Louis Tomlinson spent two long years recovering from the most traumatizing night of his life. But when he receives something from the person responsible for his terror, he’s afraid not only for his life- but for his heart.
WARNING includes smut, rape, murder, and other dark matters that may be disturbing
A/N: I love you all so much thank you all so much for the feedback. I write because of you guys! xx
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Bodies?
Louis instantly recoiled, he wasn’t even sure what that meant, and he reeled for an answer, while just blankly staring with wide eyes at the boy sobbing before him. He hadn’t seen him this broken since the night.
“What… do you mean Harry?” Louis asked stiffly, holding his breath until he thought his lungs would pop. He found himself shifting further away, but Harry was grasping onto his shirt like a child screaming for comfort.
Harry was hyperventilating and sobbing so hard his words were barely coherent, “Bodies, Louis. People, children- oh god children.” Louis tensed and slipped out of the bed, staring down at the boy who writhed like a fish out of water in despair. The man felt as though he might puke, he didn’t want to believe this- he had to be dreaming.
Louis didn’t realize he had started to cry himself until he spoke, “What do you mean more bodies Harry?!” He shouted, trembling and leaning on the edge of the bed for support as he was feeling extremely light-headed.
“I don’t know, Louis,” the boy sobbed, suddenly sitting straight up and crawling across the bed to clutch onto Louis’ arms, who flinched and pulled away, “It’s all a blur… I-I get bits and pieces and I didn’t start remembering… things… until I came here- until I met you.” He sounded so wounded and distant, he was looking at the wall with watery eyes and his lips were swollen and red, cheeks painted with lines of tears.
Louis was now flattened against the wall, his stomach constantly turning and threatening to turn itself inside out, “You killed more people?” He brokenly whispered, bottom lip quivering in horror.
Harry let out a mangled yell, covering his ears and hunching down as though someone had just screamed straight into his ear, pinching his eyes shut as he wailed even louder, “Don’t say that, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Harry!” Louis yelled, pushing off the wall and gripping the sides of the boy’s shoulders, forcing bleary eye-contact, “You have to breathe for me, okay? You have to tell me what you’re remembering.” He tried to touch back into his years of therapist experience, but it was erratic and messy to the fact he was falling so heavily for someone who just told him he killed more than seven people.
Harry shook his head over and over, his chest rising and falling hectically, bottom lip quivering, “I don’t KNOW, Louis! I feel it, I don’t see or remember it.. normally.” He croaked out through barred teeth, as though he restraining some sort of fury. Louis took the chance to rub his shoulders to try and soothe him, cooing gently.
“What do you feel?”
Harry glanced up, the calm that had momentarily washed over the boy with Louis’ cooing, changed to shame and he diverted his eyes as his bottom quivered again and he shook his head, looking down at the quilt.
“Harry,please.”
He again shook his head over and over, pitiful cries echoing from his mouth, “I-I just feel this heavy weight on my chest- like a boulder is just sitting there. Like their.. bodies are suffocating me.” He whispered it, almost inaudibly.
Louis couldn’t help the terrified moan that scraped up the back of his throat, and he couldn’t help but let out a little sob, “Harry…” was all he could muster. He felt so sick, not only for the weight of the situation, but also the fact he felt… pity for him. A second thought nagged at him- what if he’s just playing that guilt card, making up stories again. But with the stricken look on his face, he decided against that. He ran a hand up to push his curls from his face- and surprisingly even to himself, leaned forth and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He took a bite from the forbidden apple, and an unusual tremor gripped his whole body. Harry momentarily stopped trembling and peered up at him under wet lashes. He weakly smiled- not his usual wicked smile- just one of genuine thankfulness. Louis let out a broken sigh, cupping the boy’s cheek in his hand.
“Harry… I have.. I have to take you to Violet Quarters..” He whispered, and instantly Harry’s smile was gone and he slapped away his hand with a ragged sob, his hands flying to cover his face.
“You can’t!” He yelled into his palms, looking up with overflowing eyes, “You can’t lock me up again! That’s all they ever do and it’s not helping anymore!” He was screaming, and Louis was stepping backwards, sobbing himself. His heart ached and head bowed as he cried, knowing the boy was right, yet so wrong.
He’s a murderer.
Lock him back up before he can get you too.
