Smut and fluff

At least as deep as the Pacific ocean

By babylouis

Louis' life has always been a game.

In front of him, his pretty boy is on his knees, red lips swollen and his cheeks flushed a light pink. His eyes are on the floor, his curls unfolding in front of his hazy eyes and his hands clasped behind his back.

Louis doesn't need to tie him up; He knows the rules. He's good. Louis' boy.

Pursing his lips, Louis makes his way around the boy on the floor, eyes studying him. Studying his submissive posture, his slightly shaky hands and the way his breath goes ragged as Louis makes his way around him. He's always like this; He's always shaky, always on edge. Fuck, Louis hasn't even started yet, and he looks like he's right about to drop off already.

Louis' had quite the long day, with meetings and wrapping up projects and starting up new ones since seven in the morning until five in the evening, and even though he's absolutely exhausted and mostly wants to sleep, all of that changes when he comes home to his boy.

Harry always wakes him up.

Louis takes his time untying the tie around his neck, placing it onto the bed gently while he hums contently to himself. He's starting to unbutton his shirt when he glances down at Harry, catching his wide, green eyes staring right back up at him. As soon as their eyes meet, Harry's gaze immediately falls to the floor, and his shoulders slump about because yeah, okay. Harry's already broken the rules.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Louis turns so he's faced against the boy, and then he crouches down next to him, reaching out slowly. He wraps a hand around the boy's neck, and then he squeezes, hold a tight grip around his breath until Harry's eyes widen and tiny hitches and gasps are leaving Harry's lips, tears forming in the rim of his glazed over eyes.

"I don't appreciate you breaking my rules, kitten," Louis says lowly, his eyes narrowed down at the boy. Harry's eyes are glued to the floor still, choking on Louis' iron-grip. Harry can stop him. He can unclasp his hands behind his back and he can pry Louis' hands off, but he doesn't. He won't, they both know that. Harry would probably let Louis choke him until he died; Not that Louis would ever, in a million years do that. They've practiced and they both know Harry's boundaries ashtonishingly well. Before Louis finally lets go of Harry's throat, he reaches his other hand up, and he slaps him harshly across the cheek.

When Louis let's go, Harry immediately gasps for air, tears rolling down his cheeks as he regains his breath, head dropping while he closes his eyes for a moment. Louis allows that, allows him time to regain himself. Just for a brief moment.

"Look at me," He says lowly after a moment, his voice demanding but yet keeping a soft tone to it. Harry's head jerks up as if by force, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. He looks so fucking eager to please, and fuck, Louis loves him.

"Good boy," Louis breathes, reaching forward to gently tuck Harry's curls behind his ear. Harry immediately goes plaint, leaning into Louis' touch as if he feeds off of it, as if it's his only source of nutrition. Louis raises his eyebrows then, giving Harry's cheek a light slap. "Don't be greedy, kitten. You get my touch when I give it to you, and that's all you get," He says quietly, and Harry immediately drops his head again, his eyes falling to the floor.

Humming in content to himself, Louis stands up, going back over to his bed. He reaches down for the box under it, and sets it onto the bed, a small smirk placed upon his features. He carefully opens the box, his eyes scanning over the toys. They're mostly pink; Pink has always been Harry's favourite. When they're in sex shops, Louis has always noticed how Harry's eyes linger on the pink handcuffs and the pink whip and the pink collar; He says it makes him feel pretty. Louis thinks he's pretty either way, but. What his boy wants, his boy gets.