It’s probably even the biggest story of the past five years. If we’re going to continue with the story that we’ve already begun we really need to sell it that there’s some discomfort between the two of you now.”

Harry stands up, shoving his chair back. He doesn’t particularly feel like an alpha most days - he mostly just feels like himself, how he’s always felt - but he feels it now, feels like he could smash apart every single piece of furniture in this room and still be angry, afterwards.

“Are you asking me to pretend like there’s nothing between us?” Harry asks quietly.

Mary doesn’t flinch. “I’m asking you to decide whether the thing that’s between you is going to blow up in your faces and for you to do something about it if it is.”

It’s so obviously off script that all Harry can do is blink at her.

“We’re asking you to treat him like an omega,” one of the male execs cuts in. Harry knows his name, but he can’t be arsed to remember it right now.

“What exactly does treating him like an omega even mean?” Harry wonders out loud. “Because I know that you’re not telling me that I should treat him like he’s worth less than me because he’s an omega. And I know that you’re not telling me that he belongs in the background while I handle all the media coverage, playing at being submissive.”

Harry stops to drag in a breath and try to calm himself. It doesn’t help. “But most of all I know that you’re not telling me that I should be trying to put him in his place. Without him none of you would be here. Without him I wouldn’t be here so you can take your shitty ideas about how I should treat him and shove them up your - ”

Paul’s grip is tight to the point of painful as he drags Harry out of the room. He doesn’t say anything until they’re back in the elevator in the hotel, going up to their floor, and then he still doesn’t say anything so much as he grips Harry in the tightest hug that he’s ever felt.

He still makes Harry leave the door open when he goes into Louis’ room, but. Harry will take what he can get.

 

The conversation that they have when Harry gets into Louis’ room is simultaneously the most frustrating and enlightening one they’ve ever had. Harry is of the opinion that he knows Louis better than anyone else in the entire world and not just because they’re having sex, although that definitely helps.

The point is that there’s a lot of things that Harry knows about Louis. It’s why he’s let things continue like this for so long. Louis is scared, and Harry is too, but all of a sudden he’s just had enough. He’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t want Louis all the time, tired of pretending that he doesn’t know that Louis wants exactly the same thing, tired of pretending that he doesn’t know that Louis is lying.

Tired of Louis trying to be something he’s not because he’s got it stuck in his head that Harry needs him to.

And then Louis says, “Well it’s not exactly like we’ve given them a reason to trust us,” logically, like he’s just pointing out the obvious, and Harry.

He’s done playing games. He’s finished letting Louis lie. It’s not getting them anywhere. It’s not getting them where they need to be.

“No, I guess we haven’t,” Harry says, but he’s not talking about giving their management a reason to trust them anymore.

 

Of course, it wouldn’t be Harry’s life if they didn’t get dragged into yet another meeting, together this time, before he can decide exactly what he’s going to do about it. He keeps going back and forth, debating whether he should just bring it up out of nowhere or wait for an opportunity to present itself, and exactly what he should say, and how he should say it, and how to get Louis not to freak out when he does.

He can’t look at Louis once they’re in the room, too distracted by his own thoughts and trying not to flip out. He was in here three hours ago being told not to touch Louis anymore and now they’re giving them options. He just. He needs some stability. If he’s not fighting them the only person left to fight is Louis, and he’s not sure that he’s ready for that.

He doesn’t have much of a choice, though. That becomes apparent after Harry says that they’re not going to say that they’ve been in a relationship the entire time, because they haven’t, and Louis’ immediate reaction is to storm out of the room without saying another word.

He actively avoids Harry for the rest of the night, and for the next day, too, and Harry can practically see his thoughts written all over his face, over thinking things and trying to figure out a way to get himself out of the mess he’d gotten himself into.

It only takes until half of the second day of being ignored for Harry to get too angry not to do anything about it. He wants answers, and he wants them now.

So he corners Louis when he’s not expecting it. It’s time.

 

He doesn’t manage to get Louis alone until a couple hours before show. He’s careful to put himself between Louis and the door, so if he tries to escape he’ll have to go past Harry to do it, but leaves enough space that they wouldn’t touch if Louis did leave.

“Have you been planning this?” Harry asks. He stares at Louis, trying not to miss even a nanosecond of his expressions. It’s possible that Harry is wrong about this. It’s not likely, but it’s possible.

“How would I have planned this?” Louis demands, already on the defensive. “S’not like I could’ve made you an alpha, now is it?”

Would, not could. How would he have planned this. It’s all the confirmation Harry needs. “Stop avoiding the question.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, Harry, I haven’t been planning this.” He’s over-enunciating his words, like he thinks that’s going to distract Harry from the fact that he’s lying.

“Do you really think that after nearly four years I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Harry demands. He’s having a hard time keeping his voice in check, trying not to use the alpha voice that so clearly wants to come out. If he used it he’s not sure that Louis would ever forgive him, but Harry’s pissed. He’s tired of being jerked around like he’s a puppet.

“I - what? I’m not lying,” Louis denies, but he is. He’s still lying, even though Harry’s looking him right in the face and asking him, point blank, whether he’d planned it.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t know the answer. It’s that Harry needs to hear the answer come out of Louis’ mouth before they can move on.

He takes a few steps towards Louis, enjoying the way Louis shivers a little. He’s spent so long pretending not to have a physical reaction to Harry being in his space it’s nice to finally get one out of him. “So how long has it been? A year? Two?”

Louis is backing up, inching his way towards the wall. He’s only cornering himself even more, but Harry’s not going to tell him that. “Was it three, Lou? Four? Have you been planning it from the very second that we met in the bathroom?”

He’s got his hand on Louis’ face, tilting it up and making him look Harry in the eye. Louis’ pulse is going crazy, jumping in his throat in a way that’s incredibly distracting. Harry wants to bite at it.

“What were you gonna do if I figured it out before now, baby?” Harry asks, because he genuinely wants to know. “What were you gonna do if I figured it out before you got us in too deep?”

“You could leave,” Louis says, and he’s using all of his tricks - wet eyes, trembly lip, tiny, scared little Louis. Harry’s not falling for it. “I won’t - I won’t keep you here. If that’s what you want I won’t fight it.”

Harry takes a minute to think about whether that’s the truth or not. He doubts that it is, because Louis has always been shit at letting things go. He presses in a little closer, smirking at the way Louis backs up even more, until he’s up on the table, knocking something over. Harry doesn’t stop until he’s got their bodies flush together, hips between the spread of Louis’ thighs.

“You should have done it when I was sixteen,” Harry says. He drags his mouth across Louis’ skin until he can tug at Louis’ lower lip, taste of his sweet, manipulative omega exploding across his tongue.

“I don’t,” Louis starts, and Harry’s sure that he has something to say to try to get himself out of the hole he’s dug.

Harry doesn’t plan on letting him out of that hole for a while, still. He can’t stop biting at Louis’ mouth, anyway, trying to convince him into kissing Harry back, and it’s distracting for a minute.

“You could’ve popped me something, could’ve gotten me into you then, when I would’ve done anything to have you, and I’d have swelled up in you then, too overwhelmed to do anything about it,” Harry says, because he’s pretty sure that’s how it would have happened. There’s not a scenario in which they have sex and don’t end up knotted.

