Larry smut

Leather Daddy

⚠️by 𝙯𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞_𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙚 on ao3

⚠️summary:

While Daddy was out winning Grammy’s, babyboy Louis was being naughty at home. Sweet watermelon sugar is nowhere to be seen, it’s time to teach his baby about the taste of sweat soaked leather.

⚠️words: 4342

🤍🤍🤍

Thick heeled boots echo along the vacant halls, not a single light turned on as powerful strides carry the man closer. He does not rush. Though his blood flows feverish beneath his skin he keeps his steps controlled and exact, knowing they are heard throughout the house. Moonlight glints over the subtle lustre of black leather hugging his toned muscles, tight around thick thighs and loose where the jacket hangs open to display his chiseled abdomen.

Nestled between curls of chest hair is a silver cross hung next to his higher religion. His hands clench at his sides with eagerness to pay tribute to the deity awaiting in silk bed sheets, coiled tension has grown between his legs since he started his journey home, yet still he keeps his breathing even and forces his body to relax.

Outside the bedroom door he pauses. He closes his eyes in a flutter, head knocked back as he tortures himself with the image of what lay on the other side, the exquisite boy naked in his sheets, docile from sleep and willing to bend under his hand. Oh how every fibre of his being screams to defile that delicate beauty.

With a harsh exhale through his nose, the man grips the doorknob tight and opens it slowly.

Quickly it’s apparent his caution is for naught, and that his fantasy of what lay behind the door was true fallacy, the heat simmering in his veins roaring with a grand explosion into a scorching blaze.

The boy his dreams are made of lay on the bed all right. Tangled sheets twisted amongst his pale limbs where he’s far from asleep, his panting breath not only audible but visible by the way his mouth hangs open, eyes glassy as he looks up from his prone position on his back with guilt written across his face and belly in creamy pool of white, his cock soft and tender on his thigh.

Tears well in his baby’s eyes as the man slowly marches to the edge of the bed to survey the full evidence of how thoroughly he’s been disobeyed.

“Daddy,” Louis gasps with a trembling lip from the puddle of his shame, limbs too weak to move and cover himself.

Harry narrows his eyes. He places his hands firmly on his hips, jacket fanning out behind him.

“Only good boys have Daddy’s, don’t they?” He tsks from the side of his mouth, sucking his molars as he deliberates how to respond. “Waist of time if you don’t listen, might have to find someone who can be good for me.”

Louis hiccups, tears falling freely. “I’m sorry, I- I can be good.”

Not good enough, it seems. Harry wraps a solid hand around Louis’ ankle and pulls, relishing the startled yelp as Louis slides to the edge of the mattress, legs naturally parted for Harry to stand between. The hand Harry had on his ankle greedily runs over the expanse of Louis’ soft inner thigh. Harry watches it, savours it, before looking Louis in the eye again.

“Good boys don’t come unless told to.”

Louis looks away, face flush from his earlier excitement and shame.