Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2484317.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Harry_Styles/Louis_Tomlinson
  Character:
      Harry_Styles, Louis_Tomlinson, Liam_Payne, Niall_Horan, Zayn_Malik
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Internalized_Misogyny,
      Biting, Scenting, Rimming, Sex_Toys, Anal_Fingering
  Series:
      Part 11 of harry,_you_little_shit
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-20 Completed: 2014-12-02 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 9458
****** i'm gonna keep sighin' (baby, for you) ******
by juliusschmidt
Summary
     They're on tour, now, and Harry decides to let Louis help.
Notes
     This is part of a series. Start here.
     Thanks to Melanie for the beta!
     This part is longer than usual and (for my own sense of discipline
     and accomplishment) I want to keep up with posting every two weeks,
     so I'm posting it in chapters. The second chapter (which is finished,
     but unedited) will probably go up around October 31st. It's not too
     long a wait, if you'd prefer to read this all at once. (I'll be
     adding more tags, then.)
     Title from this_song.
***** Chapter 1 *****
=
It’s the middle of the afternoon and Harry’s currently pressed close between
Niall and Zayn.  He’s pretending to watch them play FIFA, but with the heat and
their scents and the stale air, Harry can barely breathe. The windows are
cracked as wide as they’ll open, which is only an inch or two, and the trickle
of a breeze is doing little to relieve the pressure in Harry’s lungs.
Though Harry’d been acutely aware of the Alpha-thick scent of the X Factor
House, his three months there has done nothing to prepare him for life on the
tour bus. The space is cramped, far too small for five teenage boys, and
overflowing with dirty laundry. Most of the time, Harry feels completely
surrounded, weighed down on all sides.
It shouldn’t be this bad. Harry’d talked to the doctor about it before they’d
set out on tour. They’re never going very far at once and they’re taking lots
of breaks.
Harry hates to complain about it when the other boys are proper chuffed to be
on a real tour buson a real tour. It is pretty cool, he has to admit, and their
excitement is often literallycontagious, but it’d be cooler if he didn’t
constantly want to stick his head out a window or, better yet, jump into the
ocean and let the salty waves rinse his skin free.  
Louis enters the living space with his DVD case in hand. He frowns at the lack
of space between Harry and Niall and Zayn. He knows that it bothers Louis when
the other boys are close enough to Harry for their scents to intertwine. It
always has, which Harry thinks is a little dumb because Harry reeks of Louis
all the time. Everyone can smell it, even if they’re too polite to say.
“Budge over, lads,” Louis says. “Time for a film.”
Liam’s close behind him, freshly showered and smiling.
“What’re we watching?” He asks, not looking up from his IPad. He’s been
flirting with some omega girl (a ‘fan’) through twitter DMs and he seems equal
parts thrilled and scandalized by his own audacity.
Niall force ends the game and Zayn leans over Harry to send him an amused look.
“Tired of losing?”  
Niall flicks him off, but without heat.  Harry can feel that they’re both
happy, relaxed, even. Louis’ tense, though, eyes flickering around the small
space.
Harry smiles, instinctively wanting to calm him. “What’ve you brought us?”
Louis looks down at the stack, “The Notebook, Titanic, Sleepless in Seattle,
Notting Hill-“
“Knotting Hill, if you know what I mean,” Zayn mutters, eliciting a chuckle
from Niall.
Liam laughs, too, a second too late. “Let’s watch that one.”
Harry hates Notting Hill, mostly because he finds Hugh Grant’s performance as a
beta unconvincing. The guy’s an alpha through and through and so he sort of
overacts his character’s pathetic-ness. Betas aren’t thatboring, generally.
 And, if they were, lovely alphas like Julia Roberts would definitely not date
them.
“I want to watch the Notebook,” Harry announces. He (not so) secretly loves
bondmate films. Just because he doesn’t want that for himself, doesn’t mean he
can’t enjoy watching other people fall in love and, like, connect. Also, most
revolve at least partly around an omegaand, even if they don’t always
accurately capture hisexperience, it’s kind of nice.
“Harry gets what Harry wants.” Louis pulls out the DVD.
Liam sinks to the ground and whines, “It’s not fair. Harry alwaysgets what he
wants because he’s an omega and you three can’t keep your dicks under control-
you’d all knot him, if he’d let you.”
“Hey now,” Zayn says, throwing an arm Harry’s shoulder. “Harry gets his way
because he has to put up with us all stinking up his space.”
Both explanations are kind of fucked up. Harry doesget his way more often than
he should, he knows. He’s about to say so, too, but then Zayn nuzzles Harry’s
neck. It sends a shiver down Harry’s spine and Harry can’t help the way his
eyes search out Louis’. He’s frowning unhappily.
“Don’t pretend you’re immune,” Niall says, kicking Liam’s shoulder.
Liam shrugs. “I certainly have more self-control than you assholes.”
“He does,” Harry agrees, because it’s true.
Louis backs away from the DVD player and reaches out, “Alright, Harry, come
here.” His hands turn grabby and Harry grabs back, batting at Louis’ waggling
fingers.
The credits start and Harry settles easily into Louis’ lap on the ground. It’s
just betterbeing wrapped in Louis.
The bus is only tolerable when Louis’ in it and close. Harry’s become practiced
at latching onto his scent and allowing it to fill him up. It’s best if they’re
touching. When Harry’s focused on Louis, when all Harry can smell and feel and
touch and think about is Louis, the stifling closeness of the other boys fades
Harry’s acutely aware of Louis’s breath against his neck and his cock against
his arse. They don’t doanything, but by the end of the film Harry’s skin is
starting to itch.
He tries to focus on the film. It’s so sad, a lifetime bond all but destroyed
by illness. Several of the omega-oriented books he’s read talk about ways to
stabilize and maintain bonds into old age. Obedience, staying fit, therapy,
keeping your home clean of other scents, etc-  but they don’t have an answer to
illness or death.
Around the halfway point he closes his eyes, hoping to nod off. When he cries
during movies, the other boys (mostly Louis) become insufferable. The last time
it’d happened, back in the X Factor House, Louis’d wiped Harry’s tears with his
shirtsleeve and carried him to bed.