“You’d still do anything to have me,” Louis says, and it’s true, it’s so true. He has to kiss Louis again for it, sucking on his tongue. He can feel Louis’ cock pressing up against his belly, ready to burst out of his jeans, and Harry can sympathize, even if he’s not feeling particularly nice.

“But you know why you should have done it when I was sixteen?” Harry asks, once he’s managed to tear his mouth far enough away. He rolls his hips against Louis’, and then again when it feels too good not to.

“Harry,” Louis whines, right into his mouth, hand scrambling down between their bodies like he’s trying to get at one of their cocks. Harry doesn’t know whether he’s doing it on purpose or not, but he can’t let it happen if he wants this conversation to actually get anywhere, so he grabs Louis’ hand and laces their fingers together.

“Do you remember what I was like at sixteen?” Harry asks. He’s having a hard time concentrating on anything but the taste of Louis’ mouth. “I was so completely taken with you. I would’ve gone along with anything that you asked me to do, so if you had have slipped me something and laid me out I would have swelled up in you without even realizing what was going on.”

He rolls his hips again because he has to, and when Louis blinks slowly it’s the perfect opportunity to flip him around and bend him over the table. It leaves his bum pressed right up against Harry’s hips, the beautiful, gorgeous arse that’s never had anyone but Harry inside of it.

“I would have done anything you wanted,” Harry says, and goes for Louis’ zipper. He deflects a water bottle and pins the hand Louis was using to his back, trying to get Louis’ stupidly tight jeans down single handedly.

“You still do anything I want,” Louis snaps, which is so completely the wrong thing to say if he actually didn’t want Harry on him right now, because they both know it’s true. He’s had Harry wrapped around his little finger since day one.

He shoves Louis’ shirt up as high as he can get it, and the view leaves him a little breathless. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen Louis naked, it’ll always be like having the entire world in front of him. “I do most things you want,” he says, “because I want them too. But I can see right through you now, baby, and you have to know that that’s not gonna work out for you.”

Louis is squirming, pushing up onto his toes and wiggling around. It takes about zero effort to shove him back down. “Get off me,” Louis says, but it’s weak at best. Harry wraps his fingers around Louis’ lovely cock and strokes it a little.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, tension draining out of his body that easily.

“Ssh, baby,” Harry murmurs, watching his hand part the cheeks of Louis’ arse like it has a mind of its own.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Louis says, high pitched, but he’s pushing his arse back onto Harry’s fingers before Harry’s even started putting them in.

“I used to dream about it, you know,” Harry says, and it kind of feels like he’s dreaming now, watching Louis take his finger so easily. “About knotting you even before I knew that I was going to have one. I would wake up in a pool of my own come, and it’d be so embarrassing, thinking that you were gonna be able to smell it on me, how much I wanted you.”

It’s important for Louis to know this, for Louis to know that Harry’s wanted him just as much as he’s wanted Harry. He sinks in a second finger, tight heat clinging to them like it doesn’t ever want to let him go.

“Turns out that it wouldn’t have even mattered how embarrassing it was, though, because you were planning for it since the beginning.” He scissors his fingers and watches Louis gasp and rise up onto his toes like it’s more than he can take.

It’s not even close to being what he can take, though, and Harry knows that from experience, so he pulls him back down and starts fingering him for real, quick, hard jabs that have Louis whimpering and leaking so much slick that Harry’s entire forearm is going to be covered in it.

“But do you know the main reason that you should have done it when I was sixteen?” Harry asks, pinning Louis’ hips still and tightening his fingers around Louis’ cock. He doesn’t want Louis to come too soon.

“Don’t,” Louis says, but if he didn’t want Harry to spell it out for him he should’ve come clean a long fucking time ago.

“You should have done it when I was sixteen because I wouldn’t have figured it out and I wouldn’t have started playing you right back,” Harry says, jerking Louis off properly. “Now you can come.”

Louis does, arse clutching tight at Harry’s fingers, come spilling down Harry’s fist. He doesn’t take his fingers out right away, letting Louis ride out the aftershocks.

It’s. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he leaves the room.

He locks the door on the way out to make sure that no one can walk in before Louis has a chance to clean himself up and make himself decent.

 

Louis spends the entirety of the show avoiding Harry even more than normal, and by the end of it Harry’s even more pissed off. He has four years of anger to work through, and Louis isn’t making it any better by pretending that he doesn’t exist.

Louis’ door is locked when he gets there, but he convinced Paul to give him the key. The chain’s locked as well, but it only takes a little bit of work with a coat hanger to fix that.

He doesn’t wake up until Harry starts stripping him out of his briefs. Harry’s not even really sure why he’s doing it, just that he feels like this conversation might go easier if Louis is naked.

He thinks all conversations would probably go easier if Louis is naked.

Probably Louis doesn’t agree, though, because his first reaction upon waking up is to try to kick Harry in the face. Harry catches his legs and pins them down to the bed. “If you keep doing that I’m going to tie you down,” he says, because he’s tired of Louis fighting him all the time.

Also he’s still pretty pissed off.

He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs through Louis’ body, which. Oh. Oh. They’ll have to try that sometime soon.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to get over that, though, flailing until he gets one leg free and kicking at Harry some more. He eels around onto his back, shoving his foot up against Harry’s chest, putting all of his strength into it.

It’s not an inconsiderable amount of strength, but Harry’s always been stronger. He leans into it, squeezing Louis’ ankle and trying not to stare at Louis’ cock thickening up between his legs. He’s always had a vague idea that Louis likes it a little rough sometimes, but having it put right in his face when he’s trying to get Louis to admit to something is really distracting.

The position is perfect to get his fingers into Louis’ arse, and maybe Harry should have started with one but he knows exactly how much Louis can take at once, and two fingers isn’t pushing it.

Louis’ slick is leaking down his hand, down to his wrist, and it smells so good Harry wants to put his face into it, eat him out for a while, until he’s so turned on he can barely breathe.

“What the fuck,” Louis says, shoving back when Harry stills with a tiny little motion of his hips. Harry’s not even sure that he knows that he’s doing it.

Harry gets a foot to the face because he’s a little too distracted by the way Louis smells, by the way he feels. By the way he looks, jesus, Harry’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Stay still,” he hisses, because he can’t concentrate as it is and having Louis wiggling his arse in his face isn’t helping any. He pins Louis’ left thigh to the bed and holds it there despite his thrashing.

“Don’t use your alpha voice on me, motherfucker,” Louis says, half way towards being a shout, and Harry’s reminded of exactly why they’re here right now.

And that he’s still pissed off. “Be good,” he orders, pulling out the alpha voice because he’s losing the fight and he doesn’t know how much longer he can put up with this. With Louis pretending like being together for three hours once a week is enough.

He doesn’t stop, though, and his thrashing only invites Harry to look down the expanse of his chest, past his pretty pink cock leaking all over the place to the spread out his thighs over Harry’s shoulders and the shadow of Harry’s fingers buried in his arse.

By the time he manages to drag his gaze back up to Louis’ face Louis is flushing a deep pink, all the way down his neck.

“I’m not good,” Louis says. His eyes are wild, like he actually still believes that, despite how long Harry’s been trying to tell him that he’s so good. That he’s perfect, that he’s everything that Harry needs. He punches at Harry’s shoulders again, and Harry lets his fingers slip out. “I’m not good.”

