Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/750406.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Harry_Styles/Louis_Tomlinson, Zayn_Malik/Harry_Styles, Niall_Horan/Harry
      Styles
  Character:
      Louis_Tomlinson, Zayn_Malik, Niall_Horan, Liam_Payne, Harry_Styles, Paul
      Higgins, Gemma_Styles
  Additional Tags:
      Mafia_AU, Kidnapping, Violence, Anal_Sex, Underage_Kissing, Rimming,
      Toys, Kink, Hand_Jobs, sadist, Jealousy, mobster, Gay, Psycho!Niall,
      Guns, Maserati_Abuse
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-06 Updated: 2014-07-26 Chapters: 10/? Words: 36041
****** Chasing the Bullet ******
by PrincessNiallxHoran
Summary
     Harry Styles is the infamous shut in son of one of the biggest
     Mobsters in London. Louis Tomlinson is the most competent nemesis
     Harry's father has. However, he's low on funds and is pretty fond of
     the curly haired boy. The best option is to infiltrate and kidnap for
     ransom- get a little somethin' somethin' while he has the chance.
     Rating for sexual acts in later chapters. (Later meaning chapter two
     or so.)
Notes
     I had a little idea and ran with it. I know it's clumsy at the
     beginning, but I promise there should be some great things- plots and
     fun stuff to be had. I'd love any ideas for this related to story
     plot and placement.
     S'pretty much it. Enjoy.
***** Hookah Shisha *****
The generally overcast skies of London never brought Harry down. Frankly, it
was every other aspect of his life that pissed on his mood and made him
generally uncomfortable. Bright green eyes peered out over the dreary skyline,
ears catching that familiar sound of school children making their happy way
over to their local places of education. He felt that unsettling twist in his
stomach and he pressed his nose into the glass a little to get a better view.
They had little uniforms- symbols of where they belonged. Hazza glanced down
next to him where his own uniform lay on his bed. A plain black suit with
leather holsters sporting pistols to hide under the jacket. Dulling eyes were
half lidded as he turned his attention back to the school children, admiring
them- jealous of them and how they didn’t know anything about the mafia. They
didn’t know about the underground warring between two of the largest mob bosses
in all of Britain, and they probably wouldn’t care if they did.
There was a knock on the door, startling the teenager from his reverie as he
turned to address the visitor with an invitation inside. He stood only in dark
patterned boxers and his high black socks, but when you’re the eldest son in a
family of mobsters, you learn not to really concern yourself with modesty. The
family’s caretaker opened the door with a set of pursed lips and a towel over
his arm- quite the image of perfection - and spoke quietly.
“Your father has switched your day’s activities. You are to eat this morning in
a timely manner and make your way to the training facilities.” The man’s voice
was drawn out like a proper Englishman, each syllable pronounced almost
painfully strong. Paul had been in the service of the Styles’ home for over
sixty years, as had his father before him. The elderly man had been born inside
of the very walls, and he probably knew them better than anyone.
“Yes, Paul.” Harry watched expectantly as the man stepped out, closing the door
with a deliberate slowness so it wouldn’t make a harsh sound upon closing. The
teen gave a very unsatisfied expression as soon as he was alone, knowing that
with physical training being his number one in the day, he wouldn’t be allowed
his hours of coursework. His father believed in the unrealistic ideal that
brawn conquered brain. To him, there was no other way to go about his daily
life. He hated when Harry would indulge in a novel or read out of one of his
school books, and he often tried to stamp out his son’s quest for knowledge at
the root; driving the teen all day with physical activity so he had no energy
for silly things like Poe or Shakespeare.
He dressed quickly, his tie askew and curls much more boyant than usual as he
trotted down the stairs of the penthouse to get to the ‘working’ area of the
large building. His father rented- or, more or less, evicted the hotel staff
and had renovated the building completely. The top two floors remained as
large, expensive rooms where his staff slept and lived, while the base ten had
been cleared out for business, interrogation, and other various spaces that
they needed for their operation. The underground parking garage was a place for
target practice, and above it in the basement was the fitness area. At no point
of the day was it to be empty- unless Harry was with a personal trainer.
Said personal trainer was waiting patiently for him by the entrance, checking
through the list of names that had been in and out of the equipment room to
keep shape. The close shaved head tilted as Harry stepped in, and they both
smiled uncertainly at each other. Liam had been a fantastic university student
at the wrong end of the law, and ended up jumping into the mafia as a last
ditch effort to keep out of prison. He often claimed that he hadn’t committed
any real crime, but all in all, Harry knew he was there for a reason. Out of
all the staff in his father’s big, mucked up crime joint, Liam was his
favorite, because being a bit of a dodgy genius was a plus in the heir’s book.
Not only could Liam help him obtain the educational things that he wanted, it
also meant that his trainor understood his thirst for knowledge.
“Good morning, Harry.” A large vest was tossed to him, and he very nearly
tumbled down at the weight of it.
“Whassit?” Harry grunted, lifting it up and looking over it uncertainly. Must
have weighed forty pounds! He was instructed by the ever moving Liam to put it
on over his vest and buckle it.
“Seeing as how you’ll be eighteen in a week, props, by the way, your dad wants
to be sure you’re physically capable. ‘M not supposed to tell ya this,” Liam
looked up to a few of the various cameras and gave a wink, “but there’s gonna
be a great special ceremony in your honor.” The teen just loved how his
companion had totally dodged around his actual question.
The fit man began a bit of a simple cardio hop back and forth on the balls of
his feet, rocking them strategically in their nike brand with the mesh shorts
swishing around his knees. This was the part where Harry was to follow him, and
he certainly tried. However, with a forty pound weight vest, a suit and two
shoes that weren’t meant for physical activity, he grew tired quickly. Sure- it
was all about being able to move and work in the outfit given, but was it
always necessary?
“Will there- there be c-cake at my cere-remony?” Harry grunted out, totally
winded as he was lead for a jog around the empty training room. His instructor
only laughed, muttering something about how that was probably the most obscene
and ironic question for the situation.
The workout was absolutely traumatizing, and he was finally sent off to his
room to shower. As he emerged from the steaming water, he frowned at the
freshly pressed suit waiting for him on the sink, his holster on the opposite
side to ensure there was no accidental firing. Harry snatched up the suit,
blinking in confusion as there was something small and rectangular poking at
his fingers through the material. He withdrew a little package; two small
handbooks.
Chasing the Bullet with Cyanide; Surviving Your Chemistry Course
Why Can I and Why Can’t You?; a Guide to Sociology
Harry smiled a bit, checking the inside cover.
‘Found these at the corner market. Thought you’d like ‘em. -Li’
Little educational books- barely over fifty pages each but... They were
definitely the highlight of his day. Harry grinned and set them back down on
the sink as he pulled on his regulated outfit. Every now and again, he’d
confide in his trainer, and more often than not, Liam would give him little
surprises like this. It probably helped that his birthday was getting close,
but even if that was the only reason, he went about the rest of the day with a
happy little skip in his step. He even felt pretty decent at dinner that
evening, despite the fact that his father had joined him which usually placed
him in an immediate foul mood.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like his father. It was just that his father was
incredibly work oriented and never really had time to talk to Harry like a
normal father would. In fact, the only father-son sport that the teenager had
ever done was with Liam during an accuracy exercise. (To be fair they’d been
playing catch, but to get away with it, it had been labeled as something much
more important-sounding.) He would only ask Hazza how training was going, or
how many eggs he had eaten at breakfast. “The most important source of protein,
you know. Besides your red meats.”
Harry spoke pleasantly of the weight training he had done with Liam, and of
course the boxing that was essential to any mobster’s daily routine. It
appeased his father well enough that he even praised his son and gave him a
clap to the shoulder before leaving the dinner table for business. Physical
contact wasn’t necessarily encouraged, so it swelled the teen’s pride just a
bit to be considered for such activity.
Once back upstairs, Harry slipped from his tight suit and holsters, enjoying
the freedom of not having to deal with their restrictions. He set the holster
and pistol in his nightstand, as always, and tossed the suit to the laundry
where Paul would take it away for washing in the morning.
A glance to the clock informed him that it was only about seven in the evening.
This was quite frustrating; to be done with his day already, but as his father
always told him “early to bed and early to rise makes your trigger finger twice
as ready”. The teenager pulled on his flannel bottoms, printed fashionably with
pinstripes (as if that wasn’t overdone) before resting back in bed to take a
look at the new presents Liam had left him.
The nightlife in London was beginning soon, Harry mused quietly as he glanced
over a line about what sort of materials can hold chemicals with a high acidic
number. The cars were beginning to pile up the streets with bright lights and
horns, making it harder and harder to concentrate on the text ahead of him. He
stood, intent on switching on his stereo to try and drown out the noise but-
that was sort of when he happened. The teenager paused, eyes catching some
movement down on the roof of a building across from his window. It wasn’t too
much lower, perhaps only one or two stories- but the man was stunning. He
wasn’t large, by any standard. Petite, small hands and feet, but put together
nicely. Like a Ken doll with a slight defect, so he wasn’t perfect, yet you got
him on your birthday so he’s the best doll you’ve seen.
Harry crept forward, pressing his nose gently against the glass, mirroring his
position from that morning almost perfectly. The man was suited up, just like
he himself was every day, and even had a little designed patch of some
significance on his left breast. From the distance, it looked to be a mucky
brown color. He was surveying the hotel, Harry noticed quickly, picking up the
way the stranger’s brows furrowed and lips pursed as he eyed the windows
adjacent. It seemed to be someone from his own corporation, Harry thought
quietly, maybe checking for damages to the building; however he’d never seen
the man in his life. A stiffening in the stranger’s frame gave away that
something had altered, and it came to pass that he felt watched. Suddenly, two
eyes flicked up suddenly, a piercing blue that Harry could make out through the
light of the falling sun. The teen felt a little shocked, wondering how he’d
been pinpointed immediately, but it didn’t seem to bother the man on the
adjacent roof. A finger pressed to his thin lips, requesting silence from the
boy hidden away in his room, and then he left.
Harry assumed he trotted down some sort of fire escape, because most human men
can’t just walk to a corner and hop off the twentieth story of a building but-
it was mysterious and sort of surreal. The teen realized he was even more
attached to the window than he had been prior, (what that strange must think of
him!) so he promptly unstuck himself and took a few steps back. He couldn’t
explain it, but a weird burst of intrigue and fear shot through him, and he
returned to bed to try and catch some rest.
The next morning occurred similarly to the last. Harry woke bright and early,
Paul told him his day would consist of nothing but physical activity, and Liam
again slipped him a little present tucked away in his jacket.
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
‘This one’s a bit more of a joke, Hazzer. Felt bad I didn’t have anything
better for ya. -Li’
Despite the relative normalcy in his day, Harry was stopped by a very
unfamiliar looking guard. He was young- didn't look very trained or refined
like most of the other guards- and was displaying a different uniform to boot.
Honestly, Liam was probably the youngest worker they had there, and he looked
more in place with his basketball shorts and nikes than this man did in a suit
and tie. He was bronze skinned and unshaven, which was a strict no, and he had
a strange crest on his left pec that Harry thought looked oddly familiar. The
man, probably in his early twenties- if that- stopped the heir of the Style's
corporation with a soft smile and a lift of his hand.
"Hello there, Master Styles. I'm Malik." He spoke easily, and Harry recognized
the Middle Eastern sounding name and respectfully tacked it on with a relation
to his skin tone. The curly teen nodded and gave a smile, dimple and all. After
all, this new man had given him no reason to be upset- nor was he fond of
treating new people as if they didn't count. It was something gathered from his
mother, God rest her, rather than his father. Malik stood a little off center,
one knee bent and the other further from his body in a very relaxed pose-
another thing Harry was unused to when it came to the men that worked for his
father.
"Aye." Harry responded very simply, getting ready to move on with his daily
routine, which was now only filled with eating dinner before bedtime. That time
would most likely be spent considering the strange man who had dappled the
rootop across his street the day before, but that would be left unthought of
until the teenager was actually laying down for bed. He took a total of two
steps before the new worker stopped him.
"Your father hired me to take care of you and prepare you for your coming of
age. I hear you'll be eighteen in a little over five days. Is that correct?"
The other's tongue was quick, and his tone held an accent that wasn't from
around London. In fact, it was very thick and Harry could easily pinpoint him
as being bred somewhere around the Bradford area. The heir turned slowly and
gave Malik a curious look, tilting his head like an uncertain animal.
“That’s right. Okay? Is uh- Is there something I am to do, or somewhere I
should be?" Harry questioned, his brow furrowing. No one had told him about
there being a new guard- well, he supposed, that wasn't anything supremely
abnormal. It wasn't like he was the first to be alerted of anything, though
usually if it concerned him directly he was given the littlest of heads up. The
man gave a nod, and also made a motion for the teenager to come closer. There
was something very friendly about the action- it wasn't practiced. It wasn't
something that he would expect from the military like his father's men would
beckon him with. Haz took a few confident steps, and was incredibly confused
when the young adult leaned down and sniffed him. Sniffed. Inhaled. Took a
great whiff of him and then leaned back for consideration. Harry just stared
dumbly, not entirely sure what that interaction was about before he started as
though to speak.
"You've had your shower then," Malik began cutting him off and tapping his
fingers softly on his pant leg as though it was unexpected for the teen to have
moved through his routine so quickly, "go to your room and relax a moment. I
will be up shortly to dress you. Then you are to prepare to go out." With that,
the man turned on a dime- quite casually- and walked away. Harry was incredibly
confused, especially about that bit of 'going out'. He was very rarely allowed
outside, unless it was out in the back of the above ground garage in which he
could move about close to the open sides and catch a good breeze. In fact, he
wasn't allowed to go outside at all. His father deemed it too dangerous, not
wanting anything to happen to the heir of his business; figuring his son would
be too easily swept away with fashion and the new media culture.
Even so, the teenager didn't question it. Something about the cool authority
that this darker skinned man had over him eased his mind and sent him walking -
almost casually himself- back up to his bedroom. He did as he was told, laying
out on his bed and looking through the gag book Liam had snuck him. What to
Expect when You're Expecting, huh? He thumbed through the pages, reading about
vitamins and how much exercise is too much for your baby. The lad had a good
chuckle and took his phone (rarely used, though it contained numbers for key
guards and his father) and texted the trainer that he had gotten a nice laugh.
A few moments later, there was a short pair of knocks at his door, and Harry
stuffed his book back into his night stand before giving whomever it was
clearance to enter. It was his new guard who gave him a nod and a friendly
wave. There was a smile about his lips, and until that point, Harry didn't
quite understand what a contagious smile was.
"Hey there, Harry. I'd like to take a peek in your closet. Surely you've got
something other than your suits and ties hanging up, right?" There was a little
chuckle accompanying his words, but Harry took that moment to drop his smile
and look a little uncertain. Malik frowned, tilting his head with an
incredulous expression. "No?" He strode to the teenager's large wardrobe,
peeling it open to see hangar after hangar of suits and sleeping clothes. These
suits hadn't even been worn, and were more for show to make him feel just a
little better upon opening his massive wardrobe. Paul had all of his real ins
and outs in his own laundry area. The suits hiding away were more backup than
anything else.
Harry couldn't help that little twinge of disappointment that spread through
him at the fact that he didn't have anything for going out in. What had he
needed it for anyway since he was never allowed outside? The teen bit his lip
and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before Malik shook his head a bit and
moved to stand before the younger boy's bed. What was going to happen now? Were
they going to have this really odd, casual staring match or-?
"Get up then. We'll just have to purchase an outfit for you this evening." It
was a simple statement, but it was rushed, "come along. I've set the meeting
for twenty minutes from now, assuming you had proper attire. He mustn't be left
waiting or we'll all be sorry." Two tan hands rushed together to clap twice,
and Harry was immediately up and toeing into his proper shoes to follow Malik
anywhere he was taken. They spent a long awkward while in the elevator
together, where Harry merely twiddled his thumbs and the elder had that goddamn
casual expression that was constantly maintained. It didn't help that it was
just like every other elevator- filled with the smooth jazz of a bookstore- and
Harry could only take so much Louis Armstrong before he was ready to burst.
Then it was time for the golden moment. Outside. The teenager was now nearly
stumbling over himself. Could it have been true that he, a nearly eighteen year
old boy had never been outside? If he had tried to remember, he would know he’d
been allowed outside with his mother regularly, but that was so long ago that
it didn't register in his mind that it had happened at all. And despite his doe
like desperation as he stared wide eyed around him, he couldn't admire the tall
buildings and bustling street taxis for long. Malik was already tugging at him
and murmuring that he needed to pick up his pace.
For what?
Harry was lead into one shop just down the street- quite a pricey one, he
thought, according to the price tags on the articles and the looks of the
people inside. It seemed a fitting place to buy a decent night-time outfit in.
As it would seem, not only was Malik a competent body guard of sorts, he was
also quite a knowledgeable fashion expert. He had pressed Harry into stall
after stall to find him something that fit over his lanky body and squeezed
lovingly over the little curves he possessed. Some of these items had weird
clasps, 'eye and loops', that his tan attendant had to teach him to buckle. By
the time the rush was over, Harry was totally exhausted and they barely had
time to meet whomever it was they were supposed to see. If nothing else,
though, The teenager felt stunning. He had never known jeans to be made so
tight, and the dipping quarter sleeved shirt with buttoned blazer put out
everything he never knew he had on display. Malik had even gone as far as to
set him up with two silver necklaces that dangled just below his neckline and
accentuated his broad, slender torso.
"Now-," began his chief fashion advisor, "we have to hit up a taxi." This was
another incredibly new thing to Harry. The only cars he was used to were the
ones his father owned that carted him back and forth from meeting to meeting.
He'd never been in one himself, but he'd seen them in the garage before. Now
Malik was standing halfway in the street, trying to hail some sort of yellow
mini-bus to hopefully get them some sort of transportation. It was
overwhelming, and Harry was considering trying to take a few steps back to
offer a car from his own institution when a large, rickety yellow car came
stuttering up to the sidewalk. The teenager eyed it uncertainly before he was
being ushered inside, his nose scrunching at the smell of cigarettes and-
something else he couldn't place. His companion gave the driver the address and
sat with a hunch beside Harry, ever relaxed in any situation.
"What's that smell?" Harry finally had the courage to ask, peering over to the
man beside him. The elder gave a little shrug and a deep inhale before
answering bluntly.
"Stale sex, if you ask me."
The response startled him a little, and to be frank, it seemed quite
unprofessional. Then again, this was the most casual mafia member he’d ever met
and- perhaps that was just his style. Even so, Harry wasn’t really all that
comfortable with sexuality, having never been able to figure out his own, and
as such tried to arch himself off the seat as much as possible.
It was safe to say that the teenager stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. He
hadn't expected such an answer, and since learning that smell- well. He decided
he didn't want to learn much of anything else. Malik seemed to understand,
because instead of pressing the subject or even teasing about it, he peered out
of the clouded taxi window at the bustling streets of London. It was only a
five minute ride, but to Harry, it was at least three times that long.
It didn’t help that when they arrived at their destination, it wasn’t all that
attractive. It was pretty scummy and dirty, and Harry was beginning to grow
conscious that this place was probably going to give him cancer of some sort.
Harry peered out of the dirty cab window, frowning at the sign on the building
as well. The words ‘Hookah Cafe&Lounge’ were written in tall and draping golden
letters, accompanied by some sort of middle eastern text on each side. He
recognized cafe and lounge from an average vocabulary- but what in the name of
christ was Hookah? He couldn’t consider it any longer as he began to scramble,
realizing that Malik had already climbed out of the taxi and was waiting for
him.
Upon stepping inside, Harry was blasted with a thick puff of smoke that had an
odd twinge of strawberries and bananas. It was strange, not what he had
expected any smoke to smell like in all of his days, and he quickly scrunched
his nose and lifted his hand to fan it away. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to
keep them clean when he noticed his companion and an attendant chuckling. It
took a moment before Harry realized it didn’t fill his lungs and make him burn
up, like usual smoke, and he felt a little intimidated. This was a world that
he knew nothing about, and it made him uncomfortable that everyone else did.
“Come on.” Malik finally murmured, reaching to nudge the teenager ahead of him.
He was lead through a few different rooms, many of them filled to the brim with
hip teenagers sucking on intricate pipes. There were so many different smells
and tastes in the air that Harry didn’t quite know what was going on anymore.
He was dazed and uncertain, his brow furrowed as they shifted deeper into this
sleeping dragon. Finally, he was lead to a dead end that consisted of a large
leather sofa and a man spread across it in the picture of relaxation. Again,
the teen batted away the smoke, wanting to see what he was approaching when two
blue eyes pierced him quite violently.
It was the same man from the roof the night before. Something about all of this
seemed very odd, but with the continuous haze and overwhelming amount of new
sights and smells, Harry couldn’t really piece together why. Whoever it was sat
up and ran a finger through short brown hair with a very comforting smirk on
his features while the delicate fingers of an opposite hand patted the place
next to him. Malik had to nudge the confused youth for a moment before he
realized the spot was for him.
“So you’re Harry,” the voice was light, though it held a very commanding
authority and Harry was quick to sit down as though to not upset it, “and
you’ll be coming of age very soon?” It was weird- how conversational all of
this was. Wasn’t this supposed to be a lesson? Yet here he was in some sort of
stinky fireman’s house wondering why the air smelled like fruit while wearing a
totally new outfit and being well aware of what taxi cab sex smelt like.
“Yeah. Five days or so.” He murmured, not really remembering what day it was
any longer. He couldn’t even check the calendar by his bed, which was a very
serious first for him. The stranger nodded and picked up a long pipe from the
decorative bong, taking a long drag from it before letting it go.