That thought brought back the painful memory of hitting the floor with a thud and looking up through blurred vision to a obviously confused and frustrated Harry- who quickly turned into horror and crying; the first night those 2 years ago. He hadn’t killed him then, before all of this, so why would he now?
Louis blinked back more tears as he tried to summon his therapist side, see what would really benefit the boy.
You.
He glanced up at the boy, who was gripping the quilt of the bed as though he was trying to hold himself here, as though he was afraid Louis would come over and haul him out into the snow and back to a padded room. Any normal, sane person would do that.
Louis returned to him, and Harry actually cowered back and it was uncharacteristic it stung Louis and he reached out tentatively to brush away the tears from his face.
“Okay.. it’s okay, Harry. We’ll,” he breathed in deeply, cupping his chin and raising his face to make eye-contact, “We’ll do this together, we’ll figure out what happened.. okay? Together, so you have to help me and not make up stories.” Harry’s facial expression changed from apprehension and terror to one of awe, his furrowed brows and tensed facial features instantly relaxed into a doe-eyed gaze and his lips parted. He nodded once, before his bottom lip twitched again and he bowed his head and began to sob- but it was relieved and thankful cry.
The boy suddenly looked up, slapping both of his massive hands on either side of Louis’ head- who shrieked in surprise- and pulled him forcefully to him, roughly pressing his lips against his. Louis partially relaxed when he realized it was just an innocent kiss. Harry sloppily traced his wet lips along his, gripping his hair as he openly sobbed, his mouth open and raking in breaths as he pressed half-hearted kisses to Louis’ lips, nose, and forehead.
And as soon as it started, a halting breath slit the silence and Harry sat back on his calves with a bewildered look on his face. He blinked several times, gulping loudly. He smiled wickedly, before it was quickly snapped off and he looked out the window, “Get out.”
Louis shook his head, startled, “What?”
“Get out,” Harry said at an equal tone and stared at him, “I need to think.”
Louis just nodded numbly, shuffling out of the room, locking the bolt, and standing in the hall- where dim light from the outside streetlamp flooded in. He stood there, staring at the little picture of the London Eye on the wall which, in the dark, looked like a network of ghoulish rods in contrast to a gloomy sky. The gaze he had fixated on the picture blurred with his tears, and he looked down at his feet, covering his face with trembling hands as a helpless feeling again swallowed him whole.
—-
Louis gave up on sleep when it turned to 6 am, and he sat up in bed, daring a glance in the mirror to reveal his swollen, bloodshot eyes and messed hair. The sun was peaking up over the roofs of his neighbors, and in a second decision, he made his way out into the living room, cupping the pack of cigarettes he kept hidden in his sock drawer for very rare occasions.
Perched on the balcony outside, he glanced down at the cobbled road slowly coming to life beneath. He took a long drag, exhaling and studying how the smoke rolled about his face, licking at his eyes and making them further red. Someone once told him that smoke follows beauty. He shrugged ironically to that thought and ashed the cigarette, before dropping it into the street carelessly.
—-
At 7, he unlocked Harry’s door, giving one prompt knock before turning back to the kitchen. That was now his way to let Harry know he could come out. To his surprise, he sat in silence for 45 minutes, after he dressed for work at 9, before he heard the door creak open and the boy shuffled out with, besides the bags under his bloodshot eyes, had a, as usual, wicked grin on his lips, eyes heavily lidded as the always were- mocking him.
“Morning, Lou.” He croaked out, bee-lining for the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. Louis turned to look at him, and only nodded his head before returning his gaze down at the newspaper he held- although he couldn’t focus on a single word he read.
“Crazy night last night.” He chuckled bitterly, before raising the glass to his lips and chugging.
Louis flinched and shook his head, aimlessly flipping a page, “Remember anything?” He glanced up at him over the brim of his glasses, blinking apprehensively- trying to shroud the fact he was wrecked.
“Not a thing.” He said simply, pursing his lips before sauntering into the living area and looming over the man, reading the paper over his shoulder.
“Shame.” Louis said tersely, favoring the idea that Harry probably was lying last night. He let out a breath, and as he did, he felt the boy behind him tense.
“You smell like smoke.” He said in a hushed, furious sounding voice. Louis’ brow furrowed in a incredulous expression, glancing back at him, suppressing a gasp at the fury very apparent on Harry’s face. He was trembling when he suddenly grabbed a hold of the back of Louis’ shirt and threw him out of the seat with an enraged shout. “Don’t fucking smoke around me, prick.” He shouted, throwing his glass of water at the man cowering back on the floor- the glass shattering right beside his face in a splash of razor sharp glass and water.
