Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now.”

“Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be young was very heaven!”

— Homer, The Iliad / William Wordsworth

August 28th, 2025

“Strangers,” Harry looks up from where he’s curled on the chair of his vanity, painting his nails cherry red. It’s chic. It’s French (as he’d so diligently pointed out). “Let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

Louis flops his phone down on his stomach, clicking the off button to stop the slight noise of the latest match highlights he’s watching on YouTube. Harry’s eyeing him with a cheeky grin, curls in disarray around his face. Always so gorgeous.

Dubiously, Louis asks, “That’s what you want to do for our last day, baby?”

“It’ll be fun,” Harry pouts, returning to his nail polish. 

It’s been years and Louis still isn’t used to the smell. Listening with his arms crossed behind his head, he heaves up on the bed with a sigh.

“What does it entail?”

“It’ll be like we’re on a date, but as strangers. It could be so romantic. Like we’re in a movie. I’ll even bring my digital camera so we can take pictures to show our kids when we’re old and grey.”

“How’s that going to work?” Louis muses, “You want us to spend our last day,” he enunciates, “together, acting like strangers?”

Harry nods.

“Baby, that sounds insane. I want to spend it with you, not the stranger version of you, doing whatever we want before you go. I’ll not get you for three years.”

“Don’t be silly, Lou, I’ll be back for the holidays. And every birthday.” He looks down at his toenails, flexing them to check they’re perfect; Louis’ stuck on the way Harry’s lips stick out in a faux pout. Thinks he could live in the curves of his lips, bathe in the sweetness they bring. “You used to know the stranger version of me. It’s how we fell in love, is it not?”

“Yeah, but I prefer the version that is all mine, now. My boyfriend.”

Harry looks up at him, a giddy grin overtaking the pout he just wore. He loves hearing it, knowing he’s Louis’. He’s always been needy like that, wrecked with insecurities, no matter how many times Louis tells him. He’s the most confident person Louis knows, until love is involved. Then, he gets doubtful.

“Please,” Harry pouts. “Just consider it for me.”

He’s so sly, sitting there all pretty like butter wouldn’t melt. Tearing his eyes away, Louis refuses to fold so easily. “Finish your nails, Princess.”

Harry huffs, rolling his shoulders forward like Louis’ told him he won’t get a kiss. Putting on a scene when he knows, deep down, he’ll get what he wants. Always knows that Louis’ resolve is weak when it comes to him.

He watches Harry finish his nails quietly; then watches him swan around his room into his ensuite to do God knows what. Either way, Louis waits. 

Blue eyes trail around Harry’s room. The cluttered vanity, his big wardrobe brimmed with outfits, the cute little section with the table holding all his candles, incense, and books; he keeps his vinyls underneath beside the player. To the left, Harry’s got two headless mannequins dressed in clothes he’d made. There’s another little table with his sewing kit. On the wall, his board, which used to have all his sketches pinned onto it, is bare. Louis remembers all the nights he’d spent bringing Harry food, making sure he was eating, taking breaks, and not crying over the different clothing items he needed to create for his entrance exams. Stacked up on the floor are thick black sketchbooks, the pages brimming with life and colour: with all the ideas Harry hopes to someday see on the runway.

By the window, away from everything, sits Harry’s glossy, baby pink suitcases ready for when he leaves.

This room has been their little hideaway, their sanctuary, for years. Louis’ seen it undergo numerous changes because Harry’s always so indecisive. White walls, pink walls, wallpaper… Louis had been there each time, dressed in his oldest t-shirts and shorts to help Harry refurbish when his dad refused to pay for the third decorator in only six months. 

When he’s gone, Louis won’t have much reason to come back here. 

Harry returns with a tub of lotion, Louis recognises it, of course, watching him struggle to place it onto his table before he takes his seat again. The little crop top and shorts he’s got on ride up as he lathers himself expertly, even though his nails are wet. He starts with his legs, long, thin, pretty, and slightly tanned from all this sun; dainty ankles that Louis admittedly has kissed a few hundred times. You can’t blame him for being obsessed with his boyfriend. Louis didn’t think he even had a type until Harry came along in his short shorts, bold shirts, sheer tights and tight skirts. He’s a dream.

“Tu penses à quoi?”

That makes Louis roll his eyes, a fond chuckle falls from his lips. “I don’t know what that means, baby.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Your legs.”

“Really?” Harry preens, pleased as he flexes them. “What about them?”

Louis snorts, placing his phone aside to sit up. “How I’ll miss them wrapped around me.”

Harry nods, biting his lip in agreement. Usually, he shuts down when Louis brings it up, even in passing. Harry likes to pretend his problems are non-existent. He’d done it when his mom died; he does it when he argues with his dad.

When they fight, Harry resorts to silence. So prim and proper, he’s above fighting. Locks his pretty lips together and doesn’t say a word except for vague answers when he needs to. Or snappy, rude remarks that they both know he doesn’t mean. So starkly different to Louis, who’s boyish and rough around the edges. He’s built on communicating. Would rather prefer a screaming match if it’ll give him leeway to Harry’s thoughts because he knows it gets dark up there. His boy creeps away, the insecurities returning, and Louis has to coax him out.

He’ll do it a hundred times, forever, for the rest of their lives. That’s what lovers do? Pack up the pain, forget the fighting, and remember what they’re really here for. 

“Come up here,” Louis pats his lap, itching to get his hands on his boy. “Indulge me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not done yet,” Harry frowns, looking at him doe-eyed.

“I’ll do it for you.” Louis offers, eager to have him close. 

“Will you? Thank you.” Harry smiles, getting on his toes to join Louis on the baby pink sheets. 

He thinks it could ruin them; this love that’s bloomed to life and tied them together. It’s not normal to feel faint when Harry smiles at him, or dizzy when they kiss. Harry’s ruined what it’s like to feel alive for him because when he’s not near, the colours always look a little dimmer, and touch always feels a little colder. Louis needs him, needs to have him close to feel something, but he’s leaving. 

They’d come together so young, and they’ve grown like that. Together, twisted, so entwined that Louis doesn’t know where Harry starts or he begins. It’s HarryandLouis. One breath, one word, one shared heart.

It’s not right because they were supposed to have more time before they found each other, meant to be themselves before they were each other's. That’s all been lost. Part of Louis lives in the way Harry smiles. Resides in the curves of his body; lingers under the sweetness of his skin. Harry is in every tattoo that Louis is marked by. He’s in his palms, reminding him why he works so hard; by his thigh when Louis needs a lover; behind his eyelids when he’s not scared to close them.

Crawling onto the bed, Harry straddles his lap, thighs soft and supple. Louis’ hands find them quickly, resting there as Harry situates himself comfortably. He’s going to mark them up before he goes, so Harry lands on Parisian land with Louis etched between his thighs. When he touches himself, calls Louis at night begging for release, or sends him a picture where he’s dripping and aching for it, Louis will see himself under his wetness. Dark red and obsessive. Pretending that Harry’s not half the world away, but actually, just ten minutes away.

“What do you need doing?”

“Just my hands now. Be careful of my nails, they’re nearly dry.”

“‘Course,” Louis hums. Slowly, he starts, rubbing the vanilla-scented lotion above Harry’s elbows, fingers gliding easily over the hairless skin. 

“So… were you just thinking of my legs?”

“No, I was thinking about their owner, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Louis pinches him lightly, grinning at Harry’s sharp gasp. 

“That hurt.” Harry pouts.

“Stop being nosey, then.” But Louis can’t resist placing a kiss upon the small pout, grinning as Harry giggles.

“You’re meant to tell me everything, you know? That’s what soulmates do.” Harry’s body melts on Louis' thighs, warm and soft. It’s so easy being them.

“Not if it gives their partner an ego boost.”

“You don’t want to give me an ego boost?”

“You’re the most prettiest baby,” Louis soothes. “My angel. No one can compare, baby love. You know what I feel. How I look at you and can’t even think of anyone else. My boy, my world. You’re perfect. Perfect for you, perfect for me. I don’t want you to forget me, find someone better when you’re gone.”

And Louis means that. When Harry’s gone, he wonders if they’ll be like every other couple in the world who promised the long distance wouldn’t ruin them but it did. 

He loves Harry, and Harry loves him, but sometimes that’s not enough.

That’s what they say—love isn’t enough: in all those modernist plays Harry drags him out to watch, or all the quotes Harry underlines in his books. When they’re in bed late at night and Harry stops the world for a minute with his voice, reciting a passage from his latest read, telling Louis how he can’t understand why love wasn’t enough to save Romeo, or how he worries he’s crazy for thinking that Emily Brontë was right when she said the world would become a stranger without her lover in it. Because that’s how Harry sees the world without Louis in it. He thinks he’s crazy for loving because devotion isn’t a thing for twenty-year-olds; it’s only for people who have pushed through decades in a loveless marriage. ‘Devoted’ to a life they’re only just enduring.

Louis knows real devotion.

When he’s on his knees in front of Harry, spreading him apart with his tongue in the living room, risking his manhood with Harry’s father only just down the hall because Harry had batted his lashes, asking for his tongue. 

When they’re out and it’s raining, Louis gives Harry his trainers. Barefoot in the puddles because Harry can’t walk anymore in his kitten heels.

Louis thinks they’ve rewritten the world with their love. Can’t even last an hour before he’s searching for Harry.

That night where Harry had compared himself to Catherine and Louis to Heathcliff, Louis hadn’t said much. Only kissed his cheeks and pulled him close. He knows Harry must’ve felt his love, but he wished he had gone on his knees and told him that the world is already a stranger to him because Harry’s the only thing he recognises in it. 

Louis would rather be damned than lose Harry and ruin everything they’ve got.

“Don’t be silly, Lou. I swear I couldn’t love anyone else. You were made just for me,” Harry holds his face up to press another soft kiss to his lips. But being so young means they still don’t know when to let go; Louis kisses him a little firmer, hands easily gripping his hips, dragging him closer. Harry gasps, the cherry lip mask coated on his lips driving Louis insane as they fall back onto the bed, Harry a vision above him. 

“You haven’t done my other arm,” he whines, pulling back, but he doesn’t get far. Kisses are dragged down his throat, and Harry closes his eyes in bliss, slowly moving his hips from instinct. His body thrums as it always does when Louis touches him, and Harry’s good at pushing away his fears, too, but tonight they’ve locked him sharply in a noose. 

“I’ll do it,” Louis rasps, sucking under his jaw. 

“If Dad sees that, he’ll have something to say.”

“Cover it with makeup.”

Harry sighs again, but they both know he’s not complaining. He absolutely loves being covered with Louis’ love stains,' as he calls it. 

Sometimes, they spend hours rolling around in bed, marking each other up. Louis loves the thrill of it, watching the colour deepen on Harry’s neck, making him his. He loves when they’re out and Harry wears his short dresses and crop tops; doesn’t make an effort to hide it. Or, when he listens when Louis says he wants to see them on show. Because then everyone else gets to see just how much Louis loves him. Harry loves it too. Louis sees it in the way his sage eyes widen when he catches someone staring, cheeks flushing in such a gorgeous shade of pink that Louis wants to give him new ones to match right there. Though he knows the ones Harry really likes are the private ones he leaves between his thighs, in the creases. Places only they can see. 

Modestly, they rearrange themselves on the bed again. Harry peers down at his nails, humming in content because they’re more or less dry. He’ll still be cautious. By the time Louis’ finished moisturising him, they should be fine. 

“Can’t believe I won’t be able to kiss you every day,” Louis sighs.

“Mm, I’ll have to send you kisses over the phone.”

“But that’s so different. And how will we have sex?”

“Don’t talk about sex while I’m on top of you,” Harry mumbles. “My nails haven’t dried yet, and I just showered.”

“Why? Do you want me to go down on you?”

“Louis!”

“What? We only have a few days left. We should make use of it.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Harry frowns, looking up from his perfectly rounded cuticles. He wears another pout, but this one is different.

Louis pecks him softly, “Sorry, love.”

“You know our relationship is exclusive, right? I don’t want you to have sex with anyone else when I’m gone.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Do you really think anyone else could get me as hard as you do? Make me want it so bad?”

He sees the relief on Harry’s face, and the desire too. Never one to not be intrigued by the idea of Louis rock hard and waiting for him. But they haven’t got time to waste, and Louis wants to reassure him. Iron out any ill-thoughts. 

“Baby, we’ve been together since we were fifteen, I’m twenty-one this year. I think I know by now that we’re exclusive. Couldn’t want anyone else when I’ve got all I want right here.”

“I’m just checking,” he mumbles. 

“No one’s like you,” Louis whispers, stroking near the crease of his elbows. He studies Harry, grinning when he catches his eye. It’s not often that Harry gets shy. He’s always been so confident; a force to be reckoned with. But the closer Louis got to his heart, the more he learnt how vulnerable Harry really is. A mind that could crumple as easily as a petal. 

Louis likes all of Harry. Every surface, every last inch of him, from the sweet, shy thing he is to the bold as brass, little brat he can become. He’s unapologetically Harry, and he’s all Louis’.

“You’re the only one that I’d ever want,” Louis insists. “And… you know I can be happy with phone sex, too.”

Harry snorts, “How charming.”

“Hey. I’m just saying, since you got to the topic of sex. Don’t act like you wouldn’t like it.”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

“I know you’d like it. You’re always sending me pictures of you in all those skimpy tops or your underwear.”

“It gets you going.”

“It does,” Louis admits easily. “You could really lean into the whole French girl thing once you’re there, red lips, short skirts… do you remember when we tried that?”

“Stop,” Harry cringes, hiding behind his hands.

“Don’t get all shy on me. It was hot, baby.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, I loved it,” Louis admits, eyes firmly set on Harry’s face, waiting for him to peek out again. His lashes flutter open gently as he listens. “Those next few weeks, I kept thinking about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know if I was the only one who enjoyed it.”

Harry nods, slowly revealing his face. Louis smiles at the sight of him. 

“It wasn’t just you,” Harry mutters, biting his lips. “It was weird at first, but the way you were talking… and the fact that I was alone in my bed wearing lingerie for you even though you weren’t here, was nice.”

“Fuck, yeah, it was.” Louis inhales, “I need to look for that picture again.”

“I’ll send you more.”

Right. 

“So, we’re doing it then?”

“I guess.”

Louis nods, “Can’t wait.”

“Because you’re a perv,” Harry says, giggling.

“Me? You’re my boyfriend, or did you forget?”

“No, I could never. Now, will you finish moisturising my hands?”

Obediently, Louis listens, rubbing lotion on Harry’s forearms down to his knuckles. He’s careful, makes sure he doesn’t smudge Harry’s fresh set, though they look more or less dried.

“So,” Louis hums, settling his hands on his boyfriend’s hips. “Tell me more about your great plan.”

“Will you consider it?”

“Maybe.”

Harry grins, already knowing he’s won. 

“Tomorrow, I want you to drive us to the beach. The one where we had our first date. We’ll start there.”

“And then?”

“It’s a surprise. But once we’re there, we’re strangers.”

“Harry, love, this sounds mad.”

“Just trust me,” he rests his hands on Louis’ chest, green eyes sparkling. “Please, baby.”

Louis, who’s so incredibly weak for the boy on his lap, nods. Harry squeals, leaning down to press their lips together in joy. When he sits up, he cards his curls to one side, pink lips still stretched wide around his pretty bunny teeth.

Over the years, he’s changed. Louis still remembers the pretty fifteen-year-old he once was, wearing pink t-shirts and white vans with mismatched laces. He remembers the thick curls; they’d been long and fluffy, flopping over his head when they first met; then he’d had it trimmed halfway through high school before he decided he was growing it out. Louis’ favourite had been when the curls were ear-length, so curly and sweet. But now, with them draping over his shoulders, Louis doesn’t know what to do with Harry. He’ll lose his mind, he swears it.

“What are you going to wear?”

“Why?”

“Wear something pretty.”

Harry gasps, scandalised, always the drama queen. His hand covers his mouth, five little cherries dotted on his skin. “Are you trying to say my outfits aren’t always pretty?”

Fondly, Louis rolls his eyes, “Now, when did I say that?”

“Why would you say that, then? I’m studying fashion in a few months, y’know? I’ll let it slide for now, but if you say that when I return… I might have to punish you.”

Louis tugs him down, rolling them over so Harry’s crushed beneath him, cheek smushed against the pillow as his laugh ricochets off the pink sheets. Louis loves him so much.

“I’d like to see you try, baby. You know what I meant.”

“You’re ruining my hair,” Harry pouts, but he’s tugging Louis closer, arms resting over Louis’ toned ones. They’re both settled on their side, Harry’s legs trapped between his own so he can press his nose against the warm skin of his neck, breathing in vanilla.

“I’ll wear something just for you, hm?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, kissing his neck. “Something short.”

“You are a perv.”

“You can’t blame a guy for getting excited over his boyfriend; that’s normal.”

Harry rolls his eyes, bringing up their connected hands to admire. He strokes the ‘28’ tattoo on Louis’ fingers, remembering the night he’d got it. They’d been at a party, and Louis’ best friend, Zayn, wanted to practice. Of course, drunk and uninhibited, people were queuing for a while, and Louis had been the first, gloating his fresh ink to party-goers. He’d got into a lot of trouble at home, 17, drunk, and tatted. Harry remembers listening to Jay rant about it for days behind Louis’ back. She didn’t know that her son had more tattoos, small etches on his chest, ones he could hide. They even had matching ones, which Louis had persuaded him to get. Maybe he was a bad influence, but Harry adores his tattoo. It’d always been something he wanted to explore. Behind his ear, he’s got a little ‘L’ scrawled there, and Louis’ got the matching ‘H’ behind his.

Now, Louis’ body is covered with dark ink, which admittedly makes Harry a little weak in the knees. Especially when they’re getting frisky—Harry could tease Louis for hours, dragging his tongue over every last tattoo.

“I think I’ll wear lingerie,” he mutters quietly. He hears the hitched breath Louis takes.

“Yeah? What colour?”

“Pink, maybe?” He says, popping the letter. “I like pink. Maybe you can choose, we’ll see.”

“Have I seen you in it before?”

“No, I bought this one new.”

“Can’t wait,” Louis grins, nipping at the folds of his neck.

Harry giggles, “Don’t know why you’re getting all excited, I’m not wearing it for you.”

“Oh?” Louis flips him over, brow raised as he looks at the cheeky smile on his boyfriend's face. “You trying to impress someone else?”

“Maybeee,” he drawls, reaching up with his fingers to trail the thin scruff that Louis hasn’t shaved. “Apparently, French guys are really hot.”

“Who said that?”

“Niall.”

“Niall?” Louis rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t even like guys. None of those French prats are better than me.”

Harry prods his tongue against his cheek, pink lips pursed to contain his giggle. Louis creeps steady fingers up Harry’s back, tickling him.

The boy squirms in his hold, “You’re jealous, honey.”

“Jealous?” Louis scoffs, “Do you really think poncy French guys threaten me?”

“They have hot accents.”

“So, my voice doesn’t turn you on?”

“Tu ne pas français, chéri.”

Louis pushes Harry onto his back, eyes darkening as he looks over him. “Say that again, baby.”

Harry’s eyes light up in delight, hands curling over Louis’ back. He rasps the words, slow and sexy, “Tu n’est pas français, mon chéri.” 

“Go and practice your  French with those French guys,” Louis growls before capturing Harry’s lips in a heated kiss. It never takes long for him to get Harry weak and pliant. A few heated kisses, tongue, and touch, and Harry melts like honey on his bed, tugging Louis closer with a curled leg.

“So you want me now?” 

“Lou...” he pants breathlessly, rutting up against his boyfriend, skin flushed, petunia pink. Louis looks at him, all devoted and desiring.

“A bit of kissing got you like this?” He muses, “No wonder talking about those French guys set you off. Could just rub you a little and you’d come, won’t you, pretty?”

“Daddy, please.”

Louis groans deep and low, fingers pattering under Harry’s tight crop top, reaching the hem of his bralette. They didn’t do that every time. It wasn’t meant to be a big thing. Harry teases him with it sometimes when they’re out or just talking, but fuck when they do it like this, Louis loves it. One drawl, one sigh, one gasp, ‘Daddy’ from Harry’s lips has him running. That knowledge has put him in an unfair position far too many times.

When they’d go to the movies, a quick whisper had them filing into a room showing whatever film Harry had wanted to see, instead of the action film it was Louis’ turn to pick. One whisper late at night, while he caught up on the overseas football match, could persuade him to pause the entire thing to ravish Harry on the couch.

But he can’t complain, it has its perks too.

Harry, by nature, was a little brat. He’d been one when Louis met him that first day, dropped off by his father in that shiny Bentley at Liam’s house for a study session because he'd spent his spring holiday flirting with the surfers at the beach and not studying. Louis was more or less in love, and Harry, to this day, hasn’t changed a bit.

Whining when things didn’t go his way, moody when Louis did something he didn't like. It’d got them into many arguments over the years.