“You’re not good,” Harry says, taking a hold of Louis’ wrists. Louis doesn’t even try to stop him. Maybe if he tries something else Louis will finally start to believe him. “You’re not good. You don’t listen, but if you ever listen to anyone it’s me so I need you to do that right now, alright?”

There has to be a way to make Louis see. “I’m gonna put you back onto your belly,” he continues, softer now. All of a sudden he understands exactly how hard this must have been on Louis.

It might be easier if Louis doesn’t have to look him in the face while he gets told about he’s the best thing in Harry’s life. “Don’t move, okay?”

He knows Louis, though, knows that Louis would make a break for it the second he’s given an inch, so he flicks the head of Louis’ pretty cock before he does it, and listens to Louis whimper helplessly and cradle himself in the palm of his hand.

Harry’d be willing to put his entire savings account down on Louis’ cock not flagging even a little. “What would you do if I spanked your arse before I fucked you?” Harry’s vaguely aware that he’s talking out loud, but it’s such a nice fucking thought. “Got you all sore and tender before I got you on my knot. I bet you’d love it.”

God. It’d be the prettiest fucking thing in the entire world, Louis’ arse all bare and pinked up from Harry’s hand, sore enough to make Louis bitch half-heartedly at him afterwards but not sore enough to make him too uncomfortable during.

“I’d kill you,” Louis says, fingers curling in the sheets above his head as if he’s already thinking about how he’d do it. He probably is, because he’s kind of a homicidal little maniac sometimes.

Knowing that isn’t enough to excuse him, though, not when Harry’s already so mad at him. He’s having a hard time remembering to be angry, but he does now, so he slaps Louis’ bum anyway, hard and heavy. Louis makes the best sounding yelp Harry’s ever heard, and his palm itches to give him another one.

“Don’t,” he says instead. There’ll be time to spank Louis properly later. “Tell me the truth. When did you start planning it from.”

He can’t help but push his cock in the split of Louis’ bum, bumping up against his tiny little hole, smearing Louis’ slick all over his cock head.

“I didn’t plan anything,” Louis says. Harry bites down on his own cheek so he doesn’t bite Louis instead and force him to tell the truth.

Probably having a few fingers in his arse will help him along, though, so Harry slips one back in and nudges his mouth up behind Louis’ ear. “So if I had have knotted one of those girls instead of you, you would’ve been okay with it?”

Louis tenses up so tight that Harry probably couldn’t pull his finger out even if he wanted to. Harry can’t stop himself from laughing, maybe a little crazily. He can always count on Louis’ body to tell him the truth, even when Louis doesn’t want to. “If I left you right now and found some girl to give my knot to, you wouldn’t care? Is that what you’re telling me?”

He spreads his fingers and rocks them against Louis’ prostate gently. He’s fighting dirty now, but Louis has had this coming for a long time. “Don’t,” Louis says, voice breaking a little. “Don’t do that.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Louis to come, not with the way Harry knows his body. He barely gives Louis a chance to ride it out before sinking a third finger into him, unwilling to let Louis go back to being completely rational now that he’s finally gotten something out of him.

“I’d never be able to knot anyone else, not with the way you ruined me,” Harry says. It’s the truth, and if Louis still thinks that there’s any chance of Harry ever being with someone else maybe they really are on two different pages.

Somehow Harry doubts that.

“Didn’t ruin you,” Louis says softly, sweetly, like his orgasm has tired him out. Harry can’t sympathize, cock still hard enough to pound nails.

“You did ruin me,” Harry corrects, letting his fingers spread in Louis’ arse. “You wanted to ruin me for anyone else. D’you really think anyone else would have me knowing that I think about you all the time?”

“’s not my fault,” Louis protests, and to be fair he’s kind of right.

“It’s not entirely your fault,” Harry concedes. He kisses Louis behind his ear, because they’re making progress and he can’t not. It has the added benefit of easing something inside Louis, because he lets his legs spread a little more, lets Harry get inside of him a little deeper.

Harry’s eyes prickle a little. It’s not fair, how much he loves this boy. “I let you get away with it. I could’ve stopped you if I had have wanted to.”

He can’t take how Louis’ body feels around his fingers anymore and pulls them out. “You keep telling yourself that I never knew any of it but that’s not true.”

There’s no reason to wait anymore - Louis is ready, and normally by this point he’d have been bitching at Harry for fifteen minutes already for not getting on with it, and Harry is ready, too, cock so hard he might die.

He pushes in slowly, breathing heavily, and doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in. He has to lean his forehead against Louis’ sweat slick back, try to regain control over his own body and not just slam into Louis fast and hard like his cock wants him to.

It takes him longer than he’s used to acclimate to the feeling of Louis’ arse clenching down around his cock, tight and hot. He tucks a hand into the back of Louis’ knee once he finally is and pulls it up to spread him out properly, into the position that he’ll get off the easiest in.

Harry’s all about getting Louis off.

Louis is barely paying attention to anything other than the way he’s feeling, and Harry always tries to encourage that, even when he feels like he might go out of his mind.

“Gonna come, huh, baby,” he says quietly. It’s more for himself than for Louis, to get the words out before they choke him, all the things he’s ever wanted to tell Louis bubbling up in his throat. It’s a completely inappropriate time to be letting them all spill out, when Louis is incapable of paying attention, but he can’t stop himself.

“Just want you all the time, like I can’t stop,” Harry says quietly, pressing his mouth to Louis’ shoulder blade. “And it hurts so much when I can’t have you, when you pretend like it’s okay that we’re only allowed to spend five hours together before someone comes to separate us, when you get this look on your face like you think that I’m ever going to be able to find someone other than you.”

His throat hurts. He stops to swallow a couple of times, and when he finally feels like he can talk without crying he doesn’t need to say those things anymore. They can wait.

“Take it so well, baby,” he murmurs instead, petting his fingers up Louis’ chest. He always feels so good under Harry’s hands. “Never takes you much to get there, huh. Could play with your nipples for a while and you could probably come just from that. It’d be so fucking pretty, too, you’re always so fucking pretty, and so good, never met anyone else who can be so terrible and so good at the same time.”

His hand is over Louis’ heart, just idling there. Harry doesn’t realize it until Louis’ hand slides up and covers it, fingers pressing in between Harry’s, and if he’s with it enough to hold Harry’s hand he’s with it enough to start telling the truth.

“Tell me how long you knew for,” he demands, but he knows Louis well enough not to expect an answer without coaxing it out of him, so he curls his fingers around Louis’ hips and pulls him up off the mattress to start fucking him properly.

“Always,” Louis gasps out, and that feeling in Harry’s chest, the one that he always gets when he thinks about where this is all leading to, completely explodes. “I knew, I always knew, wasn’t gonna let you knot some girl - ”

That’s all Harry needs to hear, at least for now. He stops holding back and knots Louis, filling him up so good he’ll never need anyone else. “I know,” he says, and nearly fucking loses it when Louis chokes out a soft sound and clenches down hard. “You were trying to make me yours for years but you never even fucking realized that you were mine since the day I laid eyes on you, pretty and perfect in a toilet stall - ”

It feels like there’s no air left in the room, like Louis is taking all of it the same way he took Harry’s heart. Louis bites him, on his forearm, sharp and stinging and it feels like it probably drew blood but Harry doesn’t even care because he’s coming, knot shoved in as deep as it can get.