Louis brings a hand up and begins to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. It’s
soothing, Louis’ petting, and it calms Harry. He lets Louis’ scent and the
story mingle together and wash over him.
It’s sweet, Allie’s first heat with Noah and, oddly jarring, that she’s able to
let him go- sort of- and move on to spend a heat or two with Lon. It’s not
totally comfortable for any of them- Allie nor Noah nor Lon- and, true to
everything Harry’s read about mating, Allie doesend up with her first love.
They’d begun to  form a bond, after all.
But still, Harry thinks, the bond didn’t settle right away- and she’d
definitely been able to be involvedwith Lon without any sort of entanglement.
Harry remembers what Cal had told him about finding an alpha lover and how he’d
insisted that they didn’t necessarily have to bond. He’d warned that most
relationships between alphas and omegas didend in a bond- sometimes
unintentionally- but with ample self-control, the relationship could stay
simple, fluid, and non-binding.
At the time, Harry hadn’t been able to imagine wanting anyone to so much as
look at him during his heat. His slick arse and open desperation are
embarrassing. It’s a part of himself that he imagines will always be difficult
to entrust to anyone, partially because he doesn’t want the perception of him
as thatto spill over into other parts of his life.
He’s sograteful that the public doesn’t know he’s an omega.
But now, after spending several heats alone, after having had Louis with him
through the phone during his last- Harry thinks he might be ready to admit he
needs help. Or rather, he doesn’t needhelp, but he could use it. He might even
like it.
~
He calls Cal later on that day.
“What can I do for you, Harry? Any problems with the suppressants? You need
something stronger?”
Harry pulls the blanket on his bunk over himself. It’s hot, but he can hear the
other boys in the next room and it gives him the illusion of privacy.
His voice is small, as small as he can make it, when he says, “I’m thinking
about finding someone to help me through my heats.”
He can hear Call shuffle papers or something as he replies, “Did something
happen between you and Louis?”
Harry rolls over. He thinks about Louis’ texts and how they’d made his last
heat so much better and so much worse. “Kind of.”
Cal sighs and Harry feels like he’s disappointed him somehow. Harry’s
disappointed himself- he should be strong enough to do this on his own- so it
shouldn’t surprise him that Cal feels the same. “Do you need me to help you
find someone?”
“What?” Harry asks. “Why would I need to find someone?”
Cal laughs. “You’ll need someone,if someoneis going to help you through your
heat.”
Harry frowns. He’d thought Cal had caught on right away. “No, I was thinking of
asking Louis.”
Cal’s quiet for a moment. “You mean you and Louis haven’t already been… ?”
Harry pulls the blanket tighter around himself. “No, we’ve never.”
He can’t believe Cal would suggest that. Sure, he and Louis live together and
are best friends but, like, going through a heatwith someone is a Big Deal,
bond or no bond.
“I assumed that was part of the reason you moved in together. You two seem
veryclose.”
“We only fooled around a bit.” Harry wraps the blanket even tighter wishing
there was a way he could bury himself in it completely. “I want to know how we
can, like, be together without, like, gettingtogether.”
“Very precise, Harry,” Cal says.
Harry groans, eliciting a chuckle from Cal. When he’s finished laughing, he
says, “No, I know what you mean. I’ll make sure information finds its way to
you and Louis.”
~
The best part of touring is the performances.
Harry loveswhat he can do from the stage. During the X Factor, he’d been so
nervous about making it, so nervous that one little slip up on his part could
cost them the show, that he hadn’t been able to settle into it, not the way he
has on tour.
Now, he can relax- just a little- and sing.
He likes that they’re closer to the audience. There’s no judges table between
him and a whole crowd of (often screaming) fans that think he’s amazing. He
loves to play with people, to catch someone’s eye and make them feel like he’s
singing a verse just for them.
And he feels more in control of his hormones than ever.  It’s surprising,
sometimes, how a whole section of people become entranced by something simple
like the line of his outstretched arm. But he’s figuring out, slowly but
surely, how to work with that kind of attention and energy.
The power is intoxicating. He thinks he could whisper into his mic a request
for anything- a hug, a ham sandwich, a new car- and the people watching and
screaming and crying would move heaven and earth to fetch it for him.
~
They can’t sleep after the concert, none of them, and Harry’s still too young
to go out to the clubs to celebrate, so Louis and Zayn retrieve several bottles
of liquor and bring them back to the bus.
Harry puts up a small stink- Louis knowsHarry would have preferred wine, even
though it gives him terrible hangovers- but Harry’s complaints are mostly lost
in the excitement of expensive scotch. He’s quite certain that none of the boys
can tellthat it’s expensive from the taste, but Louis does a fair job of
pretending to be impressed.
Harry drinks way too much, way too fast. It’s late and he’s already flying high
from the show and the itch of his next heat is beginning to build underneath
his skin even though it should still be days away.
Louis keeps sending Harry worried little looks. He’s far more drunk than Harry,
having needed to prove that the harsh coughs the other boys made after each sip
of scotch demonstrated their inherent wussiness (in contrast, of course, to his
steely, manly disposition).
So it’s not surprising that halfway through their little after party, he finds
himself in Louis’ lap with Louis biting softly into his neck.
It’s playful, teasing,and not quite sexual. The other boys are there, arguing
about superheroes, as per usual, and Harry and Louis are still participating in
the conversation, Louis in between licks and nips. They don’t have hands down
each other pants and Louis’ nowhere near close to knotting. Harry wiggles his
arse around on his lap several times, just to check.
Perhaps it is strange behavior, but Zayn and Niall watch indulgently (they’re
maybe a little jealous, Harry thinks) and Liam is too wrapped up in his girl-
texting to notice. When Harry suggests that they watch Titanic, the former two
head to bed, leaving Harry and Louis (and Liam) to it.
The movie isn’t that interesting. Harry knows most of the lines by heart. And
so, partway through, they begin to talk, him and Louis, about the first time
they’d seen it, about the friends they’d seen it with, about growing up.
Louis starts to fall asleep beneath him- right in the middle of a story Harry’s
telling about a decidedly evil primary school teacher who’d had it out for him-
and Harry decides that his bladder has been full to aching too long.
