Malachite | L. S [Completed]

11: Alpha-whore

"Must I remind you that I am not a pup?"

"Perhaps, you should stop acting as one then," Harry said in retaliation, holding the spoonful of pressed herbs in front of Louis' lips. The bitterness of the potion slipped into Louis' mouth in sly drops as he continued to glare at the omega, despising the look of victory on his angelic face. "There, I almost had to pull out a tit to feed you this."

"Oh heavens, should have waited a moment more." Louis had a playful glint as he watched the omega walk breezily through his chambers, the blush of his gown flowing in the wake of his steps as Louis sat there awaiting whatever torture the omega had in mind for him next.

"Are you experiencing any pains?" His precious asked as he went through a scroll on Louis' table, now decorated with the grotesque sight of medicines and herbs as a songbird tittered on the branch of the tree outside the balcony. "The physician has requested me to send him a brief account of your state."

"Merely the gash," Louis responded with a sigh, resting his drowsy eyes. Harry's scent touched him before he felt the heft of his presence on the bed, then a warm pair of hands taking his face in them. "The wound itches terribly but I presume it indicates that it is healing. Apart from that, I fear there is no need for you to feed me with your hands."

Harry pinched the tip of Louis' nose buoyantly and Louis blinked his eyes open to the sight of mischievous malachites. "I know you well enough to be aware that you, my dearest, won't be having any of the potions if I do not force you to do so myself."

A scoff left Louis' mouth as he watched the omega climb onto his lap as though his nature before his unending, bejewelled fingers undressed him. Louis gulped at the proximity, his eyes refusing to leave the sight of Harry's full, rubicund lips so close to his own, parted in concentration. He could feel every inch of his skin that was touching Harry's, the warmth of his core as he sat on Louis' lap, the softness of his skin and the sweet scent of goat milk that must have been in his bath.

Another fortnight had slipped away posterior to Louis regaining consciousness. It should have not affected him so gravely; Harry being near him. The omega had not left his side, going as far as sleeping in his chambers and redressing his wound each day. Harry had grown extremely anxious after Louis had caught a fever a week ago and had not allowed any servant near Louis.

It warmed Louis' heart as much as it broke it.

He knew this newfound concern and care were fading into the bitterness of reality as his wound was healing. Harry would slip away like the moon in the morrow as soon as the physician deemed Louis well enough to attend to his duties again, and though Louis was tempted to pretend he was still unwell, he knew he did not wish to lie to his precious again.

"Hilbert's almost healed!"

"I cannot grasp the fact that you named my wound." Louis chuckled as the omega pressed a cloth against the healing wound, dipped in some ointment that smelled like horse bullocks.

"Hilbert has been with you longer than any of your lovers at the capital," Harry jested. "But I do pray he goes away soon."

"Whores, Harry, not lovers," Louis reminded him stiffly, images of the pale omegas of Tesniya with hair the colour of fire flashing in his memory, always so eager to please, however, never amounting to his precious' comforting arms. "Whores aren't meant to be yours for more than a night."

"I wouldn't know," Harry mumbled as his eyes remained fixated on the task. Louis watched him like a romantic a poem. His lashes were enhanced with coal, their shadow painted on his high cheeks which held a blush of the advancing winter, and the flesh of his bottom lip was now between his teeth, bitten raw in concentration. "Do they even have pleasure houses for omegas? Alpha-whores?"