Louis comes, too, making so much fucking noise that Harry’s ears might hurt if he wasn’t used to it.

“Such a good boy, baby, my good boy, always my good boy, even when you’re trying not to be,” Harry says, because it’s important for Louis to know, for Louis to understand.

He’s so wet inside, wet with his own slick and Harry’s come and Harry’s always loved this part of sex, of feeling Louis get wetter around him, of feeling Louis have an orgasm because of the way Harry makes him feel.

“’m good?” Louis asks, soft, quiet, a little spacey but not so much that he won’t be able to remember what Harry’s telling him.

For a second Harry almost can’t remember how to breathe. It’s the first time he can remember that Louis has ever come right out and asked for praise, asked to be told that he’s good, and it feels like they’ve just taken three giant leaps forward.

Louis’ body language is screaming that he wants to be held, and Harry wants that too, so he manages to get them onto their sides, arms wrapped around Louis’ chest before slipping one down to find Louis’ hand. He has to kiss Louis, has to, and regrets not knotting him face to face for a minute, even though Louis always complains that he’s too heavy afterwards.

“You’re so good, baby,” Harry says, because it’s the truth and it’s the first thing that always comes to mind when he thinks about it. “You’ve been trying to be the perfect omega for me but you already are, when you’re not trying. When you’re rude to people and when you’re scheming and trying to come up with ways to make us too co-dependent to be apart. There’s no one more perfect for me than you.”

He’s not expecting it when Louis comes again, entire body tensing up and whimpering softly, squeezing Harry’s fingers. “Look at you, so pretty when you come,” Harry murmurs, hooking his chin over Louis’ shoulder so he can see. He’s still pulsing out come himself, less steady now, but that’s never as big a priority as watching Louis come.

“Always come so good for me,” Harry says, watching Louis’ come streak both their hands, Louis’ belly. Maybe Harry’ll rub it in, later. “Never seen anything better in my life.”

He doesn’t exactly intend to say, “You’re not going to lie to me anymore,” but once it’s out there he doesn’t regret it.

Louis clenches down again, and whether it’s because he tenses up without meaning to or because he’s trying to distract Harry he doesn’t know, but it does an awfully good job at the distracting thing.

Not good enough, though. “Louis.” It’s not the alpha voice, because Louis always gets pissed off if he uses the alpha voice - unfairly, Harry thinks, because it’s only been eight months and he’s still not fully in control of it yet - but it’s sharp and demanding all the same.

Louis squeezes again, and again, until he’s got a nice, steady rhythm going that has Harry sinking his teeth into the side of Louis’ neck because his gums are aching to. Biting him usually works to get him to pay attention properly, and Harry’s so fucking glad that it works this time because if it didn’t he’d probably have to roll Louis underneath him again and the only place that would get them is fucking again.

Louis stills, just enough that Harry can get the words out. “Say you’re sorry,” even if it is through a mouthful of skin.

He’s not exactly sure what he wants Louis to say sorry for, because there’s a lot of things, so when Louis gasps out, “Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry,” it only makes sense to clarify, “For what?”

He’s probably pressing a little too hard against Louis’ skin, probably going to end up leaving bruises, but. He really wants to leave bruises.

“Nothing,” Louis says, and it’s exactly what Harry wanted to hear, even if he didn’t realize it until now. He’s never wanted Louis to be anything other than what he is, which is a manipulative little shit who can be so annoying Harry wants to throttle him, sometimes, almost as much as he wants to fuck him, and just because Harry was angry with him doesn’t mean that he wants Louis to change.

He loves Louis, flaws and all.

It’s a strangely relieving thought to have, and his knot’s gone down enough to slip out, so he flips Louis onto his back and kisses him, a little too sharply, judging by the tiny hurt little whimper Louis lets out, so he gentles it, cupping Louis’ jaw.

Louis’ hand is stroking along Harry’s face, along his jaw and cheekbones, and Harry doesn’t want to stop kissing him but he wants to get this conversation over with, so he manages to pull away.

There’s something that’s been niggling at the back of Harry’s head for a while, something that he’s pretty sure that he already knows the answer to but he wants to know for sure. “Do you want babies?”

The only time they’d ever talked about babies, just the two of them, Louis had gotten pink and squirmy and he wouldn’t look Harry in the face, the same way he’s getting right now.

Harry takes a minute to appreciate the visual, because Louis being pink and squirmy is something that he never willingly misses out on, before he can’t take it anymore and says, “Gonna knock you up one day. Gonna be so pretty all full of my baby,” and slips two fingers back up into Louis. He’s not going to get off again before he gets at least two hours of sleep, himself, but he can get Louis off again no problem.

The noises that Louis makes are always the best, squirming underneath Harry’s hands, and maybe some people would want an omega that lies still for it, an omega that they don’t have to pin to the mattress, but Harry isn’t one of them. Louis is squirmy and always moving when he’s not getting fucked, Harry can’t even imagine how weird it’d be if he was suddenly able to stay still for extended periods of time when they’re having sex.

It’d be so strange.

He’s doing it now, wiggling around and making it hard for Harry to get the right angle, but not enough that Harry has to still him.

“How did you know?” Louis asks, instead of addressing the topic at hand, and Harry’s willing to let it go for now. He can bring it up again later.

Plus Louis puts his arms around Harry’s neck, and Harry can’t not reward that, so he splits his attention between Louis’ beautiful little smug face and the two fingers he has still tucked up in his arse and answers, “You slipped up all the time.”

He has to kiss Louis again, so he does, warm and firm, trying not to let it linger and get distracted again. “I did not,” Louis protests, but he’s got the stupidest smile on his face that Harry’s ever seen.

Harry loves it. “You did,” he says, and he can’t keep his own stupid smile off of his face. “The first time we fucked, I knotted inside you and you went completely boneless and said finally like you’d been waiting for it all your life. It took me a while to figure out, but you do something like that every time I get inside you. The time before last time I was pretty sure you’d been planning it all along so when I got you knotted properly I asked you how long you’d wanted it for and you said forever.”

“That could’ve meant anything,” Louis says, like he think he’s being logical. Like he thinks that Harry doesn’t know him so well that he can read what he’s thinking just from the look on his face more often than not. “People say things that aren’t meant to be taken literally during the heat of the moment.”

“People do,” Harry says. “You don’t.”

Louis has never said something that he doesn’t mean during the heat of the moment, whether he realizes that or not. “You can’t have thought that I didn’t know what you were doing when I was letting you sit in my lap and wiggle around all the time,” Harry says. It’s a stupid thing to say, because it doesn’t even come close to explaining that he knew something was up the entire time they’ve known each other, but it’s all he can come up with at the moment.

It’s true, anyway. If he didn’t know that Louis was hiding something he would have snapped a long time ago and either fucked Louis into the floor regardless of where they were or locked himself in a room and cried about it and then avoided Louis for as long as possible.

“So why did you then?” Louis asks, and he’s watching Harry’s face carefully now, big blue eyes trying to peer into Harry’s soul.

Or something. Harry’s always a little melodramatic after he’s come like that.

It’s a huge question, one that Harry actually can’t answer in full until he’s thought about how to explain it. He doesn’t think that Louis actually knows what he’s asking, because it doesn’t really sound that big, but to Harry it’s gigantic. It’s four years of putting up with Louis’ shit, four years of trying to get them to the place where they could have this, and that’s not easy to put into words.