He stands and the room tilts. He’s still reallydrunk, even though he hasn’t had
a sip of alcohol for over an hour now. He makes his way, groping at the walls
for balance as he walks, to the tiny bus bathroom and bangs it open.
Liam is sitting on the toilet, eyes now wide-wide open, cock in hand, jerking
himself off. Harry stares long enough to note that he’s well hung, but
currently knot-less.
The two of them move at the same time, Liam standing and tucking himself in and
Harry backing up and out and slamming the door in front of him.
It’s quiet for a moment- the toilet doesn’t flush and the sink doesn’t turn on
and Harry wonders if maybe Liam’s gone back to wanking.
He shouts (possibly louder than entirely necessary), “I have to piss.”
Liam’s out of the bathroom almost immediately and brushing past Harry into his
bunk. Something seems off to Harry about the whole encounter, but he doesn’t
have the mental capacity at the moment to sort through it.
Harry thinks the issue might be that Liam hadn’t washed his hands, which is
very gross, but he has to wee so badly that it’s painful, so he can’t really
worry too much about it.
When he’s washing his own hands- like a civilized person- he smells Louis who
must now be waiting in the hallway for his turn.
As they pass, Louis takes Harry’s arm in hand and presses a kiss to his wrist.
Harry falls asleep immediately, the liquor pulling him down and down and down,
but when he wakes up in the middle of the night (to pee, again) he has to crawl
over Louis who’s bundled into the tiny bunk with him.
~
Harry rises early the next morning- the sun is just beginning to come up and he
hasn’t slept more than  two or three hours. All the other boys are still in
bed. He digs through the tiny fridge for edible leftovers. He’s not hungry, but
the pull has started hot beneath his skin and he’ll be out of commission by
evening; he’s sure of it.
The heat has come on more quickly than before, only two and a half weeks after
his last heat, probably because of his close proximity to four alphas. As he
downs a bowl of cold noodles, he begins to make a list of what he needs to do
today: tell the staff, re-check in with Louis, press Cal for information, get a
hotel room, call his mum.
He’s texting the aid who’s been working with them most closely when he hears a
soft, “Morning.”
Liam’s standing in the doorway in his sleep shorts. He stretches and yawns.An
half image of him in the toilet the night before flashes through Harry’s mind.
He reaches to remember the whole of it, but comes up blank.
Must not have been too important because Liam is smiling easily as he asks,
“Wanna go for a walk?”
Harry laughs. “The first thing you want to do now that you’ve woken up is go
for a walk? Aren’t you feeling last night?”
Liam shrugs and through a second yawn, says, “Haven’t really been sleeping
well.”
Harry nods and sends his text. “Yeah, alright.” A walk sounds nice; it might
serve to settle him a bit.
It is nice. Liam’s quiet and, thankfully, he doesn’t pull out his phone. Harry
wants to ask him what he thinks now, months later, about Harry’s gender and
about his relationship with Louis. Harry wants to ask him if he thinks Louis
can do it, can helpHarry without bonding with him or resenting him.
He just can’t work out the best way to start. Maybe a compliment about Liam’s
own control and reserve would be good, butter him up a bit.
Liam solves Harry’s problem about five minutes out. “So, you and Louis?”
Harry frowns. “Kind of.”
Liam makes a small sound and then he asks, “It probably feels pretty good,
being connected to someone like that, like at that level, or whatever.”
“Jesus, Liam. It’s not like he’s bought me a house and, like, knocked me up.
We’re not bonded,or anything. He hasn’t even knotted me. We’re just mates, the
same as any of us in the band.” It’s such lie, that he and Louis aren’t
different, but he’s not ready to admit the truth aloud or deal with its
consequences. They shouldn’t be different, is the thing. It’s dangerous.
“Don’t think Louis feels the same.”
Harry realizes he’s shivering, covered in goosebumps, even though he doesn’t
feel the least bit cold. He’d gone out without a jacket and it’s still early
spring. Liam’s wearing a winter parka and Harry’s surprised he hadn’t said
anything to Harry.
Although, the guys had been giving Liam a lot of shit lately for how much of a
parenthe could be. Louis has begun addressing Liam as ‘daddy’ as often as
possible and Liam might not have wanted to endure a ribbing from Harry.
But, the more Harry thinks about it, the hotter he feels. His phone buzzes in
his pocket and he pulls it out to find a text from the aid saying that someone
is on their way to fetch him from the bus. The sooner he’s contained the better
in her opinion.
He keeps his phone out to text Louis. They still haven’t talked about it, but
Harry wants him there this time. When the other boy doesn’t reply, Harry prays
he’ll be able to pull himself out of bed and put his shit together quickly.
“We should probably turn around,” Harry tells Liam. “They’re already waiting
for me with a car.”
Liam turns, but he says, “Who is? Why? We just started out.”
Harry usually likes that Liam treats him like he’s normal- like he’s not an
omega. But right now Harry’s definitely giving off a wild, possibly even
desperate, scent and Harry thinks it’s stupid for them to pretend otherwise.
“Come on, Liam, you know I’m in heat, or just on the verge of it. I mean,
that’s why you wanted to get out, go on a walk, instead of staying in that
little cramped kitchen, isn’t it? I’m an omega, not an idiot.”
The longer he speaks the more irritated he becomes. It’s stupid that the other
boys feel like they have to protect him from them and sometimes from himself.
God, fuck, he isdifferent and he just wishes that were okay.
Liam is frowning and not looking at Harry. He’s quickened his pace, though.
Harry’s ire is probably is stinging through him and not for the first time
Harry wishesLiam’s own control wasn’t so good. Harry wishes he could feel him
like he can the other boys.
Not that it would help now, when they’re a hundred yards from the bus and he
can already smell Louis,can already feel Louis waking up and searching for
Harry.
Louis comes bounding out of the trailer in only his boxers, hair wild, running
toward Harry. When he reaches them, he glares at Liam and wraps a hand around
Harry’s wrist.
“What were you thinking?!” Louis directs this at Liam who flinches.
“We wanted to go out for a walk,” Harry explains. “It’s a nice morning.”
Louis continues to frown at Liam. “You knowbetter. Harry could’ve been
assaulted. It’s dangerous for him to be out in the midst of his heat.”