“Harry?” Was all Louis could muster out, staring up at the boy who’s muscles were tense and eyes dark with an absolute livid look before he stormed down the hall, entering surprisingly into Louis’ room, muttering disdain curses of trying to find his stash of cigarettes.
Louis was in such shock he laid there, staring at the ceiling in a stunned state. He turned his brain inside-out trying to figure out the stem to what had caused that outburst, but came to a dead end and sighed with tears pressing at the backs of his eyes. He shook his head in defeat before weakly clambering to his knees and carefully picking up the broken pieces of glass that sliced his fingers to bloody rags.
He cursed under his breath, ignoring the pain and inspecting the wounds, distantly hearing Harry storming out of the man’s room, glancing up to see him gripping the pack of cigarettes, a disgusted look on his face as he made his way to the sink and doused them in water and then shoved them down the garbage disposal, wrinkling his nose.
He glanced up at Louis’ who was fumbling around the floor still, blood leaking out over his fingers and onto the floor. He cursed quietly again, and flinched when he heard Harry’s sudden harsh laughter.
“You’re bleeding.” He pointed out bluntly, moving to kneel down beside him, looking at his gashed fingers. Louis began to lose his touch on not thinking about the pain and dropped the glass he had picked up onto the floor with a low and pained groan.
“No shit, your fault,” He panted, uneasily standing and shuffling to the kitchen, where Harry followed close behind, “it’s the second glass you’ve fucking broke.”
Harry just bitterly laughed, grabbing the back of his shirt again and hauling him to a stop and grabbing a hold of his arms and assessing the wounds with narrowed eyes.
Louis instantly went stiff, “Harry.” he warned, but the boy gave him a patronizing look before grinning and rolling up the man’s white sleeves and pushing his fingers under warm running water in the sink.
The boy demanded he stay where he is while he fetched antiseptic from the bathroom, and poured it mercilessly over the open wounds which had Louis howling in agony.
“Shh, Lou.” Harry teased, pressing a mocking kiss to the man’s cheek, continually pouring the alcohol until Louis’ fingers were sterilized to the point he could have been cleared to do do surgery sans gloves.
“Now, you can use your fingers for a while, I’m not going to bandage them yet.” He tutted, and Louis glanced over at the boy, who’s eyes had grown dark and a wicked smile was on his lips.
Louis cleared his throat, “Do you know how hard it is to not use your fucking hands, Harry?” He spat bitterly, shifting to face him, gesturing to his hands. If Harry wasn’t smiling big enough before, his face nearly split in half now.
“Oh, I think I know how to keep you from using them.” And just like that, Harry had him by the tie on his neck, which he undid expertly, and whipped it off of him. Louis stared at him with wide eyes.
“Harry.” He warned again, his teeth gritted, “Don’t you fucking dare. I have work in 30 minutes.”
The boy just rolled his eyes with a dismissing smile and held the boy’s wrists together with one hand and bound them with the other. Louis squirmed against him, letting out helpless pants, jerking his arms away as hard as he could which was a lost cause to the strength of Harry.
And just like that, his hands were bound; he really had no chance to the boy, who was 9 years younger than him, yet towered a head taller than him, and was gazing down at him with the most damning look.
Louis actually had to tilt his head to look up at him, and when he did they were so close their noses almost brushed together.
“Fuck you.” Louis spat.
“Gladly.” Harry retorted.
The boy latched onto the man’s bicep and hauled him into the living room, throwing him onto the couch and discarding of his nice, corduroy pants, along with his topman boxers. Louis just looked up at him with blown out pupils, and he maintained the pissed off look, even though his body betrayed him and was sporting a hard on. Harry cooed, palming himself lazily through his sweatpants.
“Hands and knees.” The boy demanded, and Louis’ glared at him, staying where he was. Harry raised his brows, impressed with this rebellious side of the man. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Louis’ must have realized that this was a murderer saying this and decided it might be the best idea to do what he says. He shifted so that his bare ass faced Harry on the couch, having to lean down onto his elbows considering his hands were bound and in improper use for holding him up. So he was perched with his ass in the air, trembling with apprehension.