They prevailed, they always did. Of course they did. There was no one else for them. 

But sometimes it was easier to get Harry to listen with a little command, some roughness to grasp his attention.

“You’ll listen to Daddy, yeah?”

Just like that, Harry would nod. With a pout and pink cheeks, whines stifled behind his glossy lips. Big green eyes blinking up at him prettily.

The rush was incredible, Louis felt so powerful with just a few words and his cock aching hard in his trousers because he knew that if he asked Harry to help him, he’d do it. Even if they were busy, even if they were in public, even if they had to part ways for a bit.

God, being so young and learning so much about each other whilst discovering things about yourself was hard. 

Louis never thought he’d get off being called Daddy.

Harry never thought wearing lingerie would make him feel beautiful.

Louis never thought his partner would be more like his sisters.

Harry never thought he’d leave the love of his life at twenty to study Fashion in Paris.

Being this young wasn’t meant to be so hard.

“Baby?” Louis tugs him closer, talk of French men forgotten as he thumbs over Harry’s nipples, ghosting kisses between his sternum over the thin cotton fabric. “Daddy’s got you. What do you want?"

“Need your touch, Daddy.”

“Speak to me in French, baby. You know that turns me on. Let me hear you.”

“Lou—” 

A tweak to his nipples has him gasping out apologies against Louis’ lips, “Daddy—daddy, je suis désolé…”

“Sorry?” Louis asks, remembering the basics Harry had taught him. 

“Oui.”

“Merci, my baby. My good boy.”

“S’il te plait,” Harry tugs Louis’ hand out from under his shirt and slides his fingers inside his mouth, sucking wetly. Louis feels himself harden against the waistband of his joggers. 

“What do you want, baby?”

“J’te veux toi,” he gasps.

Louis doesn’t know what that means; can’t for the life of him remember anything his boyfriend had tried to teach him. Harry sucks harder, green eyes staring fiercely into his so that there’s no misunderstanding. 

“Okay, gorgeous, okay.”

Louis brings his free hand down to Harry’s thin shorts and tugs them off, ego soaring as Harry parts his legs easily, inner thighs so pale compared to the tan on the rest of his skin.

“Daddy…”

When Louis looks up, Harry’s eyes are wet. He looks at Louis like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Baby?”

“Love you, Lou,” Harry gasps, shaking beneath him. His hips chase Louis’ finger, arching in contentment as they breach his rim. Louis grits his teeth at the tightness and heat. 

“Love you too, baby. Gonna miss you.”

“Je t’aime,” Harry repeats, grinding his hips low. He loves this, being fingered, being kissed, coming with no stimulation to his cock. It gives him a complex, gives them both one. Quieter, he whispers, “Love you.”

Louis can give him an orgasm with just his fingers; Harry can cum just from his boyfriend’s touch. 

His pretty red nails dig under Louis’ waistband to grasp his cock, stroking at it prettily before he starts pumping. Louis’ jaw turns slack from the mind-numbing sensation. 

“C’est bon?”

“Fuck,” he grits. “You sound so sexy when you speak like that. Your voice gets deeper.”

“Vraiment?”

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know what it means. But you’re sexy,” Louis latches onto his jaw, slipping a third finger as he ruts into Harry’s warm hand. “Get Daddy off so he can focus on you.”

Eager, Harry nods, thighs trembling. He smears kisses all over Louis’ face, losing more and more of that cherry lip mask to his tongue. And he’s hot and wet between Louis’ fingers, hips stuttering as he’s worked to the edge.

“Daddy, pas moi... pas moi,” Harry shakes, fingers curling under Louis' length, stroking him fast. Over the years, he’s become the best at this. Knowing what Louis needs, how he likes it. “Not me,” he pants, opening his eyes to look at Louis. “You first.”

“Okay, baby, fuck—just there, good boy. Daddy’s coming, yeah? Daddy’s coming and then his baby can come, shit.”

He gets Harry off soon after, not needing to do much because Harry gets off from pleasing Louis. Doing what he needs. He’s the perfect baby, Louis’ going to miss him so much. Praise is whispered into Harry’s ears, pressed into his skin as Louis pulls an orgasm out of him, groaning as Harry trembles beneath, pretty tears falling like diamonds over his cheeks. 

Louis peppers kisses all over his face. “Love you, baby, I love you.”

“Je t’aime plus, chéri,” Harry pants. “Love you more, darling. Always.”

August 29th, 2025

Harry wakes Louis up with a kiss on his lips and a pinch to his nose. Soft laughter floats through the air when Louis groans and tries to roll over, rather unsuccessfully, as he realises that Harry’s sitting on his lap.

With a heavy sigh, he cracks an eye open and notices how faint it is outside. “What time is it?”

“Earlier than you’d like,” Harry admits, humming a sweet love song. “We’ve got to get ready.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, Dad can’t know you stayed over.”

Louis huffs, closing his eyes again.

“Baby,” he can hear Harry’s pout. “I need you to start getting up. You have to help me pick my outfit, too.”

“So put something on, I’ll tell you if it’s nice.”

“Tu dois t’habiller, chéri,” leaning down, Harry digs his nose into Louis’ cheeks, his minty breath clashing against Louis’ skin as he giggles to himself. 

“M’tired, darling.”

“Please,” Harry pecks his lips, “please,” he pecks his chin, “please.”

A smile dances on Louis’ lips, “Kisses just won’t do, baby.”

“Is that so?” Harry sits up, raking his fingers through Louis’ bed head to tug at, teasingly. 

He groans, deep and satisfied, “Feels good.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Still thinking,” Louis hums. 

“Why don’t I help you?” Harry pushes himself up, loosening the sash of his slip to reveal what he’s got on underneath. 

Louis’ eyes widen. If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly is now. Harry is perched upon him, grinning widely in a little pink two-piece. Complete with lace and a white frilly hem. The fabric covering his nipples is so thin, Louis can see the indent of them.

“This is the pink set. I bought it in red, white, and black. I need your help choosing which one.”

Louis swallows thickly.

“If you get up, I’ll let you touch, and if you’re good… I’ll show you the back.”

With his mouth watering, Louis groans. He sits up, blinking back the last of his fatigue to admire Harry properly. His fingers reach out to sit on the ferns on Harry’s delicate hip bones, desperate to graze higher, but he’s stopped with a quick pinch to his inner wrist.

“No touching until you get out of bed.”

“Baby.”

Harry’s stubborn as steel, always has been. He crosses his arms together, knowing how much harder he’s made it as his pecs push together, so close, and Louis can’t do anything but stare. Tired, grouchy, hungry, and achingly hard in his boxers, he slides out from the sheets, rolling his eyes when Harry grins at him and follows. Leaning forward, Harry presses a dry kiss to his lips.

“Stay there,” he grins, picking up the lingerie sets from his vanity. Louis hasn’t spotted them in his haste. “Which one should I wear first?”

There’s no debate which one Louis wants to see him in. 

“The red one.”

Harry raises his brow, looking at it. His half-damp curls fall over his shoulder as he looks down at the tiny red set. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Harry.”

“What?” He shrugs, sporting a teasing smile and wide, angel eyes. 

“Are you going to let me touch, now?”

“I need to get dressed in this one first. I won’t be long, promise,” Harry steps in closer, red toenails wiggling on the fluffy white carpet beneath him, sweet as sin, in that pink lace. 

“You’re a tease,” Louis watches Harry prance away. He stops by the bathroom door, hip cocked against the frame as he stares back and he winks.

At that, Louis groans loudly, on his heels chasing Harry to reach him and the latter shrieks, hurrying to close the door behind him. Louis can hear his giggles from behind the bathroom door, and he smiles fondly. Head pressed to the wooden door, he waits ever so patiently, like the good boyfriend he is.

Minutes later, he’s moved over to the edge of Harry’s bed, arms crossed as the jangling of his bracelets and all their charms fills the air. The door unlocks with a soft click. Louis lifts his head up, lips tucked behind his teeth as he waits.

He sees Harry’s feet first: cherry toes and thin ankles. Then, his smooth, hairless calves leading up to his knees. Higher up, he’s encased in red lace, so delicious against his skin, Louis’ mouth waters. Harry’s thin hips and tiny waist come into sight, and then the pretty bralette that hides his nipples. He’s got his bracelets and rings on; favourite necklaces sitting on his collarbones with eyes shinier than all his adornments. 

What really stumps Louis is the makeup he’s managed to put on in the past few minutes. He’s done his eyes all shimmery with glitter, and white in the corners, finished with a heavy coat of mascara—Louis knows that product name. His lips are painted with red gloss, pouty and delectable, good enough to bite. He almost pouts himself because Harry won’t let him kiss him now that he's got a fresh coat on.

But he’s not going to complain when Harry looks like pure heaven only a few inches away. With his breath in his throat, he ushers Harry to come closer. 

He listens easily. When he’s close enough, Louis takes Harry’s hands in his own to stop the fidgeting.

“You’re so pretty,” Louis comments.

Palm settled around Harry’s knee, and the other rubbing the lace on his waist, Louis mouths a wet kiss above his belly button, pressing a smile against Harry’s sweet scented skin, relishing the sound of a soft gasp. Fingers rise to thread through Louis’ hair, tugging as Louis’ mouth travels lower. 

“Not now. I’m going out in this,” Harry whines, staring into blue lust-soaked eyes. 

“You said I could touch, baby.”

“And aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” he scoffs, thumbing lightly over Harry’s cock. He licks his lips at the delicious reaction it elicits, Harry’s squirming in front of him, knees knocking together as he hardens. 

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, settling himself on Louis’ lap, knees on either side of his waist. Louis welcomes the warmth of his touch, lashes fluttering as he imagines himself having this every day.

Suddenly, the warmth fades, so cold and lonely as he remembers the reality of it all. It's their last day. 

Grasping onto Harry tighter, Louis dots kisses up his neck, melting back onto the mattress with his angel above him. 

“I don’t want you to go—”

“Don’t, Louis. Not now.”

“But you never want to talk about it.”

“We’ll be okay.”

Louis bites back his words, nodding. “Yeah, I know we will.”

Harry climbs off of him, back on his toes, to look at himself in the floor-length mirror. He shrugs off his slip, letting it pool on the floor. Louis sits up on his elbows, rock hard now, because Harry’s finally let him have a look at the back. And he’s in a thong. 

“What do you think?”

“I need a shower.”

That pulls a laugh from Harry’s lips, easing the rising tension. 

“You’re so horny all the time, Lou.”

“Gonna be a real problem,” he whittles softly, palming himself over his Calvin’s. He can see Harry eyeing him in the mirror; doesn’t miss the way he presses his thighs together. “Come on, baby,” Louis drawls, low and thick.

“I just did my makeup, Lou.” He pouts, shifting on his feet in that tell-tale way that lets Louis know he’s all hot and bothered. 

“Help Daddy out.”

“Lou,” he whines, petulant. He’s showing nicely in his tight underwear, skin flushed in arousal. 

“What?” Louis hums, closing his eyes in arousal.

“I picked out your outfit so you wouldn’t have to do much thinking. We don’t have much time either.”

“You think it’s fair to tease me from the minute I wake up, and now you won’t let me get off?”

“If you do it quickly enough.” Harry utters, “Remember, Dad doesn’t know you’ve stayed over.”

“Your Dad probably knows what we get up to, Princess.” 

Like cherries in the spring, Harry’s skin colours vibrantly. Matching the lace he’s got on.

“All those times you flashed his credit card around in fancy lingerie shops and hotels, what do you think he thought, baby?”

“God, Louis, will you stop?”

“Are you getting shy?” He can see it as clear as day: Harry likes it when Louis gets like this.

That same rush returns. Louis could get him on his knees right now, with just the right amount of sweet talk, he could ruin all the effort Harry had put into his makeup. 

But that’s not fair, and no matter how much Harry would say he doesn’t mind, he knows that it’s not right either. Harry’s been telling him since he arrived through the back window that evening that his Dad’s been in a mood because Harry’s leaving day has arrived. To risk getting caught would only make things worse. He imagines Harry’s Dad wouldn’t like that either.

It’s hitting them all in different ways.

It had always been Harry and his dad after his mum died. But now with him leaving for Paris, his father will be alone for the first time.

Louis deals with Harry’s departure by ruminating on it over and over in his mind, tossing it between his palms, trying to figure out what he feels. Wanting to talk, but never getting the chance. Harry evades talking about it at every chance, pretending that nothing has happened. His father is like him in a sense. But the difference is, you know that something has happened. It sits sour across his face, heavy in the air, sharp like knives when he talks. He sits, drenched in a pit of anger or sadness. 

Like father, like son.

Neither wants to talk things out. 

Louis’ been subject to endless lunches and dinners where Harry and his father had fallen out the day prior. The tension was palpable, so discomforting, Louis could never finish his plate. 

He looks at the boy that stands across from him now, body half bloomed; soul still so young, tender and in anthesis. It feels like they’ve lived lifetimes together, more time than any of their friends had with their partners. But how much time had they really spent? 

Louis’ only twenty, what has he achieved? What’s he got to his name besides his reputation? He’s not like Harry, about to start at a prestigious university in Paris, following his dreams. He’s still at home, retaking the year, stuck in the same old city. 

LA is the land of dreams, but Louis can’t breathe here.

And Harry’s leaving him to go on with his life.

They’ve got this last day to enjoy before Harry will be busy preparing to leave. Gone until Christmas.

And he’ll do anything for Harry, would do it as easily as breathing. That’s how deep their love runs. Soulmates. You don’t always get to meet the one when you’re so young. Not everyone gets that lucky. So, they hold onto each other tighter, striving that much more to be perfect. But they’re not, not really. No one is, and Louis wishes Harry wasn’t so scared of that. 

Louis doesn’t want to waste the day as strangers, he wants to lie in bed and talk, maybe cry it out. He just wants Harry to know how he feels; wants to know how Harry feels. Wants to tell him he’s so proud and will always love him.

When he looks up at Harry again, the rising sun through the window kisses him honey gold. 

Rising up on his feet, Louis presses a firm kiss between his brows, “I’ll go shower.”

The smile Harry gives him is beautiful. The sun reaches pits in his eyes Louis doesn’t often get to glance at, but he’s stuck to the spot now, admiring the emerald lakes. 

“Are you sure?” 

Louis nods, kissing him again. 

“I love you so much, Lou.”

He smiles, softer this time, easier too. Nudging their noses together, Louis breathes, “Love you more.”

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

When he’s finished showering, towel wrapped around his waist, he finds Harry in the midst of a dilemma.

“I wanted to wear these red tights, Lou.” He’s perched on his chair, pulling the thin net over his toned legs. Louis goes a little dizzy when he sees Harry covered in the colour.  

“So why don’t you?”

“Because they’re too thick and it’s hot,” Harry pouts.

“What are the other options? And what am I wearing?”

Harry points to the outfit that hangs off the side of his wardrobe. A white Ralph Lauren shirt, a matching white vest to wear underneath and denim shorts. Casual enough. 

Louis remembers when Harry was lost in the fantasy that he could get Louis in sweater vests, long sleeves and other silly items. 

“Why don’t you match with me, baby?”

“Oh,” Harry bites down on his finger, opening his wardrobe. The sight of it still makes Louis roll his eyes. You wouldn’t think Harry’s leaving with the amount of clothes left in there.

As he dresses, Harry decides on another outfit. By the time he’s done, Harry’s only just figured out what to wear. He comes back, nodding approvingly at Louis.

“I love it when you wear clothes like that, makes me want to rip them off you.”

“Thanks, pretty.” He chuckles, looking down at the clothes Harry holds. “Happy with yours?”

“Yeah, hopefully.” 

Resettling himself back on his velvet vanity chair, Harry squeezes his toes into a set of glittery, sheer tights. He notices Louis watching.

“These are thinner, so I won’t be as hot.”

“You can’t go without?”

“I want to wear tights today, they sparkle too.”

Whilst Harry finishes, he looks for his sunnies and the cap he’d been wearing last night.

“Your hair looks nice today,” Harry pouts from behind him. 

“I might need it later, sun.”

“Fine,” he relents. “We’re taking my car, by the way.”

“Alright, where’d you put your keys?”

“Windowsill.”

Louis’ got his glasses perched in his hair, Harry’s keys in his pocket, and his cap in his hands. When he’s all settled, he turns over to see Harry hunched over his vanity, slipping lip gloss, gum and a few other things into one of his tote bags. His black digital camera is propped beside it with a little chain. 

Harry’s wearing a little white babydoll dress with off-the-shoulder straps that barely reach the tops of his shoulders. Louis can see the red ones of his bra. He’s got the matching glasses to Louis, using them to push his hair back. Now, with his curls out of the way, the dusting of makeup on his cheekbones shines under the light. The pop of red looks tantalising against his tan skin, the sheer red lips, and the matching patent slippers he’s got on. 

“You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” Harry blushes, giving him a little twirl. 

“Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Very,” Harry agrees, taking his bag and then handing his camera over to Louis’ expectant hands. “Thank you.”

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Louis stares back at a classic art deco styled 1958 Ferrari LWB convertible. Harry’s car. Deep maroon, catching all eyes. He’s always been eccentric, a showstopper craving attention, trying to find parts of himself in everything he owns.

He's in the paperwork for this one, so he slides into the driver's seat, Harry to his right.

“Where are we going first?” 

“That little diner near Venice Beach, we always go to. After breakfast, I’ll tell you the plan.”

Louis sighs, “So, I get my boyfriend for breakfast at least?”

“Yes,” Harry rolls his eyes, “don’t be dramatic.”

“Not being dramatic, baby, just showing you how much I love you.” 

Louis curls a hand under his chin, bringing him closer with a firm grip to press a kiss on his round cheek. He squeals, trying to get away, but when Louis’ done with him, he can see how truly pleased Harry looks.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

The diner they pull up to holds a lot of memories. Painted in shiny white paint that’s chipping at the corners, it’s definitely not as high-class as the places they usually frequent, but this was the place they had their first date. So, yeah, it means something, and they love coming here. 

Louis orders Harry his favourite vanilla milkshake with twin cherries resting on the thick glob of cream, and a stack of pancakes drenched in syrup and dotted with strawberries and other summer berries. Louis orders the breakfast sandwich and, just because he knows how Harry is, a slice of avocado toast drizzled with lemon juice and garnished with sea salt, feta cheese, and chilli flakes. Just in case he regrets the sweet dish.

“Wait, photo.”

Impatient, Louis huffs, dropping his fork. “Quickly, baby, I’m hungry.”

Harry snaps a picture of their plates on his camera, then holds it up to Louis. “Smile, handsome.”

Louis scoffs, but he pulls a face, making Harry grin. He takes the camera from Harry, waiting for him to pose: a slight pout as he holds a strawberry to his lips.

“Perfect,” he mutters, placing it down so they can eat. 

The diner is more or less empty. Harry and Louis are the only ones occupying a table. 

“I love this place,” Harry moans, dabbing at the corner of his lips with a tissue.

Louis nods in agreement, looking up briefly to admire the backdrop behind Harry. He’s sitting in front of the window, back to the sun that shines upon him, forming a golden halo around his curls, stretching down like honey as it illuminates his skin.

“Do you remember anything from your drama lessons?” Harry asks curiously, before wrapping his lips around the paper straw. He leaves a kiss stain behind that has Louis reach out for the glass instinctively, wanting a taste. It’s luscious, as usual, but today, somehow, it’s sweeter. 

“Don’t finish my shake,” Harry pouts, furrowing his brows together. 

Cute enough to kiss. 

Louis might just take his chances when they’re done. Before they become strangers again and he’s got to keep his hands to himself.

“Why’re you asking?”

“Just ‘cause…”

Louis narrows his eyes, “Why? Got plans to put me on a stage or something?”

“No.”

“So then…?”

“Today’s kinda like acting but impromptu.”

“Are you trying to say you think I won’t be able to do it?”

“I was just asking a question.”

Louis sits back in his seat, resting his arms on the table. Harry’s eyes follow his silhouette; the familiar look makes Louis smirk. 

“I’ll be fine, babe. I was top of my class in drama.”

“I know. You always liked acting, didn’t you?”

“I liked the attention.”

“‘Course you did,” Harry sips from his straw again before pushing his plate aside. Louis finishes it for him, stabbing the ripe flesh of a blueberry.

“I’m going to leave first and settle on the beach, then you can come find me.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Harry wears his camera strap around his neck, then pulls out his compact to fix his makeup.

“Wait, before you do that, give me a kiss. A proper one.”

Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh, leaning over the table, but once Louis’ got his hands and lips on him, he’s melting into it, kissing with just as much vigour and passion. Pushing his syrup-laced tongue between Louis’ lips with a soft moan.

“Wasn’t hard, was it, darling?”

Harry looks dazed, breathing heavily as he composes himself to fix his lipstick. Louis watches him trace the cupid's bow.

“I’ll see you,” Harry breathes, blowing Louis a final kiss as he adjusts the strap of his tote on his shoulders. Then, he saunters towards the door and slips out. 