Harry’s about to protest. He does know the risks and he’d had Liam with him for
safety. Also, what if he’d wantedto find someone to sleep with… But Liam speaks
before Harry finds his words. “Louis, you’re not Harry’s alpha. You can’t-“
Louis fingers tighten around Harry’s wrist and it hurts. “Neither are you.”
Harry tugs his hand free from Louis’ grip. He looks from Louis to Liam and
then, as though he’s being pulled by some irresistible force, back to Louis.
Even riled as he is, Harry can’t help but just, like, admire him. It’s stupid.
 Louis’ being an overdramatic dick and moments like this are exactlywhy Harry
doesn’t want to bond with Louis or anyone. But Louis’ eyes are soblue and he
smells sogood.
Harry sighs unhappily and the other boys break eye contact to look at him. He
says, “I need to talk to Louis. The car will be here soon. Liam, can you grab
some clothes for us?”
He’s surprised by the surety behind his words and even more surprised when Liam
turns to obey. Louis calls out though, “Wait, Liam. We’ll grab them in a
second. I don’t want your scent all over our stuff.”
Harry laughs. “Seriously, Louis? Liam doesn’t even really smell like anything
other than his godawful cologne.”
It’s true, though Harry’s never thought too hard about it before. He doesn’t
have the time to think much about it now, either. Not with the wet throb of his
arse. Not with the starved looks Louis keeps sending him.
The car pulls up and the aid rolls down the window. She’s a beta and he’s
incredibly grateful for that. She calls, “Harry? Are you ready?”
“Just a second,” Harry says at the same time Louis shouts, “Yeah, we’re ready.”
Harry frowns at him, then shoots over his shoulder at Liam, “Can you, like- we
only need a couple of shirts and a clean pair of boxers?”
Liam unfreezes and hurries inside the bus.
To Louis, Harry says, “I want you to come with me, to help, but I don’t want to
bond. I still want to, like, be free or whatever.”
Louis’ eyes narrow. “Yeah, I get it. You’ve done nothing but say you don’t want
me as your bondmate since I found out you were an omega.”
Harry doesn’t think he doesget it, is the thing. But he’s not sure how to be
any more clear.
Liam comes out with an armful of clothes. He hands them to Louis, but he’s
looking at Harry. “You’re taking him with you, then?”
Harry nods.
Liam tilts his head. “Alright. Be careful.”
Harry thinks he should be saying ‘be careful’ to Louis as it’s Louis’ knot that
will be up his arse and not the other way around. But he doesn’t, he turns to
Louis, whose face is now buried in his own balled up jumper, and squeezes his
shoulder.
Then, he leans and whispers something to Louis, eyes hard. Harry thinks he
might be telling him not to let this fuck up the band.
Louis laughs, bright and loud, but a little forced and says, “No, I don’t
figure I have anything to worry about with you.”
The aid honks the horn and Liam climbs back up the steps of the bus, calling
over his shoulder, “Have fun.”
Harry crawls into the backseat and Louis follows, forgoing a seatbelt to sit as
close to Harry as possible. The pile of clothes covers both their laps and
Harry’s never smelled anything better than their scents mingling in the
confined space.
He buries his face in Louis’ neck and nuzzles. “The clothes smell so good. You
smell sogood.”
“The clothes dosmell good,” Louis agrees, speaking slowly. “Not like Liam, at
all.”
Harry slips a hand into Louis’ hair, tugging at him in an attempt to press his
face closer to Louis. “I told you. Liam never smells like anything but his
cologne.”
“Yeah, you did say. Isn’t that strange, though?”
Harry doesn’t careabout Liam’s scent at the moment and he needs to get Louis on
the same page so he licks a line from Louis ear to his collarbone. Louis groans
and wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders.
The aid says, “We’ll be at the hotel in less than ten minutes. Do not fuckin my
car.”
Harry looks at Louis, who nods. They disentangle, and it’s almost painful,
resisting the way he’s still being pulled to Louis. Harry folds his hands and
rests them on top of the pile of clothing.
After a moment, Louis says, “So, we’re going to do this. I’m going to go
through this heat with you, without bonding, I mean.”
Harry nods. He thinks it’s possible. They’re going to try. “Shouldn’t be
toodifficult. Cal was supposed to send me some information on it, but the heat
came on too soon.”
Louis lips turn down. “Then what, like—“
“Well,” Harry cuts him off, then stops and looks down. He’s sucha terrible
omega sometimes; he has no idea why Louis’ stuck around.
Louis reaches over and places a hand on top of his. “It’s okay. Go on.”
Harry nods. “It’s just, most bonded couples don’t full out bondduring their
first heat together. That takes timeand intention, usually.”
“Yeah,” Louis doesn’t sound satisfied. Actually, Harry realizes, the longer
they’re in the car, the closer they come to the hotel, the more terrified
Louis’ becoming. The air is flickering around them with his panicked fright.
Harry turns his hands over so that he’s holding Louis’ hand between the two of
his. “Come on, it can’t be that difficult.” He links their fingers together.
“Like, we know how to bond- that’s certainly been beaten into us. So we just
don’t do that.”
Louis turns to nod against Harry’s shoulder, now. “Yeah, like, as long as we
don’t mark each other.”
“Also,” Harry stops. He knows what he wants to say, but he’s afraid it might
come out mean. He’s said it before and Louis’ never taken it well. He doesn’t
want to hurt Louis’ feelings, especially not now.
“What?” Louis says, his trepidation skyrocketing. It’s almost too much for
Harry to hold. He wishes there was somethinghe could do to sooth him.
“Like, you have to wantto bond. It can’t happen without at least part of you
wanting it.”
Louis rubs his head against Harry’s shoulder. The atmosphere inside the car
doesn’t intensify, as Hary had expected; it softens. He’s sad, Harry realizes,
not angry.
He does wantit, Harry realizes. Louis wants to bond with him.Harry’s
convenient, of course, and they spend somuch time together. They get on well
and practically everyone who knows Harry’s gender thinks they’re already
bonded.
It sort of makes sense that Louis would want Harry as his omega.
But Louis doesn’t understand Harry. He doesn’t know what Harry wants. He
doesn’t know that Harry’s got big plans, plans that don’t (yet) include living
in a farmhouse in the country and filling it to the brim with babies.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and it feels suddenly like Louis’ sadness has become his
own. Then he adds, “You’re my best friend. I like you as a best friend, not a
mate.”