Harry’ll try, though. “The most obvious thing about you is that you like to be in charge.”

In charge but being guided, Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say that, not quite sure how to put it without making himself sound like a dick. “Yeah, and?” Louis asks, expression just the tiniest bit blank, like he doesn’t understand.

Harry doesn’t expect him to. He only understands in theory why Louis did the things that he did. He’s always struggled with letting Louis lie or confronting him about it. “And the other obvious thing is that you needed this to happen on your terms,” Harry says, shrugging because it still doesn’t adequately explain it, but it’s the truth.

After the bus accident especially. It was probably the first time he was able to really see exactly how much Louis was struggling, and the last thing that Harry ever wants is to watch Louis struggle, so it was easier to take a step back and let Louis mold things.

Easier, not easy.

He stretches his fingers a little, more to remind Louis that they’re there than anything, and is rewarded with Louis’ pink little tongue darting out to lap at his own lip. He’s probably sore and sensitive, Louis, but he’s also getting hard again, and all of a sudden all Harry wants is to see him come again and then sleep for eight hours. They can talk about this more tomorrow, now that they’ve started it.

“If you can do it I’ll eat you out in the morning,” Harry coaxes, rubbing his fingers against Louis’ prostate firmly. “For as long as you want.”

Louis is gorgeous when he’s getting eaten out, stuffing his fingers into his own mouth to try to stop himself from being so loud, conscious of his body and the way he moves for a few minutes before he’ll let Harry put him into whatever position he wants, helpless and needy. He never tries to get himself off, rubbing his fingers across his own belly and chest and nipples absently but never reaching for his cock, like he’s forgotten that it’s there or like he just doesn’t have the brain capacity to do it when he’s got Harry’s tongue in his arse.

“If we keep having sex we’re never going to finish talking about it,” Louis says, but it’s the weakest protest Harry’s ever heard.

“We didn’t talk about it for four years,” Harry says, and leans down to kiss Louis’ mouth again. “I don’t think it’s going to hurt us any if we wait a couple more days.”

Louis is still fidgety like he’s unsure, rubbing his fingers along the back of Harry’s neck. Harry’s cock wants to get hard, but he just came. “It’s going to hurt me,” Louis says, and Harry nearly starts freaking out. “How many times do you think I can take your huge cock in me without being too sore to walk?”

Harry’s smile comes back, even bigger than before and probably about ten times as stupid. “I don’t know, but I want to find out.”

He starts moving his fingers for real, kissing Louis again. Louis rocks his lips up against Harry’s stomach, so squirmy as he tries to get himself off, but doesn’t make a move to get his fingers wrapped around his cock.

Harry breaks the kiss to watch Louis come, resting his cheek against Louis’ jawline. It makes for an awful crick in his neck but it’s so worth it, watching Louis’ stomach and thighs tense, watch him dribble out come, helpless to stop it.

“Bloody hell, baby,” Harry breathes. It’s not a lot of come, not after he’s already come four times, and it only adds to the mess, but he’s only messy because Harry made him that way, covered in his own come.

“S’good,” Louis mumbles.

“Just tell me one thing,” Harry says, slips his fingers out and starts pushing himself up onto his knees, thinking that he should probably go to get a cloth before they wake up glued together.

Louis makes a small, displeased noise, though, and Harry has always hated that noise, so he hauls Louis up with him and rearranges their limbs until he’s got Louis where he wants him, settled on Harry’s chest, in between his legs.

It takes about half a second for Louis to put his head down on Harry’s chest and start tracing idle circles on his bicep. “What.”

“Tell me you love me,” Harry says. He can’t go to sleep until he hears it, even if he doesn’t need to hear it to know that it’s true.

Louis struggles to push himself up, elbow slipping off of Harry’s chest and onto the mattress. Harry helps right him and slips his hands around Louis’ back to rest at the base of his spine, fingers linked.

“I love you,” Louis says, smiling so hard that Harry’s cheeks ache in sympathy. “Sometime in the last four years I tricked myself into falling in love with you.”

To anyone else, it might be the shittiest love confession that they’ve ever heard. To Harry it’s the best, the most honest thing that Louis could have said, and it gets him in a way that only Louis has ever been able to get him.

Harry’s cock isn’t having trouble getting hard anymore. “Sometime in the last four years you tricked me into falling in love with you, too,” he says, because it’s true, and puts Louis back underneath him, ignoring Louis laughing into his mouth as they kiss again.

That conversation is gonna have to wait a few more hours.

 

 

“You planning on answering the question any time this century, love?” Louis prompts, pinching Harry’s upper thigh. Harry can’t look at his face without breaking into his dumb love smile, as Liam so eloquently puts it, so he doesn’t.

He looks straight at the camera, instead, even though it breaks years worth of media training not to address the interviewer. He doesn’t say anything, still gathering up his thoughts.

“The question was if there’s anything you would change about the way things have gone,” the interviewer says, looking a little uncertain. She’s an excellent interviewer, but Harry completely spacing out for so long probably doesn’t make her feel like that.

Not to mention she’s the only interviewer who hasn’t implied, directly or indirectly, something offensive about Louis being an omega. It’s probably why he’s in such a good mood.

She probably doesn’t realize exactly how complex that question is, though, which must be why she’s looking at Harry so strangely. He clears his throat.

“There’s a lot of things that I would change,” he says carefully. “I would change the fact that we live in a world that raises kids to believe that omegas are somehow lesser. I would change the fact that Louis grew up in a time when it was safer to hide the fact that he’s an omega than to be honest about it. I would change the fact that omegas aren’t paid the same as their beta or alpha counterparts. I would change the fact that when an omega gets sexually assaulted the first question out of people’s mouths is ‘well, were they in heat?’ I would take away all the pain he’s ever felt at having to hide that part of himself for so long if I could.”

He can feel Louis’ eyes on the side of his face, wide and shocked. This is definitely not in the script, definitely not the way the interview was supposed to go. “Would I change anything about Louis, though? He can be annoying and messy and he’s so fucking loud sometimes I get a headache but he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t do all those things so as much as I hate them sometimes I wouldn’t change them.

“The situation, maybe. Sometimes I think that if I could I would have had the news break eight months ago, the first time we - well, the first time. Then I think about how hard it would have been, when we were both still confused and scared and I think that I prefer it this way, that we might not have made it if we were exposed to all of this when people were still trying to keep us apart.”

“Harry,” Louis says weakly, fingernails scraping Harry’s forearm and he tries to find Harry’s hand without looking. He probably doesn’t even realize that he’s doing it.

Harry swallows and meets Louis’ gaze, turning his entire body away from the camera in the process. It doesn’t matter, as long as Louis understands. “I don’t care how we got here,” he says, clinging onto Louis’ hand tightly. “Most of the time, anyway. I’m still a little mad sometimes, but it doesn’t matter when I think about the fact that I’m going to be able to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Louis’ eyes are undeniably wet. Harry’s gonna get so much shit from him later for making him cry on camera, but it’s worth it for the look on Louis’ face.

He still underestimates exactly how much Harry loves him, sometimes.

“You bastard,” he says. Harry should be expecting it when he pulls, but he’s not and they both go toppling out of their chairs, landing awkwardly and actually rather painfully on the floor.