With a hefty sigh, Louis sinks back in his seat, shooting a polite smile to the waitress who comes to collect their plates. They’d paid at the counter, so he can just leave when he’s done. 

Since the day he’d met Harry, he’d always found a way to make Louis’ life that much harder. Louis found that he loved it. He loved everything Harry had to offer. Even now, with so much weighing on his chest, he can’t resist the excitement he feels towards the day they’re about to have. 

He waits a little longer, anxious minutes spent rubbing his hands up and down his thighs and swallowing the last of his coffee before he leaves the diner with a thanks and a ‘ring’ from the bell above the door. 

The Californian sun greets him in an equally excited state, palm trees swaying under the big blue stretch of sky. He checks his pockets, double-checking he’s got Harry’s car keys, his phone, and wallet before he makes his way across the sand. 

The sea is gentle, bright blue and lulls a tune with its waves. White foam gushes onto clean sand, filling up footsteps from people who have come and gone. Venice Beach is big, and Harry is somewhere on it, white dress swaying in the breeze, probably a relief against his covered legs. Louis’ already sweating and couldn’t imagine wearing tights… the things that boy does for fashion. 

He wishes he had some kind of clue where Harry would go, something to stop him from wasting time wandering in circles. But he supposes it’s a testament to how well Louis knows Harry. Where would he go?

The wind carries the sounds of the water like a blissful composition, painting the perfect backdrop for when Louis finds Harry. He’s one of the rentable deck chairs, legs crossed over his knee as he lazes under the sun, eyes covered by his glasses as he holds a book up to his face. His bare feet shimmer, the gorgeous tan bright under the sheer layer of fabric. Louis stands there, stuck on the sand, taking him in. He wishes he had Harry’s camera on him, so he could take the photo and remember the sight forever.

The book looks familiar in his hands. Louis remembers when he bought it. Poring over the shelves for a good hour before he’d decided on ‘A Summer Evening’. Louis will miss all his quirks and pit stops to bookshops or record stores. 

Biting his lip, he decides how to play this. 

“It’s rude to stare at strangers, you know?”

Oh?

Louis flushes under the sun, scratching his neck. With a lazy grin, he tries his best, “It’s hard not to when you’re sitting there so pretty.”

Harry’s green eyes roll to the back of his head, returning to his book.

“Can I get your name?”

He blows a raspberry. 

Exasperated, Louis rests his hands on his hips, “You could make it a little easier, Harry.”

“You already broke out of character.”

“I didn’t know I'd have to impress you again. Do you remember how long it took the first time?”

“Of course I do. Six attempts, Louis. I don’t know why you assumed it’d be easy.”

“But, baby, we’re on a time limit.”

“Fine, only ‘cause you’re cute when you’re sad.” Harry recrosses his legs and gets back to reading. “Now, please don’t break out of character.”

This is so silly, Louis wants to say. Instead, he licks his lips and starts again. 

“Have you been fined?”

This time, Harry’s curiosity is actually piqued. He sits up, “Excuse me?”

“They’re going around, fining people who’ve left their valuables on the beach unattended.”

“And…?”

“A face like that shouldn't be left unattended. Are you looking for someone to mind it?”

Harry blinks slowly, thick lashes parting to make way for green eyes that glint under the summer sun. Loudly he laughs, pink lips like the petals of a rose spreading to release such sweet sounds. Louis grins, exceptionally pleased.

“That was horrible, that was so horrible.”

“But it made you laugh, sweetness. Now, could I have your name?”

Harry bites his lip thoughtfully, leg swinging softly over his knee. “It’s Harry.”

“Harry?” Louis sits himself on the sand in front of him, knees up to rest on. Harry watches him quietly. “Pretty name.”

“Can I have yours?”

“So you are interested,” Louis teases, head falling to the side. Under the sun, Harry’s gone golden. His arms and feet shine like he’s got the sun under his skin; he looks luscious. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, otherwise I’d make you earn it.”

“Really? What would you do?”

Louis catches a brief glimpse of his teeth as Harry gives him a cheeky smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, hm? I’m Louis.”

Harry extends his hand out to shake, always so proper. It’s Louis’ turn to roll his eyes as he grasps the soft skin and returns the gesture. At the final second, he brings Harry’s hand closer to place a kiss upon his knuckles, relishing his soft giggles. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Louis.”

Louis preens, gently letting go of his hand, “Can I spend the morning with you? I could show you a good time.”

“Never heard of stranger danger?” Harry asks.

He laughs, “Darling, the way you look? I think I’m the one who’s in danger.”

“Charming,” Harry mutters, tucking his loose hair behind his ears. But Louis knows that look: the way Harry’s nose twitches at the end, the dimples that carve into his skin. He’s happy. Louis grins as if he’s won something. He guesses he has—this entire day with Harry. Hasn’t got to impress him again.

“Come on,” he muses, standing up. After dusting the sand off his shorts, he outstretches his hand for Harry to grasp. “I promised you a good time. I know all the spots, you’ll love it and…” he lolls, head falling to the side with a boyish grin, “something tells me, I’ll be able to cater to all of your needs.”

“Is that so?” Harry hums, sliding his book into his tote before he takes the offered hand. He lifts a trimmed, neat brow in question, “What kind of needs are you referring to? I’ve got a boyfriend who keeps me satisfied, does all the things I like. I don’t think I’ll be needing your expertise there. It’s rather crude, don’t you think? I’ve only known you for a few minutes.”

Heat in Louis’ stomach claws at his skin at the mention of himself. Giving Harry all he needs. This is what it’ll be like in Paris, won’t it? Men flirting up a storm with his boy, and Harry turning them all down so seamlessly. If he were there, he would sort them out. Grab Harry aside, litter his neck with dark bruises and place a firm hand under his skirt. They’d know Harry’s accounted for, got a man who gives him everything. They wouldn’t even dare look at him. But he supposes this is it. Learning to live without each other, testing the boundaries of their love. Today, patches all of that up, assures Louis that Harry is only his. Gives them another go at love without all the heaviness of Harry’s departure weighing upon them.

“I’d like to meet him, one day,” Louis says. “The lucky man who’s got your heart.”

“I think you’ll like him,” Harry smirks.

“Yeah?” 

“Mm. So, are you single?”

“Me?” He looks at Harry, wishes his glasses didn’t hide what’s in his eyes. “No, I’ve got a girl at home. Stubborn, bratty, sweet little thing.”

At that, Harry’s brows rise, breath hitched from the admission. “A girl?”

Louis nods, heart pounding in his chest. They’ve tampered this line before, but never talked about it properly. Funny how they feel the urge to do it right now, days before he leaves.

Harry’s shiny lips curl at the sides. “Does she know you talk about her to strangers like that?”

“No, but I don’t think she minds.”

He bites his lip, and if Louis were allowed, he’d lean in to kiss him. Lay Harry down on the sand and mess around for a bit with his fingers trailing under that dress.

“Come on,” Harry tugs at their joined hands, “where are you taking me? I’m curious to know, I’ve got a deadline.”

“Deadline?”

“Before I’ve got to go home to my boyfriend. He misses me lots when I’m gone, can’t live without me.”

It’s Louis’ turn to lift a brow, hands scratching his chin. “Sounds a little pathetic.”

“That’s how I like him.”

“Why aren’t you with him now?”

“Because I’m with you. I can never turn down a good time.”

“Even if your boyfriend wants you back home?”

“He doesn’t own me,” Harry bites, pushing his sunglasses up to show his sparkly eyes.

They’ve drawn closer to each other, gravitated together unknowingly. In every universe, that’s how it’s meant to be, Louis muses, crystalline eyes flitting down onto shiny lips and then even lower at the flash of chest Harry exposes as he leans forward. Harry notices, but he doesn’t say anything, poised in place so Louis can look some more if he wants. Presenting himself so nicely, forgetting about the game they’re playing. 

Louis curls a sly finger around the strap of his dress, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles inches from his collarbones. Harry looks down, lips parted.

“You know what? You’re just like my girl, bratty.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” Louis licks his lips, running lines over the red strap of Harry’s bra. “But my girl’s good for me. If I call, she comes running. Listens to her Daddy, doesn’t mess about.”

Harry’s eyes have darkened, pupils blacked out as he breathes louder. “Daddy…”

Louis lights up at that, tugging Harry closer, hands settling firmly on his hips where they should’ve been ages ago. “Baby, you’ve broken out of the scene.”

“S’not my fault you’re so hot, Daddy. I’m getting wet.”

“Already?” He asks in awe, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Harry’s so obscene he gets wet when Louis winks at him. 

“I think we need to make some rules,” Harry pants, rolling his neck back, face tilted to the sun as he tries to compose himself.

“What kind, baby?” He glances around, makes sure no one can see his hand trail under Harry’s dress.

“Lou!” Harry hisses, but he makes no effort to stop him like he usually would. Instead, he’s arching into it, ass melding into Louis’ palms. They both groan. 

“We can kiss, be a little flirty, I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense, I fought the urge to kiss you at least five times.”

“Five?” Louis echoes, pleased. “If you wanted a kiss, baby, you could’ve just asked.” He flicks Harry’s pouty, lip gloss-covered lip. “Acting so snobby when all Daddy wanted to do was touch his baby…” he tuts disapprovingly.

“Sorry,” he frowns.

“Are you going to be this desperate when you’re in Paris? Pouting your lips and showing your tits?”

He shakes his head, shy. Now, this is the Harry Louis thought he’d see today. Sweet and shy, humble with big, gaping eyes. This was the Harry that Louis found all those years ago; reserved around him until they’d become friends, and more of his persona came shining through. 

In a way, he’s glad Harry’s not like that today. He’s got things he wants to get off his chest, and he doesn’t think he could do it if Harry were to adopt the persona he had years ago, the one that had Louis give in to all his whims. 

Curling a hand under his jaw, Louis finally settles it on the warm skin of his neck, twirling a curl between his fingers. “Baby,” he starts quietly, focused on the gold chain resting in the crease of Harry’s collarbone, “you don’t mind that I called you a girl? We’ve never really spoken about it before.”

Slowly, Harry shakes his head.

“Give me more than that, baby. How did you feel when I said it? It just came out and I didn’t get to ask. I know you’re my boy, and wearing dresses doesn’t change that, I just… I don’t know. I don’t know why I said it, I just did.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry hums, fingers hooking into the belt loops of Louis’ shorts.

“Is that it?”

“I know you don’t think I’m a girl. And we’ve messed around with it before, haven’t we?”

Louis nods, remembering the day they’d tried it for the first time. 

Harry had needed his advice on one of the pieces he was working on for his portfolio. He’d walked into the living room to the sight of fabric all over the floor, Harry in a navy maxi dress with his hair piled up into a loose bun, strands falling out everywhere. There was just something about the way he looked. Sweet, domestic, effortlessly sexy with the strap of his dress sliding down one shoulder as he worked, the swell of his tits half on show as he blew back curls from his face. Louis remembers holding him from behind, trailing kisses up his neck to stop him from fretting for just a moment.

“Relax, baby. I could hear you thinking from outside in my car.”

“There’s just not enough time,” Harry had sighed, leaning into Louis’ embrace. “I need to finish adjusting this dress, then sort out the other two by tonight. I haven’t even thought of what hairstyles and makeup looks to choose for each one. The girls are coming by tomorrow to try it all on.”

“Why don’t you try it on? Get a rough idea, hm? S’not like you’re a stranger to wearing dresses.”

“I don’t have the body for it.”

“Nonsense,” he’d scoffed, squeezing Harry’s hips hard. Lips by his ears, he had crooned, “You’ve got the best body in the world, baby.”

“Lou, we can’t do this now.”

“What are we doing?” He’d asked innocently, but the hand reaching under Harry’s dress had different ideas.

“You’d look gorgeous in your dresses,” Louis promised. “You’ve got the legs, the tits, the hair… s’almost like you are a girl.” He hadn’t anticipated Harry to shiver against him, head rolling back onto Louis’ shoulders as he finally reached the spot between Harry’s legs. “Does that turn you on?”

“Mm,” Harry nodded, “keep talking like that.”

It was all so new, so scary. Louis had worried he’d gone overboard.

“Yeah, baby girl? Open your eyes, look in the mirror.”

They meet again through its reflection, Harry’s flushed cheeks and soft eyes had made Louis’ stomach twist. He pressed another kiss to Harry’s neck before continuing.

“Touch your tits. Press them together. Yeah, good girl, just like that—shit, look at you. You’ve got a proper set.”

“It’s the dress. It’s padded, makes them look bigger.”

“Get more of them,” he groaned.

“Do you like that? Like pretending you’ve got a girlfriend?”

“Nah, I just like you,” Louis sucked marks onto his neck, forgetting about Harry’s meetings tomorrow. He’d gone higher, fingers stroking Harry’s slit as if he were a girl whilst the other tugged his curls out of the bun so it cascaded down his shoulder. “Look at yourself, darling. Look at how good you look. I’ve got you all wet for me. Your pretty pussy’s all mine.”

“Oh my gosh, Louis,” Harry spread his legs further and reached down to hike his skirt up, bunching it just enough to give Louis freedom but hide his cock.

“Don’t hide it.”

“Doesn’t look like a pussy,” Harry said, “I don’t wanna look at it right now.”

“Baby,” he frowned.

“It’s fine, I promise. I just... I wanna carry on. I’m so wet, Louis, I need you to do something.”

“You’ll tell me if anything changes?”

“‘Course,” Harry rushed, turning over to smear a kiss on his cheek. But Louis didn’t always believe that.

Harry looks at him again, months later, on the beach. His eyes are questioning as the beach air fans strands of his hair between his lashes. 

“You didn’t mind back then,” Louis starts, “but every day is different.”

“I’ll tell you if anything changes, stop fussing, Lou.”

Pushing down his hesitance, he nods. “Come on then, darling, let’s establish these rules and carry on. I’ve got so many places to take you to.”

He captures Harry in a final kiss—a second, then a third and a fourth … they’re a little greedy with it, but who’s going to pry them apart? Being this young entitled them to such frivolity.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Maybe there’s a way to freeze time. Harry has rambled about it before, about drawing a scene so he can hold it forever. Stop time with the ink of his pen. Sometimes during classes, when they shared a small bench outside, catching up on the notes, Harry would flip his book over and show Louis a sketch of him he’d just done. He’d have his brows knitted together, a pen snagged between his teeth as he struggled with a concept or a sum. Instead of studying, Harry would try to hold time. It got more frequent as their last year came to an end. 

Louis wishes he could draw so he could do it now. 

Harry’s in the passenger seat, with his curls flying in the wind. Louis almost runs the red light several times, distracted by him and those thighs. Shiny caramel; glittery tights; sweet, sweet skin. Louis always wants to remember that. 

And he can’t stop himself from touching, placing his palm higher than it should be for people playing strangers. When Harry glances over at him, he just smiles. Cheeky and pleased.

“Getting cosy,” he hums, staring out through his window. 

“I’m driving your car, sweetheart, seems like you’re the one getting cosy.”

“This is my car,” Harry laughs gleefully. “I can do as I like. Anyway, this isn’t me getting cosy. I can do a lot better.”

Louis chuckles as he remembers all the times they’ve gone a bit too far in this car. He’s had Harry on the backseat, Harry stretched across the gears, on his lap. Fuck, they’ve done it on the bonnet once, Harry’ hot skin sprawled out on the cool surface, with Louis’ head under his dress.

“Oh really? Indulge me.”

Giggling quietly, Harry shakes his head. His skin is flushed, windswept cheeks making him look delectable, brimming with colour and juice. Like a cherry, Louis could pop between his teeth. 

“That’s only for me and my boyfriend to know.”

Shaking his head, Louis squeezes Harry’s thigh a little tighter, cherishing his shiver. “Lucky guy.”

“Mm,” Harry nods, “the luckiest.”

“I bet he gets jealous.”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend…? Why would he get jealous?”

“You’re so pretty, you’ve got this posh car, and you seem to know what you want. What you like in life.”

“I don’t think he’s jealous of me,” Harry says. “He’s… there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

Louis hums, eyes fixed on the road ahead, “What are your plans for the rest of summer?”

“I leave for Paris in a few days,” Harry mutters quietly. Louis can feel green eyes watching him closely.

“Paris? What for?”

“To study.”

“Is your boyfriend going with you?”

“No, he’s staying here. Finishing his last year before he wants to study Business and Finance.”

“He’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss him too.”

“And he’s alright with you leaving?”

“Louis—”

“I’m not your Louis today,” he finally glances over, smiling softly to reassure him. “Answer the question.”

Harry swallows, the car suddenly feels claustrophobic. The roof is open, and the wind kisses their warm skin, but it doesn’t feel like enough. 

Biting his lips, Harry sinks into the leather seats, “I don’t know. I hope so. I love him.”

“He loves you, too,” Louis assures. Hoping that today will be the day that Harry really listens.  “How come you don’t know? Doesn’t he like talking about it?”

“No…” Harry hesitates. “It’s me. He tries to bring it up a lot, but I don’t like talking about it.”

“Wanna tell me?” Louis turns a corner, hand coming to grasp behind the headrest of Harry’s chair as he looks over his shoulder. When he’s done that safely, glancing a final time at the rear view mirror, he turns to Harry. “It’s good to talk. Telling a stranger might make things easier.”

“I’m okay,” Harry rejects, putting on his glasses. Louis can’t see him now, can’t tell how he’s feeling. Sighing heavily, he nods. He didn’t expect today to change things… but he did have hopes. 

“Alright, but I’m always here. Until I’ve got to go.”

Harry nods, looking straight ahead, unaffected. Well, he tries to appear that way. Louis can see the telltale signs of his fidgeting. “I know,” he mutters, softer than before. 

“Good, ‘cause we’re nearly here.”

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Parked up in the small bay by the shops, Harry’s car blinks at them before Louis pockets the key and slings Harry’s tote bag over his shoulder. The earlier tension has fizzled away. Louis hopes they can enjoy the rest of their day.

“Where are you taking me?” Harry hums, chewing on some gum. He’s just too pretty to look and not touch; Louis curls an arm around his waist.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” he reminds.

“And he’s not here now, is he? S’just you, and me, and all this sun.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Louis hums, eyes rolling up to the sky as he thinks, “I’ll tell her about this crazy rendezvous tonight.”

“And she won’t mind?”

“I think she will.”

“Is she the kind of person who keeps things in if they bother her?”

“Um—"

“‘Cause if so, then she’s a lot like me.” Harry seeks Louis’ hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m the same with my boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, swinging their hands together as they float through crowded streets. 

“Sometimes he tells me things or does things that make me feel… I don’t really know. Not jealous, I know he loves me. But I worry, and I don’t tell him because I don’t want to annoy him. It’s stupid sometimes, I make things up in my head and go on from there.”

“Do you tell him that?” Louis asks gently.

“No. I’m going to leave for Paris soon, and I don’t know how to tell him.”

“What do you want to tell him?” 

Harry sidetracks at a small stall, eyeing the small keyrings. Green eyes drink in the display of shiny gold trinkets. He gasps quietly, “These are cute.”

He picks up a silver set built for a pair: pink and blue hearts that lock together. Louis nods, wetting his lips as he still tries to wrap his head around what Harry’s revealed. 

“Look, at the back it says ‘His and Hers’,” Harry traces the lettering quietly. 

“Do you want it?” Louis reaches into his pockets for his wallet. 

“Yeah, I wanna give it to my boyfriend before I go.”

Louis’ heart trembles, “Let me buy it for you.”

“No, it’s supposed to be a gift—”

“S’not for me, is it? So I can buy it.” Harry looks at him, remembering. Slowly, he nods, thin curls flying over his face. Louis grins, mischievously, “Can’t let a girl pay on a date, can I?” 

“Thank you,” Harry smiles, leaning forward to place a delicate kiss at the corner of his lips. 

Louis smiles, rubbing Harry’s hips delicately. “Think I can get a proper kiss?”

“Those are reserved for my boyfriend,” Harry beams. But he leans in anyway, pressing a firmer, lingering kiss by the sharp line of his jaw, right next to his chin. Crowding in closer, Harry whispers, “And I don’t think your girlfriend will be happy if you go home with lipstick marks on your face.”

“She won’t mind,” he rasps, tightening his hold on Harry. “She won’t even need to know.”

“Naughty,” Harry disapproves, raising a brow. Something shifts, Louis’ not sure what it is, but Harry crosses closer, teeth sinking into plush lips as he hushes, “Are you good at keeping secrets?”

“Depends on what they are,” Louis quips.

Harry laughs quietly, manicured fingers settling on his shoulders. They dig into the muscle teasingly; Louis squeezes Harry’s hips tightly, bringing him closer with his foot between tight-clad legs. 

“How about I show and not tell?”

Louis grins, sucking on his gum with a smug grin, “What are you waiting for?”

Harry strokes his jaw, shivering from the sharp prick of his scruff, “Don’t ever shave this off.”