Even as he says it, though, his hand is searching out Louis’ cock under the
pile of clothes on his lap. The smell of his arousal in the tight, closed space
of the car is overwhelming and Harry needsto be closer to him.
Louis slides a hand underneath the clothes as well and covers Harry’s to press
it tighter around himself. He’s nearly all knotted up.
“I have no idea how I’m going to walklike this, babe.”
Harry nods, feeling equally impaired by his own lust-ridden state. His arse is
soaked now and he’s quite sure is going to leave a stain on the nice, agreeable
aid’s car seat. But he can’t think about that. All he can think about is Louis.
 And most especially, getting Louis inside him.
 
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Here we are close to five weeks late. What can we learn from this?
     I'm a lying liar who lies about dates and timing. But I love this
     'verse and I will always return eventually. Thank you for your
     enthusiasm and your patience.
     Much love to Melanie for the beta! So fast, so thorough, so patient
     with my heavy dependence on feeling words and my overzealous
     insertion of commas.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Someone has prepared the hotel room for them; Harry can tell. It’s scent-free
and with Louis beside him, it feels less sterile than his basement. In fact,
the space fills quickly with their mingled scents and Harry drinks it in.
On the bed sits a box of toys. It’s bigger than his collection at home. He
can’t imagine having the patience or the stamina to use more than one or two
during a heat and he wonders at the purpose of providing such a large number
and variety.
He supposes different omegas have different preferences. During heat, Harry
only has one craving: a knot up his arse and he’d always assumed other omegas
felt the same, that, when aching for it, a knot was knot was a knot.
Maybe then shape and size and texture matter to omegas out of heat. He’s read
that lotsof omegas have sex frequently. This is a strange idea to him. Sure, he
masturbates and he and Louis have jerked each other off and even gone so far as
to put their mouths on one another, but, like, the desire to have something
inside him seems tied to mindless desperation and a painful empty ache,
sensations he’d rather not willingly relive.
Louis walks over the bed and begins to pull toy after toy out of the box. Harry
watches, eyes tracing the line of Louis’ arm and the curve of his spine.
The room is so hot and Harry begins to strip off of his clothing, his t-shirt,
trousers, pants, belt all piling up at his feet.
Louis flips a switch on something purple with three legs. It begins to buzz. He
turns it over in his palm and presents it to Harry. “What do you reckon this
is?” Louis rubs it slowly up his own arm, across his shoulder and neck, and
over his face. Harry’s breath quickens. It shouldn’t be sexy. It isn’t sexy.
Except that it makes Harry think about Louis rubbing Harry’s now achingcock
against his cheek. It’s leaking and would leave behind a streak of precome
across Louis’ skin. And his scent, he’d be coveredin Harry’s scent.
As Harry approaches the bed, Louis puts the purple toy down and continues to
dig through the box. He pulls out a colorful pamphlet that had been at the
bottom. He’s flipping through it as Harry cuddles up close.
Louis absently slips an arm around Harry’s waist and nuzzles Harry’s neck,
scenting him. He says, “Cal must’ve left this for you. It’s the information
about preventing bonding.”
Harry fingers the hem of Louis’ shirt. Harry thinks he must be hot, too.
Really, Louis has to be meltingbecause Harry’s burning up, even bare and
exposed. Surely, he would appreciate being freed of some his clothes. Surely,
he wants to be naked, pressed skin to skin against Harry.
Also, the longer he stays clothed, the longer Harry will have to wait to be
knotted.
His arse pulses as he lets the thought sink in: he’s going to be
knotted.They’re really going to do it.
“So,” Louis says, closing the pamphlet and setting it down in his lap. “I
probably shouldn’t actually knot you, to be safe.”
Harry grabs for the paper in Louis’ hand. “You shouldn’t-“
Harry tries to read, but beside him Louis is pulling his shirt over his head
and Harry is distracted by the curve of his belly and the smooth plane of his
chest. Most of the alphas on film are hairier than Louis, but, Harry supposes,
they’re also older.
He looks back down at the paper. The warning is clear enough. In bold letters
at the bottom of the page it reads, “High risk couples should keep skin to skin
contact to a minimum during heat. They should never attempt a knot.”
His eyes flit upward, wanting to know what has caused Louis to identify them as
a high risk couple. There’s a section entitled: ‘bonding risk factors.’  As
Harry looks down the list, he realizes that he and Louis fit almost every
qualification: close friendship, commonly complete tasks with one another, live
together, find one another suitable companions, one or both desire to mate
(with anyone) sooner rather than later.
Harry’s stomach drops. Maybe this was a terrible idea.
He looks at Louis, who’s got his shirt halfway over his head. “You still want
to do this?”
Louis laughs and presses his face into Harry’s neck.
“Of course,” he says, lips wet against Harry’s skin. It feels amazing, Louis’
mouth on his pulse, teeth just grazing the skin. Harry’s arse is now so wet
it’s uncomfortable. Harry’s glad the pamphlet hasn’t deterred Louis because
Harry wants him here.
When Louis pulls back, he says, “You ask as if I could stop myself now.”
Harry stiffens. It’s an offhand comment. Louis doesn’t mean anything by it,
he’s sure. But, like, “You could stop yourself, couldn’t you?”
Louis runs a hand over Harry’s shoulders, kneading a bit. “Sorry,” he says, a
little stiffly. And then he adds, “Yeah, I could stop. You just say the word.”
Harry relaxes, but then he adds, “You’ve done this before, right? You said
you’d been with an omega through her heat before? And you didn’t bond?”
Louis lets go of Harry and squeezes his own thighs. “Well,” he pauses.
Harry whines. “I knewyou were lying.” Back in the X Factor house, before he’d
really figured it out, that he was an omega himself, he might have felt
vindicated by the knowledge. But now he only feels tired and a little scared.
Louis huffs out a breath. “I have been with an omega before. I’ve even knotted
one, but like, not during her heat or anything.”
Something fierce rushes up in Harry and he practically growlsat the thought.
Only seconds earlier he’d imagined that it would be better if Louis had been
with someone else before, that his experience could help him. But, no, he
realizes that’s not what he wants. He wants Louis all to himself.
