The Difference Between Light And Dark {Larry}•{BDSM}•{Hybrid}•{MPreg}

Chapter Eight

This is dedicated to:

its_callie

KennedySoureka

sakina528722

for voting. And the entire chapter is dedicated to -ohnoNiall because you voted and I really really really love your profile picture. Thank you to all that vote. I'm sorry if I didn't get your name or this was published right after/before you vote. I'm really sorry, but this is all my feed could refresh to. Thank you. 

All the love. M.x

Just waking up is an odd experience for most people. That surreal state where you are aware of your surrounding, but at the same time, you aren't. When you just blink awake and have to close your eyes again because the light is too much, or because you just had a shocking dream that you want to savour for just a bit longer before you're pulled back to Earth and disappointed because you either can't remember how great your dream was, or you have to actually do stuff. 

Or you were expecting one thing when you woke up from your groggy, I-just-woke-up-so-don't-you-fucking-bother-me mind set, but what actually happened is completely different.

Louis woke up from his dream-induced slumber expecting to have hot warmth encasing him and hot breath on his ear, long curls tickling his neck and his Daddy lying next to him, either asleep, or watching over him like the guardian angel he is.

He did wake up from his dream, a very nice dream, if I do say so myself, to his prick hard and warmth around him. But not the right type of warmth. Blanket warmth. Not Harry warmth. Tiny whimpers leave his lips as he sits up with difficulty, not seeing Harry's phone on the night-stand. Did he bring his phone in here after the phone call last night? Louis wonders. He barely remembers, too tired at the time for all the clear details to stick in his muddled up brain. 

Then he spots the neon blue Sticky Note on his nightstand, close to him and he knows it's from Harry. The man is too considerate for his own good. Louis quickly swipes away the note and holds it to his face, squinting his eyes before giving up on trying to see without his glasses (he can't read very well anyway and he's thankful that whenever Harry hand-writes to him, he uses his best hand-writing. Louis has seen his notes and he doesn't know how even Harry can read those scribbles that can be vaguely compared to Jet's coloring projects). He grabs his thick, black framed glasses and push them onto his nose, sniffling lightly before trying to read the note again.

Kitten,

I am going to be gone for a while. Just to run an errand. Work stuff. It shouldn't take long. I should be home by 3. I left at 10, just so you know. Please text me when you wake up, just for me to let you know you're okay. We have a doctors appointment at five. I would like to get, if that's fine with you. If not, I completely understand and it's completely fine if you don't feel that comfortable with me yet. Dont' feel bad.

I love you,

Daddy

But, of course, in Louis' little hybrid, sleepy mind he only processes about half of that. He picked up on 'gone for a while', 'work stuff', 'home by three', and 'i love you, Daddy'. He giggles in happiness and checks the digital clock. 2:36. Harry shouldn't be home for a while...

A little thought peeps into the corner of his mind, his painful hard-on pressing against his lower belly. His front teeth come out to poke on his lower lip, his mind racing. Should he? He would get in trouble, that's for sure. But...it's  so tempting. The delicious skin-on-skin rush buzzes around his mind, another remnant of the dream he had just so tenderly woken up from.