Harry lands more or less on top of Louis, their faces smushed together in a way that’s probably gonna be really unattractive when they see it played back, but right now it doesn’t matter. Louis fists his hands in Harry’s shirt and doesn’t let him up, leaving them sprawled out on the floor.

“I love you a lot,” he whispers to Harry’s cheek. Harry knows that he’s reluctant to say it on camera - even if he won’t actually come right out and tell Harry that - because it makes him look more stereotypically omega, and Harry doesn’t care, doesn’t need him to, doesn’t even particularly want him to if it makes him uncomfortable, but him doing it, even if it is just a whisper, makes Harry’s chest a little tighter.

“I love you a lot too,” Harry whispers back, and they kiss right there, on the floor in the middle of an interview with three cameras trained on their every move.

If both of their cheeks are a little wet by the time they make it back to their seats no one mentions it.

 

They make it back to the house, but only barely. Harry presses up against Louis’ back while he struggles to get the door unlocked, completely in view of any of the paparazzi who have been brave enough to come past the fence a little, but it doesn’t matter. The secret’s out now, out in a way that’ll never be able to be put back in.

For the record, Harry’s watched the blurry security camera footage and he doesn’t think that it does them justice at all. There’s not even any sound.

“I’m never gonna be able to get the door open if you keep doing that,” Louis says breathlessly, hand trembling so much that the key’s making a loud scraping noise against the lock.

Harry hums and bites him a little harder, coaxing blood to the surface so that it’ll be a nice bruise in a few days. “You already got us caught on camera once, probably won’t even matter if it happens again.”

“You probably jerk off to that video whenever I’m not around,” Louis grumbles, finally managing to get the lock to turn. They stumble inside, and Harry really wants a proper kiss but Louis doesn’t even stop to kick off his shoes in a place where Harry will trip over them later, just heading straight for the bedroom.

“No, I’ve got a better video saved on my phone,” Harry says, holding onto one of Louis’ belt loops to prevent him from going anywhere while Harry kicks the door closed and makes sure that it’s locked behind them.

“You do not,” Louis says, laughing, and starts moving again the second that Harry lets him. Harry slows him, slipping his arms around Louis’ waist and bumping his hips into Louis’ bum with every step.

“Okay, not a video, but I have a really fucking nice picture,” Harry says, trying to get at least one of his hands up underneath Louis’ shirt.

Louis stops, which means that Harry ends up pressed up against him so tightly that there’s no space between their bodies at all, and Harry’s cock approves. “You do not,” Louis says again, but he doesn’t sound so sure this time.

He shouldn’t be. “You remember that time you were sucking my cock and you got pissed because I was fucking around on my phone?”

“You didn’t,” Louis says, but he sounds delighted instead of horrified.

Harry really should have seen that coming. “No, I was trying to put it on silent because it kept vibrating and it was really fucking annoying.”

“I knew it,” Louis says triumphantly, turning around in Harry’s arms and surging up onto his toes to bite at his bottom lip.

Well, Harry doesn’t want him to hurt himself, so he picks Louis up and makes for the bedroom again, trying not to crash into a wall while Louis tries to distract him into giving up and just fucking him on the floor.

“I’ll take a picture for you later,” Louis says, worming his hand between their hips and flicking Harry’s jeans open.

“Mm, what’s it gonna be of?” Harry asks, navigating the stairs extra carefully. Louis is exactly the type of person who’ll pinch someone and then complain for hours if he gets dropped in the process.

“Want me to show you?” Louis asks, trying to squeeze his hand into Harry’s jeans. He’s mostly failing, because Harry wore the tightest ones he owns with the express purpose of preventing this exact thing from happening in a tv studio before they gave the biggest interview of their lives, but now they’re home and Harry’s regretting it.

Not really, because Louis had tried to stick his hand down Harry’s jeans five minutes before they went on and he’d failed, but still.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, and Louis takes that as an invitation to start punching him in the shoulder until he lets him down, swearing.

He takes off down the hall, cackling loudly to himself, and Harry has to stop to give his cock a few friendly squeezes before he can follow.

It gives Louis the chance to show Harry exactly what he was thinking, though, and Harry’s mouth dries up the second that he walks into the room.

“Jesus,” he croaks. “How did you even manage that in sixty seconds?”

“Who said I managed it in sixty seconds?” Louis demands, looking over his shoulder, and Harry’s tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. He doesn’t like the things, not really, and Louis says that he doesn’t either, but he’s starting to understand the appeal.

Maybe because Louis just looks so fucking pretty, kneeling on their bed naked, plug pushed all the way up inside of him.

“Did you actually have it in during the interview?” Harry asks. He doesn’t think so, because Louis is even squirmier when he has something inside of him, but.

Louis rolls his eyes and collapses face first onto the bed. “Okay, so I managed it in sixty seconds,” he says. “I did finger myself in the bathroom before we left, though, so that made it easier.”

“I knew I smelled it,” Harry says. “I almost asked you like twenty times.”

Louis turns his face to the side, so Harry can see his face, and wiggles his bum like he thinks that Harry’s forgotten that he’s currently lying in their bed with a plug stuffed up his arse where Harry’s cock should be.

“Do you really think that that’s the most important thing right now?” he demands. “Can you come and get this fucking thing out of me already?”

Harry crosses the room and drops down to sit on the bed beside him. “You sure that’s what you want?” he asks, and delivers a hard smack to Louis’ arse, right where the plug is sitting, driving it deeper into him.

Louis gasps, eyes slipping closed. Harry watches him, letting his hand rest on the curve of Louis’ arse, already a little hotter than usual, just from that one slap, until Louis opens his eyes again. “Yeah?” he asks. Louis nods, folding his arms underneath his cheek but not turning his head away, letting Harry see everything.

“Maybe a little,” he says quietly, biting down on his lower lip. “But not too long, yeah?”

“What counts as too long, baby?” Harry asks, but doesn’t give him a chance to answer, bringing his hand down again, just as sharp as the first time.

Louis whimpers, rocking his hips down into the sheets. Harry gives him a couple more taps to get him used to it, gentle swats that are just barely there, and waits for an answer.

“Dunno. Five, maybe,” Louis says eventually, opening his eyes. Harry can’t see his face that well from this position, though, and it’s frustrating, so he slides off the bed onto his knees beside it, leaving one hand on Louis’ arse.

“You think that’s all you deserve after lying to me for four years?” Harry asks softly, tracing over the shape of Louis’ mouth with his thumb.

Louis’ lips quirk up into a smile. “Don’t deserve any for lying to you,” he says. “Deserve five for the plug, maybe, but that’s pushing it.”

Harry gives him another, sharp and quick, and then one more before he’s even finished gasping through the first one. He manages to get his fingers around Harry’s wrist, holding on while Harry spanks him.

“Deserve however many I decide to give you, maybe,” Harry says, once Louis has finished whining and shoving his hips down against the mattress.

“Like you’d even be able to keep going if I started crying,” Louis says, like he knows where Harry’s mind is going.

Turns out they can still surprise each other, though, because right now all Harry wants is to spank Louis until he’s whimpering and crying and begging to be fucked.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea,” Harry murmurs, and kisses Louis before giving him three slaps in quick succession, swallowing his noises.

His bum is already hot underneath Harry’s hand, even though Harry hasn’t been putting anywhere near all his strength into it. “I don’t understand how you can be so beautiful all the time,” Harry says, letting his fingers slip between Louis’ cheeks and trace around the edges of the plug.