He hates this omega, whoever she is, on principle. He needs Louis to know that
he shouldn’t do that. He needs to Louis to know that, for now, as long as he’s
helping Harry, he cannot be sleeping with anyone else, omega or otherwise.
He leans over to kiss Louis, wet and desperate, with teeth. He bites into the
plump flesh of Louis’ lower lip and doesn’t let up until he tastes blood. The
angry, possessive feelings roiling up inside him is unfamiliar and
uncomfortable. They don’t quite fit him or the situation.
Louis pulls back and strokes a finger down Harry’s cheek. “It’s alright,” he
says. “I’ve got you. I’ve been reading up.”
“You’ve what?” Harry asks, leaning forward for another kiss. Louis indulges
him, letting their lips meet briefly. Then he moves away again.
“Ever since I found out you were an omega, I was hoping you’d, like, want me. I
mean, it’s not a crazy thought given how we were before, you know.  And we’re
best friends and everyone says we already smell like each other. Anyway, I was
hoping you might want to bond. So I started reading everything I could get my
hands on about mating and heats and what omegas need from their alphas.”
Harry’s read a lot of these things, too, and his stomach drops. Much of it
sounds very painful and a little cruel. Exciting, too, but frightening.
“I’m not like other omegas,” Harry tells him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to
kneel or be bitten. He imagines Louis ordering him about, to lie still, to open
his mouth for Louis’ cock, to spread his cheeks for Louis’ fingers, and thinks
that, right now, he’d enjoy doing anythingLouis asked of him. It’s just.
He’s not sure he can trust Louis not to go too far.
Louis kisses Harry’s face, first his forehead, then the corners of his eyes,
and finally the line of his jaw. “You’re the loveliest omega. The very best,
babe,” Louis tells him.
A little shiver runs over Harry, covering his sweat dampened skin with
goosebumps. Louis’ words are sweet, love words, mating words and he and Louis
have just read the pamphlet explaining exactly why they can’t be like this with
each other.
“Don’t,” Harry instructs and then nips at Louis’ neck, allowing his scent to
wash over him.
Louis fingers slide lightly along the arch of Harry’s back and the not quite
there-ness of them is almost painful.
Louis pulls back and looks into Harry’s eyes. The hotel room is dark and Louis’
face is in shadow, so Harry moves forward to see that Louis is smiling softly.
Harry’s chest clenches.
Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s temple. “One of the things I’ve learned,” Louis
murmurs, lips still pressed against his skin,  “Is that an omega in heat should
be appreciated.”
Harry can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face because that sounds
right. He wants to spend his heat basking in the glow of Louis’ adoration and
covered in his cool kisses, instead of by himself writhing and empty and
lonely.
Louis fingers Harry’s curls. They’re damp with sweat by now, Harry knows, but
Louis is touching them with the care of someone holding something sacred.
“Okay,” Harry says. He’s not sure what he’s assenting to, but Louis’ waiting
for him.
Louis’ eyes flick down Harry’s naked form and Harry realizes that at some point
he’d slipped his own hand underneath his body to press against his aching hole.
He pulls it free and looks away from Louis.
His fingers are sticky, glistening even in soft darkness of the room. The
emptiness in his arse is painful now with Louis so close.  “Are you going to
touch me?”
Louis shakes himself and then nods. “Lay down.”
Harry stretches out onto his side and then rolls onto his stomach, giving Louis
easy access to his arse.
“Harry,” Louis whispers, breathless. “You’re, fuck. I want you to look at me.”
Harry turns his head so that he can watch Louis, who’s stripping down now, too,
unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers and pants. His cock is
perfect, fully erect and Harry can see his knot forming.
As they’re trying notto bond, it’s probably a poor idea for it to be out and so
close to Harry’s arse. But Harry finds that he’s lost his words. And that,
maybe, he’d rather risk bonding than have Louis tuck it back away.
“Settle down,” Louis says. “Relax.”
Harry laughs, a little hysterically. He can’t imagine relaxing. But then Louis
runs a hand from Harry’s shoulder to his hip and he feels himself let go. He
isn’t relaxed, per se, his body still feels fully alert, ready for Louis’
fingers and Louis’ lips and Louis’ cock. But he feels like he can trust Louis,
like he can stop worrying about bonding or not bonding, about how ridiculous he
must look and sound, about whether or not he’s going to be filled. 
Louis will take care of him, for now.
“Louis,” he moans, “I’m so hot.”
Louis lets out a little sound of distress. It closely matches Harry’s feverish
discomfort.
When Louis settles against him, Harry can feel his hard cock against his hip.
His arse clenches and he sobs, “Just, like, get onwith it.”
“Calm yourself, love,” Louis murmurs. He’s leaning down to kiss the back of
Harry’s neck. His lips feel cool and their dampness provides moment after
moment after moment of relief as he moves his mouth along the top of Harry’s
shoulders.
Harry lets himself revel in the pressure of Louis’ chest against his back.
Fuck,but he loves feel of Louis’ weight and the exhilarating mix of safety and
fear that it elicits within him.
“You’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers. He sounds as though he’s in awe of
Harry, but that can’t be. He’s seen Harry’s naked form hundreds of times. He’s
pressed kisses to Harry’s bare back and drank in his heat ripened scent.
Whatever Louis sees or smells or feels right now, Harry knows it can’t be new
or surprising, let alone awe-inspiring.
Except that Harry himself feels something different, too, and gooddifferent.
His heats have always had him feeling desperate, on the verge of breaking or,
possibly, exploding. And he can still sense that edgein front of him, calling
out of him a sense of urgency.
But it’s not an anxious urgency. He smells Louis and he feels the brush of his
lips and the gentle touch of his fingertips.
He doesn’t have to do this alone; Louis’ here.
Louis says, “Babe, are you okay?”
Harry nods against the pillow. He’s not sure Louis can see, but his throat
doesn’t seem to be working.  
Louis must understand, though, because he’s moving down Harry’s spine, lips
touching Harry’s skin again and again and again, never for more than a second,
leaving behind a series of damp, cooling swatches.
When Louis reaches Harry’s lower back he pauses. “How hard up are you for it,
babe?”