Laughing gleefully, Louis pecks his lips, smiling at how easily Harry gives in, “You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not my girl.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. I’m about to let you drag me to a corner to have your wicked way with me, and you want to remind me about your girlfriend?”

“Sorry,” he rushes, swallowing hard at the proposal and the quick response it's elicited from his body. “But she’s my number one.”

Pausing, Harry catches his eye. “Yeah?”

“Always,” Louis responds.

“God,” he steps back, smoothing his dress down before he grabs Louis’ hand and pulls him away from the stall. “Let’s go back to the car.”

“Why?” Louis hums, mouthing at his neck. Harry shifts on his little slippers, hand in his. 

“Wanna kiss you.”

“Thought you were on a time limit?”

“We can set a timer,” Harry huffs. “I can adjust.”

He just laughs, “You’re insatiable.”

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

“You look so good in this dress,” Louis gasps between bated breaths, kissing down the milky skin of Harry’s neck. Now, by the hem of his neckline, he delves lower shamelessly, under and onto what the white cotton hides. They’re both squashed in the driver’s seat, Harry on Louis’ lap, the door left open for his legs to rest from where he’s placed horizontally, one arm wrapped around Louis’ neck for stability. Harry giggles into the crook of his neck as hands venture higher up his skirt, black tattoos and tan skin roaming mischievously.

“We’re in public,” Harry chastises.

“You shouldn’t look this good outside, then. How am I supposed to keep my hands off you?”

Harry gasps, high-pitched and hot, when Louis tugs him closer over the bulge in his denim shorts. 

“Got a real problem to sort out,” he groans, sinking his teeth into Harry's neck. He’s tugged the waistband of Harry’s tights, so his fingers can stroke over red lace. Louis smiles against his skin when he hears him whimper. 

“Are you hard, too?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, reaching higher and yes. Harry’s hot and wet, already soiled the pretty set he’d put on, and they haven’t even had lunch. “Baby…”

“Do something,” Harry demands, shifting to straddle him. His skirt picks up higher to expose his lovely tan thighs, encased in sheer material that gleams under the sun with sparse dots of glitter speckled throughout. Smooth and warm and soft. Louis grasps onto them, chuckling as he peers down at the phone on Harry’s seat. 

“Kissing’s okay, but touching… baby, you’re taken.”

“Fuck, Lou, not now.”

“You wanted to spend the day pretending,” he cocks, smugly.

“Yeah, and you’re the one touching up under my skirt even though we’re meant to be strangers. Is that something you do to boys you just meet?”

“Depends,” Louis shrugs nonchalantly.

Harry huffs, punching his shoulder. “You’re a major flirt. Maybe I should go home. My boyfriend wouldn’t leave me hanging dry.”

“Dry?” He reaches under Harry’s dress again, thumbing over the wet patch. “You’ve soaked your panties, Princess. You’re definitely not dry.”

“That’s nothing,” he heaves, swatting Louis’ hands away. His cheeks are flushed pink. “I get wet easily.”

“Is that so?”

Harry swallows hard, carding all his hair to one side. The mark Louis’ left on him is dark red, pretty like a cherry tattooed on him. “Mm.”

“Bet your boyfriend likes that.”

Harry nods easily, “He does.”

“What does he do?”

“What?”

“If you were mine, I’d always have you by my side, on my lap. Wouldn’t let you go anywhere. A few kisses has you soaked, darling, I wonder what my fingers could do.”

“Try it out,” Harry breathes, nuzzling under Louis’ jaw. Almost like a cat. He rubs his nose into the damp skin, breathing in heavily as his jaw drops, gasping wetly. “Do something, please. I need you to do something now.”

“You were just telling me kissing is reserved for your boyfriend. But now, you’re letting me take what I want?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. Please.”

“You’re a little—”

The phone alarm blares loudly, a twinkle of chimes. Ten minutes are up. It’s Harry’s chosen tone, so of course it’s a little weird. The boy snatches his pink-cased phone and switches it off, then throws it aside.

“Come on,” Louis starts, ready to lift the two of them up.

“No, no,” Harry whines. “Louis, please.”

“Harry—” he’s being purposefully frustrating And God, does he enjoy it. Watching Harry squirm for him, red-faced and desperate under the sun. The car park is empty, lucky for them, but they really can’t do much here. They’d get a fine. Maybe spend the rest of their day at the police station and need Harry’s dad to bail them out—that's if he will after he hears what they’re in for.

Gently, Louis strokes his hair, leaning up to kiss him. Harry falls into it easily, parting his lips and gasping, like Louis’ touch has saved him. In seconds, he’s adjusted the seat of the car so Louis’ seat aligns backwards and Harry’s lies on top, sucking his tongue.

“You’re hard too,” Harry reaches down, stroking over the strained denim. “Can we do something? If you won’t, I can. I can do something for you, just—”

“Harry,” Louis pulls away, frowning as he peers into shiny peridot eyes. “Baby, need a breather? No more pretending, it’s Louis now. Your Louis.”

Harry nods, blinking back tears.

“Talk to me, baby.”

“I need you,” Harry sobs. “Don’t think I can walk around so pent up.”

Louis nods, rubbing at his inner thighs.

“You’re so needy, aren’t you? Just wanna get off all the time. How are you going to cope without me?”

Harry shrugs, clenching his eyes shut as he sits up. “I’m leaking, Louis. It’s bad.”

“Princess,” he coos, finally taking pity on him. Harry’s hair flies around him; the skin around his eyes is damp. Louis picks up his skirt, tucks it above so his panties are on show, sexy red, through his sheer tights, and stretched tight over his cock.

Harry sits patiently, lips tucked behind his teeth as his eyes flutter in bliss whilst Louis admires him. 

“What do you want to do?” He strokes the lace hem. Harry shivers. 

“Touch,” Harry gasps, bucking into him. 

“Alright, okay, baby. Open your eyes, look where we are.” Harry listens, whining in response. “If someone sees us, we’ll get in trouble.”

“But, but, Louis—”

“Shh,” he says, sitting up, hand cradling the back of Harry’s head as he pulls him down to kiss. Harry relaxes instantly, melting into him with soft moans. 

“I want to talk to you first.”

“What about?”

“About before. The whole ‘girl’ thing.”

Harry nods, sucking on Louis’ lip.  Louis presses two fingers under the head of Harry’s cock, over the lace. “What is this? A dick or pussy? Is it hard or soaking wet?”

Harry’s breath stutters, body trembling from the latter.

“Right, Louis breathes, “you want to play with your pussy.”

“Lou—”

“Girl or boy?… Or something else?”

Amidst his pleasures, Harry frowns. “Boy, Louis.”

“I need to ask, I need to know. You never want to talk about it.”

“I don’t think we—”

“No, we do, Harry. It’s easy for you, you know what’s going on up there, but I don’t. I don’t know what you want, how far you want it to go. It’s scary, baby.”

Slowly, he nods. “It’s scary for me, too.” 

“What is?”

“If we talk about it… what if you think I’m weird?”

“Baby…” Louis sighs, “I would never think that. If it’s just a sex thing or something more, it’s not weird. I love you, Harry.”

“It’s just a sex thing,” Harry mumbles. “It makes me all hot and worked up. And when you call me baby girl, I like that too. It doesn’t bother me.”

“That’s good," Louis soothes, “what about normally? If I called you my good girl?”

“I don’t mind,” he admits.

“What’s the matter?”

Harry flashes a darker shade of crimson, “You’re so sexy. Making sure I’m okay, it’s… I love you so much.”

“Baby,” Louis laughs, leaning up to nudge their noses together. “You’re so cute. I have one more question.”

“What is it?” Harry asks, eyes looking a little lighter. He holds onto Louis’ shoulders again, dress tucked back down modestly. 

“When we do this, do you want to go back to pretending? Or can we be us again, just for this?”

“What do you want?” 

“I asked you first.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I, um, I don’t mind pretending. You’re so hot when you’re talking about me, or when you’re trying to convince me to let you kiss me.”

“Yeah? And you’re a real tease, y’know?”

Harry giggles. “If it makes you feel better, it’s always hard denying a kiss from you.”

“That does make me feel better,” Louis preens, locking their lips again. He licks all over, finishing the last remnant of Harry’s cherry-flavoured gloss with a groan. Then, he spreads Harry’s thighs apart, licking into his mouth desperately. 

“You’re gonna put that gloss back on when we’re finished.”

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Harry wraps his arms around Louis firmly, hips canting downwards. “Anything.”

“Anything? Shit, baby, don’t put ideas into my head. We’re only messing around.”

Harry pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily. His eyes fall down, lips pouting, “I’ve stained your shirt.” 

Looking down, there are red smears of gloss on the shoulder. They mustn’t have noticed it whilst talking.

“Will it come out in the wash?”

“I dunno,” Harry traces his finger around it. “I wonder what your girlfriend will have to say.”

Louis growls, bucking his hips upwards, pressing his bulge against Harry. The boy squeaks, fingers digging into Louis’ muscle for stability as he starts again, swivelling his hips down. 

“Is that how you wanna do it? Rub one off on me?”

“Need your help.”

“Get on your seat, baby.” Dragging his hands down Harry’s sides, Louis lifts him over the controls and places him down on the cream leather. It doesn’t come with easy acceptance.

“I want to be on your lap.”

“I can’t have you there.”

Harry looks at him with round, pleading eyes, “But I want you.”

“Listen, darling. If you want me to help you get off, then you’ll listen, alright? I’ve got a pretty girl back home—I might mess around and kiss you, but I’m not gonna touch someone else, alright?”

“Oh, so you won’t touch them, but you'll let them sit on your lap, and you’re okay with kissing them?”

“Oi,” Louis leans over, pinching Harry’s chin between his fingers. “Your boyfriend might be okay putting up with your attitude, but not me. We haven’t got a lot of time, yet I’m still letting you sit here to get off because you begged for it, so behave. You’re lucky you’re pretty, otherwise I would’ve said no.”

Harry curls into his seat, eyes blown out, lips parted as he counts his breaths. 

“Okay,” he gasps. 

“Yeah?” Louis leans back, pleased. “So, you’ll be good and listen?”

Harry nods eagerly. 

“Good girl,” he praises, squeezing Harry’s thighs.

Whilst Harry sits quietly, Louis adjusts his shorts and closes his side door before revving the engine. “Because we’re short for time, I’m going to take us to our next stop, and whilst I’m doing that, you’re going to touch yourself, okay?”

Harry’s lips wobble, “You’re not going to touch me?”

“No, baby, not now. But I know you can do it. You can be good for me. I’ll tell you everything you need to do, you can sit back with your eyes closed and imagine it’s my hand.”

“Okay,” he says, a little sad.

Hopeless. 

Louis leans over, kissing him abruptly. “Don’t do that, we’ve got all day. I’ll get my hands on you eventually, I promise.”

Harry nods, shifting to get himself comfortable. “Okay, Daddy.”

Louis wonders if Harry’s slipped back into themselves again, or has he just forgotten? He’s not sure, but he’ll carry on with the farce; he can see how bothered Harry is by it. 

“Wait. Daddy,” he pouts, “my hands are going to get messy.”

“We’ve got tissues somewhere.”

“But I want wipes.”

“Have you got wipes in here?”

“No.”

“Then tissues will do.”

“But…”

Louis leans across and opens the glovebox in front of Harry, rifling through Harry’s makeup compacts, his necklaces, and fluffy rear-view mirror accessories until he finds what he’s looking for. Pulling out a shiny square foil, he places it on Harry’s lap.

“Put it on. We can chuck it out after.”

Harry scrunches his nose, “I don’t like the feeling.”

“When do you ever wear condoms?” Louis scoffs. “Princess, I hardly think you’re the one on top. So bratty, your boyfriend is probably always busy fucking the attitude out of you.”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles, tracing the jagged foil edges. “I’m not wearing this, Louis.”

“Then, you can figure out what you wanna do about the mess. All we have are tissues.”

Harry huffs, putting the condom away before reaching for the stack of tissues.

“Good girl.” Hands on the wheel, Louis gets them out of the parking lot. “Go on then, spread your legs apart.”

He steers onto the motorway, wind rustling loudly as he speeds. Harry’s dress is hitched up over his stomach. Louis needs to focus on the road ahead, but he lets himself indulge in golden legs, black ferns half covered by red lace and sheer net. The tissues are tucked under his thighs, fingers creeping into the lace. 

“Go slow,” Louis instructs. “Rub yourself first, get your fingers wet.”

Harry stretches back, head rolling onto the headrest.

“Pull them down, let me see your pussy.”

“Daddy—”

“Louis,” he reminds. “Not Daddy yet.”

Harry nods, “Sorry, I forgot.” 

“Your tights, take them off.” Louis motions at the dashboard, “Feet up.”

“Oh.” Harry nods, slipping out of his red ballet slippers before he props his toned legs on the dashboard, shimmering in those tights

God, Louis needs to take them off him with his teeth and kiss all over them. Sink into the warmth and be rewarded with Harry’s sweet sounds as he trails higher. He wants to hike up the hem of his dress himself; get his fingers on the meat of his thighs and bite. He thinks he’ll have fun with it, lick and bite and nip at them until he can taste the sweat. Until even that’s not enough. Louis wants to inhale Harry whole, starting with those legs first. He can’t stop himself from tucking his fingers in the hem of Harry’s tights, dragging them down. 

“Louis,” he gasps, “you’ve ripped them. These were my favourite, you—”

“You can buy another pair, come on, panties now.”

Harry peels the tights off, leaving them crumpled on the floor before lifting his hips, tugging down red lace. Louis takes them from Harry quickly, eyes dark as he rasps, “I’ll keep these, you just spread those legs and start touching.”

He nods, wasting no time as he spreads himself open right there, on the upholstery of his car. It’ll have to be cleaned, and Louis knows he’ll be tasked with that because Harry’s going to be gone soon. Louis’ hard and aching in his trousers, clenching his jaw as he drives Harry’s Ferrari down the empty side roads he’s taken. If they were out on the main roads, anyone could see what they’re up to. 

If Louis thought he was bad, then Harry’s worse. There’s really no taming him when he doesn’t get what he wants.

He’s shifted to his right, leaning half against his seat, half on the car door, legs wide open. Louis can see everything. His hairless parts, pink balls glistening so obscenely with his precum. Harry brings his fingers up, sucks on them lewdly before he rubs all over his cock like it’s an actual pussy and the wind picks up; curls flying out behind him as his eyes pop open, fixed on Louis with intent.

“Look how soaked I am, I’m burning. J'ai besoin de toi.”

“You’re a minx,” Louis growls, gripping the wheel tighter. His knuckles will rip through his skin any minute now, bones having a mind of their own as he knows they’ll crawl over to Harry, desperate to have him. “I’m not stopping this car.”

Trailing a finger down his shaft, Harry whines needily, throwing his head back over the open side, a dazed grin on his face as he fists himself. “Mm, you’re not telling me what to do, Lou. You’re losing your touch.”

“Faster,” Louis demands. “Go faster, right to the tip, that’s it, don’t stop.” 

Harry’s moans grow louder, more persistent. Louis can see the tremble of his thighs. If he could touch, he would get into every inch of him, swipe his tongue between every fold where Harry is sensitive and have him stain those seats in seconds.

Glancing around, he presses his foot on the accelerator, leaving behind the cars he can see approaching them from behind. He’ll definitely have a few fines to pay. Once he’s sure they’re alone, he whistles for Harry’s attention

“Come closer, you little devil.”

With fire in his green eyes, excitement Louis knows he won’t ever tire of seeing wear, Harry draws closer. Right to the edge of his seat, so that Louis can wrap a firm hand around his knee. 

“You’re gonna listen to me carefully,” he keeps his blue eyes on the long stretch of road ahead. “I want you to get on your knees on this seat, like how you do when you’re sucking cock. You’re gonna do it nicely so no one notices. Then, you’re going to tighten your belt so you’re safe.”

Harry licks his lips. “Why?”

“Don’t be a brat. Just listen.”

“You won’t even touch me.”

Louis grits his teeth together, controlling himself from parking up and dragging Harry to the backseat.

“If you want to be a good girl, you’ll listen. Good girls get what they want. If you listen, you’d get what you want so much easier.”

“Promise?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Princess.”

“Okay, but can I get a kiss?”

“I’m driving.”

“That’s okay, I can do the kissing.”

Louis makes the mistake of looking over, “...Fine.” 

Grinning triumphantly, Harry wipes his hands on one of the tissues before he leans over the gears, nails dragging over Louis’ scruff. He doesn’t get the chance to look over before Harry’s pressing an open mouthed kiss to his cheek, tongue hot as he sucks on the skin, getting lower and lower until he’s under Louis’ sharp jaw, sucking hard.

Fuck, Louis bites on his lips.

“There,” Harry croons quietly, pleased with himself with the mark he’s left behind.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Satisfied?”

“Very,” Harry giggles, folding his knees under him. He lets himself fall back onto the seat, thighs flexed as they hold up his weight. He itches to touch, but Louis stops him.

“Belt, first.”

“Oh yeah. Thank you, Lou.”

“Such good manners, darling.” Louis strokes his knee, “Let me know if you get tired.”

With a shake of his head, Harry turns over to look at him. “Can I start now?”

“Go on, start with two fingers, first.”

Hands between his legs, Louis can’t see the path they take because of his dress. But it’s not hard to figure out when he breaches himself. His eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open. Before he can move, Louis speaks up.

“Don’t move.”

Outraged, Harry’s eyes snap open. “What?” He chokes, breathless. 

“I didn’t finish what I was saying, baby,” he tutts. “Lose the attitude.”

“Sorry,” Harry gasps, high-pitched. “Please, can I touch?”

Narrowing his eyes, Louis looks away from the road for a minute. “I said, don’t move. That means every part of you. If you’re moving your fingers, don’t think I won’t stop this car right now.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not. Promise I’m not. Just feels good.”

“You’re barely doing anything.”

“Love feeling full.”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend must love that?”

“He does,” Harry nods, “loves it so much.”

“Tell me what he does.”

“Louis, can I move my fingers?”

“Tell me what he does.”

Harry swallows hard, sweating under the sun as he tries to piece words together. Stuttering, he asks, “What he does when?”

“When he’s fucking you, baby, keep up.”

“Oh,” Harry sinks further onto his fingers, knees spreading unintentionally. The drag, the feeling and touch, leaves him delirious. So does the thrill of being seen. “Louis… please can—”

“If you don’t start talking now, I’ll make you take your fingers out and put your panties back on.”

Shaking his head, Harry cries, “No, no. I’m sorry.”

“Come on, be a good girl. I know you can.”

“Daddy fucks me hard.”

“Is it?”

“Mm, bends me over and I let him do what he wants to me.”

“You give it to him so easily, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’d give him anything.” Harry thinks about it quietly. “We do it all the time, anywhere. We’ve… we’ve done it in this car, you know? In the back seat, over the bonnet. I was on my knees, or he was between my thighs.” Harry shivers, eyes falling shut as he reminisces. “He likes to take his time, fingers me until I’m just about to cum then he stops. Plays with my tits. Teases me so I’m begging for him.”

Louis nods, satisfied. “Lucky girl.”

“I am,” Harry gasps in reply. “He does it however I want it. One time, during Dad’s business dinners, he fucked me in the downstairs bathroom because I asked.”

Louis remembers that. No prep, no anything. He’d slid into Harry raw, feeling under his dress to learn he hadn’t even been wearing underwear. Said something about the lines showing through his dress. Louis doesn’t know. He only remembers bending Harry over the sink. Fucking him in front of the mirror and watching it fog up

He swallows hard, focusing on the road. “Ride your fingers,” pulling out his phone, he checks the time. “You’ve got two minutes, baby.”

Instantly, Harry starts to move his hips. Grinding back down, and he’s unabashedly loud about it, melting against cream leather. His sounds get lost to the wind; Louis takes the same road again so Harry can continue. Reaching out, he raises the hem of Harry’s dress, instructing him to hold it like that so Louis can see him ride his fingers, so fucking obscene.

“Feels good?”

Harry nods, curls falling over his forehead as he pants.

“Put in a third.”

“I already did,” he gasps, hips rutting insistently. He looks like he’s been starved of this, chasing the taste like he’s spent years without it, when the reality is, Louis had done the same thing to him last night.

“Did I say you could?”

“Sorry. I needed it, I needed you.”

“Your pussy doesn't need to be stretched out anymore.”

Harry shivers, hands fumbling blindly for the tissues. “I’m going to cum, keep talking. Please… please keep talking, Louis.”

“Just a bit more, baby girl. Then, you can let go. Come on, the quicker it’s over, the quicker Daddy can have his turn. Stretched yourself out so nicely for me, I’ll slip right in. I’ll fuck you so good, darling, until you can’t even walk. Can’t even sit. Have you on your knees, over these gears, leaking everywhere.”

That does it. A high-pitched whine falls from his lips, and he wraps the tissues around him, his body convulsing against the seats as he comes. Louis slows the car down, parking in a private area so Harry can come down safely. After sex, Louis knows he needs the constant touch and words, so he takes off his seatbelt before he does Harry’s, carrying the boy over.