“This is called Hookah Shisha.” He stated, completely driving off topic, and
Harry couldn’t help but feel as though he should be interested. After all, this
man had such a commanding tone that he felt wrong to ignore it. It was almost
as though the thought of command alone had the younger inching in to listen.
“It’s flavored wet tobacco. Very nice and smooth.” He moved the pipe to Harry’s
cherry lips, pressing it past them with a lick to his own mouth as if there was
something far less innocent occurring in his mind. Harry didn’t necessarily
want the pipe in his mouth, or the idea that he may get addicted to this
substance somehow, but his complaints died down a bit in the back of his mind.
Instead, he listened intently to the direction of the stranger, inhaling and
trying desperately to ignore the burning in his lungs. The taste of berries
kept him relatively relaxed though, and once he had taken a few successful
hits, the pipe was taken away. Harry felt a little light headed, not really
having ever felt his air cut off by smoke, or having even been outside, for
Christ’s sake. But as long as those blue eyes conducted him, it was alright in
his book. They sat a while longer, relaxed as the strange man told him quite
random things such as his favorite color, red, requesting the same from Harry,
blue or pink. It was a bit of a long and tedious discussion, but the teen was
too lost in this strong personality to question it.
They talked about books and animals, though the man very rarely gave out extra
information about himself, whereas he would ask for more details from Harry.
‘You like practical books? I’m a fan of fiction myself. What are you reading
currently? Does your father have a library for you?’ It was odd, but Harold was
eager to give up all this information, wanting to please this strong
individual. At one point, a small hand reached out, two fingers gently touching
at the defined jawline the younger possessed, tilting him here and there. A
finger traced over the line of his bottom lip, and when he attempted to speak,
he was hushed. The smoke flitted around them, keeping Harry aware of the man
before him and nothing else. There was a very intense moment when thin lips
approached, diverting from Harry’s face to the shell of his right ear, mouthing
over the tender skin and- God was he ever holding his breath when...-
SNAP~ He was brought out of his reverie by a loud snap that came from the king
himself.
“Zayn. Come here.” Malik approached the two on the couch, brow quirked at the
informal use of, what Harry guessed, was his first name. The leader of the
operation pulled the tan skinned man down by his tie, hovering close and
whispering a few orders against the shell of his ear. A few moments later, a
very confused and relaxed teenager was being tugged up off the couch and lead
away through the twisting and winding halls of the hookah house.
“But his name,” Harry began, not struggling too hard thanks to the calm
atmosphere of the place that he hadn’t noticed until now, “I didn’t get his
name.”
He was only deterred when Malik- err- Zayn, promised he would be seeing the man
again soon. Content for now, Harry rode along quietly in a new taxi, relieved
that there was less of a stale smell.
It was almost disappointing to see his companion walk away, ever casual, from
the doors where the guards were to intercept the boss’ son. They asked the
usual questions, ‘did they hurt you?’ ‘did they keep professional?’. Even for
training with Liam this was a regular event. Despite the obvious un
professionalism and odd activity that really resulted in him learning nothing,
Harry wanted nothing more than to see that commanding man again; he nodded,
promising that everything was up to spec before returning to his room.
It was late when he finally changed into his sleeping clothes, and he made
quick work of heading to the window, pressing his nose against the glass to see
if he had a roof top visitor. He wasn’t surprised when no one was pacing, but
it did make a his stomach flop disappointedly.
***** Yes Sir *****
Chapter Summary
     Louis calls Harry to have a beautiful dinner with him in an exotic
     restaurant. A bit of smut in here.
Chapter Notes
     So, here's the second bit- I know it's not as long and I'm sorry! But
     for the stopping point- I thought it was alright.
January was steadily coming to a close as the dawning of each new day passed
Harry in a bit of a daze. There were only three more days till the first of
February, and Zayn hadn’t come back yet. He tried not to let his disappointment
seep too far into him, but at the breakfast table with his bacon and boiled
eggs, he couldn’t help but feel a tad forgotten. The rest of the place hadn’t
though. They were up in arms over being sure to wish the teenager a happy
birthday, just in case they weren’t around to say it on the first. Apparently
they were more fond of him around there than he knew.
Liam had gifted him with a real novel, cleared with the staff so it wasn’t
hidden away in his jacket, and the teenager felt his spirits skyrocket for the
first time in a few days. This book series had become somewhat of a phenomenon-
or at least, Harry guessed by the response he got from his trainer when he
asked. The Hunger Games had received awards, Liam had told him matter of factly
while he taught the younger a specific way to guard in the ring. There had been
films made, and there were three books in total. Harry was ecstatic with his
new gift, and he had spent all afternoon reading and enjoying it.
The morning of the twenty-ninth dawned, and the teenager was woken quite early
to three distinct raps on his door. He sat up with a yawn and a stretch,
scratching at his rib cage through his sleep shirt before calling out raspily
that it was open. Half of him hoped that it was Zayn coming to collect him to
spend a day outside, but half of him was also angry at the fact that the Arabic
man hadn’t come back for him sooner. Despite his inner conflict, he stifled a
groan of disappointment when it was only Paul, poking his head inside to tell
him it was time to get moving, where his clothes were, etc. The teen grumbled
as the elderly man bowed his head and took a step out, shutting that damn door
slowly and deliberately.
This was not going to be his day; he could feel it.
It was pretty innocent at first. He was allowed his course books for the first
time in days and he took advantage of reading about logarithms and other bits
of algebra in his maths book, following it up with about half of the little
Sociology book Liam had gifted him a few days prior. Overall, it had been a
pretty decent morning, but there was an unsteady feeling in the air that had
the teenager feeling awkward and unsettled.
Soon after lunch, he was sent to meet with Liam, and even that was more mild
than usual. There were no forty pound vests or intense boxing sessions which
made Harry wonder if perhaps his trainer was feeling the odd lull in the air as
well. Perhaps everyone was just unsettled because the young man would be
hitting his eighteenth birthday in just three days. With the secret Li had told
him, they were probably just busy with setting up his ceremony. Harry was also
feeling a tad impatient for that as well. Not much happened to him with the
safety inside the walls, so a great big shindig was probably the most exciting
thing - ever.
That was at least until the knock on the door after his evening bath when he
was getting dressed for dinner. He buttoned his white undershirt with long
nimble fingers, undressed aside from his boxers and socks, and called out for
whoever it was to enter. His excitement was probably unnecessary as an unshaven
face peeked through the door, skin tan and expression as casual as a New Yorker
eating a hotdog.
“Zayn!” Harry’s face lit up like a firecracker and the guard gave a low chuckle
at the enthusiasm. There was something about the activity that he’d been
brought on the time before that encouraged the young man to keep quiet about
his strange new friend. For some reason, he doubted his father would like Zayn
bringing him to a hookah bar to meet someone who was really very good at
crawling around on the roof. (The fact that this wasn’t strange to him probably
should’ve bothered him more than it did.)
He was instructed to wear the outfit they had bought on their last outing, and
Zayn was quick to retrieve it from the closet so Harry could change. There was
no privacy offered, and the younger couldn’t say he was phazed. Within a few
minutes, they were out on the streets, hailing another taxi cab with Curly on
his toes to see as much as he could when he had the chance.
“Where are we going, Zayn?” Harry asked curiously, nose pressed against the
taxi window as he watched the outside with extreme curiosity. “I didn’t like
the Hookah very much.” He added chattily, content to talk until the other man
was tired of him.
“My employer has asked for your presence at dinner this evening.” The voice was
fluid and unamused, and Harry was beginning to wonder if Zayn was rather like
the guards that stood watch over Buckingham Palace. He turned to face his calm
companion and waved a hand out slowly in front of the unmoving face. The teen
found out that Zayn indeed did move, and quite fast as the elder had reached
out with rapid precision, grabbing tightly around the youth’s slender wrist.
Harry whimpered, face contorting to that of discomfort as the other quickly
dropped his hand and made a few rapid apologies.
“Sorry- startled me. Didn’t mean to-. You okay?” It hadn’t really hurt so much
as it had scared the living shit out of the curly boy. He peeked to his wrist,
noting the little red handprint which Zayn was now expecting with very gentle,
troubled fingers.
“Yeah-,” Harry began, watching the other man’s face as it turned from nervous
to something a little less, “I guess I just wanted to check your accuracy.” It
was a lie, but a teasing one, and it coaxed a little chuckle out of the elder,
which made everything a little less tense as the teeanger took his arm back and
grinned reassuringly. All in all, Harry had learned a very valuable lesson.
Zayn was, in fact, very in tune with the things around him.
A few minutes of comfortable silence later resulted in the car pulling up
adjacent to a surprisingly nice building that had an image of a shark etched in
details of red and black against the side. Harry’s eyes widened as he eagerly
followed Zayn, wondering what this place could possibly be. They stepped in
through the massive doors, the youth’s eyes looking as though they were about
to pop from his head, and Zayn appearing like the coolest guy ever with his
hands tucked into his front pockets.
“This is Futomaki Den.” Zayn explained quietly, cool and determined despite the
lanky ball of energy beside him that looked ready to dart off and touch
everything. All the tables and bars around them were made of a dark wood,
finished and very shiny. There were crystal and jade statues from wall to wall
on dark wooden shelves, and the walls themselves were made from a thick papery
substance. It was all absolutely stunning, and off in a corner of the large
lobby, there was a beautiful woman playing some sort of many stringed
instrument. Before the Arabic man even knew what was happening, the Curly teen
was off asking the woman what it was.
“Harry!” He yelped, trotting after the boy despite the irritated look in the
attendant’s eye at the desk. Zayn had pulled the younger away from the Geisha
who was smiling and giggling at the Curly’s enthusiasm, scolding him for
running off. Thank God no one outside really knew what the teen looked like or
something terrible could’ve already happened.
“‘M Sorry.” Harry murmured, shrinking a little away from the smaller man. He
hadn’t meant to run off- it was just- it was all so thrilling! He was corralled
quickly by the strong tan hands and was being lead, once more, through quite a
few halls to a back room where the mysterious man would probably be waiting.
Indeed, there were those beautiful blue eyes staring brightly back at him.
The enigma of a human being was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a
short table that only came up to his waist or so. He wasn’t wearing shoes,
instead sporting a pair of white socks with an indent between the toes. Aside
from that, the man was fitting in with the restaurant himself by the dark blue
robe wrapped around his shoulders, a thin white robe underneath. The teenager’s
eyes widened and he bit his lip, looking a little curious and amazed at the
picture before him. A blue eyed beauty hiding in the Orient.
“Zayn- get him dressed.” The fluid voice penetrated the air like a lovely
disease, those blues never leaving Harry’s uncertain greens.
There was a very unsettling moment where Zayn led the younger into a very
strange restroom, requesting Harry to undress. There was no modesty, only
genuine curiosity as the curly male stripped down to his boxers and allowed his
companion to dress him. The atmosphere was cool, miniature blossoming trees on
the shelves. Harry’s robe was in tones of blue with accented pink cherry
blossoms rising from the base. Just the colors he had described to the other
man a few days prior.
“As requested.” Malik’s voice was low and intent as he nudged Harry out of the
restroom and towards the lounging man on the floor. A whispered, ‘go sit’ was
pressed into the air behind him, and the youth took it as a hint. He sat on his
knees across the table from the calm stranger, folding his hands in his lap
politely.
“Good evening, Harry,” the smooth voice began, a cheshire smile creeping over
his mouth, “you look lovely.” Harry felt an odd sensation creeping down his
spine, but his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding- it was hard to utter a
reply under such circumstances. The other didn’t seem upset, but his lips did
purse a moment in that smile.
“The proper reply to a compliment is ‘thank you’, Harry.”
“Th-Thanks. Thank you.” The younger didn’t expect the stuttering from the back
of his throat, but it didn’t seem to matter. The other man was smiling freely
again.
“You’re very welcome, Harry. Why are you so far away? Come and sit next to me,
little one.” Despite their difference in stature with the other man being the
‘little one’, Hazza didn’t comment and only nodded, moving to kneel beside the
other. He couldn’t help but frown curiously as a woman dressed similarly to the
koto player padded in with a plate of sushi. She said a few things in thickly
accented English, garnishing the plate with some leafy greens before bowing and
walking out.
The curly teen had been so fixated on the beautiful woman that he hadn’t
noticed the man next to him taking up a pair of chopsticks and holding up a
sushi to his parted red mouth. Harry gave a little gasp at the touch of the
cool nori before he ate up the fishy food, humming at the intricate flavor.
They spent a few moments like this- nearly intimate- of the man feeding the
younger very expensive, very yummy sushi. Finally, the plate was empty and Haz
was getting very sleepy from his full tummy.
He was incredibly comfortable, even more so when the stranger’s arm darted out
around his waist and tugged him in a little closer, encouraging the younger
onto his backside with his shoulders against the stranger’s chest. Harry gave a
little relaxed sigh as he felt a small hand drift through his hair, finding the
gentle action completely acceptable. It didn’t seem strange at all, despite the
fact that he was snuggling up against an older man he still didn’t know the
name of. The teen frowned, head tilting back to confront those piercing blue
eyes.
“Is there something the matter, Harry?”
“Yeah. It’s just- I dunno your name. I mean, you know mine, so can you tell me
yours?” The man behind him seemed to contemplate, his hand shifting out of the
younger’s hair and now drifting down his neck and over his shoulder that was a
little more exposed from his position and ruffling of his robe. After a moment,
he rested his chin to the curly lad’s shoulder, a little smirk marking his
features.
“Do you really want to know?” The husked tone in the breath against his ear
sent a shudder down his spine. He did want to know- very very much- because
this stranger had fascinated him for days now... He considered that he should
be terrified, but he didn’t feel the adrenaline rush from fear- only a strong
resonating beat of intrigue.
“Yes.” Harry responded, giving a little gasp as the man behind him pressed open
the top of his robe, drawing little patterns against his new pet’s chest. The
teen was absolutely speechless now, feeling his heart beat a little faster. It
wasn’t like he didn’t recognize the twisting in his abdomen for arousal, but he
didn’t really understand how to respond to it. He hissed softly however when
four crescent moons were pressed into his skin.
“Yes what, Harry? What do we say when we want something?” The younger didn’t
expect the sharp tug of fingernails over his collarbone, but he didn’t waste
time in paying his manners forward.
“P-Please, please. W-We say please.” The nails stopped, and Harry gave a little
sigh of relief, though that relief was short lived as the hand had slipped
under his arm now, a better angle to slink lower against his chest. A cool
finger slinked past his nipple, pushing the robe away as though it were
annoying to him before exposing the other similarly. The teen felt his breath
coming a little faster now.
“That’s very good, Harry.” The fingers stroked over again and again, teasing
his nipples with chilled fingertips. “If you want to know my name, then you’ll
sit very patiently until I tell you.” This made him shudder, his brows
furrowing. He was easy enough to convince though, not wanting to disappoint
anyone, especially this guy. It was like some sort of spell was hovering over
him- making him misty.
“Alright.” The fingernails returned, causing the youth to hiss in disgruntled
surprise.
“Alright sir.” The man corrected him quickly, lips now pressing against the
side of Harry’s neck.
“Si-Sir.” Harry responded, his eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head to
allow the other’s mouth on his skin. It was surreal- this moment- everything
felt as though he wasn’t quite there to feel it. Soon, fingers were slipping
lower, entering from below his belt, rather than above. The elder’s index and
middle fingers stroked languidly up his leg, from knee to upper thigh, a low
chuckle against the strong neck as Harry felt his thighs shake from the
attention.
“Do you touch yourself, Harold?” The voice husked, shifting down to the
junction of his neck and shoulder where he began to nip and suck, leaving a
dark red mark. The youth was about to jump out of his skin.
“Yes.” He answered, despite the flush appearing on his cheeks from the intimate
question. To be fair, the curly teen almost expected the dull fingernails to
drive harshly into his upper thigh, but when they did, he was still gasping.
“S-Sir. Yes sir.” Harry corrected himself this time, enjoying the approving
noise that was uttered against his little companion’s shoulder. Then it
happened. The cool fingers that had teased him so relentlessly were now
pressing gently against the front of his boxers, touching and rubbing slowly.
Green eyes squeezed shut as a low moan was emitted from the boy below, hips
squirming into the touch.
“Do you like it when I touch you here?” The voice behind him had grown deeper,
developed an even more commanding tone, if that was even possible. Harry gave a
little nod, responding in a rush with a ‘yes sir’ before the nails had a chance
to mark him in such a private area. He felt the smile against his skin as a
hand slipped into the front of his boxers, drawing out his hard shaft amidst
the trembles.
“Do you want to know my name?” The hand began to stroke up and down Harry’s
shaft slowly, a nimble thumb rubbing against the slick slit at the tip. The
teen shuddered and nodded, a groan escaping before a little ‘yes sir’ followed.
That smile pressed against his shoulder again, the hand speeding up as his
little guest writhed under his ministrations.
“Yes sir-! Y-yes please!” Another approving grunt against his skin before the
hand sped up, tugging and pushing the foreskin to stimulate the desperate teen.
Every so often, that thumb would dip into the now leaking hole, rubbing in
quick mini circles before disappearing down the shaft again.
“My name,” the voice husked against his ear, stroking faster and faster and
Harry was right on the verge of release, “is Louis.”
“L-Louis!” Harry’s voice echoed through the back room, his hips bucking almost
desperately into the hand as he splattered his robe and belly with thick ropes
of cum. There was a sense of satisfaction in his tummy as he felt Louis card
his fingers through the curly hair, easing him down from his sexual high. He
felt warm and relaxed as he basked softly against the man whose name he finally
knew, cock softening as he was tucked back in.
Before he had any real idea of what was happening, he was being lifted and lead
back to the resting area by Louis himself, told to clean up and redress. The
elder was gone before his mind could even recognize what was happening, and
instead Zayn stood by the door, looking a little awkward. That guard had been
standing there that whole time- hadn’t he? Harry bit his lip, pulling on his
original outfit after dabbing his own release up with a paper towel, his whole
body feeling like mush.
When they returned to the main room, Louis was gone, as was the plate that had
the sushi he’d been so luxuriously fed. He felt himself feeling a little
disappointed, missing that warmth he’d felt so strongly during their intimate
moment. A flush rose to his cheeks as Zayn lead him outside to a waiting taxi.
“Did you enjoy your evening?” The tan man asked him quietly, brown eyes
watching every movement the curly teen made. He wasn’t as chatty as he’d been
on the way to the sushi restaurant, instead just very glazed. The green eyes
flicked curiously to brown before a smile struck gently.
“Yeah. I’m really happy to know his name.” Harry’s response was definitely a
happy one, and Zayn was relieved that the kid wasn’t broken or something
terrible. Haz let out a soft sound of happiness, relaxing against the seat and
staring outside the window. The rest of the ride was incredibly relaxed, and
when the younger was intercepted by the guards, he didn’t feel intimidated or
upset at all. He was more relaxed than ever, able to drift off to sleep with a
fond smile on his lips.
//
“I want him.” Louis’ voice over Zayn’s cell phone was harsh, though demanding.
The middle eastern man had tried to talk him out of it. ‘Styles Corp isn’t a
place you want to mess with, Tommo’, ‘they’ve got too many men for you to pull
it off’, ‘reconsider’.
“I don’t give a shit what you’ve seen. They won’t take a step with a barrel
pressed against those curls.” Zayn winced at the decisive tone on the other
end. When Louis wanted something, he wanted it, and more often than not there
was no denying him. If you couldn’t beat him, you had to join him, otherwise
there was a knife in your thigh for insubordination.
“How do you propose I get him for you.” It was a bored sounding statement, not
a question, and he was well aware that the other man wasn’t happy with his
tone. No matter. Zayn was a constant and his companion would get over it.
“Get close to him. Spend time with him over the next two days. Make it certain
that you’re invited to his ceremony. Then sweep him away during the reception.
Bring him here.” That tone meant there was no question, and in consideration of
that, the employee only agreed and hung up. He had two days now, and as he
clambered out of the taxi and into his small apartment, he realized that
something a lot more serious had been set into motion with the visit to the
Japanese restaurant. Something a lot more serious that he was certainly not
ready to deal with.
***** Worst Day, Bar None *****
Chapter Summary
     Well, Harry's been kidnapped and brought to Louis' place where he
     meets a somewhat psychopathic new character. Hope it's enjoyable.
     It's probably just shit but- I tried! :D
Zayn had been over twice now since the visit to the restaurant. He had taken
Harry out to eat and to just walk around, keeping casual and broad as always.
The kid had never seen so much of the outside, and he was beginning to feel as
though he’d never get sick of it. His father had been surprisingly supportive
of his excursions. They were lovely, of course, but- what Harry really wanted
was to see Louis. He asked the exotic man often about Louis, but the answer was
usually the same. “S’not my life. You’ve gotta ask him.” How was Harry supposed
to ask if he never saw the mysterious bastard again?
Not to mention that intimate hand job. The following nights had Harry from one
end of his bed to another, pulling off to the memory as his toes curled and
knuckles bled from biting. Liam had even noticed a change in his attitude. He
was more uppity, which the trainer associated with the visits outside, and
therefore more willing to train.
The eve of his birthday saw Harry and Zayn sprawled out together on a blanket
in the Styles’ compound’s garden. They were eyeing the stars in comfortable
silence, a bag of skittles between them. Somewhere in the wooded area around
them, an owl gave a loud hoot, and it startled the younger a bit. He was still
a little unused to the outside and all of its sounds, but the other man thought
it funny. Malik laughed quietly, popping some more candy in his mouth as Harry
dissolved into giggles.