“Just lucky I guess,” Louis mumbles. He’s not hiding his face, not quite, but it’s more pushed into his arms than it was five minutes ago.

“Pretty little omega,” Harry says, and slaps him again, in between the cheeks and over the plug. Louis’ noise is more hurt this time, and Harry’s cock is pretty vehement about getting into that perfect little arse.

He really wants to see Louis cry a little, but that’s clearly not going to happen this time, not with the way Harry feels like he could literally brush up against the mattress and start coming just like that. He’s never going to hear the end of it.

He still pulls the plug out and tosses it onto the ground beside the bed before standing up, pulling his shirt over his head. His jeans have been sagging for the past ten minutes, so it’s easy enough to kick those off and rid himself of his pants and socks.

He’s not quite sure where he’d lost his shoes, but he’s not quite sure where Louis lost his either so at least they can be missing together.

“I told you,” Louis says, and Harry makes a mental promise to make him come from it next time.

It barely takes any coaxing to get Louis to turn over onto his back, and when he does it becomes apparent exactly how much he’d liked it, cock leaking enough that his pretty little belly is all messy and streaky.

“You wanna ride?” Harry asks, making space for himself on the bed.

“Thought I was getting taken care of,” Louis grumbles, but he’s fast to clamber into Harry’s lap. Harry has to hide his smile by kissing him, because for all that Louis complains he likes it like this every so often and he hates admitting it.

“You trying to say that I can’t take care of you like this?” Harry asks, helping Louis line up and sink down. They both struggle to catch their breath once he’s all the way down, trying to adjust. It’s been a week since they had anything more than the laziest of hand jobs - and that was three days ago, while Louis was halfway to unconsciousness and just gave up halfway through and made Harry do all the work - due to an insanely busy week of getting styled for what was essentially their coming out interview, of signing agreement after agreement, of people popping in and out to prep them (for all the good that did), of meeting after meeting without everyone under the sun.

And this. Harry was so fucking right, Louis nearly loses it completely when he’s all the way down, hot cheeks pressing into Harry’s thighs, and Harry can fucking feel how it makes him feel, so much tighter than he normally is, like he’s clenching up because he can’t decide whether it’s a good hurt or not.

It’s the best fucking hurt ever.

“Saying maybe you’re not as good as you like to think you are,” Louis says, once he’s managed to catch his breath.

Harry kisses him. Louis being breathless during sex is always so fucking pretty. It’s what Harry strives for. “See if you can tell me that again in five minutes,” Harry says, and starts moving, hands underneath Louis’ thighs to help him if he needs it. It’s not a particularly fast pace but it’s one that has Louis’ thighs shaking from the effort after a few minutes.

Harry slips a hand around to the small of his back and stills him, nudging their mouths back together for a minute. “Want some help, baby?” he murmurs, catching Louis’ lower lip between his teeth and tugging. Louis’ scruff is itching at his face, because he refused to shave for the interview, claiming that it would only make him look like more of an omega if he was clean shaven, and, well, Harry doesn’t necessarily think that he was wrong. Clean shaven Louis can look particularly stereotypically omega in the right light.

He looks gorgeous no matter what, and it’s not like Harry’s cock particularly cares if he’s clean shaven or not, so Harry had kept his mouth shut even though he’d wanted to point out that Louis’ scruff only accentuates his sharp cheekbones and jawline and draws attention to his mouth, which really doesn’t help his case.

“Want to come,” Louis mutters a little bit sullenly, and, well, never let it be said that Harry won’t do just about anything for his boy.

“Okay,” Harry says, and grips him underneath the thighs again, using his grip this time to bounce him on Harry’s cock.

“Fuck,” Louis says, loud and right in Harry’s ear, hands scrabbling across Harry’s chest, trying to get a grip and hold on.

He settles for linking his fingers behind Harry’s neck and slumps forward, giving up on any pretense of doing any work at all.

That just makes it easier, though, and Harry doesn’t have to keep both hands under his thighs when he can wrap an arm around Louis’ back instead, lifting him up that much further.

“Oh, fuck, you win, I won’t ever bring it up again, just don’t fucking lose that angle,” Louis babbles, clutching at Harry tighter. Harry doesn’t believe him at all, because Louis lives for rubbing things in Harry’s face, but he doesn’t let up until Louis is clenching down around him and coming, mouthing at Harry’s shoulder, sharp little teeth nearly biting down.

“You’re so good, baby,” Harry says, sweeping his hands down Louis’ back and sneaking one around to pinch at his nipple a little, even though it makes Louis jerk and hiss, a little too sensitive for it right now.

“I feel good for you,” Louis mumbles. It’s a question even if it doesn’t sound like one, and it takes some coaxing before Louis can kiss him back, before Louis will let him tongue him a little.

“Oh, baby, there’s nothing better,” Harry says, and now that Louis’ brought it up he can’t stop concentrating on it, on the feeling of Louis so tight around him, so warm, so fucking slick that he had to finger himself in the bathroom of a tv studio and put a plug in himself almost the second that he got in the door, like he couldn’t even wait for Harry to open him up, he just needed something in him that bad.

“Feel the best for you,” Louis says, and it doesn’t even make sense but it doesn’t matter because it’s true, Louis has always felt the best for him, always been the only logical choice.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, and he means to add something meaningful to that, to tell Louis how much he loves him, but he starts knotting and it takes him by surprise, pushing up into Louis’ body.

“Oh,” Louis moans, like it surprised him too.

Harry nearly crushes him in his sudden attempt to haul him as close as physically possible, babbling, “Oh, fuck, baby, I didn’t, baby, you’re so good, baby - ”

Louis comes again amidst all of that. Harry nearly misses it, practically strung out on the clench of Louis around him, by the heat of Louis’ arse cheeks from the spanking, from having Louis in his hands, from being able to have Louis in his hands now and forever, just.

It’s incredible. Clearly Louis agrees, come splattering up Harry’s belly. He’s probably going to proud of himself for that later.

“I’m a good baby,” Louis says, clearly still with it enough to be making fun of Harry. Harry lets out a soft sigh and finds Louis’ mouth more or less blindly, licking at his lips until they part and let Harry slip his tongue in there, touch Louis’.

“You’re my good baby,” Harry confirms. It’s not like Louis doesn’t know.

He makes sure that he has a good grip before tipping Louis backwards, until his head hits the pillows, and follows him down, trying not to let their mouths get too far apart. What’s the point of being together properly if they can’t have sex that’s mostly kissing.

“Good enough to get eaten out in the morning?” Louis asks, wiggling around until he’s comfortable. There’s a lot that Harry would do to make Louis comfortable, up to and including gritting his teeth through Louis wiggling around on his cock incessantly while he’s being knotted but only because he’s trying to move a pillow.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t love it, because of course he does, but his cock feels kind of hurt if it’s not the reason that Louis is wiggling around. “Depends. You gonna use the plug again if I don’t?”

Louis scoffs. It’s the weakest scoffing noise Harry has ever heard him make, and he’s heard him make a lot of them, at everything from the tea not being hot enough to people claiming that he’s getting it up the arse from Liam. “Please, if I wanted it I’d just step out onto the street. There’s always dozens of alphas out there just waiting to see if I’ve dropped you. I think that Mr. Johnson might be one, maybe I’ll go over to his house and see what he’s been up to lately.”