“Baby, you with me?”

Louis takes what's left of the clean tissues and dabs at Harry’s temples, and anywhere shiny, careful of his makeup. Pressing soft kisses to his curls, he places Harry so that he’s cradled into him.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?”

“Where’s the tissues?” Harry mumbles.

Louis strains to hear him, “What was that, baby?”

“Tissue. Where is it? Don’t want my car messy, or my dress.”

Louis laughs, “It’s put aside, baby. Don’t worry about that.”

“Need to clean my hands,” he pouts.

“We have a water bottle, is that okay? Once we’re out, I’ll take you somewhere and you can use their bathroom.”

Harry nods, pressing his nose against the column of Louis’ neck. “Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“Little early to exchange ‘I love you’s’, we just met,” Harry’s voice is muffled against the knit of his vest, but Louis can make it out, and when he does, he laughs, holding onto him tighter.

“Maybe you’re right, but after that show, baby, who wouldn’t be in love? You’re so sexy. You’re stunning. Breathtaking. It was so hard to keep driving.”

“You shouldn't have, I wanted you to take me so bad.” They both shiver involuntarily. Harry mouths at Louis’ neck.

“Come on, we’ve got things to do. Are you okay, or do you want to stay here a little longer?”

“Longer, please.”

“Okay,” Louis whispers, smoothing down his hair. Reaching into the backseat, he brings Harry’s tote bag. Rifling inside, he pulls out a small silver tube, the thin lettering ‘Dior’ at the bottom of the sheer red gloss. 

Harry goes to accept it, but Louis holds back, “I can. You just keep your hands on me, pretty boy.”

He rolls his green eyes, but giggles; Louis knows he’s delighted.

“Come on, stop moving.” He unscrews the cap, pulling out the wand. “I need to do this properly.”

“Je t’aime, Lou.”

He steals a kiss, warm and private, before he coats Harry’s lips. “I love you so much more, baby.” 

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

They’d parked the car twenty minutes ago. Now, they’re walking through Californian streets, eating greasy burgers from a nearby food truck for lunch. 

That’s when disaster strikes. 

It’s no one's fault, as much as it is both of theirs. But they’re both too stubborn and prideful to admit it. 

“Would you ever have kids?” Louis asks, chewing on his burger.

At the truck, they’d been standing behind a small family of four. With kids both younger than ten, no doubt. The queue was semi-long, the sun making the wait drag on more than it should’ve. They’d been focused on the family. 

“Maybe.” Harry picks at his fries, frowning because his fingers are covered in grease. 

“I told you to pick up a plastic fork.”

“I forgot,” he sighs. “Anyway, your fantastic lunch date was a food truck?”

“Well, I promised you a good time and nothing's fun about sticking to a routine. I bet you’ve been to a million posh restaurants. If I took you to another one, you wouldn’t remember it.”

“What if I haven’t?”

Louis laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, “You drive around in a Ferrari. Not even one of the new ones, this one’s vintage.”

“What’s so memorable about greasy food wrapped in greasy papers?”

“That it tastes good? Have a bite, go on.”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“That’s nonsense.” Louis knows Harry eats meat. 

“Excuse me, are you saying vegan diets are nonsense?”

“No, you must’ve heard me wrong, darling. I said your diet was nonsense.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” He turns his nose away indignantly.

“Might not, but I know how you look when you’re coming. I know how your cock looks all hard and wet and I know that there's a rip in your tights under your skirt—that you’ve stained your panties before lunch because you were that desperate for my cock.”

“Not everything’s about that,” Harry huffs, stomping his patent slippers on the pavement before he paces ahead. 

“Well, you can’t argue with the facts.”

“Are you always so entitled?”

“Are you always so spoilt?”

He gasps, “Me? Spoilt?”

“You’re complaining about eight-dollar burgers, which, by the way, aren’t that cheap. In this economy, the sizes are quite decent. Or, they could do lunch deals. I can’t believe they didn’t snag the chance to make a profit in the middle of summer with all these tourists around—”

“You think I’m complaining about the burgers?” Harry snaps.

“I know you’re used to your posh stuff, but I thought it would be nice to change things up.”

“I don’t care about the burgers!” 

“We were having a nice conversation, then you started complaining about meat. I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t know you could eat.”

“I was just pretending!” 

“Well, don’t, not about this. Why’re you so snobby today?”

“Fuck off, Louis.” Harry tosses his fries into the nearest bin, not bothered that a few of the golden sticks have fallen onto the floor, making a mess.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Louis doesn’t get an answer, he just gets a huff. Tightening his grip on the strap of his tote bag, Harry storms off, brunette hair catching like fire under the sun. 

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Perhaps they’ve just spent too much time in California, running from and towards each other. Because Louis finds Harry quickly. Unintentionally. He’d been wallowing, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, when he'd spotted him. Sitting on a high wall, swinging his feet off the ledge as he looks down at the coast through the lens of his expensive camera.

With his hands in his pockets, Louis approaches him sheepishly. “Harry…”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Sweetheart, that’s not going to work on me. We don’t really have time to waste.”

Squinting under the sun, Harry ignores him, pink tongue peeking out from his lips in concentration. The sound of the shutter comes through: Harry’s taking a picture of the sparkling sea and green palm trees.

“Why did you storm off?”

Harry’s moved on now, holding his camera vertically as he turns to his left, capturing Louis in the frame.

“Was it something I said?”

Harry clicks the picture. Louis can see a smile blooming from behind the camera before he turns his camera at all angles, capturing Louis on film, off guard. Mid-conversation, sporting a frown. 

“So, that’s what we’re doing now? Acting like children?”

“No. Who’s doing that? I’m just taking photos.”

“Well, can you put it down for a moment?”

“Don’t you think it’s rude? Talking whilst I’m trying to take your picture?”

“Did you tell me that? Before you started clicking?”

“Thought you would’ve figured it out, what, with that sharp brain of yours.”

“Hah,” Louis comments drily, “I’m not the one leaving to go to some prestigious uni in Europe.”

Dropping his hands, Harry’s sharp look of annoyance returns, “So, we’re back here?”

“Well, isn’t that the reason why we’re doing this?”

Harry sits up, “What’s your problem, Louis?”

“What’s yours?”

“I don’t have one!” Harry scoffs, “You’re the one who’s been different this entire summer! Do you think I haven’t noticed your constant mood changes?”

“Me? Different?” A few people glance over at them, making him scowl. Thinking quickly, Louis pushes himself onto the ledge as well. Being this close to Harry should hopefully remind him to lower his voice. “I’m not the only one. You used to tell me things, but you don’t anymore. You haven’t been honest since final year started.”

Harry narrows his eyes into sharp slits, hooking his camera around his neck. “What do you think I’m lying about? A secret boyfriend?”

“What?” Louis frowns, “Of course not!”

“So, what then?”

“I don’t know. You never talk to me anymore.”

“Because you’re always angry about me leaving.”

“Angry? I’ve never been angry.”

“You are. You don’t want me to go.”

“Of course I don’t want you to go—”

“See!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m angry about it. If you actually let us talk about this, you’d know. I’m upset about you going, but I know it’s your dream, baby. Why would it anger me?”

Harry shrugs.

Louis' shoulders sag down, he can feel his shirt stick to his skin from the sweat.

“I’m not angry, baby,” he reiterates.

“I never meant to keep secrets.” 

“I think we finally need to have this talk.”

“Me too.”

“Come on, then,” Louis jumps onto the sand, holding his hand out for Harry to take. “Let’s go talk about it over an ice cream.”

Even once he's off the ledge, Louis doesn’t let go of his hand.

“We broke out of character.” Harry points out as they cross the road. 

“Who cares? We can carry on when we’re at the ice cream shop.”

“Okay.” 

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Just to bring back the smile on Harry’s face, Louis takes them to the nicest ice cream parlour in town. He even tips the boy at the counter to make sure they get the best seats in the house: by the window, overlooking the pier. 

Harry’s gone back to acting like they’re annoyed at each other, even though they’d already discussed things out. Louis drags him over to the display, eyeing the assortment of flavours.

“Which one do you want, baby?”

“M’not your baby.”

“Fine,” Louis lets go of his hand. “Which one, Harry?”

Pouting furiously, Harry’s scandalised by Louis dropping his hand, like he isn’t the reason why.

“I don’t want ice cream anymore,” he shoots.

“Come on, Harry.”

“No, thank you.

“Well, I want it.” Louis decides. “So I’m going to buy myself one and we’re going to sit at the nice table I’ve requested until I’m done with it. If you want to be a brat, that’s fine, but don’t complain when you don’t get an ice cream.”

Putting on an act, Louis ponders over the flavours some more, giving Harry time to decide what he wants to do. It’s complete and utter silence until he reaches the counter, ready to order.

“Lou?”

He exaggerates an exasperated sigh, “What, Harry?”

“Can you get me a banana split?”

“You’re not a fan of those.” He wonders if Harry’s being purposefully weird.

“I don’t mind them,” he corrects, chewing on his cherry lips. “They’ll look good in the photos.”

Louis blinks, “You’re buying an ice cream for your photo?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever,” he sighs, glad that Harry’s talking. “Go and sit down, table in the corner, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Harry’s voice runs softer, catching Louis’ interest.

Quirking a brow, “Yes?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Louis closes his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation, before he gives in, taking two steps so he can cradle Harry’s face and kiss him. 

“You’re a menace,” he breathes, staring into green eyes. 

“I know I can be annoying, thank you for putting up with it.”

“Not annoying,” Louis corrects, stealing another kiss. “Silly, maybe, but never annoying. Now go,” he pinches Harry’s thigh. “Go sit down, I’ll join you soon.”

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Their ice cream is on its way to becoming a sloppy, soupy concoction of sugar. Okay, maybe he’s being dramatic. But the waitress had brought it out nearly ten minutes ago, and Harry’s still trying to get the perfect shot.

“Baby, at this rate, we’ll have pictures of the ice cream to show our kids, but when they ask us what it tasted like, we won’t have an answer.”

Harry scoffs, “I’m sure even you can describe what a raspberry sorbet tastes like. Plus, twenty years in the future I’m sure there’ll still be raspberry sorbet they could taste if they so wanted to.”

“What if it’s all melted away? Gone because Harry Styles has taken far too long taking his pictures?”

“Then, I’d say what a shame for you. But not me. I don’t like raspberry sorbet, lemon is better.”

“It’s tangy.” 

“Exactly. Perfect with strawberry sauce.”

“Well,” Louis looks down at the melted Neapolitan ice cream wedged between the bananas, looking rather disastrous as the cherries, which were once standing tall, have sunken in a bit. “Maybe you should’ve gotten that instead of this gunk.”

Harry chews on his lips, looking down at the bowl, “You’re right. Maybe one of the other pictures will be good enough to use.”

“Are you serious?”

Harry shrugs, tugging the sleeve of his dress back up. “Yeah, this doesn’t look that appetising. I don’t think I can eat it.”

“Don’t be a drama queen, it’s just ice cream. That’s how it looks in your stomach, anyway.”

At that, Harry makes a face, features creasing together as he pushes his bowl away. “I'm not eating it.”

Louis laughs, wanting to lean across the table and kiss him. On the table, his sorbet is faring much better. “Let’s buy you another ice cream. We can eat these on the beach instead.”

Harry nods in agreement, slinging his tote over his shoulder, “Order for me, please. I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Alright,” he nods, distracted. Harry presses a chaste kiss on his cheek before he prances away, like a fairy in his red slippers.

Louis watches him float away in his little dress, a hopeless smile on his face. How is he going to survive months without him?

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

They make themselves comfortable on the floor. Louis’ shrugged off his shirt and put it down on the sand so Harry could sit on it, leaving him only in his vest under the Californian sun.

Harry’s finally got his lemon sorbet, sucking on the spoon with a pleased smile. 

“Will you tell me now?” Louis asks, lazing back onto the sand. He rests his head on Harry’s lap, looking up at him with patient eyes. 

After a few more spoons, Harry opens up.

“It wasn’t the burgers. It was the question before that, about having kids. It made me think of my Mom. One thing led to the next, and I just got angry. I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“Nor did I,” Louis promises. He reaches for Harry’s spare hand, dotting kisses all over his knuckles. “What did you think about when you thought of your Mom?”

Harry never talks about his mom. Not even on her birthday. Instead, what they do is gather around with a small cake after dinner: Harry, Louis, and his dad. A pineapple upside-down cake, Harry’s mom's favourite, even though they all hate it; they have to force themselves to down a thin slice with a big glass of water. Even then, they don’t talk about her. Maybe Harry’s dad will say a small line or two to commemorate, but the memories are too painful. 

Harry’s mom had died from cancer. It was a quiet, quick thing. They’d got the diagnosis too late, it had spread everywhere by then. The doctor had said they had a few months. That was it. All the money in the world hadn’t been able to save her.

She passed away in the early morning. Louis remembers it as clear as day. The doctor had been over and said that she only had hours left. So, he’d driven over straight away and spent the entire night, up until the early morning, with the Styles’.

And when she passed, it was quiet.

Louis had held Harry. Harry’s father had held onto his wife. 

This was a few years ago, but it doesn’t feel like that. Sometimes, Louis remembers hearing her sing in the kitchen or catching her gardening outside. It feels like it was only yesterday she was doing all that.

“You were playing with those kids, and it just reminded me of her. We used to talk about my future… everything’s changing now. I keep thinking about her.”

Louis holds Harry’s hand pressed over his lips, keeping him close as he listens. 

“I miss her and I’m scared that when I’m in Paris, I’m going to be all alone and have no one to talk to about it. I mean, I know I never do, but Dad’s there. Dad understands. We don’t need to talk about it, he just knows.”

Louis’ seen it. When Harry gets upset about something, or is upset with him, he goes looking for his dad; curls up beside him on the couch and stays there whilst his dad talks to him, or reads the paper out loud, or does nothing. Nothing at all. Just exists next to his son and carries his sadness. 

“He’ll only be a phone call away.” 

“But I don’t want that. I want to see him in person.”

“You’ll be okay, baby.”

Harry looks away, hiding his expression by facing the sea so he can compose himself. Louis frowns, wishing he could do more, but there’s nothing he can do that’ll stop Harry’s feelings about his mom and for once, Harry’s actually talking about it. 

“I’m being so stupid,” he sniffs.

“No, you’re not.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“If you want to.”

Staring ahead, towards the city and its buildings and palm trees, Harry’s eyes get a little misty. “I’m going to miss home.”

“I bet once you’re in Paris, you’re not gonna want to come back.”

“What if I hate it?”

“You won’t. This has been your dream since you were like thirteen.”

“It was Mom’s, too.”

Louis peers his head up, surprised. “What was? You going to Paris?”

“Not me,” he shakes his head, “her.”

Sitting up, Louis props his hands over his raised knees, brows knitting together. “You never told me that.”

“After she… you know, I wanted to keep some things to myself. It made me feel closer to her.”

“How come you’ve…?”

“Because I’m leaving and she’s going to be all alone with just Dad. I don’t wanna be alone with it in Paris. If you know, then it’s not just me and Mom anymore. It’s you, too. Did you know she saw you as her own son?”

“She did?”

Of course, Louis knew that to some extent, but it’s different knowing Harry talked about him with his mom all alone, without the expectation of Louis ever finding out. That meant whatever they talked about was true.

Harry nods, licking his lips, “She loved you so much.”

“I loved her too,” he says, not missing a beat. “I love her, still do.”

Harry puts his ice cream cup down, sniffing loudly, “You're going to make me ruin my makeup.”

“Sorry, baby,” laughing quietly, Louis feels in his pockets and pulls out a tissue for Harry.

“So, yeah, she wanted to study in Paris too. But she was pregnant with me.”

Louis returns to his place with his head on Harry’s lap, pressing instant kisses to his fingers again. “I love you so much, you don’t even know. I’m so proud of you, and so is she.”

“Thanks,” he says, grasping Louis’ face before leaning down to kiss him. It’s clean, no tongue, no heat. Just soft, simmering warmth and the smell of sea air.

A beat passes.

“How many times do you think we’ve broken out of character?”

Louis laughs, delighting when Harry’s giggle accompanies the sound. 

“I don’t know, but I don’t care. It’s our day, so our rules.”

Harry nods, brushing away strands of hair from Louis’ forehead. “We should think about leaving soon. Last time I checked, it was almost three o’clock and we’ve still got things to do.”

“Yeah. Do you have any ideas where you’d like to go?”

“Mm, but let’s stay here a bit first…?”

Louis wants that too, “Okay.”

Reaching into his bag, Harry pulls out his camera. “Close your eyes, I wanna take a picture of you like this.”

After everything, Louis doesn’t think either of them has it in them to protest or mock-argue. He closes his eyes easily, relaxed by Harry’s proximity and the smile on his face. The sun kisses his skin, gifting him with a tan in exchange for Harry’s happiness. There’s lots Louis would give up to keep him happy. 

Harry speaks up, gentle fingers absentmindedly stroking Louis’ face, “If I ever have children, it’d be with you.” 

“Same.”

A soft laugh comes from Harry, “Mom always said you were a good partner.”

Louis smiles. 

“She said I should never let you go.”

“I hope you take that into consideration,” he hums.

“Shut up,” Harry groans. “You know I’m never letting you go. Like ever. It’s Harry and Louis against the world, forever.”

Louis hopes the time away won’t ruin them. Doesn’t want to think anymore about how long they’ve got left like this—so he doesn’t. He lets the sun do its job at lulling him to sleep; Harry’s giggles the reason why he can forget about his fears for now. 

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

He must’ve dozed off because Harry wakes him up with soft caresses and whispers, fingertips creeping up the bridge of his nose.

“Baby? How long has it been?” He croaks.

“Not that long. Only half an hour. I thought I’d let you sleep because I woke you up so early.”

Louis looks up at him, half-lidded eyes taking in Harry’s sun-kissed face. Sea air has made his curls unravel, more like waves. The strands ruffle in the wind, tangling between his lashes as he smiles down at Louis.   

Reaching up to lace a hand behind Harry’s neck, Louis pulls him down and kisses him slowly. Taking all his time because for a moment he’s just a boy in the lap of his lover, by the sea, kissing like there’s nothing else in the world to worry about.

“Lou,” Harry whimpers, chasing more kisses. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispers, stopping Louis’ entire world.

He pulls back, looking into Harry’s eyes, “What, baby?”

“I don’t want to leave you and Dad alone.”

“Oh, Princess,” Louis melts at the sight when he sees tears gathered on Harry’s lash line. “You’ve been torturing yourself while I slept.”

“Sorry,” he sniffles, tilting his face to the sky so he can quench the drops. “I didn’t mean to. I was watching you sleep, you’re so beautiful by the way, and I don’t think I can sleep without you.”

“Don’t be silly, you do it whenever I’m not staying over.”

“Yeah, but I know that you’re only ten minutes away. I can ask you to come over if I miss you.”

“You can still do that.”

“How?! I can’t expect you to get on a plane every time I miss you.”

“You can, I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” he exclaims, “that’s why I feel worse. You’re so… you’re just so lovely! So perfect! How am I supposed to leave you here with no one?”

“I’m not alone. I’ve got the boys, Zayn, Oli. Even Liam and Niall aren't going far for uni. You’re the only one of us that’s missing.”

“What about your Dad? You haven’t been telling me what’s happening between you two. I never asked because I thought I’d give you the space, but I’m leaving soon.”

Louis shakes his head, “I don’t want to talk about him now.”

Harry frowns. 

“Later,” Louis promises. “I’ll… we can talk about him later. I don’t want him to ruin our day.”

“Okay,” Harry hushes, shuffling closer to him on the sand. They’re in front of each other, knees between knees, face to face. If they shuffled any closer, their hearts would meet. Harry tugs his dress over his knees, chin resting on the white material as he stares at Louis. The wind blows his hair forward. As he tucks it back, he smiles sadly. “Sometimes… I think you’re too good for me.”

“What?” Louis doesn’t believe him. 

Louis thinks the same—he thinks Harry’s too good for him.

“Why do you put up with me?”

“It’s not putting up—”

“I know you love me,” Harry interrupts, “but why?”

“Why do you love me?”

Harry doesn’t miss a beat, “Because you’re Louis.”

“And you’re Harry.”

Harry presses his cheek to his knees, “I wish it wasn’t that simple.”

“I’m glad it is,” Louis says, unhelpful. 

Harry rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips, “You’re lucky I don’t demand you to write me love letters when I’m gone.”

“I couldn’t do it like Shakespeare. If that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I don’t want Shakespeare, I want you.”

“It wouldn’t be good.”

“I know,” Harry giggles, “that’s why I never asked.”

Louis laughs, “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too,” Harry beams, lovesick. 

“Come on then, stranger, let’s carry on this ruse.”

Harry reaches for Louis’ hand. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, are you?”