“Shut up, Zayn.” He muttered playfully, reaching out a long leg to nudge his
friend. That was what he was, right? A friend? Not like Liam who was more like
a father than a companion. A real friend that didn’t order him around
(relatively speaking) or yell at him if he screwed up. They could laugh and
joke; they could fall into long stories and laughing fits that lasted a long
time.
“Sorry, sorry.” Zayn was a man of very few words. He really didn’t like talking
all that much, but he loved to listen. The curly boy was incredibly
fascinating. He had loads of memories of playing with his mom and sister
outside as a child, but after his mom had passed, he rarely saw his sister. She
was living, but a very different person. Gemma, he’d called her. Harry also
enjoyed light sports, like table tennis and table hockey. His lucky number was
forty and if he could have a cat, he’d be the happiest boy in the world. This
kid didn’t belong under Louis’ roof.
“N’ah. I’ll get over it,” Harry began, munching on some skittles, “too nice a
night to be grumpy.” Those dimples smiled over at Zayn and he felt a crushing
sense of guilt in his chest even though he nodded in agreement. He ran a tan
hand through his hair, watching the black sky as the curly boy wriggled around
next to him. The curly boy whose dad hated his hair when he was little, keeping
it short and manageable. The curly boy who hadn’t seen a real butterfly in a
decade.
“We should probably get inside, Harry.” He mumbled quietly, eyes flicking to
the younger who was quick to give an impertinent whine. The teen rolled onto
his side, staring up at Zayn with wide, childlike eyes.
“I don’t wanna.” He mumbled, lips curling into a distressed pout that the elder
found impossible to resist and or deal with over the past week. A stirring in
his chest reminded him that the next day he’d be kidnapping the same little
smiling boy that had trusted him so deeply. He reached out, cupping the dimpled
cheek with a large hand.
“You’ve got to get ready for your ceremony tomorrow.” He stated simply, and
Harry grumbled a little.
“Will Louis be there? I know I told you to invite him...” The urgency in those
green eyes made Zayn very uncomfortable.This kid didn’t know what he was
fucking with. He ran a thumb over the high cheekbone a moment, knowing how
distressed Harry would be upon finally going to bed.
“He can’t make it. Business.” He murmured in response, eyelashes hitting the
soft skin of the cheek bone as Harry looked down in disappointment. He let out
a little mumbling “oh” before finally sitting up. There was a tense moment of
silence before the kid looked to his guard who was still sprawled on the
blanket.
“Well, you’ll be there, won’t you?” An uncertain expression flitted across
Zayn’s face momentarily before he gave a little smile and nod. Inside, however,
he felt like pulling out his own intestines and strangling himself with them.
He hated his job.
//
The next morning, Harry woke up to a few knocks earlier than usual. He was told
by Paul to go through his usual routine and get dressed by four to attend his
ceremony being held in the gardens. The teen felt this was fair, and was
brimming with excitement. He’d never had a party like this before- it was
thrilling! Despite the fact that his dad would probably be doing some sort of
dirty business dealings behind the stringed music and Hors d'oeuvres.
He met with Liam after breakfast and a bit of reading, and was excited to know
that they weren’t going to be working the teenager ragged. “It’s your
birthday,” Liam had said, “just enjoy yourself.” The unfortunate bit though was
that Liam was pretty well restricted to the exercise room, so that just left
Harry with a great gap in his schedule.
Harry padded back upstairs, glancing around his room for something to do. Since
he’d gone outside, he’d spent absolutely no time glaring out the window and
wishing he was someone else... The teen padded to the window, pressing his nose
to the glass and...-!
“Louis?” There was a man on the roof across the way, staring blankly back at
him as if it were his rooftop and Harry shouldn’t be surprised he was there. He
inched as close as he could to the window, recognizing that hair and patch as
the same from the man nearly a week ago. There were warning signs there, but
obviously the kid wasn’t considering them. Harry waved happily, a bright grin
spreading over his features as Louis returned the gesture before leaving to his
fire escape, leaving the younger’s heart beating heavily in his chest.
Maybe Louis would come to his party after all!
//
It was three forty five and Harry was being corralled by Paul to a little
waiting room where the elderly man straightened his tuxedo and bow tie. His
birthday ceremony would start in fifteen minutes- his moment of happiness where
he was the most important man in the room. At this point, the curly headed boy
had even forgotten about Zayn and Louis, which was an incredible achievement.
He heard an announcement from beyond the door, introducing him and Paul moved
to nudge him urgently out.
The moment his foot landed on the black carpet laid out to mark his path, the
stringed instruments started up and a room full of people began to applaud him.
It was amazing- that weird swell he got in his chest- and it only escalated as
he picked Liam out in the crowd. He beamed, totally thrilled with the whole
situation.
Paul nudged him again from behind, now taking a spot beside his young master to
walk him through the seats to his own special table where his father sat.
Everyone was dressed to the nines in suits and gowns, looking quite splendid as
the stringed instruments filled the air. Harry took his seat, his eyes
brightening gleefully as he spotted Zayn across the room, sipping on a glass of
wine.
The party commenced with the master of the house saying a little bit of
nonsense babble about his son and responsibility, “when I told Harold he’d be
having this commencement ceremony only a few days ago, his surprise far
surpassed what I believed it would be,” his eyes flicked to Liam who shrugged
sheepishly amidst a few laughs through the room, “but now, his surprises are
his own.” There were a few more speeches like this, including one from a prim
young woman with firey eyes who introduced herself as Gemma.
Across the room, Zayn shifted a little in interest to get a look at her. She
looked a lot like her brother, which was certainly no insult as Harry himself
was quite the beauty for a man. Her long chestnut hair was curled loosely and
tied up halfway on her head, framing her angular neck. Harry seemed entranced
by his sister, and hung on her every word, even if it wasn’t that interesting.
They hadn’t spent time together in years- there wasn’t much to say.
Harry clapped twice as loud for Gemma’s speech, though the woman didn’t seem to
care one way or the other as she took her seat on the other side of their
father. From that point on, the meal began- a richly catered lunch that was
leaving every guest fat and sated, except for Zayn. He only nibbled, not really
having much of an appetite. Especially when there was a seat next to him
labeled ‘reserved’ for a certain someone he had no desire to think about.
Finally, the reception was to begin, and each party guest headed for the
gardens to enjoy a similar musical set up outside.
Harry was preening. He was the center of attention, and Zayn could tell he
loved it. However, unfortunate as it was, being the center of attention made it
hard for the tan man to sneak in and talk to him. Guest after guest came up to
the curly teen, congratulating him on his birthday, giving him cards and gifts
of all sizes and shapes. There was at one time a point where the middle eastern
man could have swooped in, but he was cut off by a bow legged man with very
little hair and a very thick moustache instead.
Thankfully, the birthday boy noticed him and made friendly eye contact - a
silent promise that he would get to Zayn as soon as possible. As good as his
word, er, eyeball, Harry was stepping up to his friend moments later with a
large grin plastered on his face.
“Hey, Zayn!” He wiggled a little, seeming like he was too excited for his own
skin to contain him. The elder smiled a bit, his intestines feeling like they
were full of acid. He wasn’t ready for this at all.
“Harry... Happy birthday.” He didn’t sound happy for the younger at all, but
Harry didn’t seem to take it as if it mattered any less. Before he could even
ask to take the younger somewhere more private, he was being pulled by an eager
teenager out of sight of everyone else. Was this how easy it was going to be?
Damn, he may as well just ask Harry to come live at Louis’ place at this rate.
No, though. Louis wanted a scene. He’d known the man long enough to expect that
much.
“Look, I know we’ve only really been around each other a few days, and now that
I’m having my ceremony, we probably won’t see each other anymore,” if only he
knew, “but I just wanted to thank you. I never really knew what having a friend
was like.” Harry was a grinning idiot now, and Zayn just wanted to lay down and
die. If he had the option, he may have tried.
“I’ve got to agree, Harry.” Zayn mumbled, reaching into his jacket pocket and
pulling out his pistol. It was now or never. “Which is why I’m going to have to
ask you to come with me.”
//
There were gasps and shouts of horror as a shaking teenager was brought out
from behind the shrubbery with a gun pressed against that curly head of his. As
weapons were raised in his defense, he was vaguely certain of a voice shouting
out beside his right ear to hold their fire. Harry really couldn’t concentrate
on anything. As far as he was concerned, Zayn could have said that the apple
martinis were lovely but needed more tequila. All he was really certain of was
that he was really fucking scared.
From that point on, everything merged together. The air in the car was thick,
and all Harry could really hear was the distressed hammering of his heart
against his ribcage. His wide green eyes flicked here and there, finally
falling on Zayn who sat next to him in trembles, face in his hands. The younger
took a deep breath, sounds and sights swimming back into his vision as he
spoke.
“What the fuck was that?”
Zayn couldn’t handle it- that expression- as he looked up to answer. Harry
looked wrecked and he’d barely been through anything. Sure, on the outside he
was still quite proper, but his eyes were distressed and terrified, a little
dazed still from his shock. Pink lips were pouted, alternating between being
pursed and being lax as he fended off his tears.
He couldn’t believe that this was his life right now. He’d finally felt good;
something Zayn hadn’t felt in a long time. He enjoyed the time he spent with
Harry, and had loosened up enough around him that this betrayal hit deep inside
of his own subconscious as well. He lifted a dark hand, running his fingers
through his hair.
“Quiet.”
The look of hurt stunned them both into silence as the car travelled along the
quiet path to what seemed like nowhere. Harry peeked out, his tears finally
flowing as he lifted his sleeve up to wipe them away. This was supposed to be
his day. His birthday. When everyone looked at him instead of his father- where
he felt important and like he mattered. Even Gemma had spoken for him, which
was such an achievement that he just didn’t know how to feel. Yet now, less
than an hour after the reception had begun, he’d been carted out with a barrel
to his head by someone he had considered his friend.
Had he been foolish? Surely. The signs were all in front of him. The mysterious
man on the roof, similar patches, not learning anything on his trips out...
Zayn was no teacher or specialist. He was just getting close to fuck him up. It
worked.
“Who do you work for?” Harry finally muttered, rubbing the sleeve of his right
arm over his tear stained cheeks, cursing himself for the cracking in his
voice. He glanced to the other man with puffy eyes and swollen lips from
nervous biting, and Zayn felt his airways close at the look of absolute misery
written on the teen’s face. He was also well aware that the expression would
only deepen at his utterance.
“Louis Tomlinson.”
The reaction was as he figured it would be, and Harry looked ready to burst.
Louis had only logically affected three or four days of his life, but it seemed
that those mild interactions would be shaping the paths of his future. The
question remained; why the fuck was this happening?
“Why?”
Zayn was in deep, and he was well aware. He was shutting down inside, feeling
too rotten to keep from spilling what he knew. At least- to the point of where
Louis would actually bring down the hammer if he found out. The man tilted his
head to Harry, his brows knitted together as he considered his response.
“He likes you.” Was that enough? Would Harry be content with it? After all, he
had grown up in a mob family. He should know that when you want something badly
enough, you just sort of take it. The teen’s lips tightened and Zayn’s stomach
coiled unpleasantly as a few more tears slipped out. It was no matter, the
elder decided in the back of his mind, they’d be at Louis’ place soon and Niall
would be taking care of it. Harry was shaking, he noted, and in consideration
he was going to press his hand to the younger’s shoulder out of compassion. The
flinch was duly noted (and not altogether unexpected) and Zayn recoiled
accordingly.
When they arrived at Louis’ place, their silence was so thick it could only be
cut with one of those extra sharp knives from Japan. The compound was very
different from Styles’, as it was more of a mansion than a building. It wasn’t
in the city at all, rather a few miles out. Harry had tensed up so hard that
the elder was afraid he would suddenly explode like a tightly wound spring, but
he stayed relatively calm as they took the short walk to the front door. It was
lovely, really, but the teen couldn’t stop himself from sneering in disgust at
everything despite his disposition.
“Stay here.” Zayn muttered, stepping past the younger to the wooden door,
rapping on it in quick succession. Harry glanced around, his brows knitted
tightly together in defiance as he ignored his ex best friend almost
completely.
“Hmph. Yeah. What if I run? What’ll stop me?” Harry asked with a tone that was
distinctly teenager. It reminded the other man that the young adult before him
was no man at all. Still a child in the eyes of the world. It made him a little
sick, to be honest. Zayn paused in his knocking to look at his companion with a
pointed expression.
“The armed guards at the corners of the wooded areas. The armed guards in the
second story. The armed guards in their own compound houses.” This successfully
paled the teen, and Zayn turned back to continue his game of waiting. Finally,
there was a loud click and the door was being opened ever so slowly to reveal a
small blonde with bright blue eyes and a mischievous expression that Harry
couldn’t relate to very well. He looked like there was a lit flame under his
ass and he was searching for any way to fan it and make it brighter.
“Hey, love. Is this the new cat?” The blonde stepped forward to which Harry
took a step back, glancing around warily for those armed guards Zayn had told
him about.
“He’s barely a kitten, Niall.” Zayn grunted, suddenly seeming a little more
uncomfortable. If the youngest in the group had been paying attention, he
probably would’ve noticed the warning looks that the blonde was getting. As it
was, the guy called Niall only grinned a little bigger and moved to grab
Harry’s forearm, pulling him in towards the door.
“I’ll take care ov ‘im.” The Irish accent reverberated through Harry’s being as
he was suddenly tugged in very close, a yelp shooting from his throat. He
didn’t like this guy nor the situation - though he supposed he didn’t have much
of a choice - and the last thing he wanted was to be in Louis’ compound with
some creep he didn’t like. The loss of Zayn’s presence was unsettling even
though Harry was now the president of the ‘I hate Zayn’ fan club, and if he
could change history he’d spend an arm and a leg doing so.
“So y’er Harry.” Niall commented, pulling the teen through some winding halls,
a bit of deja vu swirling in his guts as he recalled the similar experiences
while visiting Louis. “‘M Niall. ‘M Lou’s right ‘and man.” His introduction was
lame, Harry thought quietly, and being that lame did not deserve an answer. He
usually wasn’t so anti-social, but then again, he usually wasn’t kidnapped,
lied to, and betrayed in one day either.
He intended to stay completely silent as well. At least for as long as it was
humanly possible. This didn’t last as long as he had hoped because Niall was
quickly turning on him, an odd frown on his face.
“I asked ye a question.” He snapped, and in a burst of shock, Harry only
nodded. This would have been enough for a normal person, but as the teen was
quickly learning, Niall wasn’t really all that normal. He tugged Harry close, a
bit of a snarl marring his features as he tightened his grip uncomfortably on
the arm in his hand.
“Ye respond with y’er words. Didn’t y’er m’am teach ya that?” This was
spiralling out of control quickly, and Harry was figuring out that he was
definitely more terrified than defiant. He was going to answer every question
with surprising length and consideration because his stomach was on a roller
coaster; this explained the sick feeling in his tummy, he supposed.
The urge to spout out that his mother hadn’t been around long enough to teach
him anything was pretty damn strong, but the boy bit his tongue and went around
it a little.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve had the lessons.” Harry said shakily, and Niall
looked almost confused before barking out a mad laugh. The teen shrunk away a
moment before his blonde companion turned, grip still unbelievably tight on his
arm as he was dragged.
“Y’er funneh.” That was all that was said before Harry was chucked into a large
room, decorated in blue and pink with all of his favorite books and films lined
up over the shelves. He looked disturbed a moment, turning to try and figure
out where Niall had gone when he was faced with a closed door. The teen felt
his body begin to shake again, the fear taking over a second time since he’d
managed to calm down.
This was absolutely terrible.
He paced a bit, trying to calm his mind with logical thoughts, ‘dad knows I’ve
been taken’, ‘he’ll figure a way to get me home’, ‘I won’t be here more than a
few days’. However, these seemed to make him more erratic, and before he knew
it, he had knocked over a bookshelf full of films and reading material onto the
floor. The mess was astonishing- how many things had really been on it? But the
feeling of absolute destruction also had his breath evening out. His lips
pursed when the bookshelf remained in tact. Something of that size should
break, he decided. Harry promptly grabbed the decorative wooden chair from the
desk, swinging it up over his head and cracking it hard over the solid back of
the shelf. He continued until a satisfying crack and crunch was heard before he
finally chucked the now-rickety chair down on top of it all and collapsed on
the bed.
He had made a great mess, but he felt good. Really good. Not as good as he
would feel if he were at home with Paul, but good enough. Then he realized how
fucked he really was, and felt himself dissolving into tears. His body and mind
were absolutely wrecked, and he had no idea how to get himself home.
//
“Y’er knew pet is destroyin’ ‘is room.” Niall stated blankly, staring at the
screen in front of him as he sipped from a steaming cup. The Irishman and Louis
were sitting together in a control room, three screens displaying video in
front of them of Harry’s tantrum in his bedroom.
“I can see that.” Louis replied, his voice heavy and warning, coaxing Niall to
edge back just a little. The master of the house watched in silence as the
teenager on camera laid back onto his mattress before curling in on himself and
crying. Louis stirred a bit of sugar into his own cup and leaned back in his
swivel chair, a frown on his face.
“Ya gonna deal with it?” It seemed like the blonde couldn’t bite his tongue
there, and his master looked ready to kill as he swerved to stair Niall down.
“Shut the fuck up, Niall.” His voice was a threat all on its own, and the
younger man backed down immediately, holding up his hands as though in
surrender.
“‘M just askin’.”
“I’ll deal with it when I’m fucking ready to deal with it.” Louis hissed
through clenched teeth, and the other nodded a little.
“Ya pissed?”
“Of course I’m pissed! I had that all handcrafted and now it’s fucking
destroyed! Don’t fucking push me, Niall!” Louis’ language was about as diverse
as a two-year-old’s, and the blonde could sense the rage boiling under that
olive skin.
He grinned, loving when the master got this way. The blonde laid his hands on
the man’s shoulders, squeezing softly and giving a slow massage the way the
elder liked. Louis’ muscles untensed, though his expression was clearly asking
what the hell that insubordinate thought he was doing.
“Maybe y’er too angry to deal with it now.” Niall stated thoughtfully, though
that fire was burning under his ass brighter than ever. His movements were a
little uncertain, hoping Louis would take the bait.
“I don’t know.” A groan was brought from the brunette’s throat as a thumb hit a
tight muscle and forced it to uncoil. A smirk and grin twisted Niall’s face.
“Look how tense ya are, Lou. Lemme take care ov ‘im.” His tone was pleading
now, as if it were something he truly desired. Louis looked incredibly
uncertain for a few moments.
“I want him to like me.” He finally stated simply, his brows knitted together.
At that, Niall made a sound of disapproval, knowing he had wound his leader
down enough to allow this kind of discussion.
“He won’t hate ya. He’ll hate me.” The matter-of-fact tone tumbled like a
fountain from the blonde’s mouth, and Louis felt a little more secure in the
idea. After a few more gentle circles over the tight flesh, a tone of
resignation rattled from below.
“Fine. Just-... Don’t fuck him.” Another disapproving sound emitted from the
blonde, but it was cut off immediately by a growl from Louis, showing that the
matter was fucking closed and if Niall wanted to do this, he’d better get the
fuck on with it.
//
Three unnecessary knocks on the door had woken the curly teen from his sob-
induced nap, and it took him a few seconds to focus on what he was seeing.
There was a dark form in the doorway, the setting sun through the window
providing a terrible source of light.
“Hey there, little one,” that Irish accent had Harry’s skin crawling, “see ya
didn’t like y’er new room ver’ much. Lou’s got too much on ‘is ‘ands right now,
so I’ll be takin’ care o’ business while he’s out.”
Harry had no idea what was coming, but the rattling of fear up his spine had to
account for something. After all, this guy was a fucking nut job - not that
Harry had known that many to use reference from - and nothing good ever came
from putting a nut job in a position of power over another human being.
He shifted up on his bed, shifting over the duvet and wriggling onto the other
side of the bed as Niall made a great show of shutting the door and turning the
lock to stop someone outside from getting in. The blonde leaned down, picking
up a copy of Dirty Dancing off the floor and examining the broken case lining.
He made a ‘tsk’ noise before he chucked his arm back and flung it hard at the
boy on the bed. It missed Harry by a fraction, but it had the desired effect as
the teen scampered off the bed and scrambled back against the wall.
“Heh- I’m thinkin’ I’d be pretty happeh to ‘ave a room like this’n.” Niall
commented as the younger looked around frantically, trying to find a way out.
Trying to find something heavy enough to knock the other out with. Something-
anything!
“No one else has a nice room like this’n.” The blonde continued, blue eyes
piercing through Harry as he took a few steps towards the curly headed boy.
“Ye’v got somethin’ real nice, and ye go and wreck it.” The boy looked like a
mouse now, cornered by a very hungry cat.
He was getting angry now, though. Harry could see it brewing in those stormy
eyes. In what felt like seconds, Niall was pressed against him, a fist clenched
around that goddamn bow tie. The teen was lifted from the ground by the
blonde’s surprising force, his eyes as wide as saucers.
“‘ave yeh forgotten what weh talked aboat?” The accent was getting thicker now,
and Harry swallowed the lump of absolute terror down his throat. “Use. Y’er.
Fahking. Werds.” With that, the younger was thrown to the ground, pinned by the
smaller man who was pressing his shirt up to see what was hiding.
“Fu-Fucking shit! Get off!” Harry was struggling now, not quite understanding
what was going on. He was exhausted from the day, totally winded from the fall,
and now Niall was trying to undress him. It made so little sense that he was
through with trying to understand.