Harry smiled tersely situating himself on his knees behind Louis, studying the curves of the tan body before him. He bit hard into his bottom lip, squaring his still clothed hips against Louis’ bare thighs and ass, which earned him an earnest moan from the man.
The boy grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of his thighs and ass, before sending a hard smack down on his right cheek. Louis let out a startled keen, his back arching and head lolling to hang loosely forward.
Harry reveled in how just one slap left the skin pink and leaned down to press a wet kiss to where he had left the mark. Another moan from Louis had his pants restraining him uncomfortably, so he quickly stood up and shed them, spitting in his palm and pumping himself several times before assuming his prior position, teasing the man beneath him by rutting his hips up against the man’s thighs again.
“Are you just going to fuck me everyday or something?” Louis moaned out, trying to sound annoyed but failed miserably as he ended it with a pitched whine when he felt the boy slide into him. “Fuck.”
Harry grinned as he wound his hands down to grip onto the man’s hips, surely leaving bruises at how tightly he was. He sat still for 1, 2, 3 long seconds, before pulling out and slamming back in, repeatedly, and already finding that spot inside of the man that had him biting into his arm to suppress the screams.
Louis knew he wouldn’t last very long based on last night, and found himself coming quickly, his back arching and breath rushing out paired with a moan. Harry groaned, running a free hand up to run his blunt fingernails down the man’s still clothed back. Even through the fabric, Louis shivered.
Harry was still rocking into him when the man glanced up at the wall clock signifying he had 5 minutes to get to work on time. He let out a warning groan. “I have to go.”
Harry ignored him and continually rolled his hips, leeching pitiful moans from the man beneath him, who was hyper-sensitive already.
“I’m not ready for you to.” Was all Harry mustered between gritted teeth, before removing himself, and easily hauling Louis up off of the couch. The boy made a beeline for the piano, straddling the bench and facing Louis to him as he had the boy straddle him.
“Ride me.” Harry demanded, and Louis could do nothing but comply, his cock was throbbing and leaking again and his thighs trembled. So he sank back down onto him, their bodies so close, that their chests were pressed together and Louis’ cocked rubbed up against Harry’s bare torso with each bounce.
Harry again gripped the boys hips for support, digging his thumbs into his hipbones and leaning forth to ghost his lips along his neck, which was already littered with lovebites.
“That’s right.” He appraised as Louis continually bounced on him with little moans, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to focus on the pleasure more than the pain. “Fuck me, yeah.” He chanted against the man’s neck, which earned him another guttural groan.
Out of no where, Louis’ came with a weak shout, coming almost dry, which had him seeing stars and head turning. He was nearly crumpled against Harry, resting his head on the boy’s shoulder as he panted.
Harry chuckled into the shell of his ear, kissing his neck. “Oh, I’m not done with you.”
Louis instantly tensed, wanting to dismount himself and get out of here, but he was too weak to do so. So when Harry himself was rocking up into him on the bench, he just groaned, feeling himself tense around the boy’s cock, which apparently drove Harry himself over the edge, as he came with a breathy moan in the man’s ear, which was certainly enough to drive Louis into yet another painful erection.
Louis instantly tensed, wanting to dismount himself and get out of here, but he was too weak to do so. So when Harry himself was rocking up into him on the bench, he just groaned, feeling himself tense around the boy’s cock, which apparently drove Harry himself over the edge, as he came with a breathy moan in the man’s ear, which was certainly enough to drive Louis into yet another painful erection.
“Harry,” he choked out, as he felt as though his whole body was on fire, “please, stop.” He begged, which again wasn’t acknowledged as he was lifted off of Harry and onto the piano, his feet resting on the keys with a clang of interfering notes.
The boy took the man’s cock in his mouth, nearly swallowing him whole, which had Louis sobbing in a certain form of sadistic ecstasy as sensitive spikes ran up and down his thighs and spine.
Pornographic slurping noises echoed about the room as Harry milked the man dry, teasing the slit before sinking fully back down until his nose pressed against his stomach, then back up again, repeat. Louis’ felt the heat boiling in the pit of his stomach, and prepared himself for it, tensing his whole body, as Harry again sucked hard on the head. And just like that, Louis came with an agonizing wale, coming dry- and impossibly hard. So hard in fact, that the mixture of coming 3 times after twice the night before and no sleep, had his eyes loll shut and he black out.
—-