Harry nods.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Summer in Los Angeles is something they will never get over. Twenty years and they still haven't had enough. 

“To the left,” Harry instructs, huffing. “To the left, Louis.”

“I’m on the left, darling.”

“My left.”

“Well, you should’ve specified that.”

“My Louis would’ve known,” Harry mutters. Louis rolls his eyes because he definitely would not have. 

“Whatever,” he sighs, “is this good enough for your photo?”

“It’s alright.”

Louis rolls his eyes again ‘alright’ means it’s perfectly fine. 

“Can you smile?”

“I am.”

It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes.

“What?” Louis frowns.

“Nothing. I just really want a nice picture of you and the beach so I can take it with me.”

“To Paris?”

“Yeah.”

Louis nods, not wanting his emotions to take over his act of pretence. He poses satisfactorily enough. When Harry shows him the little screen with his photo, he manages to muster a smile.

“When you’re done, darling, we’ve got to get going. Rumour has it that a couple of kids are throwing a party by the pier.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and before we go, I’ve got one last place I want to take you.”

Harry’s eyes fizzle with excitement. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Can I guess?”

“I guess so.” 

Unknowingly, they’ve recreated their first date. Yes, brunch at the same place where they’d gone on their first date was intentional. But not for recreational purposes. Louis just loved that place. Choosing to roam the markets and sit on the beach… that was all coincidental. These were all spots they’d spent time at when they were fifteen. 

So yeah, Louis’ chosen another spot to go to. He thinks Harry will guess it. 

“Am I right?” Harry babbles, “Is that where we’re going?”

“Sorry,” he flushes, “I didn’t catch it.”

“The theatre. Are they showing good films?”

“No, not the theatre.”

Louis remembers all the nerves plaguing him when he brought Harry to the theatres that first day. They hadn’t even watched the film, too busy staring at each other and stealing soft touches in the dark. He doesn’t remember anything about the film except for its name. 

“No. We can walk there from here,” he adds. 

Harry gasps, understanding dawns on him. “It’s still open?”

“Yeah, Zayn and I drove past it the other day.”

“Oh, we have to go.”

“That’s the plan, baby,” he chuckles. 

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

They’re strangers again, swinging their interlocked hands as they walk past arcade games and machines. 

“What do you wanna do?”

“Photobooth.”

“Is that it?” Louis asks, “I was thinking we could do one of those car games, where you sit in the car and steer the wheel. Or we could do the motorbikes?”

Harry shrugs, leaving the choice to him as he says, “I don’t mind. Just as long as we get a few photo strips.”

“We can manage that, but will you actually play the game, or just talk?”

“Will you take the pictures with me? I want you in the booth with me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t waste a chance for you to appreciate me. Aren’t I a looker?”

“You’re a smooth talker, that’s for sure.” Harry drops his hand to look inside one of the claw machines. 

“Years of practice,” Louis comments nonchalantly. “There might be something in it if you ask nicely.”

“Really? Like what?” 

“The machine I want to go on won’t fit both of us.”

“That’s good news, how?”

Louis grins, pulling Harry flush against his chest so he can whisper in his ears, “Means there’s a vacancy on my lap.” 

Oh…? That’s a change Harry can welcome.

“Maybe one round isn’t so bad.”

Louis grins, tongue darting over his shiny lips, “You’ll see it won’t be bad at all. Draped over my lap whilst the kids are watching… will you be cheering me on too?”

“If you’re good,” he retorts coyly, tucking back his curls. 

“What does ‘good’ mean?” His hands are on either side of Harry’s waist, squeezing lightly.

“Hands to yourself,” Harry chuckles. “You know how the kids like to spend their days here, I don’t want to give them a show.”

“What a shame.”

“They’ll get over it,” Harry grins, rushing them over when he spots the game Louis was talking about.

They used to do this one all the time. Four cars are lined up. Red, blue, pink, and white. Blue used to be Louis’ and Pink used to be Harry’s. They used to spend their Saturdays here, sometimes with the other boys too. But it’s been years since they’ve been young enough to spend their days slotting coins into these machines. 

Louis finds his place easily, squashed almost comically into the blue sports car. “Think I’ve outgrown it a bit.”

Standing to the side, Harry giggles. “Maybe it’s best if I sit out.”

“No,” he pats his thighs, “come here, darling.”

As pleased as ever, Harry smooths the skirt of his dress down as he slots himself over Louis’ feet, one arm curled around his neck as Louis gets his hands on the wheel. It’s strangely empty out here in the back, so Harry places a kiss on his jaw.

“What was that for?”

“Nothin, just happy.”

“Made a good guess then,” Louis says, pleased.

“Yeah. I miss coming here with my boyfriend. We used to all the time.”

“That boyfriend of yours needs to sort that out.”

“No,” Harry laughs quietly, muffling the sound into Louis’ shoulder. “We’ve just been busy. School gets hard, life gets crazy.”

“Well, you be sure to tell him when you want something.”

“I do,” Harry giggles, pinching his shoulder. “He makes me the happiest, he doesn’t need to worry about anything.”

Louis smiles, soft and crooked. “Well, if you’re happy…”

“I am,” he confirms, “now go on. Start this round. It’s been a while since I’ve played this. I forgot what you do.”

By the end of it, Harry’s rather ashamed to say that he’s half hard under his dress. It’s not his fault. It really isn’t. Louis had started well, both hands guiding the car in first place until he’d started being ambushed. From there, things had heightened. He’d lost an arm on the wheel, instead coming to curl around Harry protectively as he drove fast; the speed and bump of the car picked up. The actual thing they’re sitting in started moving, too. Then, Louis had started swearing, mindful of the others but not Harry, as crude mutters fell from his tongue and Harry felt his stomach turn with interest at each word. 

“Well done,” he breathes in congratulations when the second-place sign pops up onto the screen. 

Louis’ brows are knitted together in discontent. Competitive. He used to be worse when they were younger and his boys were here, could never leave without being first, but back then he always was. King of his friend group, or allegedly. But he’d claim he was—the only one of the boys to have a girl. Used to bring Harry everywhere he went, sat him down like royalty on a chair, or on his lap. Wherever Harry wanted. 

The memories flood back, Harry thinks of them fondly. His fingers rub at the crease between Louis’ brow.

“Baby, can I do another round?”

He sighs because that’s what he expected. But he just wants to get his photoshoot out of the way because he’s half hard on Louis’ lap, and any longer they sit here might make it worse—he doesn’t want Louis to know. Then, he gets an idea. Rather unfair, but this is his last day with his boyfriend, so actually, Harry doesn’t care too much about the unsuspecting arcade goers.

“Okay,” he smiles prettily, swinging his legs a little. 

“Okay?” Louis echoes back, a little surprised. “You don’t mind waiting again?”

“No,” Harry loops both arms around Louis’ neck, pouting his lips for a kiss he receives easily. “Puts you under my mercy for a bit in exchange.” 

“When am I not?”

Harry strokes his fingers by the curve of Louis’ lips, admiring him. “Count yourself lucky you’re not my boyfriend. If you can’t handle me for one day, just imagine what my boyfriend has to deal with.”

“Poor guy.”

“Hey,” Harry swats his back.

“I’m joking,” Louis rushes, quick to assure him. “Luckiest guy in the world, if I say. You’re just so pretty. So good, sitting on my lap for me, letting me play another round. You’re a little angel, aren’t you?”

His voice has shifted, darkened midway with the common inklings of lust. Harry blushes high on his lap as he feels Louis wandering hands under his dress. Green eyes alert, he glances around, stomach filled with butterflies and warmth. 

Louis sees it in his eyes and wants to laugh. Harry really likes this. The public aspect of it, the fear, the shame that creeps in… 

Christ, why did Louis have to discover that now?

“You’ve got all hard watching me play. That’s why you said yes to another round?”

“Maybe,” Harry admits, pressing his thighs together. Louis can feel his muscles ripple. 

“Why so shy?” He croons, littering kissed up his neck. “Let’s play this last round together.”

Harry doesn’t know what he means until he does. Louis shifts him on his lap, so his back is pressed up against his chest, facing forward with arms encasing him. 

“There,” Louis mutters in approval, bringing Harry’s hands to the wheel. “You’re gonna steer this car, baby, give me a break and a nice show.”

Swallowing hard, Harry says, “But you wanted to play again. Not me.”

“I will play. When you need me to step in, I’ll be there. Right now, I just wanna see you take the lead. Ride this car.”

He closes his eyes, a little dazed from the implications. Louis is so close, and the screen is so big, shining bright light down on them; the air is hot and stuffy compared to what it was like out on the sand earlier. Harry tucks his hair back, trying hard to ignore the slow-budding arousal in his stomach.

Tanned hands are rubbing up and down his thighs. Touching, feeling, teasing. 

“It’s starting now, baby,” a kiss to his jaw. “Get me that first place.”

Lips pressed together, Harry nods, desperate to please. 

The round starts with a loud whistle, and Louis grips his waist straightaway, big palms melding against his skin. Harry’s trying to focus, Louis can see it in the frown he sports; brows knitted together, eyes slightly narrowed. So, he starts moving. Shifting his hips forward as he drags Harry’s ass over him, building up in his shorts as Harry starts whimpering. 

“L-Lou—”

“Eyes forward, baby.”

“Don’t do that,” he tremors, “don’t—I can’t focus.”

Louis grins, fingertips stroking the curve of Harry’s knees, “Okay, baby.” 

He lies off, melts back into the plastic chair as Harry tries to win the game. There are three laps and he’s only halfway through the first. When he finally crosses the first boundary, excitement making him shuffle forward in concentration, Louis sits up. 

Wrapping one arm around Harry, Louis tugs him back over his cock.

“Da—”

“It’s Louis, darling.”

“Stop distracting me, Lou.”

“Louis.”

Harry huffs, turning over his shoulder to frown at him, “Don’t be annoying.”

“Don’t make me lose.”

“Why? What happens if I don’t win?”

“You want to see what happens?”

“You didn’t win,” Harry points out, petulantly. “And I don’t even like this game.”

Louis grinds his hips up, satisfied when it stops Harry from talking. He’s braced two feet on the floor of the car, slouched backward a bit so he’s got more control of his hips and Harry buckles into it, game forgotten as he swivels his ass back. Louis tugs at his dress so it’s fanned out around him and not under. So his bare cock in just his tights rubs rough against Louis denim. His red panties are still in Louis’ pockets, and he feels for them now with a groan. 

“Keep playing.”

“I’m not gonna win like this.”

“If you win, I’ll let you suck me off.”

“What?” He gasps, breathing heavily. “But that’s not fair, Louis. I'm in eighth place.”

“Complaining won’t get you any further.”

“But—”

With another roll of his hips, Louis shuts down any complaints.

“You’re so mean,” he mumbles, annoyed. He turns his back on Louis, giving in a bit too easily. Maybe all the sun and heat from the day has tired him out.

Carding Harry’s hair back, Louis places a gentle kiss on his neck as he continues watching. They’re both well behaved for the entirety of the second lap, but Harry’s score isn’t improving. 

Then, he starts up again. Louis can see the lack of care now as their car drifts into other roads, clashing against the other computer-generated players. Harry’s focused on steering something else, with his hips locked tight around Louis’ knees he pivots his hips, right over Louis’ cock.

“Har—”

“No, just shut up.” He whines, gripping the wheel tighter. He’s completely neglected the steering now, instead using the wheel to alleviate his pent-up feelings. Louis gathers him back, eyeing their environment to make sure no one’s watching before he latches onto Harry’s neck. 

“Never getting this cock now,” he teases, eyes fixed on the numbers on the screen.

Harry’s looking at the screen, would be frowning at the disastrous ‘12’ on the screen if he didn’t have plans.

“I’m making up for it with a show.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he arches his back, changing the direction of his hips as he starts bouncing. Discreet, unnoticeable unless you’re really watching. Which, if someone were, Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He tugs a hair tie from his wrist and offers it to Louis. “Tie my hair, Daddy. It’s hot and I’m busy riding—I meant driving.”

“Where are your manners?”

“Please,” he whines, looking back and batting his lashes. 

Louis can feel all the control slip from his hands and into Harry’s with just a faux pout and a few tricks of his hips. When he gathers Harry’s curls, he tugs sharply, pulling him back into his lap.

“First, you didn’t listen and didn’t even try to get first place. Then, you called me Daddy when I asked you not to,” Harry closes his eyes, whimpering in response to Louis’ scolding. “Now, you’ve forgotten your manners and you’re not even listening, are you?”

“Daddy, can I have a kiss?”

“Get up.”

He pouts, but has the good decency to listen. His hair drapes over his back and neck, pretty curls and waves framing his confused face.

“We’re going to the photo booth. Now.”

Even though he knows he’s in trouble, Harry grins. If anything, Louis bets that’s why his eyes are so bright.

The booths aren’t far, pressed into the corner of the arcade and surprisingly empty. He pushes Harry in first, before following, tugging the thick black curtain into place, separating them from the world.

It’s small and cramped. Louis takes the seat; Harry’s left standing between his legs. Crowded in the small space, it all seems to dawn on Harry, who stares at Louis quietly.

“What would your boyfriend have to say?”

“About what?”

“About how you’re acting. You’re grinding on me in front of everyone, didn’t even ask if you could. What would he say if he saw you so desperate for another man’s cock?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just whines, sucking on his lower lip.

“You’ve gone all quiet now, why’s that?”

Harry shrugs.

“You know, I’m supposed to be showing you a good time today.”

“You are.”

“When I found you on that beach, I didn’t think you’d be so naughty. You’re not even scared to do it in public. If I pulled my shorts down and put you on my dick, you’d have loved that, wouldn’t you?”

Louis watches him fidget quietly. So weak, he can’t hold off from Harry for long. “Come here, let’s take your photos. Will you be good after?”

“I’m always good,” he says softly.

With a snicker, Louis pulls him down onto his lap, bridal style “I bet you are,” he muses. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Turns out Harry’s got an idea of what he wants to do. He slots his money in, telling Louis exactly what he wants. The first flash has them pressed cheeks together, Harry’s arms wrapped around his neck. It’s easy after that. Louis presses a kiss to his cheek for the second flash, dangerously close to his lips. By the third, they’re embraced in a kiss. The photo taken as their eyes fall shut, Louis’ tongue in Harry’s mouth. 

Even as the photos get printed, they’re kissing. Harry clinging desperately to everything Louis’ giving. They pull away with loud gasps, foreheads pressed together. 

“Happy?”

Harry nods, still catching his breath. Reaching for the prints, he smiles as he admires them. Red nails thumbing over their portraits. “We look like we’re in love.”

“Can you fall in love in one day?” Louis asks. 

“I don’t know, but I guess we did.”

Louis whistles, staring at the pictures as he says, “Guess we’ve both got bad news to break tonight, then.”

“My Louis’ not gonna like that,” Harry mumbles.

“Nor is my Harry.”

They catch each other's eyes, sharing the same smiles, giggling. 

“I had plans to marry him one day,” Harry whispers, for the first time ever. Louis feels his heart burst. “You’ve come along and ruined that.”

“So, marry me,” he breathes, instead. “You can marry me if you want.”

He can’t tell if they’re pretending anymore. Slotted together in the dingy photobooth, Louis can’t believe Harry wants to have this conversation now. 

“We’ve only just met.”

“People do it all the time.”

“Yeah, in Vegas.”

“Are you saying you would…? If we were in Vegas?”

“No—”

“Harry, I’m not pretending anymore. Did you really mean that?”

He’s startled Harry, who looks at him with wide eyes. “Why are you so shocked? Did I say something wrong? You know it’s always been you.”

“What? Well, yeah!— But you can’t just say that!”

“Why? I thought we knew this!”

Louis sighs, resting his head against Harry’s shoulders, “You’re impossible. You’re really impossible. You think the best time to mention that—for the first time, by the way—is whilst we’re pretending? I brought you here to take pics and make out, maybe fool around a bit! But you had to bring up marriage?”

“What?” Harry frowns, confused, “We always talk about having kids and growing old.”

“Yeah, but…” Louis ruffles his hair, “I wasn’t ready to hear that.”

“Why? Don’t you want to marry me?” He asks, voice high-pitched with fear.

“Of course I do,” he puffs, looking at Harry. “Don’t be silly, that’s all I want to do. S’just, we’re young. It’s so far away.”

“We can get married whenever we want.”

“Maybe, but it’s not like we could get married today.”

“Why not? We just need a ring, and…”

“Harry, be serious for a moment.”

“I am. I’m not saying I want to do it now, I’m just saying. You can do anything if you really want to. If I wanted to marry you right now, Louis, I would.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“The fact that I have no ring. We’re in this small booth. I’m still hard and I’ve got no panties on. If I’m going to get engaged, I want to look pretty.”

“You do look pretty.”

“You always think I look pretty.”

“Well, that’s how husbands are, aren’t they?”

Harry stares at him quietly.

“What? Shouldn’t I have said that?”

“No, you should. I like it.” Harry kisses him, “I really like it. I can imagine you a few years from now, coming home from work, so sexy.”

“Everything gets you off, doesn’t it?” Louis laughs, kissing him back.

“If you’re involved in it, then yeah.”

He looks down at the pictures in Harry’s hands, smiling fondly. 

“When I’m in Paris, I’m gonna go around and tell everyone I have a hubby back home.”

“Will you?”

“Yeah, and it won’t be pretend. We’re going to be engaged by the end of the night.”

“Harry—”

“No, I mean it.”

“Alright,” Louis soothes, stroking his curls. “If that’s what you want, then I want it too. Now, give me your hair tie. Let me tie up your hair, you’ve gone all pink.”

“Because you’re so sexy.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, gathering his curls gently. He’s done it a few times before, admittedly not the best at it. But when he’s done, and Harry’s hair is knotted into a messy bun with curls falling out from it and small strands framing his face, he turns to Louis with a smile, kissing him again. 

“Thanks, hubby.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Harry has had the brilliant idea that if they’re going to be ‘hitched’ by the end of the night, then they should gatecrash the party Louis had mentioned earlier. One last night of freedom.

“Zayn said something about the party being on the West side bank.”

“He’s there?”

“Yeah, you know how he is. Loves a good party.”

“Is Liam there? And Niall?”

“I dunno. I can ask.”

Humming quietly, Harry thinks, “Do you know who’s holding the party?”

“Not personally, nah. One of our lot, though.”

He raises a brow, “How do you know?”

“Saw some pictures on Insta. It’s been happening two nights so far, tonight’s the last. They’ve got a beachside bar serving cocktails and stuff. Proper fancy. Might be one of the girls on your street.”

“I heard something about Hannah hosting a party, didn’t think it’d be something like this.”

“You know how she is,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Thinks she deserves a standing ovation just for arriving at classes on time.”

Harry snorts, shaking his head in amusement. 

A lazy grin spreads across his lips, happy to see a smile on Harry’s face.

“When we get there, I want us to be strangers again.”

“When will we be done pretending?”

“Soon,” Harry mumbled, squeezing his fingers. “I just think there’s a lot of potential here. A party.”

“Alright,” Louis huffs fondly. “We’ll go our own separate ways.”

Harry nods, lights shimmering in his eyes. Up ahead, the party comes into view. He tugs Louis back, eyes scattering over his tan skin under the sun. The slight shadow of hair, the smile lines by his lips. Infatuated and so deeply in love, Harry loops his arms around Louis’ neck. They stumble on the sand, Louis’ arm wrapping around Harry’s waist instinctively as their lips press together. Hot and warm and lovely.

Flickers of orange and pink metal into Louis’ hair and his skin. And when he groans, fingers cupping Harry’s jaw for control, the sound is golden. Brighter than anything else, stronger too. He smells like the sea and the sun and like fruit. Harry nuzzles into his neck, nosing under his clothes to mouth at Louis’ skin.

“Baby, we’re in public.”

“Just one mark,” he breathes, sucking wetly. 

Louis’ hands slide down his body to rest on his hips, squeezing firmly. Harry can’t see the pleased grin he wears, but he hears it in Louis’ voice when he gives in, and he feels it under his skin when Louis twines the hair on the back of his head.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Louis laughs. “You want us separate at this party but you want everyone to know you’re taken.”

“Mm, exactly, Harry nods, “that’s exactly it. I don’t want no one’s grubby hands on you. I know how they get at these parties. See a hot guy and think he’s all theirs, but you’re not, you’re mine.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re jealous.”

“I’m always sexy.”

“I know, but you're even more so when you're possessive.”

Harry finds his mouth again, licking into the wet heat with fervour, tongue dragging across his teeth and gums before he pulls away, panting heavily. “We should go.” His fingers stroke Louis’ skin right by the damp mark he’s left, “Otherwise I won’t be able to stop.”

Breathing sharply through his nose, Louis nods. “Alright, you go first, hm? I’ll just give Zayn a ring, see where he’s at.”

“Don’t take too long,” he bids sweetly, brushing his lips against Louis’ scruff before he’s gone. Illuminated by the pink sunset, Harry turns over, hair flying in the wind, and blows a kiss.