“What theh fahk is this shet?” Niall’s voice was amazed, and the boy below him
paused in tense confusion, hands pressed against the blonde’s shoulders.
“Yeh’ve got foor nipples.” He muttered, reaching down to pinch one rather hard.
Harry yelled out, writhing once again before he realized that the man above him
wasn’t letting go. He instantly stilled, not wanting one of his extras to be
ripped off or something.
“St-Stoppit.” Harry grunted, now trying to peel the elder’s fingers from his
bits, but he wasn’t budging.
“Yeh see this, Lou? Foor.” Niall repeated, looking up to the camera that was
hidden away in the wall. This was a very small window to get out, Harry thought
as he prepared his fist to come into contact with the blonde’s jaw and cheek.
Liam had trained him for this moment, and he wasn’t about to lose this perfect
angle where the elder was distracted. He wound up and... POW.
Niall was off him, holding his face and giving a low groan at the discomfort.
Before the blonde even landed, the younger was at the door, jerking at the
handle and pounding at the frame. Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked! LOCKED!
“Help!” He shouted desperately, eyes wild and frenzied, fingers grabbing and
clawing at the door. On a second note, he added in, “Louis! Please! I-I know
you’re there!”
There was no finishing to that thought though. Niall had regained his composure
and was up again, grabbing the screaming lad around the waist and hurling him
to the bed. He was furious now, and there was no stopping him. Harry thrashed
and threw his fists, his only desire to keep himself so volatile that the
Irishman grew tired of trying. It seemed impossible though, and all of his
struggling was really only helping. With every wriggle, his pants and briefs
slipped lower. While he flailed about, the blonde focused on his own zipper. It
really wasn’t the best strategy
Two hands hooked under Harry’s knees and pushed, splitting him in half and
making him realize the absolute seriousness of the situation.
“‘M sorry-! Don’t- I-!” He sobbed out, dissolving again into tears. He didn’t
have the energy for this. Nor the resilience to keep up with his original plan
of never giving in. Harry’s toes curled as he felt the hot, dry head of Niall’s
cock pressing against his virgin hole, every movement seeming to last forever
as he anticipated how shredded he would be.
BANG!
There were no coherent words as the door slammed open, startling the sobbing
teen and hovering blonde. In fact, it all went very fast. There was a loud
noise, a growling sound, and then there was a mess of Louis and Niall flailing
about the room, slipping on the mess, and generally ruining that proper room
even further.
Harry’s heart was pounding as he scrambled to get his shorts up, his body
wriggling away from the legitimate fist fight going on before him.
Unfortunately, it was more one sided than it seemed. It was along the lines of
Louis throwing punches at Niall who was desperately trying to block himself
from the shower of hits.
This went on for quite some time, the teenager frozen in terror on his bed in
his jacket and underpants while the two grown men squabbled and shouted from
the floor. Ultimately, it ended with Louis banishing his staff member from the
room with a commanding howl of obscenities, leaving him alone with the shaking
teenager.
It all seemed so-... Awkward now. Blue eyes met green for a moment- a familiar
sensation running down Harry’s spine as they did- and then the contact was
broken. Louis pointed wordlessly at the mess, panting from his battle with the
little blonde before looking back to the terrified teenager.
“Clean this shit up. I-I’ll be back to deal with you later.” The voice was
still holding that commanding tone, which urged Harry up to start cleaning even
before the door was shut and locked behind him.
This was probably going to be singled out as the worst day of his life, bar
none.
***** You're A Slut *****
Chapter Summary
     Louis is intending to punish Harry for destroying the room, but will
     it be as bad as he really expects?
Chapter Notes
     I'm sorry it's short and almost late! I'm considering making a little
     update site. That way you can see where I'm at in the process of
     chapter writing! Leave me a comment if you think I should. c:
Harry had cleaned all that he could by the time he heard the lock clicking in
his door. He certainly couldn’t fix the chair or the bookcase, but he had made
a pile of wood from the sitting place and propped the bookcase up as well as he
could. What he couldn’t salvage, he made a pile out of, and what he couldn’t
fit on the cracked shelves, he stacked neatly on his desk. He was sitting
awkwardly on his bed, black slacks pulled back on when he finally had company.
“Harold.” Green eyes snapped up to meet unreadable blue eyes of the man that
held the contract to his life. However angry he still was, he was still
mortified above all else and kept quite quiet before the man’s lips pursed.
“How do you greet people?” The man snapped, stepping forward almost menacingly.
It took the curly teen a moment to remember his previous lessons, uttering a
small greeting followed up with ‘sir’. It sounded nothing like him- he realized
in the silence that followed- and it was an uncomfortable understanding that he
wasn’t in his world anymore.
“That’s right.” Louis stepped to him, staring disapprovingly at the mess on the
floor from where the younger had picked up after himself. He frowned, stepping
towards Harry and sitting down beside him on the bed. The teen looked
absolutely wrecked, though the brunette didn’t blame him, and there was another
stretch of awkward silence as the struggle for something to say continued.
“I’m upset with you, Harold.” The statement was simple and commanding, and
oddly enough it made a sense of disappointment slither down the curly teen’s
spine.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry murmured, his eyes watching the ground rather intently.
He wasn’t sorry- not really. It was more like... There was some weird part
inside of him that truly was upset that Louis was disappointed, but not an
actual regret of his actions. The man beside him stirred a moment as though to
respond, but fell silent and stilled instead.
“There are consequences that follow inadequate behavior, Harold.” Louis stated
in a suave tone, his hands smoothing out the duvet on either side of him where
it had been mussed and wrinkled from the new tenant’s wriggling. The worried
expression that suddenly caught the teen’s face was almost humorous as the
brunette’s eyes crinkled with a smile. There was nothing comforting at all
about that twist of lips and Harry felt himself growing more nervous by the
second. What was the kind of punishment for this behavior? If his dad had a
victim that had behaved as he had- well... Harry gulped and shifted here and
there on the mattress, feeling his palms begin to sweat.
Louis was enjoying every little second of this. The kid looked so
uncomfortable- it was thrilling. Originally, he had planned to take the curly
haired lad just because of the ransom. He wanted that money- needed it to
rebuild a portion of a compound on the city limits that had been damaged by
Styles’ Corp. After their second meeting though- he’d had a few other things in
mind. He reached out, carding his fingers through the soft brown twists on the
top of Harry’s head.
“You don’t want me to be angry with you, do you?” The question had the teen’s
brows furrowing, and Louis gave a tighter smirk.
“Of course I don’t, Sir.”
“You want to be out of trouble as soon as possible, right?”
“Yes, Sir.” Harry was now very confused, and it was easy to sense the tension
over his expressive face. Even the tone of his voice was uncertain and
beginning to sound his age.
“Take off your jacket, Harold.” The order was prim and the tone of authority
unwavering but- Harry just simply didn’t want to. Not many hours ago, that
sociopath of a guard had tried to rape him. He was nowhere near comfortable
with stripping for the older man. As a small -but meaningful- act of defiance,
Harry gave a short shake of his head. The look Louis gave him at that sent a
wave of terror down his spine.
“I will not repeat myself again,” he hissed, sounding like he was coming
unglued rather quickly, “take off your jacket.” It was swiftly becoming
apparent to Haz that Louis had some sort of anger issues- even though it
shouldn’t be anything new to the teen by any stretch of the imagination.
“I-I don’t want to.” He couldn’t believe his own ears as he spoke. It had been
blurted out so fast! Harry felt his heart surge in terror as the already thin
lips of his companion thinned further, a hand flying at the speed of pain to
connect violently with his cheek.
“I’m not asking-” the powerful tone had gone dark with rage, “and if you don’t
take it off willingly, I’ll rip it seam from seam off your body. So with every
ounce of my self control, I’ll say it one. Last. Time. Take. Off. Your.
Jacket.” Instinctively, Harry had covered his burning cheek with one of his
large hands, looking absolutely mortified. The burning that was festering in
the brunette’s eyes was that of undoubted danger, and he felt that if he didn’t
take off the jacket, the elder may take off his arm.
With consideration towards the fact that he kind of liked his arms and legs
being attached to his being, Harry finally began to pull his sleeve gently,
tugging the material off of his lanky arms to expose his nice white undershirt.
He set the jacket to the side before returning his hand to his cheek, sulking -
as teenagers do- while Louis looked him over.
“Now the shirt.” Louis added, and without too much hesitation, the younger
moved to unbutton his dress shirt. After all, he wasn’t particularly wanting
his right cheek to match his stinging left. The elder man hummed in
appreciation, watching like a hungry wolf as inch after inch of pretty milky
flesh was exposed. There was no time for Harry to relax as the brunette was now
demanding his pants be undone and removed as well. He couldn’t handle the
building apprehension in his guts as he shakily moved to unbutton his nice
slacks.
“L-Louis, I don’t-”
“Sir.”
“Sir... I don’t want to- to take these off.” Harry’s hands stilled now, the
memory of the fear the hot cock-head had instilled still too fresh in his mind.
Unfortunately, the elder was just as unforgiving as Niall, but more powerful by
far. Even the scrutiny of those angry blue eyes made the younger wish he had
just followed through with the task instead of questioning it.
"Did I ask you what you wanted?" The voice was oddly settled and controlled,
but there was an obvious force hiding behind it. It made the teenager shift
uncomfortably with a little grimace as he shook his head 'no'. What was totally
unexpected, (and if you asked Harry, uncalled for) was when Louis' arm darted
out quickly to wrap his fingers tightly around the younger's long neck. The
curly boy yelped and reached up immediately to scratch and scramble at the
fingers that were deftly attempting to block his airways.
"N-No!" Harry replied, his little heart leaping out of his chest as he began to
shift backwards, trying to escape the angry fingers. Louis finally let go,
Harry's momentum carrying him to the bed where he lay gasping a moment. It took
a little while for him to realize that since he had not done it himself, his
new master was taking it upon himself to undo the buttons of the black dress
pants. What didn't take any time at all was for the younger to decide what
course of action to take. He laid quite still, letting the smaller fingers
undress him until he was down to his little boxer briefs, goosebumps prickling
up on his legs from the combination of the situation and cold air.
"Was that so bad?" Louis demanded, his voice definitely less angry now as he
could admire the long limbs without a struggle. There was a shake of a head
from below, and the mobster decided that perhaps he could allow Haz that small
victory. He ran a hand up that slender thigh, fondly recalling the similar
movement from the Japanese restaurant. This kid never got boring to touch or
watch- perhaps he'd just keep him rather than take on the ransom and return
him.
"No, sir." Harry mumbled out lowly, his eyes catching on something else in the
room to keep his attention while the elder man touched him. It didn't have the
magical appeal he had felt when Louis had touched him before. There was no
excitement or mystery. He was just scared. Terrified, really. He wanted to go
home. He wanted to lug around a heavy vest and have awkward meal conversations
with his father every evening. Everything that used to bother him suddenly
seemed so comforting. If he never saw the outside again, that would even be
okay with him. The teen couldn't stifle a surprised noise as he felt something
hot and wet slip over the front of his boxers, and with a little yelp, he
realized it was Louis' tongue. Just the thought had him under some sort of
misty euphoria, his toes curling up at the attention. Two dark brows knitted
together as he watched the man below him draw little patterns with his snake-
like tongue. The curly lad wouldn't have been surprised if the bastard's tongue
was forked at this rate.
"What are-" Before Harry could even begin to muck up the situation, the man was
shushing him, prodding apart his thighs with a strong, slender hand. Silence
was sudden and iminent over the room, leaving the younger feeling nervous and
very much aware of the pudgy little bits on his stomach from where his baby fat
lingered, or the fact that his legs were still lanky despite all of the
training. Nothing still seemed to compare to that tongue that was now tracing
symbols over his hardening package, leaving moist kisses through the fabric
with low, teasing chuckles. Harry was certain- Satan had kidnapped him. With
such a divine body and tongue combined with the most evil of intentions-
definitely Satan.
Toes were curling up again as that tongue began to lick and press against the
fabric with more pressure, wetting down the outline of Harry's erection and
making a slippery trail down to the bulge of his sac. By now, the teenager was
nothing but a writhing, mewling, mess on his sheets, and Louis was definitely
okay with that.
"You know- for someone who puts up such a fight about being undressed, you
certainly don't mind getting licked" Louis commented as he removed the final
piece of clothing hiding his little pet from him, "you know who's very
similar?" the question lingered in the air as the older man eyed Harry's shaft,
hard and leaking against his tummy.
"Wh-Who?" Even if this was more to humor Louis than anything else, the kid
didn't care. All he wanted was that sinful mouth on him again! There was no
more defiance- at least at that moment- because fuck! This guy couldn't lead
him to euphoria and back without letting him relieve himself.
"A slut." Louis' answer was biting, and below him there was a noise of
disapproval. However, before any real complaining could be done, two long arms
had hooked under Haz's thighs and lifted them, launching his hips up and off
the mattress. What happened next would have the teenager flushing into his
fifties.
"Louis!"
"Ngh..."
The man had pressed his nose right into the soft flesh of Harry's sac, delving
his tongue deep into the crack to prod menacingly at his virgin opening. The
boy could barely believe it- nor the pleasure that came with it. His fingers
dove into his curly hair to grab tightly and pull while his throat made some
sort of noise he had no idea he was even capable of. That tongue came again,
swiping over his small opening again and again. There were no crayola brand
names to describe the color of Harry's face at that moment in time, but he was
sure it was very similar to the purplish-red tone his cock was sporting. Louis
pulled back, a strand of saliva keeping the man's tongue connected to Haz's
private place.
"A slut loves these sorts of things." He muttered huskily, releasing one of the
teen's thighs so he could bring a finger to the slippery hole, "and judging by
the way you were howling to the ceiling, that makes you a slut." Lou pressed
the pad of his finger against the younger's tight hole, rubbing and putting
minimal amounts of pressure against it before breaching the opening and
slipping his digit in knuckle deep.
"N-Not a slut." Harry mumbled out, his hole rapidly contracting around the
finger as he tried to grow accustomed to it, slight discomfort written on his
pretty features. The dominant male let this slip, moving to put his tongue to
better use. He licked that tight ring of muscles around his finger, aiding the
thrusting movement he was implementing by getting his digit nice and moist.
Before long, Harry was whimpering and moaning again, being coaxed by a second
finger and tongue.
Suddenly, the fingers were removed along with the tongue and Louis’ support. A
pair of hips plopped back on the bed accompanied by a noise of disgruntled
shock.
“Ehn?”
“Do you want to get off?” Louis was standing by the bedside drawer with an
inquisitive expression on his face. Wondering if this was some sort of trick,
the younger hesitated before giving a little nod.
“Good.”
In an instant, Louis was back. He tossed the boy onto his hands and knees,
barking a little order at the boy to ‘keep his ass high’ and to ‘stop moving
like a damn idiot’. Once everything was in check, Harry was trembling at the
feel of some very icy cold substance dripping down into his crack. He let out a
little mewl, eyes closing tightly as he tried to keep from reaching back to
find out what it was.
“Sluts love it.” The man behind him murmured, encouraging a grumpy little noise
from the folded teenager below. There were no verbal complaints, however, as
there was a small phallic shaped tool being pressed between his cheeks. Harry’s
breath caught in his throat as he was penetrated by a small toy, a little hand
pressed against the small of his back to ensure his posture.
“Whassit...?” A flush was high on Harry’s cheeks as he panted out his question,
writhing in shame at the chuckle that emitted from the elder. The hand
disappeared from his back and instead carded through his hair comfortably, the
hand working the dildo beginning a nice, deep rhythm.
“Just a toy,” the conversational tone made Haz writhe a little more, “that I
can tell you’ll like.” He prodded around a few more times before the curly lad
yelped, hips bucking just slightly. Amidst a mumble of, ‘there it is’, he
flicked his left wrist, burying the toy in deep and clicking a little button on
the side to begin a very vigorous vibration. The teen was completely
speechless, eyes round and jaw dropped- he could barely focus on the duvet or
one of the four posts of his bed.
A low groan from Louis reminded him of what was going on, and he turned his
head quickly to meet his glazed eyes with the same piercing blue he was getting
used to. The coiling in his stomach was tight, and he realized that the release
was pending and he’d not even been touched! Haz gulped hard, hips jutting back
just a little to try and get the vibrating tip to shift over his gland, wanting
more friction!
“Harry likes it, ehn?” The mutter was thoughtful before the toy was thrusted
rapidly into his clenching hole and against the sweet little bundle of nerves
deep in his body. It only took three rough movements for the teen to spill out
against his blankets with a quick sob of the mobster’s name. Louis himself was
impressed. Done with this, he turned and padded out of his pet’s room, leaving
the boy laying in a pile of his own mess with a vibrating toy still lodged deep
inside of him.
//
“What kind ‘o punishmen’ was tha’?” Niall sounded morbidly offended as Louis
joined him in the control room. Despite the angry tone the Irishman sported,
he’d decided not to tuck the erection back in his pants just then.
“You traumatized him, Horan.” The response was soft, and Niall, for once, shut
his mouth. There was a quiet moment before the leader reached out to grope the
blonde’s dick, stroking slowly.
“You don’t seem too unhappy.”
“Can’ say I re’lleh am.”
“Suck my dick and I’ll make sure you get off too. Get on your knees.”
***** Some Filler Chapter Stuff *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry and Zayn are reunited, while a little peek of Niall and Louis'
     past is revealed. Poorly. Because I suck. Thanks for putting up with
     my crap!! <3
Chapter Notes
     I'm so sorry this took so long to update! I've been incredibly sick-
     in and out of hospitals sick- and it was just hard to keep up. It's
     more of a filler than anything else because I was so desperate to
     give something to you guys. But it is full of plot points and fun
     stuff. <3 Love y'all. Thanks for putting up with my bull!
Back at the Styles’ corporation, Harry’s absence was the top priority on
everyone’s mind. The heir of the estate was gone, and the master of the house
was in a panic. He sat behind his desk, mulling over the letter that his agents
had left on his desk marked ‘Tomlinson&Co.” It held all of the younger boss’
demands, which was for an incredible lump sum of cash to be delivered within
the next month. Liam had been into his office on multiple occasions to demand
they send out a search and rescue mission, but Styles Sr. had been far too deep
in thought to even recognize he was being harassed. Each time, the physical
trainer was lead back to the weight room, told to stay put for the remainder of
the day.
Gemma had even been into her father’s office to express her deep concerns about
her brother’s disappearance.
“Surely we can arrange the funds by the beginning of March...” She had
insisted, holding on gently to her father’s large fingers and giving a gentle
squeeze. He hadn’t responded, and after a few minutes of silence, she had
returned to her chambers.
//
A few moments after Louis had left him, the boy had reached back shakily to
dislodge the still wriggling toy from his backside, letting it run out its
batteries on his duvet as he panted and attempted to catch his breath. The man
had come in to punish him, hadn’t he? For fighting with Niall and wrecking his
pristine bedroom? But- that didn’t seem much like a punishment at all. Harry
moved to the closet to peek inside and see what there was for him to change in.
There was an outfit identical to the one Zayn had bought him--he felt a
twitching sensation in his tummy as he thought about Zayn--and many other
outfits from casual to bedtime to classy 007. Considering how exhausted he was,
he grabbed a pair of long cotton bottoms and pulled them on over his naked
lower half. It was time for a good few hours of rest.
//
Niall was able to finish his master off quickly as he was already on his brink
from the show of the boy trembling and cumming violently underneath him. Louis
never was one to disappoint, and even though he was still quite pissed at the
little Irishman for trying to do the one thing he had told the younger not to,
he had brought Niall over the edge with a large toy and quite a few
obscenities. The blonde was always a good fuck, and it left them both pretty
satisfied so why not?
“So we’re clear then?” Louis murmured, buttoning his employee’s shirt slowly up
the pale chest that was littered with love bites and scratch marks. Blue eyes
met blue as the younger looked a little confused.
“You aren’t to go near him any longer. Your temper is too short.” The snippy
tone made blonde brows furrow, though there wasn’t too much of a verbal
response outside of a grunt. He would leave the curly haired brat alone. He had
work to do anyway.
“Call Zayn to check in on him. He seemed to like Zayn.” Louis’ voice was vague
now, as though he were thinking of something else in hindsight, though it
seemed the other man got the message.
“A’ight.
//
Zayn wasn’t entirely too excited when he received the call from Niall ordering
him back to Louis’ place. It had only been a day- what had Harry really done to
get himself into that much trouble? Even so, he belonged to the Tomlinson
corporation, and part of that deal was coming like an obedient dog when called
for. He tugged his leather jacket up over his shoulders and headed out of the
apartment he lived in, hailing a cab easily. This was going to be a long and
frustrating day, especially since something had to go morbidly wrong for him to
be brought in. After all, Zayn had thought he was out of the Harry drama by
now.
He twiddled his thumbs idly in the back of the cab, decidedly not paying when
he got out at Louis’ place. No one really questioned him any longer- if he
paid, he paid- if not well... He was getting dropped off at the address of a
well known mobster. There was no demanding for payment when that sort of thing
happened. He knocked twice, not looking the least bit surprised when his least
favorite blonde answered the door.
“Ahh~ Y’er here fasta than I ‘spected.” Niall stated easily, that unsettling
grin on his features. He turned quickly, heading into the house with the
expectation of Zayn following him. With a little grunt, the tan male followed
behind quickly, glancing around as though expecting Louis to pop out of a
corner and kill him or something.