It’s an idle threat, but Harry still bites him, setting his teeth into the spot between Louis’ neck and shoulder that always makes him whimper.

It doesn’t fail now, either. Louis’ thighs tighten around Harry’s hips, cock pressing against both of their bellies needily. “What makes you think that I’m ever gonna let you out of the bed?” Harry asks, biting him again, higher this time. He’s gonna make Louis come again in a minute, but he doesn’t want to get too distracted before he gets an answer.

“What makes you think that I’d let you let me out of the bed?” Louis asks, dropping one hand and trying to get it in between them to get at his cock. Harry grabs it before it can get there, dragging it up to his mouth so he can press a kiss against his palm.

“We’re set for life, right? We don’t need to leave the bed ever again if we don’t want to,” he says, dragging both of their hands down until he can curl them both around Louis’ cock.

“Might need to leave to piss,” Louis says. Harry rolls his eyes so hard that it almost hurts.

“Here I was, trying to have a moment, and you have to go and bring up piss.”

The talk about piss does absolutely nothing to soften Louis’ cock, about two strokes away from creaming again. “Proper romantic, that’s me,” Louis agrees. “Can you. Tell me.”

Well. He’s asked so nicely. “Only omega for me,” Harry says softly, mouthing up along Louis’ jawline. “Only boy. Best boy, too, so bad at taking direction and even worse at being nice but there’s no one I’d rather be with, not now or ever.”

He strokes Louis’ cock, still dragging his hand along, a couple of times, slick enough with Louis’ own come that the pull isn’t painful. “And now everyone in the entire world knows that you’re mine, and that I’m yours, and no one’s going to fuck with you without expecting to have to fuck with me, too, and there’s a limit to how much I love you, probably, but I have no fucking clue what it is.”

Louis comes, eyelashes sweeping down and casting shadows against his cheeks, mouth open and so pink inside, Harry can see his tongue, licking along the inside of his own lip, his beautiful fucking mouth that Harry has to kiss again right now, so he does, sucking Louis’ lower lip into his mouth and sinking his teeth into it a little.

“Love you, love you, love you,” Louis is mumbling, trying to get it out through Harry’s mouth on his, and Harry’s about halfway through, not that close to being finished.

Definitely still has enough time to make Louis come at least once more. Probably even twice. Maybe even three times.

Okay, probably not three times.

Mostly he just wants to hear more about hotels Louis’ been looking at in Barcelona and he won’t talk about that unless he’s come at least four times. Harry almost got him talking about it once after he’d only come twice, but he’d snapped out of it and twisted Harry’s nipple so hard it it’d been purple for nearly a week.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Harry says, just in case there was any way Louis could have missed it. He readjusts Louis’ legs, sliding him up the bed a little more until he’s propped up on the pillows nicely.

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Louis slurs, a sure sign that he’s almost in that place where he gets a little trance-y and easily malleable.

Harry really likes that place. “I’m so bad to you, aren’t I,” he agrees, letting Louis’ hand flop down to the bed and using his own to stroke Louis’ cock, trying to match the rhythm he has going on with his hips. It never particularly matters to Louis whether he manages or not, but that doesn’t mean that Harry just stops trying.

“Good to me,” Louis says stubbornly, trying to lift his hips up off the bed. Harry slips his hands underneath Louis’ back and helps him, holding him there because it seems to make him happy.

If he didn’t do this all the time, the whole insulting Harry right to his face and then taking it back immediately after thing, Harry might be a little confused, but he does, even more now that they’re together properly.

“Best to you,” Harry says, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too much. They’re a little earlier than they normally are on the being nice train, but Harry’ll take it. He’d take anything Louis wanted to give him, probably.

“Gimme kiss,” Louis says, pouting his mouth ridiculously. Harry obliges, kissing him gently, mindful of the way his bottom lip is still a little swollen from Harry biting it earlier. When he gets to this point he doesn’t want it rough anymore, wants it soft and sweet and doesn’t even want to pretend like he’s not into the disgustingly sappy stuff.

“Thank you,” Louis says once Harry breaks it. Harry smiles down at him and rubs his thumb over tiny little smattering of freckles that he gets on his cheekbones when he spends too much time out in the sun.

They’re easily covered up, and Harry kind of hates that, actually. “You’re welcome,” he says. Even though Louis is gentle right now it doesn’t mean he won’t chew Harry out for ignoring his sincere gratitude later.

Harry’s pretty sure that he only does it so Harry will fuck him again, but he’s already done plenty of things today that he’s going to get yelled at for later that are pretty much just an excuse to have more sex.

Louis’ cock is half hard in his hand, in the way that means he could either go again or he could be done for day. “You want to come again, baby?” Harry asks.

“Want to come again,” Louis echoes. He manages to kick Harry in the back, somehow, and Harry knows that it’s on purpose even though he’ll claim he has absolutely no memory of it later.

“You’re lucky that I’m so good to you, you know,” Harry mutters, speeding up his strokes. He can’t really thrust anymore, knot gone down enough that it might pull out when he doesn’t mean it to, but he can rock in and out gently, slowly, and bring Louis off that way.

“Lucky to have you,” Louis agrees, petting at Harry’s hair. “Will you take me to the Gran Teatre del Liceu?”

“You just wanna go or you want to see something there?” Harry asks. He’s sure that it can be arranged either way.

“Don’t care, just looks nice,” Louis says. He shuts up for a minute while Harry pulls him off in earnest, tongue licking over his own teeth almost obsessively.

“Yeah, baby, we’ll go there,” Harry murmurs. It doesn’t really matter what he says now, as long as he says it in the right tone of voice, but he likes to make an effort. “Maybe find you a private pool so you can sunbathe naked and come back tan all over. Put some sunscreen on you and fuck you by the pool, so we could just wash off after. We’ll have to go back for an anniversary one year so we can do it again, maybe see some actual sights that time.”

Louis comes, thin and weak all over Harry’s hand. He makes shivery little shocked noises as he does, like he can’t believe that he managed it, and if Harry hadn’t just had one of the longest orgasms of his life he’d be ready to go again just from those sounds.

It’s perfect timing. Harry’s knot is small enough to slip out after Louis finished coming, so Harry lays him back properly and pulls out, wiping at his cock with his hand before rubbing it against the sheets. He should clean them up properly, because Louis has yet to take the initiative even one time, but it can probably wait a few minutes.

“Alright, baby?” He waits for Louis’ nod, weak as it is, before pulling him over to the dry side of the bed and counts every blessing for going with the king size mattress. They could make do with a double, but if they did Harry would undoubtedly be spending every night in the wet spot.

They snog for a while, lazily and clumsily like they’re teenagers again - not that they ever kissed like this while they were teenagers. If they had things would have gone a lot differently.

“So pancakes or waffles in the morning?” Harry murmurs eventually. He feels Louis’ smile more than he sees it.

“Both. Not those nasty whole wheat oatmeal pancakes, though, I almost threw up when I tried those.”

“So pancakes and waffles with homemade whipped cream and strawberries,” Harry says, smiling as he draws the sheet up around their shoulders. “I can do that.”

Harry might do that every day for the rest of his life if it means that he gets to wake up to Louis making this face, nose scrunched up like he doesn’t believe that Harry’s gonna make him regular pancakes.

Every goddamn day.