His heart beats a little harder, faster. He reaches out, grabs the kiss and presses it to his lips. Warmth spreads all over him as the wind carries over Harry’s delighted laugh.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

“You said you’d do it? Just like that? Damn,” Zayn laughs, raising a can to his lips.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothin’,” Niall swats, chewing on some fries. “S’just, we thought you would be spending your last day together, boning or whatever you do.”

“We are spending it together. Who said we didn’t?”

“You just said you were pretending you don’t know each other.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis shrugs, can’t help the cocky smile that grows. “Not my fault. One thing leads to the next… and you know how Harry gets. He was begging for it in the car. It’s hard to say no.”

“Urgh,” they both groan loudly. Niall throws a scrunched-up tissue at his face, making him cackle.

“No one needs to know that.”

“You brought up our sex life.”

“Did we ask for details?” Niall scoffs. Zayn rolls his eyes, wrinkling his nose distastefully at his drink.

But they should’ve known. Louis’ never been one to shy away from it. As proud as a sinner when it comes to showing everyone how much they love each other, how good they have it. 

Niall rolls his eyes, “I’m going to call, Liam.” Without much fuss, he leaves the circle of plastic chairs. 

“So…”

Louis snorts, “What is it?”

“Well, aren’t you going to find Harry?”

He glances at the time on his phone, “Nah, give it a few more minutes. I said I’d give him time to settle, plus, he’s not the one looking. He’s probably sitting somewhere all pretty with a drink, waiting for me to show up. Do all the hard work.”

“You enabled him,” Zayn laughs, leaning back with his arms crossed. “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”

“Yeah, maybe I did,” Louis admits, shrugging. “Whatever.”

“Had a good day then?”

“Yeah. What about you? Any plans for tonight?”

“Maybe when Liam gets here, we’ll find the usual crew, apparently someone’s brought pot.”

“Good deal?”

“Apparently. Shame you’re missing out.”

Louis shrugs. It is what it is. And there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than with Harry tonight. 

“We’re having fun. The pretending things not too bad.”

“What’s it like?”

He hums, gazing up at the sky, thinking, “He’s more bratty—do you remember how many times I had to ask him out before he said yes?”

“Wasn't it—”

“Six times!” 

“I don’t remember it being that much.”

“It was,” Louis cuts in.

“Okay, sorry.”

“Yeah, I thought he was going to make me go through that again.”

“What are you doing now, then!”

“Going to impress him, see if he wants to dance, get a drink.”

“Better snatch him up quick,” Zayn chuckles, gaze wavering. He nods forward, somewhere behind Louis, “Buzzcut over there thinks he has a chance.”

Craning his neck over, his pulse spikes with jealousy. That familiar green-eyed friend has returned to claw at his insecurities. Narrowing his eyes, Louis scours through the crowds directed by the slant of Zayn’s fingers, and then he finds it. Harry’s got a glass filled with some kind of pink drink, a matching pink straw pushed in. A boy in a black t-shirt and Adidas shorts is leering over him, hungry eyes drinking in Harry’s figure. 

“Calm down,” Zayn mutters, pinching his bicep.

“Look at the way he’s staring at Harry. Who does the cunt think he is—why’s he getting close for?” Louis’ on his feet. “Bet he hasn’t even asked if Harry’s taken. Piece of—”

“Louis,” Zayn tugs him back down. “Calm down. If you go over there yelling, Harry’s not gonna like it. You know that.”

“I’m gonna go up to them. Enough time has passed.”

Zayn huffs in amusement. “Whatever. Just don’t be stupid, you know Harry’s only got eyes for you. Been like that for years, some wannabe jock isn’t going to change that.”

Nodding, Louis agrees, “Fine, you’re right. I’m gonna head off, then.”

“Alright, I’ll see you.”

Louis’ halfway there, fighting demons in his head. It’s unnatural, stupid, really fucking clingy and desperate—but what’s he to do?

A possessive hand finds its way around Harry’s waist. Louis stands behind the gorgeous boy, lips ghosting his neck in greeting, “There you are, baby.”

Harry leans into him, almost instantly, a hand resting over Louis’ as he giggles from the touch. Ticklish. 

“Where did you get to?” Louis’ completely gone by his scent, trailing his nose up and down sweet skin, a little damp with sweat and heat. Sneaking a glimpse, he knows Buzzcut is watching, a deep grimace on his face. He presses a smug smile into Harry’s skin before raising his head, tugging Harry closer. “Found yourself some company?”

“This your boyfriend?” 

Louis clamps his lips shut, eager to hear what Harry has to say.

“No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Buzzcut sounds dubious, brow raised, his eyes now on Louis who grins cockily.

“Why? You looking to hit it?” Louis asks, squeezing Harry tighter, “I know his boyfriend. Tough guy. Probably best not to mess with him.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

Harry nods, sipping his pink drink. It smells saccharine, probably doused with sugar like everything else Harry drinks.

“So who’s he?”

“My friend,” Harry repeats. “We met today, he’s been giving me a tour.”

“Got lucky,” Louis rasps, dotting kisses up his neck in a show of possession. He knows he’s confusing the stranger, probably also driving him mad with the realisation that he won’t be able to get lucky with Harry tonight. Cunt.

“And you’re boyfriend knows you’re…?”

“Don’t think that’s none of your concern, mate. Come on, baby.” Louis tugs Harry away, glancing over with cocky, triumphant eyes. It’s clear one of them will have a good night.

“You took your time,” Harry notes, glancing at his red nails. He’s kept a considerable distance between them. Louis watches him quietly, groaning almost.

“Baby, don’t be like that.”

“I was waiting for a while—I saw you, you know? With your friends.”

Louis swallows hard, itching his hair, “You mean Zayn and Niall?”

“Looks like you’d forgotten about me.”

“Never, baby.”

“Well, you did.” Harry decides, looking up at him now. “I had to find company for myself.”

Louis’ brain short-circuits, “Him?”

“What about him? He was nice, a bit funny. I was enjoying myself.”

“Were you now?”

“Beats being lonely.”

Louis sighs, trying to hold him, but Harry won’t give in. “I couldn’t not talk with the boys. That’d be rude.”

“What about me?”

“Baby, I was thinking of you the whole time.”

“I should go back home to my boyfriend.”

“What?”

“I miss him.”

“You don’t need him, you’ve got me.”

“Until you find someone else interesting.”

Louis can’t help it now. He pulls Harry closer, hands skirting under his dress, rubbing over the silky tights, rasping in a deep voice. “I’ve brought you out here to a nice party to have fun. You’ve got to socialise at parties, otherwise it’s just rude.”

Harry nods obediently, whining almost pitifully as Louis pinches his skin. Teasing him as the touch reaches his inner thigh. 

“What’s happened now? C’mon. Use your words. Aren’t I right?”

“You are.”

“Good,” Louis nods, chastely kissing his temple. “S’alright to be upset, but you offered to spend this day with me, didn’t you? It’s not nice when I come to look for you and see you flirting with someone else.”

“I was lonely.”

“You couldn’t come look for me?” Louis holds his jaw, tilting his head back under the dark sky.

“You were supposed to,” Harry mumbles.

“Always making me do the heavy work. Is this how it is with your boyfriend?”

Harry nods, still hasn’t learned, as he says, “But he never complains.” Looking up at Louis innocently, Harry bats his lashes.

“Christ,” Louis mutters, fingers tightening round Harry’s jaw before they travel up, tangling through curls so he can get a nice grip and pull him back. “I bet he’d have things to say if he knew you were prancing around in a tiny dress, flirting with random guys? Thought so.”

Harry breathes slowly through parted lips, chest rising up and down. Louis looks on shamelessly, free hand rising to tug the sleeve of his dress to bare more of his lacy red bra. 

“Maybe I should teach you a lesson for him. Show you what it feels like.”

At that, Harry's eyes snap open, green melted into the big black orbs as he shudders. “What kind of lesson?”

“You’ll see.” Louis lets go, takes a big step back. Deprives him of everything. “Come, I need a drink.”

He sees the hesitation on Harry’s face. The urge to be a brat and complain, and stamp his feet on the sand. It just takes a stern raise of his brow for Harry to compose himself, realise Louis isn’t playing. With a dramatised huff, he tugs his dress into place, then folds his arms, following Louis wordlessly.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

“You’re gonna sit here all pretty for me while I get myself a drink with the boys.”

The three of them, Niall, Zayn and Liam, are at the bar. Actually, now that he’s got a good look, Louis spots some of the other boys. Oli, Karan, Nate. Good company.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you. If someone comes to your table, you tell them you’re waiting for someone, alright?”

Sour-faced, Harry nods; lips pressed together in a sharp line. So cute. Louis grins, pressing a kiss to his hair. “If the wind changes, you’ll be stuck with that face. Come on, smile before I go.”

To no one's surprise, Harry doesn’t move an inch. Louis laughs in delight, leaning down to kiss him properly. He doesn’t reciprocate at first, not until Louis presses a hand into the curve of his waist. Then, he’s melting into him, lips opening for his tongue, sighing loudly.

“Be a good boy for me.”

“Okay,” he sighs again, red nails wrapped around his glass.

“Want another drink? I’ll order you one at the bar.”

“Thank you,” he says, giving Louis a small smile, pushing his glass aside. Louis kisses him once more before he heads over to surprise his boys.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

It’s a ruckus of cheers and laughs and yelling, drinks being sent out as they catch up and pass around a spliff.

“Nah, I’m driving. Won’t do me good, being high. Harry won’t like it either.”

“Oh yeah, why’s he over there again?”

“Just a thing,” Louis passes, flitting over to check on his boyfriend. Friend. Whatever they’ve deemed themselves to be today. 

Oli’s nose crinkles, eyes gliding between Harry and then Louis. “What a sex thing?”

Some of the boys holler, cheering Louis on unnecessarily, but it gives him a rush. Goes to his head. Harry would hate it. Well, he claims he does. Whenever the boys get rowdy like this, he likes to stay close, perch on Louis’ lap and give them a show. Prove that what they’ve got isn’t all about sex. All the boys know that, they just like to mess with Harry. Louis doesn’t mind. He likes having Harry on his lap. He likes the talk. The jealous eyes, the wistful ones; watching them longingly, wanting a love like theirs. 

His hands itch now, wanting to wrap around Harry. But he’s got to wait.

“Just a thing,” he repeats, not wanting to get into it.

“Can’t we invite him over?” Liam frowns, “He’s all alone.”

“He’s fine.”

Zayn scoffs, “He hasn’t looked away once.”

“Is he in trouble?” Karan asks, resting his chin on a tanned hand.

“Can we stop talking about this?”

“Ooh, he’s in trouble. Are you punishing him?”

“Cut it out,” Louis groans, downing his glass. 

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing. Just toying with me, flirting with another guy.”

“So are you going to flirt with someone too?”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“Why not? That bartender’s been eyeing you the whole time.”

“Okay, and?”

“You’ve lost your touch.” Nate groans, “Liam, order another round in. We’ll do this properly.”

“No, I can’t.”

It’s dropped. All the boys shake their heads pitifully.

Music booms louder, someone’s cranked up the stereo, and the lights fizzle brighter now that the sun has gone. People dance, skin sticky with liquor. Louis watches Harry dance with them. He’s had enough of sitting, playing the good boy and waiting. Brat. 

In the crowd, he’s squashed up between a girl and a boy, dancing with hands roaming all over his body. Performing. It’s all for one person, despite his indifference, and Louis watches with sharp eyes.

“Actually, Nate,” he clears his throat, turns his back to Harry. “Order a round in, get that girl to do it.”

“Get in,” they exclaim victoriously.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Louis isn’t aware of the effect he can have on people, more so Harry. Or maybe he had known once, but it’s been worn down over the years by doubts and insecurities. Even surrounded by strangers, hands groping him in places that only belong to Louis, Harry can’t look away from him. 

Harry remembers all the times he used to admire Louis at frat parties and birthdays. He’s effortlessly attractive, swallowing cups of vodka-laced punch and dancing with strangers, as if alcohol lines his veins, not blood, and thrill is what pumps the concoction throughout his system.

It’s been a while since they’ve been at a scene like this.

There’s an inkling of jealousy that blooms its way higher up Harry’s body as Louis entertains conversation with a skinny blonde. Tall, skinny, with hair to die for. Louis looks like sex beside her; he's lost his shirt somewhere, so now he’s in his vest and shorts. Tan skin shining with sweat, tattoos rippling dark and ripe on sun-kissed skin.

If Harry can’t control himself, what must she be thinking?

He can’t stop himself from going over, knows that he’s in trouble for not staying put. But that girl is spending time with his man instead of Harry. How is that fair? He wants Louis’ attention solely on him.

“Hi,” he slots himself into Louis’ arms shamelessly, anticipation clawing at him as he can’t figure out what his boyfriend might do.

Relief floods his system when strong arms curl around him tightly. Louis hides his disappointment well, looking over at Harry all doe-eyed. It makes Harry’s stomach turn. Maybe he's dropped it?

“Where did you get to?” Louis nudges their noses together, his breath is all warm and fruity. 

“Are you drunk?”

“‘Course not, I’m your chauffeur for the night.” His head falls to the side with boyish charm, eyes sparkling at the sight of Harry.

Naturally, he would kiss Louis. Absolutely shameless. Instead, he slides Louis' hand down from his waist to his hips. 

“Let’s go, Lou.”

“Now? I’m not done yet. You haven’t even met the boys. We were talking about you.”

Harry hums, eyes flitting over to the girl who’s listening in. His jaw tightens, “Let’s go back to the car, baby.”

“Baby?” Louis looks pleased, shifting closer. “I’m baby again?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, pressing their cheeks together so he can whisper, “and if you’re good, you can be Daddy too.”

“In the car?” He asks, eyes wide and unblinking. 

Harry nods, smug, “Roof down and everything.”

Louis groans, looking over at the makeshift bar, “Do you think you deserve it? After the stunt you pulled? Dancing with all those people touching you? Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“You’re not, though, are you?”

“I am,” he breathes, curling in Louis’ neck, a little delirious with his scent. “I am sorry, Daddy. Please.”

“It’s Louis.”

Harry frowns, unpleased. He feels the urge to throw a strop, cross his arms and pout, but they’re working on being better. That’s what they’ve been trying to do all day, he can’t be selfish. 

“Sorry, Lou.”

“We’ll leave in ten minutes. And that whole time, you’re going to sit with us. Not a word, you hear me? And I mean it. Otherwise, I won’t take you to the car.”

“Okay, fine,” he mutters, startled when Louis kisses up his cheeks. Three kisses before he nips at his nose. Always assuring him.

“Sit here, I won’t be long. I’ll gather the boys.” 

Harry nods, fanning out the short skirt of his dress before perching on a stool. Sea air makes his curls more prominent and sticks to his skin. 

The group assemble, grinning as they greet Harry with loud voices and eager hugs, a silence settles over the lot as they realise his silence. 

“Still being punished?” Oli asks. 

Harry nods.

“Yeah, well, we saw you over there,” Niall laughs. “Was gonna join you if Louis wasn’t glaring daggers. You looked sexy.”

“Alright, Niall,” Louis frowns, nudging him aside. A soft blush sits high on Harry’s cheeks as he nods, thanking him like that. 

“You okay, babe?” It’s Zayn, curled behind his back on another stool, smoking. 

Smiling softly, Harry nods again.

“Pretty dress,” he comments. “Louis told me all about your day. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

With nothing to say, Harry reaches forward to kiss his cheek. Another storm of cheers escalates, and Harry flushes red, startled when a hand settles on his shoulders. Louis. 

“Come here, darling, I’ve got a seat just for you.” He manoeuvres Harry easily, blue eyes drilled into the side of Zayn’s head.

“Chillax,” Zayn snickers, cheeks imprinted with gloss. “He’s yours.”

Louis ignores him, placing Harry down on a white stool at the end of the bar, so he’s got a good sight of all the boys in line, waiting for the round that's been ordered in. They’d spent the entire evening drinking punches and mocktails laced with small traces of liquor, but now, they’re taking shots. Just one for Louis, before he’s got to go. 

“Sit here, baby. I’ll be back.”

Before he can go, Harry tugs at his wrist, pouting his lips expectantly. 

“Kiss?” Louis ruminates, “Not yet. You’re still being punished.”

Harry slumps over the counter, but doesn’t complain. Louis’ right. Louis' been lovely. Harry hadn’t listened twice, and he’s still being gentle. So, he lets Louis go, fingers rippling in a quiet wave that makes the older boy smile.

It's a rumble of rough laughter and shoves as the boys get in line, ready to down their drinks. The girl from before, the blonde one, stands at the front, pinching a slice of lime between her fingers. 

“Come on, boys. Don’t be scared.”

The group, Harry doesn’t care to look at the others, hollers. Louis punches the air, laughing at something Oli's said. All the boys look at him, like how they used to in school during a soccer match, or when they’d take over the courts during spring break. But there’s something else in their gaze, something sharp and electric that keeps Harry on edge. 

“Go on, Lou,” someone says.

What?

“Louis!” The girl's eyes light up, “Get over here, Louis.”

She laughs, leaning over the counter. More cheers. Harry feels his veins narrowing as she holds up the green rind in offering. The others clap him on, patting his back, pushing him forward.

Harry waits for him to refuse. 

He doesn’t.

Louis takes it between his teeth easily, pink lips wrapping around the citrus and then her fingers. Sucking.

Frazzled laughter and cheering sets Harry’s skin on fire as Louis sits up, biceps flexing as he reaches up for the rind between his teeth, chucking it behind him as he seeks someone. Probably that bitch, Harry thinks bitterly, but no. He stares directly at Harry. Sporting shiny lips and wild eyes. With his lime-soaked fingers, he ruffles his hair, crossing the bar to fold his arms on the table right in front of Harry, winking devilishly. 

Swallowing the last of the juice, he rasps, “Give us a kiss.”

Stomach tied in knots, Harry crosses his arms. “Go and kiss that girl.”

“Don’t want her.”

“Seems like you did,” Harry mutters, crumpling the umbrella he’d snagged from someone’s glass. Louis smirks, wiping the juice from the corners of his lips to suck at. Harry can’t help but stare at the way he envelopes his thumb for that split second. 

“Jealousy’s a good thing, means you want me,” Louis brags. “Come on, baby, you were just begging for a kiss, weren’t you?”

“Yeah? What about your girlfriend? You said you don’t kiss strangers. What would she have to say?”

“She’s not here right now,” Louis says, inching closer. “You’re here.”

Harry swallows thickly as Louis removes his thumb. “So is she,” he points out, glaring daggers at the blonde bartender. “Go to her. You sucked the lime from her fingers like you couldn’t get enough. Looked like you were starving for it—doesn’t your girlfriend do it for you?”

Wildfires in Louis’ eye brim to life, echoing the skyline horizon above them with its myriad of colours. His lips stretch, sharp teeth on show, “You’re not my girl. Why are you so jealous? You’ve had strangers on you all night. And, just to clarify, my girl’s more than enough. She lets me do more with her fingers, puts on a show for me. You think what I did back there was bad? Oh, baby, you haven’t even seen me put my tongue to proper use.”

In that short time, Louis’ fingers have crept up under the skirt of Harry’s dress, sticky, grazing the hem of his panties in sweet bliss. 

“You’re the worst,” Harry huffs, standing up indignantly and pushing past crowds. 

“Harry? Baby? Wait!”

Louis rushes after him, holding back laughter as he clasps the boy's hand. His grasp is strong, Harry can’t let go. 

“Baby, I was messing with you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Come on, you deserved that after making me watch you flirt with guys all night, letting them touch you. You’re all mine today, did you forget?”

Harry resists slightly, letting Louis hold him as he shudders. 

“Let me make it up to you,” Louis croons.

“I don’t—”

“I’ll buy you another ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” Harry splutters, pushing his curls back. 

The jut of his jaw still manages to steal Louis’ breath. He tugs Harry closer, so they’re pushed up against each other, and the latter quietens. 

“Can we stop now?” Louis whispers, “Can we be Harry and Louis again? No more pretending. Was hell when I had to tell that guy I was your friend like I don’t fuck you every night.”

Lips pursed, Harry nods, “Please.”

“Finally, baby,” Louis cups his jaw and presses their lips together.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Harry mumbles, against his lips, “the way you sucked her fingers.”

“I’ll suck yours if you want.” 

“My fingers? Please, I wouldn’t waste your time.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Yeah?” Louis chirps, excited. “What else were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” he chastises, pulling away from Louis’ lips. “If you want to suck my cock or my pussy, you’ve got to earn it.”

“Earn it?” He raises a brow, “What about compensation for being a brat today?”

“You get a kiss.”

“That’s it?” His hands slide down, cupping Harry’s ass. Harry loses his breath, tugging his dress as best he can, glancing around to see who’s looking. A smirk grows on Louis’ face. “What is it, baby?”

“I still don’t have underwear on,” he hisses. “Remember?”