“What’s wrong with the kid?” It was all he could think of to ask, knowing that
had to be the reason he was being summoned. The other man seemed to be quietly
considering it, though the smirk spreading over those catlike features wasn’t
comforting in the slightest.
“He did’n take tha new arrangements so well.” Niall led him to the room that
had to be Harry’s and he pulled a silver key from his right sleeve to unlock
it. He pressed it open, taking care to stay quiet, and Zayn paled at the sight.
Harry laid nude and very much asleep on his mattress, his backside high in the
air with a wriggling toy still lodged inside of him. The brown man brought a
hand to his mouth, shocked and disgusted by the image in front of him. That
disgust was manifesting itself in a weird stirring in his pants, but he was
eager to ignore it, instead moving to chuck a blanket over the teen’s
shoulders. The rage he felt quickly overwhelmed his slight arousal, and he
turned to Niall with eyes blazing.
“What. Happened. To. Him.” He demanded shortly, his protective nature wanting
answers now, but his compassion keeping his voice down to keep Harry in a state
of relaxation. He didn’t want to wake the boy to anything else that may have
involved violence.
“Well- he wrecked ‘is room. ‘N then Lou was pissed, ya? So he sent me’n here to
take care of et,” he pointed to his eyes which were beginning to bruise up now
that an hour or so had passed since their battle royale, “But I wen’ a little
too far ‘n Lou was even more pissed- so he though’ havin’ me call ya would be
tha best op’ion. Figured maybeh yer babysittin’ skills would come in ‘andy.”
Zayn felt himself growing angrier with each accented syllable.
“Babysitting?” He hissed out, finding so many things worth arguing about in
that sentence, but figuring it would be best to focus on the most upsetting.
He’d never ‘babysat’ Harry in any sense of the words. They were ‘friends’.
That’s what the curly lad had called him, and even if he was the worst friend
alive, he was still a friend. Not a fucking babysitter.
“Shh~ Y’er gonna wake tha babeh...” Niall smirked, blowing his co-worker a kiss
before stepping outside of the bedroom and locking it audibly.
//
“So, Zayn’s in there with him?”
“You coul’ jus’ look at yer fancy screen, ya know.”
“I didn’t ask for lip.”
“Ya did earlier.”
“Shut the fuck up, Niall.”
Louis was spread out on a lavish couch in a bathrobe, hair wet from his
impromptu shower after Niall’s attention to his cock. He was watching a large
flat screen television, sweaty football players darting back and forth after
the black and white ball. As though unphased by the ominous tone in his
master’s voice, the blonde moved to the floor in front of the older man and sat
down to watch the game.
“Who’s winnin’?” Niall asked, even though the scores were constantly on screen.
He always needed to converse with his companion, even if it was an argument.
“Manchester, you great twat. Can’t you read?” Louis wasn’t in the mood for the
other boy’s bullshit at this point. He’d already dealt--quite well, he’d add,
with the annoyance that came with being around Niall all the time.
“Sure can. Jus’ like it when ya talk.” The blonde replied, resting his head
back on the older male’s arm as he snuggle up. The original irritation ebbed
away as quickly as it came, and Lou’s hand lifted to begin gently stroking
through the soft blonde hair. It wasn’t as though he’d ever really intended to
be stuck with the little Irishman, but they’d been pretty close since they were
children. Niall’s family had served Louis’ family for generations. Maybe the
mild insanity the blonde suffered from was bothersome, but he couldn’t just let
go of years of love and companionship they’d shared.
“You’re a cunt.” Louis replied, though he continued petting slowly. Niall only
giggled and gave a great yawn, ready to relax after his pretty intense
afternoon.
//
“Harry-?” Zayn’s voice was a little shaky as he attempted to rouse the younger
boy. He’d taken the odd task of turning off the toy and removing it, but now he
really needed to wake the kid up and make sure he was okay. He reached out,
gripping the nude shoulder and giving it a little shake. In all realty, he
should have known that Harry needed to sleep--that he was probably completely
exhausted from whatever it was that Louis had put him through.
“Harry, are yeh alright?” Zayn prompted, sounding like he was going a little
more insane with every second that passed where the little lad wasn’t up and
chatting. Finally, there was a little wriggling inside of the blanket and the
tan male heaved a low sigh of relief. Hazy green eyes flicked up to nervous
brown ones, and seemed almost confused a moment before they narrowed.
“Zayn?” His voice was a croaking sound--much different from the happy chatty
teenager--and it made the elder boy shudder. What had Harry been through over
the past two days? It wasn’t until Harry’s reaction went sour that the elder
sort of remembered they weren’t really on speaking terms.
“The fuck are you doing here?” The curly lad snapped, looking pretty damned
irritated, writhing away from his old friend on the bed. Zayn couldn’t really
help the scorching disappointment that wriggled throughout his midsection, but
at the same time he couldn’t really blame the kid for being pissed at him. In
retrospect, he had tricked him in quite the vile fashion and then kidnapped him
in front of his entire family at his own birthday party. That was probably
grounds of being on bad terms.
“Niall called me. Told me you were havin’ some issues here and that you needed
someone to talk to.” Zayn explained calmly, expecting the swift retribution
from the boy who was now sitting up, clenching the blankets around his
midsection. Harry looked incredibly uncertain, his eyebrows knit so tightly it
looked to be one thick row of hair. His fingers were so tight on his blanket
that his knuckles were white, and it appeared he may chew through his own lip.
The eruption Zayn had expected, never happened. Instead, Harry just laid back
quietly against his bed, watching the older boy with doubtful green eyes. The
silence that followed was awkward, and the Arabic man just wanted his friend
too beat him or slap him--tell him what an awful human he was--anything!
Harry himself was experiencing some sort of mortifying crisis. He had reached
the conclusion that he was going to be locked up at Louis’ for a period of
time--though how long was completely unknown--and he decided that it may be
best to just sort of... Go with it.
“What does he want with me?” Harry finally questioned, the use of his voice
startling the elder just a bit. He felt an odd sense of de javu from earlier in
the cab when the teenager had demanded to know what Louis wanted with him. To
be honest, Zayn already felt rotten enough. He’d taken the boy away from his
life and family--and for what? To be held as ransom over some petty crime spree
and territory detail? The elder huffed, watching the familiar teen for a minute
with little to no expression. Harry’s lips pursed. Always so calm...
“I don’t think I can tell you that.” Was the rickety answer, and for a moment,
Harry’s brows unfurrowed. His old friend felt uncomfortable... The tone in his
voice made it obvious which meant he probably wasn’t calm at all. Through the
unwavering gaze, the teenager slowly raised his hand and passed it in front of
Zayn’s eyes rapidly. Instead of a dark hand darting up to catch his wrist,
brown eyes just lazily followed it. There was an odd, very tense moment between
the two of them as Harry took his arm back.
Something wasn’t really right, here.
“What can you tell me?” Harry finally asked, his anger ebbing away slowly from
the tan lad to something less seething. Curiosity. After all, it wasn’t
necessarily Zayn’s decision to nab him and throw him in a place with two
lunatics... It couldn’t be. Zayn was just a grunt worker, like many of his
father’s men...
The elder perked up at the question, looking more than happy to supply a bit of
unimportant information to try and regain the trust of their lost bond.
“I can tell you lots of other stuff.”
Zayn proceeded to tell Harry all about his own past, even bringing up
conversation on the work he did for the Tomlinson corporation, effectively
placing on the blame for the kidnapping on Louis himself. Though his reasoning
was vague and he kept trotting around the real reason, it was good
conversation. Harry felt as though he could lean on his old friend a little,
especially in this place in the wake of the Irish psychopath and Louis the
Molester.
//
“Y’er not s’posed to downplay tha boss, yeh fuck.” After a little while of
conversation, Harry had expressed he was tired, and the elder had been
perfectly fine with that and left to pursue a better hobby--watching television
on Louis’ sofa. After a while, Niall had joined him (much to his displeasure)
and immediately began rapping on his consolation technique.
“Harry needed to hear something positive,” Zayn muttered lowly, trying to focus
on the ale commercial on the teley, “besides, how can you talk about Lou’s
history without him sounding like a royal ass?” The blonde beside him
considered this a moment before giving a little shrug of agreement.
“Yeh, guesso. You’re still go’na have ta deal with him though. He prolly won’t
be sa happeh when he finds out yeh yakked about som’uv his business.” Niall
never had an off switch, and Zayn finally just sighed.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, how about you shut the hell up about it then and let your
master deal with his own problems, huh? Bugger off, ya little twat.” The tan
male shooed the smaller off, scoffing a tad at the resulting obscenities.
//
Back at the Styles’ Corporation, a letter had finally come in to discuss the
whereabouts of the lost heir to the building.
Mr. Styles,
I am pleased to inform you that your son isn’t dead.
However, it is with great displeasure that I enclose the terms that must be met
to keep him that way.
I desire five thousand pounds by tomorrow night’s sunset. I will desire another
five thousand pounds nine more times on each consecutive night to be delivered
to your local post in a black briefcase.
With each missing shipment, your son will be punished as though it were his
misdoing.
Consider this wisely.
-Tommo&Comp.
Paul had attempted to console the furious leader, but it had ended poorly for
them both. As of that moment, they had to accumulate some money- fast. Their
golden boy’s life was depending on it.
That evening, a discreet phone call was tracked from Styles’ to Tommo’s, and a
conversation was held outside of prying ears.
//
Louis stayed far away from his newest housemate the next day, allowing Zayn to
tend to the curly boy if he needed anything. If anything, it was to make sure
the little lad didn’t get too disgusted with him in such a small space and
short period of time. Besides, he had to be ready to pick up the cash later
that evening--he didn’t have time to be fawning over his enemy’s son.
Fawning? No, that wasn’t correct at all. A miserable ‘dealing with’ would be
more appropriate. The lanky little bastard was nowhere near good enough to fawn
over.
Louis spent most of his day at the little mini bar in the kitchen. At one
point, he’d had a personal bartender, but after the dip in his funds he had to
let the unnecessary employees go. It kind of sucked, but at least he had
someone willing to fill every position in his house.
“Don’t you have anywhere else to be? How do you even know how to mix that
shit?”
Niall only snickered as he poured very precise amounts of liquor into the
shaker, mixing quickly. He gave a little shrug, smiling brightly as he poured
the translucent liquid into a shot glass.
“Where else ‘ave I got? Ya called in Zayn for the li’l twat upstairs...” Louis
downed the glass, grimacing a little from the taste and from the name Niall
gave his new pet. He had half a mind to tell the blonde off, but he figured it
wouldn’t do any good.
“Rightly so. You can’t keep your cock in your jeans long enough to take care of
him.” Louis spoke calmly, as though this wasn’t something to be a little
weirded out by.
“Can’t help meself. He clocked me in tha jaw. What’d ya expect?”
“That’s why I got off my ass and down to the door the moment he did it. I
didn’t wait for you to pull it out.” The tone of voice was oddly understanding
as he pressed the shot glass back to Niall to had it refilled.
“Ahaha. Don’t ye remember how we met?” He asked quietly, leaning over the bar
on his elbows with a small, mischievous grin. Louis tilted his head back and
gulped down the second shot before responding.
“Well, yeah- I mean. Your dad was my dad’s right hand. You were destined to be
mind after you were born.” Louis commentated quietly, a little taken back when
the younger reached out to trail a dangerous pale finger up his throat.
“Nah... When we... Met. We snuck outta yer pop’s meeting... Went to tha’ club
downtown tha’ had tha sexy dancers...” The younger gently cupped his friend’s
jawline, rubbing the bone in slow circles. For a moment, the elder looked a
little uncomfortable.
“Alternatively, the moment I realized you’re a sadistic rapist?” Louis murmured
quietly, watching Niall through narrowed eyes as the fingers continued to
stroke and massage his jawbone.
“Mhm... We ‘ad a great time, didn’t we?” The blonde mumbled quietly, stroking
and showing affection as he leaned up to press his mouth against Louis’ chin.
“Had is sort of the key word, isn’t it,” the elder chuckled, carefully pushing
his companion back and away, “though that’s exactly why you can’t be around my
Harry.” He muttered quietly, not at all recognizing his possessive statement.
Louis stood, feeling the alcohol rushing to his head as he moved to the door
frame.
“Go rub one out and calm down, yeah? Don’t want you going off kilter again. I’d
like to stay in control this time...”
A deep chuckled emitted from Niall’s throat as his master headed off to bed,
his eyes flicking to the screens on the next room over. Harry’s room was empty,
aside from the mass of curls snuggled up in the bed, and on another screen,
Zayn was still tucked into the sofa with some random comedy show on the
television.
“Goodnigh’, Lou Bear...” He called out, the intimidating tone going totally
unrecognized by the master of the house.
***** Soon *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry, Zayn, and Niall have to save Louis from himself. Really not
     that deep. Zayn comforts Harry and Louis gets pissed. What the hell
     is Niall doing every other day hovering around Harry's bed?
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this took so long! The next chapter, I'm thinking, will be an
     in depth memory-bit from Niall's point of view. Anyone believe it
     shouldn't be? Leave me a comment, yeah? Love you all!
It was of no surprise to anyone that the first destination of Niall’s was
Harry’s door, slipping the key out of his right sleeve and turning it quietly
in the lock. However, nothing was shifted, moved, or even said as the blonde
made his way to the side of the teenager’s bed, reaching down to touch one of
the curls. A rosey lip was caught between teeth as the elder seemed deep in
thought, giving a low murmur as he twisted the lock of hair around one of his
delicate fingers. Shortly after, Niall left the room, locking the door behind
him and leaving the young lad completely unharmed.
//
The next morning, Louis was prepared to head to the bank, knowing that he had
given enough time for Styles’ grunts to get home. He knew that his nemesis
wasn’t stupid, and setting up stakeout members was indeed a stupid thing to do.
One unaccounted for on the premises and Harry was as good as dead. (This was a
lie, of course. Louis had no intention of ending the younger; but his father
didn’t know that.) He stepped into the building, requested the parcel from the
man who was well informed in their business, and spent a good while counting
the pounds before him. Perfect. Five thousand whole clams. He gave the case
back, depositing the funds into his own account before returning the case and
instructing it to be returned to its rightful owners.
This was going to be an interesting game, he decided- and he had nine more
deliveries to pick up. Forty-five thousand pounds to repair his compounds and
make himself well known again. It was the perfect plan. Of course, that meant
giving Harry up at the end of the ninth day but--surely that didn’t matter to
him? Positively not.
//
This pattern was followed pretty easily for a few days, Louis trying to go
about his business while dealing as little with Harry as he possibly could and
instead making sure Zayn was around to take care of him. As odd as it was, the
curly lad was kind of upset by this. By the sixth evening there, four more
packages to receive as the demands hadn’t come in until the second night, he
was beginning to ask questions.
“I thought you said he liked me.”
“He does, Harry.”
“Then why has he stopped coming to talk with me?” Brows knit together in
confusion.
“It’s... Complicated.” Zayn couldn’t even begin to explain to the kid that
Louis was just using him for money. Not only was it rotten but- Harry had that
weird fondness for his master over all else, no matter what wrongs he’d
committed.
“He doesn’t like me.” Could he get any more pouty?
“Get off yourself.”
“He’s got some other reason.”
“Don’t be foolish, Harry.” There was a tone in Zayn’s voice that cut his friend
off before he could say anything else. A curly head was lowered and the elder
heard the sniffles before he noticed the tears. There was a soft mumble of, ‘I
want to go home’ before there was a mess of limbs and hair crawling into his
lap. He had been sitting with the teenager in his room, he himself taking up a
thick armchair while Harry lazed about on his bed. The kid had been much better
about taking care of his things--Louis had gifted him with a new bookshelf and
wooden chair one evening, so everything was pristine again.
With a confused noise, Zayn carefully wrapped his arms around the slender frame
to try and console the quaking boy. This was a mess, and he was well aware that
he needed to talk to Louis about it... There was something wrong with his
employer lately, what with avoiding the teen like he was some sort of disease
and barely coming around unless he was needed... It was highly unlike their
snarky, commanding leader who would go out of his way to make your life
uncomfortable if he wanted to.
“Hey--It’s okay. Don’t cry, Harry...” He had mumbled awkwardly, threading his
fingers through that curly hair slowly to try and soothe his little friend.
Having little sisters lessened the unsettling tension of not knowing how to
socialize when someone was crying, but knowing it was his fault increased the
tension tenfold.
“C-Can’t you do anything, Zayn?” Harry’s glistening eyes tilted up to him, and
the thuggish man felt his heart cracking at the mere sight. He probably was
going too soft for this job afterall. He leaned forward, pressing a little kiss
to the hot temple as he cradled the younger lad against him.
“I can’t do anything... You know that. But... You’re strong. You know?” Zayn
paused, looking for words--any words--that could make the boy feel better. He
moved to inch away, wanting a little bit of breathing room, but the movement
only enticed Harry into scrunching a bit of the elder’s tee-shirt in his hands
and holding tight. It was like some sort of a baby koala or something.
Aware that Harry wasn’t going to let him out of that vice grip, the tan male
rested a moment with his lips gently resting on his friend’s temple. The
pressure was really on now as curls shifted with tears and fingers clenched and
unclenched in his graphic shirt.
“Look- uhm... Life is what you make it, right?” He had no idea how to explain
what was going on, nor was he allowed to, and this just seemed like an adequate
way to go about trying to tell the younger to calm down.
“Wh-What?” The rumbling murmur came from below, weak and raspy with tears.
“Well, you know. Staying optimistic and whatnot. Even in bad situations,” a set
of long fingers found their way to the soft curls and stroked gently as he
spoke, “like, seeing the glass as half full and shit.” There was a weak little
giggle below him, a snuffling through tears at the painful attempt at cheering
the younger up. Even so, Harry didn’t speak, and just sort of rested in his
arms, giving a grunt of protest when Zayn tried to take his hand back.
“K-Keep doing that- I mean... If you want. Please...” Harry mumbled, his hand
darting up to try and guide the elder’s fingers back into his mop of curls.
“Fine, fine.” The stroking resumed, and the teen mumbled something about
wanting Zayn to keep talking about ‘glasses and water and all that shit’. A
smile crept up on his face, and the dark man continued, talking all about
perspectives and being prepared for the ride on the roller coaster of life.
Harry eventually dozed off against his friend’s broad chest, one hand nestled
in the dark hair at the nape of Zayn’s neck and the other furrowed in his tee
shirt. The man chuckled vaguely at the thought of Harry being such a large
infant before he picked the larger male up and moved to put him to bed.
//
Louis had approached him not more than a minute after he’d shut and locked
Harry’s door with his own key. The brunette had come up beside him, slinking an
arm around his broad shoulders and squeezing them as if it were the most
natural thing in the world despite him having disappeared for a few days.
“What’s up, Zaynie?” He asked calmly, and the smaller male felt like he needed
to scrunch up and disappear.
“Nothing... Harry just laid down for bed.” Zayn answered carefully, eyes
flicking between Louis and said man’s hand on his opposite shoulder.
“I saw.” The deadpan response was riddling the younger with anxiety, and Zayn
had to pause for a minute before responding.
“Is something the matter?”
The answer came in the form of Louis pressing his tan companion tightly against
the wall, pinning him sharply and pursing his lips.
“You were all over him, Malik.” He hissed, putting extreme pressure right over
his employee’s clavicle to keep him right where he wanted him.
“W-Was not! What the fuck’s wrong with you!” Louis adorned the response with a
harsh backhand, imprinting five fingers into the side of Zayn’s face as well as
the scent of alcohol into his memories.
“Petting his hair- kissing on him- letting him straddle you like a fucking
slut...” Louis seemed to pause in consideration before the younger caught on
and began to protest, “maybe I should be punishing him, hah? Afterall, you
didn’t pull him into your lap- he just seemed to think it was okay...”
Brown eyes widened as he tried to struggle, the shocking pain in his collar
bone preventing him from doing too much.
“That’s right,” glazed blue eyes met Zayn’s, but only for a moment as they were
struggling to focus through the booze, “he’s the little twat that curled up on
you. He went to you for comfort.” This was becoming all about Harry, and while
the grunt worker hated the confrontation anyway, he couldn’t allow Louis to
blame everything on the youngest without a bit of a fight.
“Lou- n-no. I uh- I told him it would be okay.” The thought that Louis knew
better didn’t really occur to him, and he silenced the other man with a harsh
slap.
“Get to your bunking quarters,” the leader hissed, letting go of Zayn and
shoving him away, “or I’ll put you out and feed you to the dogs.” With a
serious frown, the younger fell completely silent. ‘Put you out’ meant being
placed on the back step of the building deepest in the wooded area behind his
master’s compound, and ‘dogs’ were the derogatory term for the firing squad
that would splatter all your brain matter across the wall.
“Yes sir.”
“S’What I thought.” The slur didn’t go unnoticed, and Zayn was well aware he
had to make a quick stop to the blonde nightmare over the next few days to
threaten him about giving Louis so much alcohol.
//
Harry was awake before his captor even made his way in. The scuffling against
the door and uncoordinated jabs of metal on metal to try and fit the key in had
roused him quickly enough to instill the thought that something was going on.
He sat up sleepily, rubbing at his tired eyes and grumping at the fact that
he’d just gotten to sleep when the door finally burst open and...
“Louis?” The voice was small and confused as he tried to wake himself up,
wanting to know what Louis was doing! Had he finally changed his mind about
whether or not he wanted to be around? Maybe he did like Harry after all! Just
like zayn had said!
“You like Zayn.”
Harry frowned at the accusation, sensing something strange in the elder’s
voice. He cocked his head to the side, green eyes watching the man he adored so
much that it was beyond reasoning with slight fear. Something was off, but he
couldn’t pinpoint it just right. Louis was getting closer now.