At his words, Harry feels a flash of irritation. Louis can feelHarry’s need,
can smell its pungency, can see it leaking out from between his crack.
But then Louis adds, “Can you wait a few more minutes? I’m not finished.”
His words are soft and, though he’s not sure what Louis needs to finish, Harry
wants to please him. He nods again and Louis moans out a soft, “Good.”
Then his lips are on Harry again, now at his hips and then the crease below his
arse, the backs of his right thigh, then his left. His breath tickles the
inside of Harry’s knee, but he holds himself still as Louis moves lower and
lower till he’s touching Harry’s ankles and the arches of his feet.
All the while, he’s murmuring soft words, love words. He tells Harry that he’s
beautiful and how he’s desperate to hold him. He promises Harry that he’ll
always be there to take care of him, if Harry should need him.
Harry’s alert enough to notice, though, that he neverasks to bond and he never
actually uses the word ‘love.’ He thinks it’s implied, after their conversation
earlier, but even in his heightened state of arousal, even naked beside each
other spread out in bed ready to see him through a heat, Louis does not push.
For this Harry is both grateful and wistful.
As Louis makes his way back up, now pressing harder, tonguing and biting at
Harry’s skin, Harry thinks, for perhaps the first time, that being bonded to
Louis might not be so bad, after all. He’s so tender with Harry. He seems to
know better what Harry wants than Harry does himself.
Harry realizes Louis has begun to move back up Harry’s body, continuing cover
him in kisses and softly spoken endearments. Louis had skipped over Harry’s
arse on his first pass downward, kissing its top and its bottom, laying his
hands across its cheeks, but never nearing Harry’s swollen opening with his
fingers or his mouth.
But now he stops and squeezes Harry’s cheeks, softly, before pulling them
apart. Harry feels suddenly exposed, goosebumps again breaking out across his
heated skin as the cool air of the hotel room hits his entrance.
He whines when Louis’ mouth comes down, letting fall the same soft kisses he’s
covered Harry with everywhere else. He should have expected it, maybe, but he’s
so wet and Louis’ lips are surely coming away sticky. He can’t imagine that
would be pleasant for Louis.
But it must be because he feels Louis’ tongue then, solid and sure, lick a
stripe up and down and then in. He hears himself cry out, a noise somewhere
between a shout and sob.
Louis squeezes his hip and sits back. “Do you want me to keep going?”
For a moment, Harry cannot process his question. He’s shaking inside out, too
busy reveling in Louis’ touch to consider about what he might want to happen
next. Everything Louis has done with him, every kiss, every word, every soft
caress, has been more than ‘okay’ and he knows he does not want Louis to let
up.
“Don’t stop,” he says.
Without replying, Louis dives back in. His tongue flicks across Harry’s hole,
sending shivers up his spine, teasing him. It’s not nearly enough.
When he thrusts inside, Harry feels good, really, really good for the first
time since the itch of his heat had began beneath his skin the night before.
Louis’  tongue is better than his own fingers, better than the toy Harry’d used
last heat, it’s the best thing he’s ever had inside him because it’s Louis.
It’s a dangerous line of thought because Harry is not Louis’ omega.
But right now. it feels that way- that Louis and Harry belong to one another-
and there’s a part of Harry, a part that’s growing larger and larger in his
heat-enmeshed mind, that wantsthem to be like that.
When Louis finally pulls away, Harry whines. It’s a hollow sound and it has
Louis’ fingers digging all the more tightly into him.
“I’m going to-“ He begins, but Harry cuts him off, voice back sudden and sure.
“Come on,put it in me.”
Louis leans down and leaves a kiss on the top Harry’s arse. “Yeah, okay. Which
do you want? This big one? Or- fuck, Harry, stop squirming like that.
Shit.There’s ridges on this one. I don’t… what do you need?”
His words come out in a rush, as though the need that’s been bubbling beneath
Harry’s skin has finally reached him.
Harry’s glad he can feel it, now, but he doesn’t like the options Louis’ put on
the table. He doesn’t want a toy. He wants Louis.
His fists clench and unclench in the sheets.
“You choose,” he says, finally. His voice is almost gone again, hoarse and
soft.
“Yeah, okay,” Louis agrees and he speckles kisses all across Harry’s back.
Harry can hear his free hand digging through the box of toys a little wildly.
It doesn’t matter, Harry wants to tell him. Whatever he chooses will be fine,
will be wonderful, actually. With his hands directing it and his breath in
Harry’s ear and his scent mingling with Harry’s own, it will be the best sex
Harry’s everhad.
Louis takes his time choosing and Harry moans, loudly.  He needs Louis to speed
this up. Then, finally,not a toy, but a slim, slick finger slides into him.
It’s not thick enough or long enough, but it is Louis.
Harry wants to shout at him, to demand more. He’s not supposed to, though, and,
besides, he can’t actually find the words to speak anyway.
Louis’s not having the same problem. “So hot, babe, so wet. I want to fill you
up. I’m going to fuck you so hard and so good.”
Though the words themselves are rough, Louis’ voice continues to hold the same
gentle tenor as before, when he was letting loose the love words.
It’s good, perfect, really. Because Harry wantsto filled up and fucked hard. He
needsit and, even with a toy, Louis’ll do a better job than Harry’s done in the
past.
Louis inserts another finger beside the first and it’s better, but still not
nearly enough. Harry whines his displeasure and Louis lays a line of kisses
along his lower back, keeping up the slow, rhythmic thrust of his fingers.
“Please,” Harry says, the word falling from his lips without thought or
intention.
Louis twists his finger and Harry let’s out an uncomfortable whine because he
doesn’t want more teasing;he wants a knot. But then Louis twists again and this
time Harry shouts because it feels so incredibly good.
Louis repeats the motion once, twice, three times and Harry’s writhingnow. He
knows he must look a mess but instead of feeling humiliated he feels relieved.
Louis’ seen him at his most ugly, his most desperate and he’s still here, he’s
still hard.
Harry can smell his arousal and it’s only thickened since they entered the
hotel suite.
“You ready?” Louis asks, withdrawing his fingers. Harry squirms a little,
feeling suddenly more empty than ever.