Louis tightens his grip, fingers digging into the flesh from over his dress, “No one can see. It’s dark as well.”

“Lou—”

“Let’s get away from here. Let’s go to the far side, just us two?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Harry nods, stopping Louis’ insistent tugging by cradling his face. He kisses him, giggling into it, “You promised me a lot of things.”

“Remind me of them again.”

Leaning forward, Harry whispers the filthy things into his ears, unable to bite back his smile as Louis’ grip tightens on him. Then, he pulls away, giddy at the way Louis looks. Cherry nails rest on the thin layer of his vest. Over his heart.

“But before that, we’ve got more important things to discuss.” Harry cups his jaw, stroking the emerging stubble. 

All the promises they’d made earlier. The rest of the things they’ve kept hidden away. It’ll all come out and be washed by the waves.

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

They’ve found themselves a small corner of the beach, miles away from the party and the kids; from the light and music; from Paris and absent fathers.

A small place just to be them.

Facing the sea, they’re side by side. Harry’s head on Louis’ shoulder. 

“I used to be so scared of this day. Could never imagine a last day with you.”

“S’not our last day. We’ve got tomorrow, and tomorrow, and we’ve got the day after that.”

“How long until we’ve got nothing?”

“Until we’re dead, Harry. Every day of mine is going to be yours.”

Harry nods, eyes fixated on ripples of moonlight. “Tomorrow.”

“And then forever.”

Humming, he closes his eyes, turns his head to press a soft kiss on Louis’ bicep, “And how long do I have to wait until you tell me about your Dad?”

“Not very long,” Louis admits, stretching his arm around Harry’s shoulder. Pulling him impossibly close for comfort. 

Down by the water, it takes Louis a while to gather the truth of it all. Collect the right words and string them into sentences that will do the job of informing Harry, but not enough to worry him. But then he’s got to start again, because it’s all lies and they’re not doing that anymore. 

“Things haven’t been good for weeks,” he admits. “I’ve been lying. I do go home, but only to get dressed or wash my clothes. I’ve been living out of bags in hotel rooms. Dad doesn’t want me back home until I sort my head out.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Louis chuckles dryly. “You know how he is about his job and money. Said I’ve got to earn privileges and if I won’t step up, then I’m on my own until I realise how important the family company is.”

“But you don’t want to be a lawyer,” Harry frowns, taking his hand. “He can’t force you—you’re saying you haven’t slept in your bed for weeks?”

“Only three weeks. I don’t wanna be at home anyway.”

“Lou,” Harry shuffles against him, sitting facing his side profile as the damp wind ruffles his curls. “I wish you’d have told me. God, I’m so selfish.”

“No, you’re not, baby. How would you have known? We never go ‘round there, and it’s not like I didn’t have a bed or a shower. There was nothing wrong with it.”

“But it’s not home.”

“It could never be home,” Louis says. “Not if you’re not there. Home is with you. Your bed, or in your car, or right now.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want you to have more things to stress about.” Louis reaches forward and tucks a loose curl behind his ears, “You had more important things to think about, baby. I can sort myself out.”

“But that’s not how it should be.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you.”

“It’s fine,” Harry sniffs, dabbing at his eyes.

“Baby? Are you crying?” Louis frowns, “Oh, baby.”

“I’m just being silly. You’re the one struggling—ignore me, I’m sorry.”

“No, darling. It’s adorable. I love you so much, don’t cry. Nothing's changed, I’m just in a hotel room for now.”

“You could’ve stayed with me.”

“I stay over like every other day.”

“Dad wouldn’t have minded. He never does. He likes having you around.”

“It’s only short-term. I’m renting out a place for myself soon, a condo near school. So I can focus and get myself out of there and into college.”

“So proud of you.”

Louis laughs, holding onto Harry a little tighter, too embarrassed to face him. “What for? I’m retaking the year because I didn’t take it seriously. I’m starting a new business with no guaranteed audience or market base, and I’m practically homeless. Living off Dad’s money because I don’t have time to get a job.”

Harry sighs, grabbing his face so they’re eye to eye. “You talk like you’re nothing. But you’re not. You’re everything to me. I’m so proud of everything you do.”

“Me too. Earlier you said some stuff, we don’t need to talk about it again, but I'd always hoped we’d get to talk about it before you left. I wasn’t sure if you were ready, so I never mentioned it.”

“Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“When I’m gone… only if you want … you could stay at my house. Dad doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he’s going to be lonely without me. He hates it. When Mom first died, he always used to say that he was so happy he had me, and he hoped I’d never leave him.”

“He won’t be alone, Harry. I’ll visit him as much as I can. And you know we do our soccer nights.”

“I’m sorry about your Dad.”

“Fuck him,” Louis mutters. “Nothing ever changes with him.”

“I love you,” Harry whispers, leaning forward to kiss him. The sea gushes and Harry’s hair comes to tangle between their lashes; he pushes it away with flushed cheeks. “I’ve got something for you.”

Rifling through his tote bag, Louis waits patiently. Harry pulls out a small black box, it fits in the palm of his hand. The longer he looks at it, the more he understands.

“Wait!”

Harry looks up in alarm, “What?”

Louis feels his pockets, pulling out another matching box. When Harry’s eyes fall on it, dimples pop in his cheeks, accompanied by a bright smile.

“You didn’t,” he gasps. “When did you get it?”

Louis bites on his lower lip, smiling widely. “At the arcade. Before we left, when you went to the bathroom. When did you get yours?”

“I didn’t go to the bathroom.”

They look at each other before laughter spills from their lips. On his knees, Harry inches closer. “It’s not a real thing. It’s more of a promise.”

Louis nods, “Yeah, that’s perfect. That’s what it was for me, too. So… who first?”

“Me, I want to see what you picked out.”

“Want me on my knees?”

“No, this is fine.”

“Alright,” Louis relents, “but will you get on my lap?”

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, perched on his thighs, back pressed against his chest. 

Under the moon, Louis pops the box open. A tacky silver ring winks at them. Plastic with pink heart-shaped gemstone. A kid's thing. A prize meant to be won at a random game. Not something to hold promises and pledge allegiance with. But they’d rewritten the world with their love, hadn’t they? And they’re still doing it. Young and so keen for a life that others frowned upon. 

Harry looks at it quietly, heart turned into butterflies, thin things of dust pattering against his ribcage. 

“I love it.” He gushes, “I’ll wear it every day.” Craning his head back, he latches his lips onto the hinge of Louis’ jaw. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Now, reaching for his box, Harry holds it out in front of him, waiting for Louis’ hum of recognition before he opens it to reveal the same silver ring, a square blue gemstone tacked to the middle instead. 

Harry giggles, Louis’ laughter follows suit. “We’re like children.”

“Are you going to wear yours?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“‘Course.”

They slide the rings on easily, pink and blue glinting under the moon. Louis’ sits snug on his pinky finger, not fitting the others.

“Hold your hand out, I want to take a photo.”

He clicks a blurry picture with the backdrop of the sea. It’s not at all good enough to his standards, Louis can tell when Harry shows the picture to him. But he’s so happy, grinning down at the small screen like Louis’ changed his world with the simple thing.

“I love you,” he mumbles, hands crushing him in a tight hug. “I’m always yours. This ring proves that.”

Harry meets him in a searing kiss, the hand with the ring pressed up against his cheek so Louis can feel the cool plastic. Easily, he situates himself on Louis’ lap, facing forward with his knees planted on either side of his lap.

“You’re so hot,” Harry mutters between kisses. “So sweet, and sexy, and—I need to get you to the car now.”

“Baby,” Louis laughs, hands like cobwebs on his neck, holding him tight. “I just put a ring on you, calm down.”

“Makes me want it more,” Harry admits breathlessly. He pulls back, puffs out short breaths. “Thank you for today. For listening to me and trying your best.”

Louis’ head falls to the side, taking in Harry’s quiet admission and vulnerable eyes, “Thank you for listening and talking. We haven’t been telling each other stuff as often as we used to.”

“No, we haven’t,” Harry agrees, chewing on his pink lips. “Something about pretending made me feel like I was younger again. Like I was seventeen, when I used to tell you everything and then regretted it, but at least I felt good that there were no secrets.”

“I want it to always be like that,” Louis whispers. 

Harry looks deep into his eyes, finds the ocean's songs laced in between every rise and fall of the waves in them. “Me too. It will.”

“No more secrets,” Louis promises.

“No more.”

“When you’re gone and you want to talk, tell me. Call me or send me voice notes, I don’t care, Harry. If I’m sleeping or busy, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Don’t think anything will change.”

“I know, it won’t.” His red nails twirl small tufts of damp chestnut hair curled by Louis’ neck. “Besides, I’ve got sexy pictures to send you soon. Paris has some of the best boutiques in the world. I’ve always wanted to get my hands on vintage lingerie pieces.”

“For me, right?”

Harry laughs, “Of course.”

That’s another thing they need to talk about.

“You’re the only one for me, Lou. I’m not going to be looking at other guys. Not even once. I can appreciate an attractive guy, but it doesn’t mean I want him.”

They both know Louis’ struggles with it more than Harry does.

“It’s… hard.” He confesses, swallowing thickly.

“I know, but you’ve got to trust me.”

“I trust you,” Louis clarifies. “I don’t trust those guys.”

“Don’t worry, chéri. Je veux seulement toi.”

“Lord,” Louis groans loudly, hands tightening around Harry’s waist. “You sound so sexy when you talk French, baby. That doesn’t help, those French boys will be all over you.”

“I’ll tell them I’ve got a boyfriend,” Harry hums, tone taking a deeper rasp. 

“Say it in French. Tell me what you’ll tell them.” Louis' fingers rub circles over Harry’s thighs, eyes half lidded at the sight of him so close, the touch of him so warm.  

Harry sits up, closer so their chests brush together, and he moves all his hair to one side, pale neck with the faintest red marks exposed under the stars. Louis loses his breath, pulse skyrocketing. Harry just does it for him every time. 

Long lashes look down, pink lips puckered as he drawls, “J’ai quelqu’un, le copain le plus sexy du monde.”

Louis’ hard. And he knows Harry can feel it. 

“That’s how you’re going to tell them? Breathless and sexy like you want to be fucked. Fuck—what did you say? Tell me the exact words.”

Cherry nails trail up and down the nape of Louis’ neck, alluring, intoxicating, infuriating. 

“Tell me,” he insists, not up for Harry’s teasing tonight. Still, he leans into the touch so it’s not just nails vibrating against his skin but the pads of his fingers too.

“I said that I’m taken.” Louis groans, eyes near closing as Harry sinks his fingers into his hair, getting a tough grip. 

“Careful,” he warns. 

“Sorry, Daddy.” He giggles, petting him. Menace. “Then, I said that you're the sexiest boyfriend in the world.”

“Hubby, now,” he teases, knowing the effect it’ll have. 

“Shit, you’re right. I’m telling everyone I’ve got a fiancé, oh my gosh.”

“Baby, no, what if they ask to see a ring?”

“Then I’ll show them.”

“But that’s not real.”

“I don’t care.”

Christ, Louis loves him so much.

“We’re not really engaged. I need to ask for your Dad's blessing.”

“Mm, but you don’t need to.”

“I know, but it’s about respect.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I love you, and why he does too.”

“Debatable. I’m taking his boy from him.”

“Shut up.” Harry kisses him, nice and slow, up his neck, “Will you take me to the car, now? There are so many things I’ve been dreaming about all day.”

“You’re gonna kill me.” 

Holding Harry close, Louis hoists both of them up, stabilising himself on the sand. Harry’s delighted squeals are muffled into his skin. He holds onto Louis tighter, arms and legs wrapped around him as Louis hoists Harry’s tote over his shoulder. 

Intertwined together, they leave the beach and all of its memories behind

⋆ ˚｡𓇼 ⋆｡°

Addictive, obsessive, so fucking good. That’s what it’s like loving Harry. Crazy, new, free—magic. 

Sprawled across the backseat, Louis loses himself in the sight of Harry. A thin sheen of sweat over his skin, curls wild and unruly, plastered to his neck as he rides Louis. Lipstick smeared, cheeks flushed red, the shape of his lips plastered on Louis’ chest. A red coat left from a kiss, marking Harry’s territory. He’s rotating his hip, moaning quietly with his camera in hand, a possessive hand pushing Louis so his head tilts back, eyes on the stars, breathing heavily.

“Louis, fuck, shift forwards.”

Pushing his hips forward, he slouches further into the seat. His vest is scrunched to the side with Harry’s tights and shoes, torso bare for Harry’s pleasure. He’s sucked marks into every inch, purple framing the red lipstick stain, no longer the proper princess he likes to be. 

“Hurry up, Princess.”

“Sorry,” he gasps, camera to his eye as he takes a picture of Louis’ chest.

Gold skin, black ink, red lipstick. 

“You can look at it when I’m gone,” Harry whimpers, lacing his arms around his shoulders, bouncing again. Falling forward, he rests his forehead onto Louis’ damp skin, teeth gritting together. “Need your help, Daddy. Fuck, it’s not enough.”

“Alright,” Louis lulls, hands settling on his hips as he braces his feet down. Thrusting up, Harry gasps, shuddering in his grip. 

“You’re so good, shit, I’m gonna miss this. Gonna miss this so much—ah! Daddy,” he wails, nails digging in deep. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” Louis nips under his jaw, thrusting hard and deep. It spurs Harry to grind down low, clench harder, making them both hiss at the tight, wet heat. Pleasure that electrocutes their sweaty bodies.

“Give me your camera.”

“What for?” He hands it easily, lifting the strings from over his head. 

“Hop off, baby.”

Harry huffs, lifting up on his knees with a whine. Louis pulls him down for a wet kiss, hooking his arms under Harry’s thigh. Turning them over, he hitches Harry over the seat onto the rear of the car. He hisses as his hot skin comes in contact with cold red aluminium. Louis’ on his knees in the seat, tugging Harry’s dress off.

“We’re in public.”

“For the picture. I want a picture.”

“Of me?” Harry grins, finally relenting. He tugs his dress up and over his head, waist on show, back arched, tits out in his red bra. Louis mouths over a nipple over the fabric, getting it wet, grinning like a devil from the sounds he hears. 

“Love your tits. Gonna take a picture of those too.”

“Fuck,” Harry pushed him into his busy, looking to the sky with a drunken smile. “Do what you like, Daddy.”

Placing a hand over his stomach, above the ferns, he groans at the sight of his hands stretching almost the entire width of Harry’s stomach. Thin waist. Absurd. “Your body drives me mad.”

“Good,” Harry giggles, raising his legs to wrap around Louis’ waist. “Why did you make me stop riding you?”

“Want a picture of you stretched out like this. Sexy on your sports car in just a bra.” He curls a teasing hand around Harry’s dick; rubs him a few times, fingers tickling under the head.

“Oh, oh shit—okay.” Harry spreads his hands above his head, like a model, pushing his chest out for Louis’ eager eyes. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Louis takes the picture, takes several. Focuses on the hand that presses down on Harry’s stomach, can feel himself as he slips in, pounding him. Sliding in and out, making Harry’s toes curl. He captures a shot of his chest in that bra, his hands groping over a soft mound before he tugs the lace aside, baring a pink, perky nipple. 

“I’m gonna cum, Lou. ”

“Yeah, go on, Princess.”

A few more thrusts; a sharp pinch to his nipple, and Harry sobs, painting tattooed fingers with pearly ropes. Louis takes another picture of that, jaw slack at the sight. Placing the camera down on the seat beside him, careful because it’s Harry’s baby, he arches over his boyfriend chasing a kiss as he fucks into him. Weak, shaky cants of his hips before he’s releasing too, obsessed with the touch and taste and smell of him.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

Harry nods, hands over his eyes as he struggles to come down. Louis kisses him endlessly. Their bodies match with red and purple love stains, heart doused in the same colour.

“Where’s my dress?”

“It’s there, baby.” Louis reaches for it blindly, placing it beside them on the red surface. “Can I pull out?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Harry clenches around him, giggling when Louis breathes in sharply through his nose.

“You little slut,” Louis laughs, nipping at his earlobe. “I’m pulling out now, baby.”

He knots the condom, wrapping it in tissues before he cleans Harry’s stomach, pressing a kiss upon it. “You can get dressed now.”

“Thank you.” Harry sits up, slipping into his little babydoll. He’s the prettiest thing Louis’ ever seen, even with swollen lips and messy hair.  

“Wanna go home?”

“Not yet, let’s go for a drive.”

“Where to? Any ideas?”

“No,” Harry hums, hopping off onto the backseat again. “Until the sun comes up. I don’t want the night to end just yet.”

“Me either,” Louis leans forward to snag another kiss. “We can take a look at all of those pictures from earlier, all the new ones too. So sexy, baby.” He praises, patting his thighs. “Come sit down here, let’s look through them now.”

Harry takes his place on Louis’ lap, giggling as warm, bare hands wrap around him from behind, placing the camera into view. 

“Do it for me, baby.”

Harry hums, fiddling with the settings of the camera as Louis smooths his hair aside, inhaling his sweet vanilla scent. The camera lights up, and in seconds, Harry’s brought them back to the start of their day.

Pictures of the skyline come into view. Palm trees. Louis’ hand on the steering wheel. Brunch. The lilt in Louis’ lips as he looks at the camera unimpressed. Harry’s cheeky strawberry pose in the diner.

Giggling, Harry admires Louis’ picture a little longer. He gets a kiss on his cheek. 

After comes the stalls and the streets. Then, the sea. Louis recognises it, chuckling. “This was when you were mad.”

“Yeah.”

Louis pops into view, frowning, mid-sentence, annoyed. Harry laughs again, “You’re so cute when you’re angry sometimes. I can’t take you seriously.”

They look through some more that Louis hadn’t known Harry had taken—several of him at the beach party.

“I look good,” he notes. 

“You always look good.”

Then, those pictures come up. Lipstick on Louis’ glistening torso. A firm hand over Harry’s pale skin. Red lacy bra shining in the high exposure picture. 

“Shit, these are hot.”

“Didn’t know you had a talent,” Harry sounds pleased. “I’ll print these out. Send them over in a little postcard once I transfer them to my laptop.”

“Didn’t I get lucky?”

“You did,” Harry drawls. “Lucky boy. You might get lucky again tonight, feel like I’m in the mood.”

“Round two?” His eyes spark up with intrigue.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Haven’t had enough yet.”

“Fuck.”

Harry laughs, sitting bridal style in his lap now. He stares at Louis, memorising the outline of him under the pale moonlight. “I got you a gift.”

“Another one?” He furrows his brow, confused.

“Hold on,” Harry stretches forward to the front passenger seat to grab his tote bag. Louis ogles at the sight of his ass, grinning widely when Harry notices and sighs. “You’re a perv.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs. “Come on, I wanna see.”

Harry pulls out the keychains from earlier. Instantly, his blue eyes soften.

“Spent the day with a guy,” Harry starts slowly. “He bought these for me. I said they were for you.”

Swallowing quietly, Louis nods, “That was nice of him.”

“He was nice,” Harry notes. “Nothing on you, though.”

“Not good enough?”

“Not at all.”

“Not handsome?”

“Oh, he was very.”

“He didn’t mind that you had a boyfriend?”

“He did, but I don’t care.”

“Knew there was a reason I loved you.” Louis chuckles, holding him close.

“I told him I’m leaving for Paris, so I'm allowed to mess a little before I go. I told him a lot of things, and I hope he knows I mean them.”

It’s quiet. Harry’s talking to him. 

Pretending—but in an entirely new way. 

“He does," Louis utters slowly.

“Good,” Harry says chastely. “I’m gonna miss you. But for some reason, after today, it seems lighter.”

“We just gotta talk, baby. Talk every day. Tell me everything. Then, it won’t feel like I’m gone or you’re gone at all.”

“I had the best time with that stranger. I hope he knows how much he helped me.”

“I’m sure he does, baby.” Louis adjusts himself in the seat, cradling Harry’s jaw to get him to look at his eyes. “He’ll always be around to help you.”

Harry laughs, blinking away tears. “I love you a million, Louis.”

“I love you even more, baby.” Louis sighs, kissing him with relief. “Now, no more tears. We’ve got all night to go, I don’t wanna see you crying.”

“Okay, I promise, no more tears.”

“Let’s go on our drive.”

He slides Harry onto the leather before he steps out of the car, leaving his vest discarded on the car floor. Instead, he helps Harry slip his panties on and then his tights, holding each ankle to help him slide into his shoes. Rewarded with a kiss, Louis licks into it, carrying Harry and placing him down into his seat.

Easily, he slides into the driver's side, revving the engine into a gentle roar. 

“Thought of our next stop, baby?”

“Uh,” Harry leans into the seat, sucking on his lower lip pensively. “I don’t know anywhere, how about…? How about you just drive? Drive into tomorrow and we’ll see where it takes us.”

Louis looks at him with a raised brow, reaching for his hand. He kisses the soft skin, smiling into it. 

“Alright, baby. Let’s go.”