“You do, don’t ya?” The weird accenting slur was making him uncomfortable, and
he clasped his hands in his laps as Louis approached. Finally, he was within
just a few inches of his captor, and he was starting to quake a little. This
wasn’t what he wanted at all.
“Answer me!” The man was shouting now, a vein about to burst on his neck and
temple. Harry yelped and tried to wriggle back, but he was being shoved onto
the covers of the blanket and pinned under Louis’ hot weight. He was panicking!
He couldn’t even remember what Louis had asked him, let alone answer the damn
question!
“I-I don’t know!” He cried out, his arms flailing a little, trying to push the
advancing man away.
“Do ya fuckin’ like Zayn? Damn slut wants to crawl up in his lap- let him kiss
all over you, hah?” Louis was pawing at him now, removing the clothes on his
body rapidly and with a firm motion that screamed out how conflicted he was.
“N-No!” Harry sobbed out, though he wasn’t really sure whether he was
protesting liking Zayn or being violently undressed. His hands came up to try
and fight back, showing how dazed he really was to actually try and question
Louis.
“You’re mine, you fucking slut!”
There was a loud slap, then a bang, some muffled shouting and then Louis was
being dragged off his body. Harry stayed down though, not about to sit up under
such circumstances until he was told otherwise.
//
Zayn wasn’t too sure why he had felt the need to run to Niall immediately after
Louis had gone towards the hostage’s room. Maybe it was the knowledge that the
leader of Tomlinson Corp wouldn’t stop at a simple answer from the teen, and
there was only one person in the house who could do legitimately anything with
little repercussion.
“Niall!” The tan male busted through the blonde’s door, feeling a rising
anxiety in his chest that he wasn’t quite understanding.
“Wha’ tha’ fuck are yeh doin’, Z? Iss almost time fer me ta drink an’ get some
sleep!” The blonde snapped from where he laid on his own green patterned bed.
He wiped at his nose before motioning to the unopened bottle of bacardi on his
nightstand.
“You’ve gotta help, Niall.” The tone in the colored man’s voice made Niall
straighten up just a bit in concern. He made a noise that pretty well expressed
his curiosity, and the room intruder scoffed a bit to try and figure out how to
phrase what was happening.
“I was with Harry, and he got all upset ‘cause Louis’ not been going near him,
right? And he came to me and snuggled on me for a while. Then when I came out-
Louis was all drunk and pissed off. I think he’s gonna hurt him, Ni. You’ve
gotta help!” The blonde actually hopped right up from the mattress, taking off
immediately towards the hostage’s room.
//
When Harry finally had the guts to look up, the sight before him confused him
greatly. Niall was in his room, though he was holding a distressed Louis back
and away from the bed. The brunette had stopped fighting, but there were still
a few jerks and twitches that were followed by slow, shallow, and almost howl-
like sobs. What in the hell...?
Within moments, they were both gone, and the door was left wide open. The
intrigue was strong but... Harry knew better. Instead of attempting any sort of
escape, he went and coiled back up in bed, trying to close his eyes and forget
what he had seen. This was, yet again, another morbidly traumatizing experience
he had been through within a week.
//
The next morning, Harry awoke to two short knocks on the door, He lifted his
curly head groggily and watched the exit of his room. Someone had come to shut
it and lock him in during the night, obviously, and now the visitor on the
other side actually cared to alert him before barging in--unlike how it was
done in the past. He finally squeaked out a little, ‘yes’ before the door swung
open to expose the ruffled image of Louis Tomlinson.
The man was still in his pyjama bottoms--a pair of basketball shorts--and
looked as though he hadn’t slept at all. The great locks of hair sticking in
all directions and the rings under his eyes were a testament to that. Harry
shuffled upright, drawing his knees to his chest and appearing a little nervous
as the elder came and took a commanding seat beside him. Despite the disheveled
appearance, there was still an unspoken amount of control deep inside the man,
and it kept the hostage sitting upright and attentive.
“I am here to apologize for last evening.” He said quietly, though there was a
tone behind it that didn’t make much sense. It was regretful, but
simultaneously enraged. When Harry didn’t speak, the mobster took it as his cue
to continue.
“I was irritated that you nestled so close with Zayn,” the honesty disturbed
even himself, “I don’t want you to like him more than me.” Harry shifted
uncertainly, well aware of the strange--almost childish--tone that was now
laced in the elder’s speech. He clasped his hands in his lap, watching Louis
expectantly.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” The blue eyes narrowed now, all traces of
weakness or childishness absent from his voice. Harry looked a little surprised
before he shook his head no. It was easy to tell that this was the wrong answer
by the way that the slender brunette began to inhale and exhale a little
deeper--more rapid. To correct his mistake, the curly boy quickly coaxed his
voice out into the quiet room.
“I’m sorry that I curled up on him...” his voice was tentative, but it kept
Louis from flying off the handle, “I’ve been lonely since being here... What-
with you not being around very much...-” He could sense Louis’ desire to be
needed and was playing it, even if it was more true than he’d like to admit. As
he expected, the blue eyes softened and Haz could tell he was listening.
The soft glaze dancing in the elder’s eyes was comforting in a way--perhaps it
was the hangover or the way that Harry’s slow voice was hypnotising him--but it
showed that maybe a little bit of Louis’ wall was being knocked down.
“Go on.” Louis murmured quietly.
“Uh-” he wasn’t sure where to go from there, but he sucked in a deep breath and
continued, “I like you very much, even if sometimes you aren’t very nice to me
and you leave me by myself or with Zayn.” Harry took a deep breath, pretty
frightened by this point as he had known the other to be a bit of a loose
cannon if nothing else. What was more surprising than anything was that the
elder looked like he was about to cry. The teenager was on a roll, and with a
determined intake of air, he continued.
“Why won’t you come and see me?” This left Louis teetering on the edge of self
control, and for a moment, the younger thought he was about to be struck. That
was when the mobster only smiled, shutting his eyes and giving a low chuckle.
“Because you make me feel.” He stated simply, as though it were the obvious
answer. Louis leaned in, pressing a careful kiss to the younger’s temple, right
where Zayn had kissed him the night prior. It was almost like some sort of
possession--if he kissed that exact spot, he was the dominant leader.
“I have business to attend to today, Haz. I’ll see you this evening--you will
be called to dine with me. Does that sound alright?” With a dumb nod, Louis
left the room and Harry simultaneously, locking the door behind him.
//
Back at Styles’ Corp, things were getting hairy. The leader of the family had
fallen gravely ill in what seemed like the short span of one night. One minute,
he’s up and about to gather funds for his son’s ransom, the next he’s hacking
up blood into a napkin. The rush to find Styles’ Junior was more heated than
ever, and the leader of the expedition was far too sick to continue. Gemma was
placed as the leader of the search, considering she was the next in line for
the company’s throne after the missing lad, and she took it upon herself to
bring her brother home no matter what.
//
Zayn’s morning had been stressful as all hell. The night before when Niall had
so willingly interrupted their boss’ touch-fest had left the dark skinned man
quaking in his shoes. How pissed was Louis going to be? What sort of punishment
would he experience? After the blonde had pried his employer off of Harry, he’d
taken the man straight to bed and as far as the thug was aware, a heavy sleep
ensued. Zee had slept horribly, tossing and turning and expecting the leader to
burst through the door at any moment with a pistol to blow his head off. The
bang never came, and the night only resulted in terrible rest, leaving him wide
eyed and uncomfortable in the wee hours.
The next few hours were awkward. Louis padded back and forth twice to the
victim’s door, pausing with his hand up each time to knock sharply at the wood.
Zayn only knew this because he had shamefully peeked out of his cracked door to
see if the master was on his way to end him. No one would’ve known or stopped
him had the Arabic man not interfered... Even so, the only thing on Lou’s mind
was Harry, and it eased the tension to know that.
Even having Niall around wasn’t as awful as usual, and since Louis wasn’t
stocked with so much free time any longer since he was busy pining over Harry,
the blonde was ready to spend some time together.
“I’m s’rprised he hesn’t killed ye yet.” The accent was off-hand, almost as
though it was in hindsight as four thumbs patted relentlessly on a playstation
controller. Zayn wasn’t about to agree nor disagree, because Niall was the eyes
and ears of the house, but he was losing and that frustrated him.
“I’m surprise I haven’t killed you.” The reply was swift and heated as another
goal was made by the blonde, past his own pixelated character. The darker of
the two gave a low grunt, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. He was
stressed, anxious, and above all--should not be losing to this lunatic.
“‘M right here.” Niall replied, scoring another goal and cackling when Zayn
tossed the controller down and claimed he was going to go smoke a fag.
It was at that moment that Louis came parading out of the back door, looking a
bit distressed yet confident. Zayn tried to blend in with the wall--to become
one with the wall--but it was harder than chameleons made it look and their
eyes met shortly after. The master tucked his hands in his front pockets, face
hardening a bit.
“Uh- thanks, Zayn.” He stated softly, his tone that of someone who wanted
others to believe he was in a perfect state of mind when he might not be so...
Mighty. The younger only tilted his head, eyes flicking away from his employee.
“What for?” He couldn’t stop it. The words tumbled from his lips so rapidly
that he couldn’t control them. What on Earth would Louis be thanking him for?
He had disobeyed direct orders and stopped the brunette from doing whatever it
was that he had wanted.
“I never wanted to hurt him.” That was all Louis allowed him before he left,
climbing into his nice rover and driving off.
//
Niall padded to the camera room quietly, watching the curly haired boy in his
room as he read from one of the books he’d been gifted by their master. A pink
tongue darted out to wet his lips before he left to do a bit of grunt work
outside.
//
The evening was just setting in when Louis pulled back up to the compound, a
sack of pounds and a little box in his hands. He took a few steps in,
immediately barking at Zayn to collect their ‘guest’ and have him dressed for
dinner. At the very least, the employee was glad to have his old snappy boss
back because that emotional business did not bode well for anyone.
He quickly went to do as he was ordered, letting himself into Harry’s room and
having him dress in that outfit that their master had loved so very much. He
smiled a bit as he smoothed out the long v-neck shirt, strutting for just a
moment for good measure as well. It had been quite some time since he had been
allowed to dress nicely and present himself. At the very least he was able to
shower every day--but there was something totally vindicating about looking
nice and knowing it.
Harry was brought out of his room for the first time since arriving, almost
having that same euphoric feeling that the outside had brought him only two
weeks ago. His eyes darted around to look at every painting, every piece of
paneling that was pinned to make the house look lovely--he wanted to remember
it.
The dinner table was set for two, and Zayn directed the curly lad to a chair
and pulled it out graciously for the teenager to sit down. Upon doing so, the
man of the hour entered, and Harry quickly directed all of his attention to the
Tomlinson leader. It wasn’t as though Louis had earned anything from him--in
fact, if anything, Harry should have hated that stupid man--but everything from
the sparkling blue eyes to the ugly brown patch on the uniform had the teen
trapped. The brunette sat down, looking forever in control as he took his
napkin from the table and tucked it against his lap.
“Set your napkin on your thighs.” Louis said evenly, not even meeting the
younger’s eyes as he took his salad knife and began to eat delicately. Curls
bounced a moment as Harry moved rapidly to meet the other man’s request,
clumsily fitting his napkin against his jeans. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t
used to fancy meals, but this was just a little different.
“Like this, sir?” He didn’t need Louis to tell him he’d done it right, but he
wanted praise. He wanted the man to talk to him, whether it was good or bad or
indifferent. Even so, his companion humored him and even sat up a little to
inspect the younger’s lap.
“That’s wonderful.” The use of sir and the initiation to conversation sparked
the master’s interest, and he could almost feel himself falling into that state
of relaxation that only Harry could ignite in him. They chatted on a while,
mostly Louis asking the teenager various questions about his life and veering
away from the idea that he was a victim of a high penalty crime and
deliberately not inquiring about his feelings since the unexpected stay.
“So your mother was an English teacher? How did that influence your childhood?”
The tone of his voice was that of interest, and Harry was more than happy to
oblige.
“Well, I think it gave me a pretty good basis of the language, yeah? You don’t
hear me using too much slang, so she must have done something right.” The
teenager smiled, sipping water from his dinner glass and taking a nibble of the
nicely roasted chicken. Louis hummed, already finished with his meal as he
leaned forward over the table, chin in hand as he gave the younger his full
attention.
“That is true. Very deliberate words,” he commented, reaching to sip softly at
the red wine he’d requested shortly after dinner had begun, “tell me more about
her.” Harry hesitated only a moment before delving deep into the memories of
his mother’s favorite clothes and colors, how he remembered her loving the
sunlight and tending a small flower garden in their compound. The master
listened, even if he didn’t care, and after a few moments he found himself
getting a little fuzzy in the head.
“That’s wonderful.” He hummed, reaching out to trace a little curl over Harry’s
forehead in an attempt to tuck it back.
“Yeah. I miss her a lot.” The younger mumbled, setting his fork down as the
fingers traced over his skin. Louis always had this weird control about him,
even if he was buzzed from wine or docile as a door mouse. Green flicked to
blue and there was a very sudden silence before the man leaned in to press a
gentle kiss to the corner of the other boy’s mouth.
Everything that Louis had done to hurt him, from kidnapping him and bringing
him off with that shameful toy, seemed to mean absolutely nothing. He sat very
still, letting the brunette place affectionate little pecks over his cheeks and
lips, dimples showing slightly as he couldn’t hold back the smile.
“I’m sorry I’ve not come to see you.” Louis mumbled lowly, and before the other
could push it off as unimportant, another kiss was pressed against his mouth.
As soon as Harry attempted to respond, the master was pulling away, an
unreadable expression on his face.
“In a few days, you’ll be back at home and you’ll never see me again.” The man
murmured, and there was a sudden dip in the mood as Harry felt ready to
implode.
“What do you mean?”
“I meant what I said.” Louis hissed, suddenly going from mellow and
affectionate to buzzed and ticked. The younger flinched away from the anger,
and the older man looked almost apologetic before he shook his head and tucked
the napkin away on top of the table.
“Get to your room.”
With that, the elder tumbled away and Zayn entered to lead the hostage back to
his bedroom, ignoring questions about what ‘he said’ and why he ‘wouldn’t be
there anymore’. The tan male nearly had to undress Harry and redress him in his
pyjamas before the younger finally began to cooperate.
“I suppose I should get home anyway... My father is probably sending out the
calvalry...” It was an off-handed statement, though Zayn knew well what sort of
trouble Styles’ Sr. had gone through. He nodded appropriately and tucked the
kid away as though he were a small child.
“That’s right.” He murmured, reaching up to run a hand through the teenager’s
hair before leaving the room and locking the door for the night. Louis didn’t
stay up much longer either. Despite the sickening feeling that occurred when he
considered losing the younger, he couldn’t keep himself awake. The alcohol,
while in a small amount, was coursing through him and making him insufferably
comfortable. Zayn tuned into the game on the tube and zoned out.
Niall made his way again to the victim’s bedroom, slipping the key from his
sleeve and observing him for a few moments before leaving, whispering a
malicious good night.
***** Short Unpleasantries *****
Chapter Summary
     Some unpleasant news comes in from Styles Corp, and Zayn and Louis
     are on a day out.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this sucks so bad! I promised a chapter by today and I just
     didn't have time to get it up to the word count I would have liked! A
     bit of a filler, bros!
Louis couldn’t even comprehend what he was hearing. In fact, his jaw was so
slack that he wasn’t even sure that a cran could close his mouth. It took him a
moment of complete silence to regain his bearings.
“You’re certain? This is something that has happened? This is a deal you want
to make with me?” He spun around on his chair, glancing at the shadow of light
from under the door showing that Niall was on the other side listening in. It
wasn’t like the master of the house cared. He would have told his number one
henchman about this conversation sooner or later. There was a murmuring from
the voice on the other end, and Louis scribbled down a few figures on a pad of
paper.
“Yes. That’s certainly acceptable. Of course I’d prefer to meet in person to
close such a deal, you understand. Over the phone isn’t too safe.” There were a
few ‘mhm’s and ‘uh huh’s before the phone was hung up on both ends and Lou
stewed for a few moments, not even responding to the little knock on the door
before the soft clicking of a door opening spread through the room.
“What’s goin’ on?” Niall’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and for a
second, he considered shooing the blonde away. However, it just wasn’t worth
the nagging man bothering him nonstop for the next few days.
“Harry won’t be going home anytime soon.”
////
“So, I thought I’d be home by now.” Harry and Zayn were sitting together
outside in the back of Louis’ compound. It had been nearly a week since the
dinner he’d had with his captor, and even though he’d been told he’d be home
soon, it was still quite a mess and he was still locked away like a giant
secret. The tan male glanced to him from where he sat on the blanket they’d
pulled outside for their picnic and gave a little hum.
“It’s... Complicated,” he began with a careful tone in his voice, interlocking
his fingers together as he spoke, “but I can’t say much more than that.” It was
a lame finish, but it wasn’t an unusual one. This wasn’t the first time Harry
had asked about why he wasn’t being sent home yet, just like it wouldn’t be the
first time if he asked about where Louis was or what sort of stuff he liked.
The teen was laying on his back with his hands tucked behind his head, staring
curiously at the overcast sky.
“You need to come up with more exciting ways to tell me that you can’t give me
anymore information.” The tone in the younger’s voice wasn’t angry- in fact it
was pleasant and gentle. It made his newly appointed guard uneasy, honestly.
Zayn tensed a little where he sat as he considered what all this could really
mean. The first was that Harry was getting truly upset- disconnecting from his
current state of mind. The second, and far much more likely scenario, was that
the boy was growing used to his surroundings. He was growing used to seeing
these walls, used to answering to Zayn; even growing used to Niall’s crude
jokes and heavy accent. It was stressful to the tan male to consider that this
could really be where Harry was ending up.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dark, narrowed eyes scanned over the protective
fencing around the building, sighing unhappily at how unwelcome it made him
feel. He glanced back to Harry watching as the teen appeared to be picking out
shapes in the clouds.
“I know this is stupid,” Zayn rolled his eyes, well aware that if Haz thought
it was stupid, it probably was, “but when I go home, can we still be friends?”
A frown crept over the elder’s face as he turned to look at the curly teen who
was now watching him quite intently.
“Harry, you know that I can’t...” he would have been okay to bluntly destroy
the kid’s dreams in the beginning, but right now- damn, he was just in too
deep, “you know... I think we could make it work... If you’re good at keeping
secrets.”
“I’m great at secrets!” Harry’s face lit up like a lightbulb as he spoke,
shifting to lay on his side.
“You’ll have to teach me then.” You fucking liar, Zayn. You’re the best secret
keeper in the world. Twat. Cunt. Loser. Asshole.
////
Back at Styles’ Corp, some big changes were being made. The place was being
decorate for some sort of event. Large trucks with a myriad of flowers were
traipsing over the pavement, and chairs were being set up at each end of the
compound. It would have been beautiful, had the timing not been so wrong. On
each wall there was a large screen, and on each screen a large message was
written. It was a simple date. A date for that coming Sunday four days away. It
was stark black and white, but elegant all the same.
////
Harry hadn’t seen Louis in a long time again. He was beginning to get
frustrated. In fact, all in all, he’d only seen his kidnapper twice since the
dinner they’d shared. Once to give Harry a small token- a stone-, and the
second time to come in and chat with him momentarily about the state of his
room and how it was becoming a bit of a mess. It seemed surreal, not like Louis
was ever really around that much to begin with, to have such usual and brief
meetings.
In fact, the time had been so free of incident lately that the curly lad wasn’t
even sure if he was in the same place anymore. Even Niall had gone somewhat
normal, which was probably the most unsettling fact of all. Sure, the little
fucker was still creepy as hell, but he wasn’t doing anything anymore.
Honestly, the only thing that stayed constant was Zayn, and even if the
situation was a little unusual on its own, Harry was happy to have his only
friend.
////
Everything remained as it had been for a few more days, around four, and that
was sort of when shit started to go down. Niall had been in that morning to
offer him some breakfast and had informed him that, ‘Lou ‘n Zayn ‘re out fer
tha day, so I guess tha’ makes us new buddehs, huh?’ Harry had only cocked his
head in confusion because, since when did Louis and Zayn go out? And if it was
normal, why was Niall telling him about it?
“Alright. Thanks.” He took the tray- a pretty nice array of fruit, cold cereal
and pancakes-before padding over to his desk to eat it. He felt a bit of an
ominous, dreadful feeling seep into him, and he had to wriggle a moment to try
and let it pass. Then it hit him. Niall was never really trusted alone with him
since... The “incident” on the first night he’d been at the Tommlinson
compound. So now, after a streak of normalcy, suddenly Zayn and Louis were
leaving together and Psycho was being left alone with the abductee? There was a
soft tingling sensation up his neck, his hair following suit and raising on end
as he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder.
“It’s goin’ ta be alright, Harreh.” His muscles tensed, fingers gripping
tightly to the glass of orange juice he’d picked up. Everything was not okay,
okay? It was as though Niall felt him tense and he immediately took his hand
away.
“I’ll check on ye later.” The blonde murmured, offering a comforting smile that
Harry didn’t trust for a split second before he headed out of the bedroom door.
He felt the younger with a very conflicted emotion battering the inside of his
guts, and while Harry ate, he wondered vaguely if there was anything with
enough weight to block his door during the next few hours until Zayn and Louis
came home.
***** Bye Bye Birdie *****
Chapter Summary
     Niall is alone in the house with Harry for the first time while Zayn
     and Louis make some business dealings regarding their new house
     mate's future.