He’s never been more ready in his life. He nods against the pillow and his
breath catches when he feels the thick head of one of the toys press against
his hole, just a tad too cold to be comfortable. Louis holds it there for a
moment and when Harry bucks back against it, he laughs, murmurs “Alright,” and
guides it in.
The toy feels hugeinside him. It’s definitely larger than the one he’d used at
home. But the stretch is satisfying and Louis is gentle with the first few
thrusts, pacing them smooth and slow, until Harry starts to arch back into it.
“Faster,” Harry instructs. He doesn’t care about etiquette anymore. He cares
about being fucked, about getting what he needs.
Louis picks up his pace and in doing so changes the angle, just slightly. The
way that the toy rubs up inside Harry now is both exactly enough and way, way
too much. He hadn’t realized he was so close, but his balls are tight up
against him. The pressure has built to a point beyond his control and he’s
coming in spurts against the sheets.
Louis, he realizes, is coming too, his hard cock pulsing against Harry’s hip
where he’s been rutting for god knows how long.
“Fuck, Harry, so good,” he says, voice pitchy and rough. Harry nods against the
pillow in agreement. This is the best he’s everfelt.
Louis’ mouth spreads kisses across his shoulders and against the back of his
neck. He settles on the side of it, mouthing at Harry’s pulsepoint for several
long moments before letting his teeth sink in. It’s a soft bite, not nearly
breaking the skin, but it sends a shiver of awareness through Harry from his
neck to his belly to his balls and settling finally in his still full hole.
Louis must feel him tense because he coos against Harry’s now wet skin and runs
a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to rest now, for a little while.”
He bends down and removes the toy from Harry’s arse, pressing kisses all along
his crack and the edges of his opening. “So loose, so lovely,” he says and
Harry’s arse twitches again with tired interest.
He moves toward the edge of the bed and Harry clutches at his wrist. “I’ll be
back, love. I just have to piss. I’m not going anywhere.”
Harry trusts him, but he isn’t able to fully relax into sleep until Louis
returns and tucks himself tightly around Harry’s prone form.
Louis fucks him again several hours later, this time with a toy that mimics a
real alpha cock with a knot at the end. He’s gentler, not speeding up or
thrusting harder, even when Harry insists he needs it to come. In time, though,
his even strokes send Harry spiraling over the edge. Harry feels Louis spill
again, this time over Harry’s back and then his mouth finds the same spot on
Harry’s neck as before and latches on, just as hard.
When Harry wakes again, he can tell his heat is waning. The desperate edge to
his desire has worn off and the room feels as though it has cooled
considerably. This time, when Louis fucks him, he uses only his fingers. Harry
falls asleep vaguely aware of Louis’ tongue lapping at the bruise he’s now
certainly made on the back of Harry’s neck.  
~
Harry wakes again to sunlight. The windows of the hotel room are open wide,
letting in not only the light but air and noise from outside. He clutches the
bedsheets tightly around himself and opens his eyes, searching for Louis.
He’s sitting in an armchair near the bed, laptop open in front of him and
headphones in his ears. He’s watching Harry with a smile.
Harry smiles back and stretches, large and loud. He feels surprisingly good,
especially for coming out of a heat. He’s starving but before he has the chance
to say something, Louis tosses a banana at him.
“What are you hungry for?” His headphones are on the table and he’s got the
room phone in hand. Harry rattles off the largest breakfast order he can think
of, including at four different types of fruit, three different pastries and
the most complex omelette he’s ever had. It’s probably more than he’s strictly
allowed, especially at such a fancy hotel, but he supposes that Louis will take
care of it for him. He’s just finished a very draining heat, after all.
While they wait for the meal to arrive, Harry cleans himself up. He finds that
while his skin is salty with dried sweat, Louis must’ve cleaned the come off
his back and done a perfunctory scrub of his arse because he’s not nearly as
itchy as he had expected.
He wonders what time it is and if he’ll have to doanything today. He wonders
how long Louis will be able to stay and keep him company.
As he dries off in front to the large bathroom mirror, his eyes catch on a
bruise at the base of his neck. It’s mostly on the back and he has to strain a
bit to see it, even in the mirror.
Harry likes it, likes the way the colors look, bold against his pale skin. He
hopes that Liam has picked out a shirt with a low neckline so that he can show
it off, so that people can see Louis all over him.
As soon as he thinks it, he knows it’s wrong, not true even. He doesn’t belong
to Louis, not even now.  He doesn’t want to, either.
He fingers the mark. Louis didn’t break the skin, which is good, he tells
himself, because that means there isn’t any possibility that it will be
permanent.
When Harry’s clean and dressed and shoveling eggs into his mouth, Louis closes
his computer and says, “So, we didn’t bond.”
Harry nods. “It wasn’t too difficult.”
“Not for you, maybe,” Louis says, but his tone is light and Harry thinks
(hopes) that he’s mostly teasing.
“Would you do it again?” Harry asks. He’s already been thinking about this as a
regular arrangement and he’s assumed that Louis had, too, but they haven’t said
so, not explicitly.
Louis nods. “I’d like that. You’re incredible, Harry. I love, like, watching
you.”
Harry’s dick twitches in his jeans despite the fact that every muscle is a
touch too sore to even think about another round of sex now and maybe ever
again. “Same,” he says.
Louis laughs. “As if you could think of anything aside from your own wet, empty
arse. “
Harry pouts. It’s not true. He hadbeen aware of Louis’ pleasure. It had been
heaving in the air all around them. The excitement, the thrill, Louis had felt
buzzed through Harry, enhancing his experience a hundredfold and fuck Louis for
thinking otherwise.
Sensing Harry’s irritation, Louis settles beside him on the bed and runs a hand
down his own thigh. “Hey,” he says, “It’s all right. You were in heat. It’s my
job to think of you.”
“It isn’t,” Harry says, because Louis isn’t hisalpha, not really, not yet. “We
aren’t-”
Louis’ gaze is intent and Harry looks away, down at his plate of food, and
chooses a strawberry. Before Harry can lift it to his mouth, Louis reaches out
and takes Harry’s face in his hands. Harry meets his eyes then, blue and
fierce, as Louis leans forward and touches their lips together in a gentle
kiss. When he pulls away, Louis says, “I know, but as long as you want me, I’m
yours.”
 
 
Chapter End Notes
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