Perhaps it was the dread in his body that made him feel as though time were
ticking by at half pace. He couldn’t really help it- it kind of felt like being
stuck in the middle of some sort of horror film. That point where the victim
realizes he or she is trapped in a large house with a murderer or an abuser of
some sort that was let loose inside. The only difference being that he was
locked away in a bedroom that the attacker had all sorts of control over. Harry
had kind of barricaded his door with his oaken chair by tucking the back of the
wooden seat at an angle under the doorknob, but it brought him no solace. Niall
sort of struck him as the type of guy that would resort to cutting his door
down with a fire axe before admitting defeat anyway.
////
Meanwhile, Louis and Zayn sat at a cafe with an elegant red headed woman who
looked more nervous than anything else. Even if she was nervous though, she
spoke with a steady voice and tried to maintain a sense of control despite not
knowing a damn thing about what she was doing.
“I’m afraid I don’t really understand, or trust, your intentions.” Louis
crossed his legs, watching the groups around them uncertainly. It wasn’t as
though they were any real threat from what he could tell. The people around
them were all young hipster looking teenagers who were far more interesting in
instagramming their rice cake than paying any mind to the deed to a kid’s soul
beside them.
“Look, Tomlinson. I don’t want him to come back.” Her voice was more steady
now; what was there to lose, anyway? She’d already shown her face, shown her
chequebook, and more importantly, she could see the apprehension was more from
concern for Harry’s well being rather than personal gain.
“He’s been dreaming of going back ever since he got here, Miss. I’ve promised
him a lot of things. I may be a thief and a cheat, but I actually try to avoid
lying. So tell it to me how it is, right? Maybe if you’re honest, we can make a
deal.” It wasn’t even about her telling him the truth, he was just being a bit
of a nib shit as to why she wouldn’t want his little house guest to go home.
“Because without him, I take over. I’ll be the leader of the family, and I’m
willing to make it very much worth your while.”
////
It didn’t take long for Harry to completely lose his mind while locked away in
his bedroom. His panic had nearly taken over in the wait for Niall to come back
and gut him like an animal (or whatever it was Niall did), and by the by he was
about ready to kill a man in a fight or flight situation. It was probably the
flatlining his heart did when the lock clicked in the door and the handle
jiggled, stopping with a thud upon hitting the door.
He held his breath and moved to grab something-anything heavy-which happened to
be a thick novel he’d been attempting to read over the past few weeks. He’d
never known he could be ready for literally anything until now.
“Harry.” Niall’s voice was calm and controlled on the outside of the door, but
the jiggling of the handle increased in violence and speed. The curly lad
stayed silent, hoping foolishly that he could wait out the storm and that the
other man would just walk away.
“You don’ wanna play this game wit’ me, Styles.” The accent grew thicker, the
tone full of warning, but Harry stayed still, figuring that even the slightest
movement would alert Niall and ignite more passion and anger. He stood poised
by the door, ready to konk the blonde hard on the head as soon as his blockade
was trampled, but then the sound ebbed away. The door knob stayed still and the
Styles’ teen stood in absolute silence, his heart pounding into his throat.
With a quick movement, he knelt to the ground to peek under the door. No
feet...
For years to come, Harry would be thanking the holy living deity-whoever He or
She may have been- that he had crouched down. In his absence, the Irishman
deemed it necessary to grab a shotgun from somewhere inside the house and blow
it off right at the wooden flap, shattering it right off the frame. Amidst the
loud bang, whirring bullet and a sea of splintering wood chips was Niall,
standing across the hall and holding the shotgun that seemed to be larger than
the man himself.
When the victim had started this game of cat and mouse, he could have never
imagined this. With his ears ringing and eyes slightly unfocused, he waited.
Their eyes finally met, terror to unsettlingly maniacal, and that was when it
happened. To the surprise of both of them, Harry lunged up and over the
remaining few inches of the base of the door and took off in a dead sprint. The
blonde was so shocked at the sudden exit that he couldn’t quite decide how to
react. That didn’t last long, though. Within seconds, he’d pressed an emergency
button on the wall under an inconspicuous power breaker flap which locked all
the doors and windows leading to the outside and lifted his phone to send Louis
a text message.
‘weve got a runner, boss. xxNi’
////
When the phone in his pocket went off, Louis only took a chance to glance at it
idly. Upon seeing the name, he tucked it back away into his pocket. What he was
in the middle of was far more important than Niall asking if he was going to
bring home a new box of hot pockets. This was to do with Harry’s future, which
meant more to him than he thought it did.
////
It wasn’t as though the lights were connected to the locks on the windows and
doors, but for some reason, the blonde felt it fitting that he shut off the
rest of the power. The lights dimmed out, leaving the only illumination coming
in from the windows. The weather in England was always poor though, and allowed
for very little light in the hallways. Harry was stumbling through the halls,
finding a door and attempting to pull at it. The handle was stuck- he tugged
hard to no avail. His heart hammered rapidly, eyes darting around as he tried
to decide where to go.
“C’mere, little bird.” A sing song voice floated menacingly through the air
followed by the cocking of the gun, sending a shiver up the curly lad’s spine
as his head spun to lead him further away from the voice. The thin hallways
confused him--he wasn’t used to the homely surroundings since he was trapped
away in his bedroom usually--and the hotel that Style’s corp was based in was
spacious and full of space to breathe and expand in. This was cozy and house-
like despite its size, the corridors giving him a suffocating sense of
claustrophobia. Finally, he sidestepped into a closet, shutting the door
quickly but carefully to avoid giving away his position.
He drew his knees to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting in the most
agonizing silence of his entire life. It was cold on top of it- he must have
passed through into a separate part of the home; one that was closer to the
outside. The ground was hard and cold- almost like cement. When had it changed?
He wasn’t sure.
“Come on- Ni’s gon’ make yeh chirp...” The voice was growing louder, and soon
Harry could hear the footsteps padding closer along with a metallic scraping
sound. Through the dim slats of the closet door, he saw the form of the
Irishman padding by, the gun dragging behind him. Harry held his breath,
clutching his knees and digging his short nails into his skin through his
flannel pyjama pants. He stayed quiet, not even breathing as his heart pounded
audibly in his chest; he could only assume that it was going to lead the elder
to his hiding spot. Despite it all, Niall kept walking onward, yelling stuff
about birds and laying claims to his little pet.
////
After leaving the cafe, Zayn insisted on sitting down and having a little chat.
What would they tell him? What was he allowed to say, and instructed to keep
secret. Louis had hummed in thought, sipping on his coffee he’d purchased just
before leaving, then insisted they keep the whole meeting quiet. Yeah- they
went out, but it was business. It was business Harry didn’t belong in, even if
it did concern him more than anyone else. With that, there wouldn’t be any
references to the woman’s identity, to the event that caused it all, and to the
entire plan at hand.
With a grave nod, Zayn had agreed.
////
Harry was cramping now, the uncomfortable position in the closet making him
hunch forward uncomfortably and bite into his fingertips. The teen flicked his
eyes back and forth, trying to determine if Niall was there and concentrating
on any possible sound. It had been quiet now for nearly an entire day, which
was more or less--in all actuality--about twenty minutes. He leaned forward,
chancing the loud crack in his bones as he tried to peek outside. Nothing. The
coast was clear. If he could just make it to a door, he could get out. While he
knew he’d probably end up caught, at least he wouldn’t be caught by Niall. (Or
if he did, at least his death would be quick.)
The abductee leaned up, putting his hand on the knob and twisting it slowly,
wincing at the loud twisting whine--did Louis even oil these doors?--before
slinking out. If he thought it was nerve wracking in that closet, he didn’t
understand the meaning of the word. It was like in those novels where the walls
were closing in, choking a person indiscriminately until they passed out and
were overcome by the villain. He tiptoed forward, not really even remembering
which direction Niall had taken off in as he trotted along the concrete
flooring.
It was getting darker in the building, as though he was passing into an area
without any windows to let in even partial lighting. It was pitch black now,
and Harry had to fight to control his breath. He continued to step carefully,
unable to contain the yelp that escaped as his skin collided with something
hard and metal in- wherever he must have been. A tinny ringing sound from the
collision mingled with his voice, and he clamped his hand over his mouth in
positive terror. Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead and that inevitable
sound of scuffling ensued from wherever Niall was.
A figure stood in the dimly lit hallway behind him, and the cock of a shotgun
was heard.
“Bye bye, Birdie.” His heart plummeted, mouth going dry as he realized that
Niall had him- Niall was going to turn him into a giant red splatter on the
wall, and he could do nothing about it. His hands furled in his flannel bottoms
and he grit his teeth, not really ready to accept any of this, but ready to
stop running.
////
Louis and Zayn were finally on their way home. They each wore pretty uncertain
faces and occasionally glanced at one another only to look away. The driver
noticed the tense silence, but he was a pretty good cabbie and wouldn’t
question it verbally. Besides, the man in the back--the smaller one--was pretty
infamous and unsettling. He let the two men off at the back of the compound by
the garage as per Louis’ request and drove off, feeling a weight lifted now
that the mobster was out of his cab.
He clicked a small button, the garage door lifting and shining light on the
nightmarish scene before him; Harry clinging desperately with a bloodied leg to
the back of his Maserati and Niall aiming a fully loaded shotgun at both his
pet and his baby. The two lads in the garage shop twisted their heads around,
squinting as though they hadn’t seen light in a good couple hours before Harry
was running at him with big wet eyes, his arms outstretched. Except for when he
completely bypassed Louis, that was, and instead sprinted to Zayn, wrapped his
arms around the stunned guard’s waist and proceeded to weep against his suit
jacket.
Niall had dropped the gun in the background, sending off an accidental shot
right into the door of the Maserati.
////
“I think it’s only appropriate, for the time being, that he stays in my room.”
“Louis, is that really… Kosher?” Zayn mumbled, a little jealous that he hadn’t
been picked for the task first since he and the curly boy were so close.
“It is. Niall isn’t afraid of you or any of the other guards, but he’s afraid
of me. He wouldn’t dare touch Harry on my grounds-”
“I don’t get why he’s even still around.”
“Harry escaped his room. He was really only following protocol.”
“That’s the loosest protocol I’ve ever heard of,” the snap of the darker lad
startled Louis into paying more attention, “and he’s on lockdown for what--two
days?” The elder shifted slightly, his eyes flicking away for a moment in
consideration.
“We have a long history…”
Zayn stormed out at that point, fists curled as elsewhere in the master’s
chambers, and overwhelmed curly teen caught some much needed rest.
***** Insincere Sincerity *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Harry gets a lovely present from an old friend and so many
     rules are broken that Lou would shit in his britches if he knew. Look
     forward to Larry date night in next chapter!
It had taken Harry a good while to calm down enough to sleep. The fact that
he’d almost been blown into thousands of little pieces hadn’t settled well with
him. That and- he was in Louis’ room, of all places. How could he concentrate
in there? The better question was, how could he still seem so infatuated with a
man who had single handedly (aside from Zayn; perhaps Zayn could be a finger,)
ruined his entire life? The truth was that… Maybe he felt as though Louis had
saved him in some way. Taken him away from this mundane life, given him all the
books he could have ever asked for, didn’t demand him to train physically, and
hell; he had just saved him from being obliterated by a shotgun, had he not?
On top of everything else, Harry had begun to relax about going home. He hadn’t
heard a word about any arrangements, and he had stopped worrying. It was a
slight nag of course, every now and again, but… Was this place really so bad?
(A resounding ‘yes’ from the chorus, please.) If Niall were gone it would be
some sort of utopia. Especially with the sweet smell of Louis pervading his
senses as he buried his nose into the mobster’s pillows. For such a badass, he
sure smelled very nice. Effeminate yet masculine cologne, mixed with the smell
of some sort of fruit-scented shampoo that was too light for him to pick out
sent him off into his dreamscape, hiding from the world in a flurry of duvet
and sweet thoughts.
////
“Stupid little Irish fucker-” Zayn’s grumbling went unnoticed by the people in
the bookshop around him, “following protocol- shove your fist in your ass, you
scum-ass piece of ‘craic’ trash!” He had been sent by Louis to the bookstore to
pick up some more reading material for Harry. He hadn’t been sent out for this
since before the curly lad had even come to live with them. It was almost like
the boss was trying to apologize for the situation by getting him a book on
dragons. The Bradford Native sighed and flipped through a few pages slowly
before he was tapped gently on the shoulder. With an even greater sigh, one
that said, ‘I’m busy, tha fuck do you want’, he turned. Right there- right in
front of him- was a very familiar, very beautiful, human being. His brow
furrowed in recognition, but he didn’t have time to figure it out as the
stranger’s fist was drawn back.
In retaliation, he lifted his own hand to catch the fist in question, his eyes
round and confused as the other struggled against him. He was strong, but Zayn
was fast- and this stranger was fighting with emotion rather than skill. He
attempted a few more punches that the Tomlinson member easily deflected before
a strangled noise of upset flew from his mouth. Zayn only gaped openly, not
understanding what the hell was going on in the slightest. He’d be perfectly
okay with knocking this guy out, but he knew he’d be kicked out of the damn
bookstore for doing it, and Louis would be beyond pissed if he didn’t come back
with any reading material. Instead, he glanced around to ensure that no one had
taken too much notice of their quiet combat outside their bookshelf and pinned
his attacker against a rather uncomfortable, uneven looking row of books.
It was then that he realized where he knew this guy from. He felt pathetic that
it had taken this long- that having Harry around had distracted him so much
that he couldn’t even pinpoint a man he had studied for weeks before the
kidnapping. This was the personal trainer, that ‘Liam’ that had worked for
Harry’s father. A sweeping sense of pity washed over him as he took note of the
man’s pretty features so distorted in despair. The hair atop his head, slightly
longer in length than the sides, had fallen from the gel that had encased it
and brushed across his forehead, another image of his helplessness and
uncertainty. Zayn felt an unbelievable urge to reach up and tuck it away as he
would do to a stray curl of Harry’s, but quelled himself. Instead, he let Liam
gently back onto his feet, giving a slightly aggravated sigh, much like a bull
in a ring with a very irritating mastador.
“Come on then- what’s stopping you?” Liam was nearly shouting now, wiping
angrily at the frustrated wetness at the corner of his eyes. He looked more
confused than anything as Zayn lifted a hand to shush him, his brows furrowed.
“Shut up. I’m just here to get some books for him, okay?”
At the mention of Harry; Him, the trainer’s back bristled and he seemed to
remember what he was here for in the first place. His hands curled into fists
as he again tried to puff up and look threatening.
“Where is he?!” Zayn continued to check through the binds of books to find
something mildly interesting, and as a side note, he figured Louis should have
sent someone who actually liked to read.
“I’m no idiot, Payne, and neither are you. You know very well that I can’t
disclose that information.” He picked out a ‘best seller’, thumbing through the
pages and sighing miserably at the block text that he didn’t want to read. Liam
shifted awkwardly, coming to terms with the fact that he was too upset to fight
and knowing that Zayn wasn’t exactly wrong. He paused a moment, looking like he
was weighing his options before speaking quietly.
“Harry won’t like those,” he motioned to the bound book in Zayn’s hands, “well,
he will. But I’m sure he’s missing the stuff he has back at home.” The darker
man looked to Liam now, an expressive interest glinting in his eyes, only to
fall into agitation as the other man didn’t disclose any information.
“And what good does that do for me if you won’t tell me what kind of books they
are?” He snapped, returned to the edge and totally untrusting of this man even
though he could see the adoration brimming in those puppy dog eyes.
“I’ll bring every last book filled to the last word with sentimental value. You
can tell Tomlinson whatever you need to about how you got them. It’ll make
Harry so happy he’ll practically piss in his britches,” he paused, watching his
arch-guard inflate with visible excitement at the idea, “if you let me see
him.”
////
Operation “Allow Liam to See Harry in Exchange for Books of Extreme Sentimental
Value” was underway. Zayn had convinced Louis to go early for a meeting with
the local woodsmith in his stead (and did that take an awful lot of convincing)
to get Harry’s door remade. The only other issue was Niall. Granted he was
locked away in his bedroom, but the little bastard was totally insane. Who knew
what could happen if he heard one wrong voice in the compound?
“Come on.” He shuffled Liam forward, his demeanor incredibly nervous. He’d had
to drive the Styles’ employee in from town with a blindfold to ensure their
anonymity wasn’t compromised. Now he was inching the man inside, finally
removing the bandana as the door shut behind them. The visitor stayed quiet as
Zayn lead him inside, down a few winding hallways until they reached a door
that was slightly larger and painted darker than the others. With a shaking
hand, he reached into his right pocket and pulled out a key, slipping it into
the lock and then carefully pulling the door open.
A curly head swivelled from the large bed in the center of the room where a
teenager sat up, watching a film on a large flat screen television. Scattered
around in the duvet were bottles of water, antibiotics and bandages for his leg
where he’d collided at full force with the maserati. Green eyes widened with
delight upon seeing Zayn before they narrowed in confusion at the second
person. It wasn’t a guard, and it definitely wasn’t Niall.
“Li?”
////
The reunion was pretty rushed, as unfortunate as it was, and it seemed like as
soon as Liam and Harry had broken from their intense embrace, (which was more
or less the teenager clinging to his old trainer tight and his trainer laughing
and ruffling curls) he was leaving. Which wasn’t entirely true. Zayn allowed
the two to catch up for a few minutes before he really had to usher the other
outside.
“He’ll be back any minute,” he’d said with a hint of worry, “I’m already going
to have to destroy camera footage- he’d kill us both if he came in right now.”
With a reluctant pout, Harry had taken another hug from Liam and quickly asked
how his family was doing. With a very grim expression, Li went to speak, but
was cut off by a sharp elbow in his side from Zayn and a warning expression.
Surprisingly, Liam paused, pushing the Tomlinson guard away with furrowed brows
and intending to speak again before a sense of realization came over him and he
shushed himself.
“They’re doing well enough, Harry.”
The teenager frowned, sensing the insincerity in his friend’s voice. He took a
breath to reply, but Zayn shushed him as well, ushering the visitor from the
room, locking it, and leading him back outside, where the blindfold came back
up.
“He’s well fed and taken care of, alright, Liam?” Zayn grumped from behind the
steering wheel, his fingers tightening on the leather device.
“Yeah,” Liam sat with his elbow against the window, cheek in his palm as he
toyed with the fabric of the blindfold, “I guess.” He tapped the fingers of his
other hand against his thigh, distracting Zayn from the road momentarily.
Harry’s old trainer was… Pretty attractive.
“How will I get the books?”
“Park a few blocks away. I’ll pick them up. Tell her I’m going to burn them.
She’ll be thrilled.” There was a new tone in Liam’s voice now- disgust and
anger.
“Fair enough.”
////
Liam made his way through the Styles’ hotel hallways with general ease, nodding
here and there at the guards and trying to remain generally unsuspicious and
undetected. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and casually strolled up
to the younger’s old bedroom, pressing the door open and peeking inside.
“Master Liam?”
The voice startled him so badly in his state of surreptitiousness that he felt
his heart nearly stop. He spun on his heels to see the elderly butler, Paul,
who had always been so close with the young boy.
“P-Paul- You startled me…” He clutched at the front of his shirt, smiling a
little nervously.
“What are you doing in Master Harry’s room?” Paul sounded distant, nervous- as
though the mere idea of Harry’s things being moved about made him sick.
“I-”
foundHarryandcan’ttakehimhomebutIpromisedtobringhimhistextbooksbecauseit’sthebestIcando,
“wanted to put Harry’s books into a school donation. It’s what he would’ve
wanted.” It wasn’t the best of lies, but it wasn’t the worst of lies. The
elder’s brows furrowed, his hands staying still at his sides like a proper
butler when a normal man would fidget and twist.
“I’ve kept his room the way it has always been.” Paul insisted, his voice
tugging at the edges of a family butler and a concerned father figure.
“I-,” Liam paused, for a second considering the fact that perhaps Harry’s
caregiver should know what was really happening- he shook his head a little,
blinking away the thought and receiving a strange look, “I very much doubt that
Harry is coming home. I feel that we should do what is in his best interests.
He would like his literature to go to a student who could not afford their own,
would he not?” He reached to rest a comforting hand on Paul’s shoulder, and the
man’s moustache twitched at the contact; a rare sign of an uncontrolled
emotional response in the physical realm.
“You’re right, Master Liam,” why Paul called him as such, he would never know,
“do as you wish.” He bowed his head, and Liam made a very quiet promise that
the boy, and his books, would be home someday.
After a longer than expected wait time, Liam came back with an armful of-
textbooks?
“What is this shit,” Zayn had exclaimed, checking through Chasing the Bullet
With Cyanide and Why Can I and Why Can’t You?, a confused expression on his
face, “I thought these were for his enjoyment? Not his… Downright pain!” He
gaped to Liam, not understanding- anything- about books, nor about Harry as a
reader. The trainer just looked exhausted.
“He’s an avid studier… He loved his class work more than anything else- just
take them to him. I won’t disappoint.” Liam then stood, smacking the top of the
guard’s car to see him off. With a huff, Zayn took off, still feeling like he
got the shit end of this agreement.
////
When Zayn got back to the compound, Louis was already home. The mob boss was
pacing back and forth in front of his own bedroom in a blind panic, pulling at
his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. This was… Unusual.
“What’s with you?” Before he could even spit out all the syllables, his leader
had yanked a hand to his mouth, shushing him loudly and almost violently. Zayn
held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back in concern that Louis might
just take his face off.
“I can’t go in there.” He mouthed dramatically, speaking in a hushed tone
barely above a whisper as he motioned dramatically towards his bedroom. His
lackey tilted his head, brows furrowed.
“Why not? It’s your bedroom…” He watched quietly, his arms wrapped around the
box of books that Liam had given him for their guest.
“He’s in there,” Louis began before realizing he’d spoken in a louder tone and
stopping quickly, glancing at his room to ensure that Harry hadn’t heard him.
“Well of course he is. You put him in there, remember?” It seemed almost
surreal, really, to be able to speak with Louis this way. In the past, had he
said anything like that to his boss, he probably would’ve been punched in the
mouth. It was sort of amazing what a little curly haired green eyed boy could
do to a man.
“Of course I did!” Tomlinson snapped, throwing his hands up in the air and
sighing loudly, “But now he’s awake in there! I can’t just go in and then
leave! He’ll try to talk to me!” He pressed the palms of his hands into his
eyes, totally overwhelmed by all this. He’d seemed ridiculously on edge since
putting Niall on lockdown, in all reality, but no one was going to mention
that.
“Here.” Zayn reached out, startling his boss as he dropped the box of books
into his now flailing arms.
“What’s this?” Louis demanded, popping the lid of the box and shoving the items
around without really seeing anything.
“His old books from Styles’ Corp,” the guard was now looking pretty suave and
sure of himself, feeling an odd sense of pride and superiority, “why don’t you
take them in to him. Then say you’ve a place to go?” He felt like adding,
‘you’re kind of the boss here, I’m not sure why you’re even unsure about how to
leave the room; you don’t owe him a reason’, but his luck was pretty high
today. He didn’t want to risk really shoving the mobster over the edge. A
moment of weakness was something to be cherished in this industry.
“How did you,” the beginning of the question sent a rush of fear to Zayn’s
mind, but he easily kept up his demeanor as Louis trailed off. The magnitude of
the gift seemed to resonate, “nevermind.” After that, the boss retrieved his
key from his guard, having only allowed him to have it as he was the only one
home alone with Harry. (Everyone else being far too untrustworthy; including a
blonde Irishman on lockdown.)
////
“Harry?” After unlocking his room and finangling the large box of books in his
arm, he managed to get inside to see his little guest curled up in his duvet
with a film droning on his flatscreen. His eyes flicked momentarily to the
film; The Shawshank Redemption, (was there anything more random or unexpected
about this kid?) before he brought the books to Harry’s side. The curly lad
seemed frozen, not expecting to see his friend (kidnapper) anytime soon. He
scrambled to sit up, keeping Louis’ now very rumpled duvet around his
shoulders.
“I’ve brought you something,” had Zayn heard it, his disdain would have flared
and ego deflated, but that was okay. He opened the lid to the box, watching as
Harry’s brows furrowed in curiosity before widening in absolute joy.
“My books…” He exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement as he took one of the
cheap paperbacks from the box, examining a message from someone on the inside
cover. Louis had expected for the boy to tear up and cry at some point, but
there was none of that as Harry instead held the book to his chest with a
bright smile.
“They make you happy?” He asked curiously, picking up one of the musty old
texts and flipping through it. There were notes and highlighted sections
everywhere, making him wonder just how seriously Harry must have taken his
studies. The younger nodded almost aggressively, looking back up to Louis with
the biggest dimple filled smile he’d ever seen.
“Of course- I mean… They’re all special to me.” He bit his lip, taking out one
of the little gifts Liam had given him, showing the little notes inscribed on
the inside cover. “See- they’re presents. This one was for my birthday.” He
offered Louis the unopened copy of the Hunger Games that his trainer had given
him, looking like he didn’t quite want to let it go.
“I see…” Louis didn’t really seem to react very much, but his pet was happy and
that was what was important. He moved to stand, setting the original book in
his hand back into the box.
“Where are you going?”
The tone in Harry’s voice made him pause, and he turned his head slowly to make
eye contact. This was what he was afraid of.
“I’ve some business to attend to.”
“Don’t you ever have time?” The rebuttle surprised him, as was probably obvious
on his face, “I mean… You kidnapped me and brought me here right? Surely you
could spare an hour or two on me.” He crossed his arms indignantly, and for a
second, Louis had a flare of admiration. This kid was the son of a mobster, not
a victim of one; after all this time away from the scene, he’d probably just
forgotten his place.
“That’s a hefty and indirect accusation.” Louis replied shortly, keeping his
amusement masked behind a stern face. For a second, Harry seemed to take his
words back- considering that perhaps his boldness hadn’t been the smartest
move. The master of the house paused a second before he shook his head a
little.
“What do you want to do then?” The resignation in his tone was insincere, but
Harry was well aware that he had won on this round.
“You have the whole day?”
“All for you.”
“I’ll think of something.”
***** Cannes Ain't Got Nothing on us, Baby *****
Chapter Summary
     Louis and Harry have the day to themselves, just like he promised.
     This is smut. I am sorry. There is literally no plot development
     whatsoever. Hopefully smut suits your liking.
Chapter Notes
     I've had a rough patch, but I'm hoping to get this story going again!
     I forgot how much I loved writing it! Look forward to more updates in
     the near future.
When Louis okayed spending a day with Harry, he hadn’t really expected it to
escalate how it did. It started off easy enough- they sat down on the mobster’s
bed and watched the ending of the Shawshank Redemption, and then Harry insisted
more films. But he didn’t care to watch them on the flatscreen in his master’s
room. He wanted to go into the theater. Zayn had told him about it one
afternoon when he had been asking an overload of questions, and for some deep,
unsettling reason, Louis didn’t say no.

This lead to the current situation of the two of them sitting side-by-side in
the viewing room in the overstuffed chairs (of which there were only seven or
so), watching some random student film that he’d witnessed at a Cannes Film
Festival a few years prior and enjoyed. Harry wasn’t quite as amused though. He
didn’t understand the plot- theme- anything, and for a second, the mobster was
getting tired of his quiet complaints. Then it sort of dawned on him that he
was the master after all. “Shush it or I’ll send you back to your room,
Styles.” This shut the younger up immediately, and that is when it happened-
the first trickling feeling of guilt slid down his throat and spread through
his guts like poison. Harry hunched in the seat beside him, his lip a bit
jutted and hands wringing in his lap. He shouldn’t feel bad, right? He’d
kidnapped the kid, sexually molested him on multiple occasions, and he was the
king! This was his domain. However, for some reason or another, the aching feel
of disdain continued to press through him. With a heavy sigh, he reached over
to place his hand on Harry’s knee, watching as the head swiveled around to meet
green with blue overcast in curiosity.
“Don’t pout. You look like a child.” The statement didn’t seem to help much,
but the kid did put his lip back in his mouth at the least.
Harry was totally overwhelmed. He was no child! Just because he didn’t want to
watch this crummy movie didn’t make him a child! The younger bit his lip,
glancing down to Louis’ hand on his knee before his catlike mouth curved into a
smirking grin.
“What is it?” That hand wavered nervously for a moment before Harry spoke.
“My room is your room.” He stated brightly with a happy little twist on the
comfortable movie seats, his eyes bright and playful. For a moment, Louis was
totally stunned. His room… Was Harry’s room now. He almost couldn’t take it.
His cheeks flared up for a split second before he moved to pinch the inside of
his pet’s leg very gently.
“Stop being so cheeky, you little shit.” But this time was different- there
were more emotions in his tone rather than straight up irritation. Harry
grinned, beyond excited as his attention lingered on his master a little longer
before giving the stupid art film a second chance. They relaxed in comfortable
silence for a few minutes before everything seemed to grow a little too
comfortable for Louis. They were quickly becoming equals. They weren’t a master
and his victim- they were being friendly. He frowned, peering down to the curly
headed teen who seemed to be inching just a bit closer every couple of minutes.
Hell, Harry was practically laying his head on his shoulder at this point.
And dear fucking God, it shouldn’t make Louis’ heart race like it does.
////
Harry was exploding inside. They were having such a nice time- they were
comfortable, Louis was teasing him- they were experiencing a normal day, for
Christ’s sake. Harry sighed in content, inching a little closer to the blue
eyed man who had captivated his attention for the past couple months, his heart
beating heavily in his chest. He had moved closer and closer, resting his cheek
on Louis’ shoulder, wondering just how far he could get before he was shooed
away. Would he really be sent back to the room? Would Louis really go off to do
his work for that day and leave him? Yeah, probably.
The younger stayed quite still, hoping that maybe his advances had gone
unnoticed. He thought he’d gotten away scot free, a little grin curling over
his features when the rumbling under his cheek began, signalling that Louis was
about to have words with him.
“Harold?” While it was, indeed, a step up from ‘Styles’, the use of his full
name was nerveracking and ominous. He tilted his curly head up slowly, a very
uncertain frown on his face to catch Louis’ gaze.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His heart sunk. This was it- shunned- back to
the bedroom.
“I just- I just thought-” his world was flipping upside down- the acceptance he
felt, the sheer comfort he’d finally achieved around Louis since the Futomaki
Den- it was going to be stripped from him in four simple words. “Go to the
room”. Which of course was why he was absolutely astounded at the four words
that really slipped from his master’s mouth.
“Get in my lap."
////
He hadn’t intended to go that way. He’d never really planned on taking Harry to
the private viewing room, nor had he ever planned on Niall losing his shit.
Really, the only constant in this scenario was that he had definitely planned
on taking the kid (for a short period) and now everything was in a “roll with
it” situation. Instead of his intentional, ‘get off me or get out’ threat, he’d
invited the kid onto his lap. This wasn’t going well for someone whose main
intent was to not grow irreversibly attached to the curly heir of Styles’ Corp.
Something inside him, or possibly betwixt his thighs, was speaking for him
instead now.
With the most confused expression he could muster, Harry climbed up into Louis’
lap with some guidance from the mobster’s slender hands, each leg on either
side of the slender waist. This had all been so stressful on Lou. He’d lost
sleep over his house guest. Not only was he financially set with money from
(what he supposed could count as) human trafficking, but sometimes he’d toss
and turn with dreams of that pretty little red lipped boy naked and panting
below him. It was infuriating. Had it been anyone else- anyone but this slim
boy in his lap- he probably would have just taken what he wanted. But Harry was
special, wasn’t he? Louis had been infatuated much longer than he’d care to
admit, and maybe that was partially why he’d gone through with it. Sure,
Tomlinson compound was in desperate need of renovation, but he could acquire
the money another way- one much quicker and with less difficulty. And maybe as
his resolve was fading, hands beginning to rub and travel over the lanky torso,
he was willing to admit this may have been more of a personal endeavor than
anything else.
Louis regarded each little shiver, every little nip to that plush lower lip,
every fucking flick of long eyelashes onto soft rounded cheeks-. He was
enamored. His hands prodded up slowly under the flannel pyjama top the younger
had worn since late the night before, and he traced studiously over the soft
lining of muscle over the lad’s abdomen, up to the built pecs and trembling
shoulders. It was oddly intimate, and this time, it seemed much more natural
than it had when he’d slowly jacked the kid off in the Japanese restaurant.
“Do you like this?” He asked quietly, bright blue eyes flicking up to meet hazy
green, an amused expression drawing across his face as he realized how wrecked
Harry was just from some simple petting. The younger didn’t have a chance to
answer before his shirt was being tugged over his head, a set of thin lips
leaning in to press against his collar and lap all over, sucking little marks
into his pretty pale skin.
“L-Lou…” He muttered out, only biting his lip harder when he felt that catlike
smirk coiling over Louis’ mouth, gasping a little as he felt slender hands grip
at his hips to drag his body closer. It wasn’t until he was dragged over it
that he realized the elder was sporting an erection- and that made him twitch
and whine even more.
“Yeah?” A husked voice was heard as lips finally parted from his collar and
made their way down to the foreign nipples south of the naturally placed two. A
tongue darted out to lick over the soft pink, and Harry found himself at a loss
for words momentarily. It didn’t necessarily feel any different than a tongue
licking over any other part of his torso, but the fact that Louis was licking
him at all was pleasurable and overwhelming.
Besides, if Harry couldn’t summon words with a lick to his nubbins, how was he
supposed to speak with five slim digits sneaking into the waistband of his
pants and boxers to wrap around his swelling cock? The teen let out a
shuddering moan, his brows furrowing and heart pounding against his ribs.
His shaft was stroked up and down slowly, Louis’ fist tugging and toying with
his erection in all the right places. Harry had to link his arms around the
mobster’s neck in an attempt to keep himself from melting, overwhelmed by all
of these sensations at once. Lips traveled upward again, laying claim to the
younger’s neck and jaw and eliciting more sounds from deep inside the broad
chest.
This was escalating quickly. With a painful realisation to the fact that all he
wanted to do was slip his cock balls deep into his house pet, he pulled back
with a gradual slowdown of the hand hiding in the younger’s trousers. Harry
gave a whine of disappointment, and moved to nudge his master’s head with his
nose, tucking it gently under his jawline.
“Don’t stop-...” He mumbled softly, his voice lower than ever before. That
alone was enough initiative to squeeze the base of the boy’s cock tightly
before again pausing in his action.
“I want to fuck you.” Louis wasn’t sure why he said it so bluntly- surely he
had more tact than that, but the kid in his lap didn’t seem to mind. Instead,
it seemed to be a positive reaction. Harry had shivered, his fingers locking
into the back of Louis button down shirt.
“Not like I have much of a say.”
The man on the couch felt his cock shudder in anticipation, shoving the other
male right off of his lap and onto the floor as he began to unzip himself,
retaining the elegant grace of someone who knew precisely what they were doing.
Harry, upon landing with a thud, just watched the exposure with a fire in his
eyes, watching as every inch of thick uncut shaft was put on display.
“Don’t have any lubricant around,” Louis began with a hint of amusement in his
voice, “so you’d best slick me up right.”
///
Harry wasn’t horrendous at blowing a cock, but he certainly wasn’t a
breakthrough porn star either. He was reprimanded often enough for using his
teeth, and his movements were a little choppy and unpracticed, but Lou wasn’t
really able to complain too fully with those beautiful plump lips stretched
around his engorged dick. The boy was enthusiastic on top of it, which
accounted for almost every little hum that twisted in the air above him. He’d
already gone on and gagged himself once or twice to try and fit as much meat in
his mouth as he could, and it had sent his master’s eyes into the back of his
head.
“Get up, strip down, and come here.” Harry had never heard Louis’ voice take
such a needy tone before. It was mesmerizing. The teen stood, tugging his
flannel top up and off of his head to show off his toned upper body, following
suit with his bottoms and unders at once. More impressive was the lack of
embarrassment or shame as he came forward with his cock bobbing lewdly; taking
a seat in a straddle on top of those strong thighs.
Louis pressed two fingers past the boy’s abused lips, dipping them in against
his tongue and ordering sternly to have them sucked. Enthusiasm won over again,
and once the teen was finished sucking, two fingers slipped underneath the
weight of his sac and pressed very gently to the rim of his opening. Harry gave
a slight gasp, hips gyrating downwards a moment as he tried to keep control. He
was no stranger to ass play. It was generally something he did during his
personal stimulation. He rocked and pleaded with large green eyes, eager and
ready for what Lou had to offer.
“Such a good, receptive boy.” The mobster mused, swirling his fingers in a
circle around the taut hole before pressing the tip of his index inside.
Slowly, more length slipped into the kid on his lap, and an appreciative moan
escaped below a mess of curls. It was painfully slow, and Harry was nearly
ready to complain about what he needed when another finger toyed against the
first.
“Good little pet likes being filled up, hm?” Louis prompted, licking his lips
as he leaned up to press a gentle kiss to the slightly parted lips above him.
“Yes, Louis-,”
“How about you start calling me Sir until we’re finished?” Two fingers forced
apart against Harry’s silken walls, urging an excited moan from the depth of
Harry’s chest.
“Y-Yes, Sir!”
His pet was unravelling quickly, Louis noted, eyes grazing over the aching tip
of the younger’s cock that smeared precum against his strong belly each time
the mobster did something that was groan worthy. He would have to hurry this up
or the boy would get off too quickly and Lou would be left to take care of hims
- what! No! No! If the boy got off too quickly, damn it, he would sit there and
take it like a good pet until his master got off! With a small frown, Louis
lifted his arm and wrapped his fingers gently around Harry’s throat, just
enough to constrict the boy.
“Are you ready to ride my cock, boy?” He leaned in to husk the words against
the curve of his pet’s jaw, eliciting shudders from the younger male.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’d better ask nicely, Styles, or I’ll put you back in the room all by your
lonesome…”
“Please, Sir! I want to ride your big cock!”
Louis had been joking, in all honesty, and if Harry had shied away, he wouldn’t
have pushed it unless it proved to be worth it for entertainment, but damn. His
cock throbbed against his belly where it lay, the words resonating through his
head. Fingers slid from Harry’s neck and down to the boy’s waist as he
considered it.

Please, Sir! I want to ride your big cock!
When had the world gone to utopian status?
Louis slowly removed his fingers - he’d managed to get to three before his pet
had whispered such breathless hymns into the air - and instead guided Harry’s
hips up to rest his glistening cock head against the slick, toyed entrance.
“Go on, pet. Take what you want.”
Harry didn’t disappoint. The boy eagerly began to slip down, his body
stretching achingly slow around the girth of the mobster’s cock. He didn’t
complain - just whimpered slightly as his body accepted something that was
quite larger than the three fingers which had prepped him before finally
settling at Louis’ base. The curly lad slumped forward and let out a hot breath
against his lover’s shoulder, taking a moment for the twitching in his muscles
about the shaft to relax before continuing.
Meanwhile, Louis had rested his head against the large theater seat, his eyes
half lidded and lips moving restlessly as the boy settled. Once he was fully
seated inside the lanky creature, he attempted to sooth any reservations the
kid may have had. He pressed open palms from the base of Harry’s back up to the
broad shoulders, squeezing the muscles there and kneading the flesh before
trailing down over the corded arms and gripping softly at either wrist. Lou
lifted each arm simultaneously, guided them up and loosely wrapped them about
his neck.
“Come on, Pet… Don’t keep me waiting.” He murmured lowly, though there was -
for once - no trace of impatience or irritation in the biting words. Only a
weird and warm encouragement. Harry drew his face back and considered Louis
with glazed eyes and dilated pupils before he adjusted his knees on either side
of his current lover’s hips and began to draw up the length nestled inside him.
At first, the rhythm was awkward, though it was forgiven as it wasn’t exactly
like Harry was a seasoned pro in riding dick (though if Louis had anything to
say about it afterward, he would be), but it was completely made up for by the
way green eyes would roll back and shut periodically, and how long fingers
found fistfulls of chestnut brown hair and tugged when he found a pleasurable
spot to guide the master’s cock against - and those noises. High and desperate,
monotony broken by a lick to his thick lips or a particularly low swallow. It
all had Louis’ senses in overdrive, and for a long while, he let Harry please
himself, taking note of each angle the boy seemed to take pleasure in.
The Styles’ heir wasn’t the only one who studied.
Louis leaned in then and rubbed his thumbs soothingly over the boy’s protruding
hip bones before he peppered kisses along the juncture of Harry’s neck and
shoulder up to the lobe of his ear.
“Want some help, Kitten?” He hummed against the shell, giving it a long lick
and a nibble before pausing for a response. It was an overwhelming yes - a nod
with bouncing curls and a slightly strangled noise.
Louis smirked, halting his pet before he adjusted his feet on the ground,
gaining leverage he knew he would need in the following events. His fingers
shifted forward to curl around each globe of Harry’s ass, and he lifted
carefully.
He could feel the excitement humming through the boy’s body as his arms
tightened about the mobster’s neck even before he began to hammer up unto the
soft, warm heat that was Harry Styles.
The boy positively wailed, crying out praises and pleas to the ceiling as Louis
pounded him into the status blithering mess would fall under. He had taken into
consideration the angles aforementioned, and was using them to Harry’s benefit.
Every last thrust struck home or was damn close to doing so, and he was pretty
sure the curly lad wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.
That was perfectly fine though. If he was being completely honest, he was on
his last lap himself.
His fingers dug into the plush ass, squeezing and chancing a slap here and
there, drawing groan after delicious groan from the swollen lips attempting
haplessly to contain them.
Somewhere in the background credits to a movie neither of them couldn’t care
less about scrolled by to a ripped track of classical music.
“How is it, Harry? Full enough to burst?” His words were deviously taunting
against the shell of Harry’s ear, and for a moment, the master wondered if the
kid was even able to hear it over his overwhelmingly vocal performance. He was
pleasantly surprised when a guttural voice choked out a ‘Yes, Sir!’, and to
show his appreciation, Louis sped his hips justthat much more.
Before the master could chance another raunchy phrase, the boy in his lap went
completely silent and tense, tossing his head back and burrying his fingers in
the layers of soft brown.
Louis hadn’t even had the chance to touch the kid’s cock. And sure, it was
probably scraping against his stomach and whatnot - but still. Harry had come
from the pounding alone. That combined with the way the younger’s hold
tightened and constricted around him had the boss spilling into the warmth with
a low growl, digging his nails into the plump and leaving dark red marks over
pale flesh.
When they came down, it was almost magical. For a second, Louis was content
with being Harry’s equal, and he actually offered a small smile before pressing
his forehead against the teenager’s. Something about this act - one that he had
taken part in countless times - seemed different with Harry.
He would later call it an after effect of amazing sex or a gas leak, but Louis
stayed with the boy for the rest of the day, and when night fell and gave way
to dreamland, he held the kid close and allowed their limbs to tangle
comfortably - he would be damned if it wasn’t the best sleep he ever got.
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