Leash & Collar

1

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Harry mumbled as he burrowed his face deeper into his pillow after checking the glaring 6:13 am on his nightstand clock. The sun had barely broken over the horizon and yet someone was having construction done nearby. Construction. At six in the morning.

Harry let out a defeated sigh and flopped onto his back, not even hiding the fact he was pouting like a petulant six year old. He lay still, his silk sheets gathered around his waist, low enough to expose the dark, wispy hairs leading to his groin. Harry focused on the sound of hammers and loud men filling the air, growing more agitated by the second.

Suddenly, moments before he was about to go out there and throw a giant tantrum, all noise ceased. Harry took a few deep breaths, reveling in the newfound quiet. Minutes passed in silence, a small smile forming on his face at the thought of being able to go back to sleep.

He shifted around, rolling onto his stomach and sliding his arms under his pillow, getting into a comfortable position to sleep- when the sudden and jarring sound of a jackhammer ripped through the early morning air. Harry's body jolted in shock at the noise before he sat up, whipping his pillow across his room in irritation, missing his iMac by inches.

The commotion of the power tool drowned out Harry's annoyed mumbling as he slinked out of bed and began stomping across his room to the massive oak chest of drawers, yanking open his underwear drawer and stepping into a pair of satin boxer shorts.

"What kind of asshole does this?! On a Saturday morning." Harry spat to himself, while throwing open his balcony doors so he could get a good look at what exactly was going on next door.

He made his way across the large balcony, grumpily noting the cold patio tiles under his feet and leaned against the balcony railing, rubbing his hands on the goosebumps forming on his upper arms due to the bite in the air. "When I see who is doing this, I swear to Go-" Harry's bothered rambling was cut short when he caught sight of exactly who was the cause of all this.

Louis Tomlinson.

Harry gasped and quickly spun around before he was spotted, managing to stumble into his patio table and all but sprinting back into his room. He slammed the french doors shut and pulled the heavy curtains to as fast as he possibly could.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?" Harry's astonished question hung unanswered in the air as he sunk down the wall, plopping ungracefully onto the plush carpeting. He ran his hands through his unruly, slept on curls and laughed in disbelief.

What the fuck was Louis fucking Tomlinson doing next door? The Louis Tomlinson, who was a famous dog trainer- known by all of England as the strictest, no nonsense dog trainer with his television show, Trained by Tomlinson.

Coincidentally, it was the very same Louis Tomlinson that Harry often fantasized about getting put a leash and ordered around by.

Harry had been curious about who had moved into the house next door to him, the massive four story home similar to his remaining empty since they themselves had moved to this neighborhood. But as hard as he tried, he never caught sight of the new owners since the moving trucks pulled up over two weeks ago.

Never would he have guessed fucking Louis Tomlinson was his new neighbor. Harry laughed in disbelief again at this thought, wondering if he was in some stupid reality prank show. No way in hell would the object of his sad, incredibly kinky affections suddenly move next door him. Things like that just don't happen in real life, at least not in Harry's life.

Stumbling to his feet and peaking out of his curtains, Harry sighs loudly, briefly fogging up the glass with his warm breath. He watches incredulously as Louis snaps at one of the construction workers, cup of coffee in hand and dissatisfied look on his face.

God, he was even more gorgeous in person, even from this far away. With a dejected pout, Harry closed the curtain with a shaky hand and turned to flop back into his bed, sinking into the memory foam slightly.

He groaned into his mattress, wondering how one goes about this sort of situation. What are you suppose to do when the very gorgeous, older man you want to fuck you into oblivion moves next door to you? Ring his doorbell and say "Hi, I'm Harry, your 17 year old neighbor, who desperately wants you to treat him like one of the dogs you train."?

Harry laughs a self deprecating laugh at that, mulling over how he thinks that would go. Not well, he decides, as pulls his duvet over his shoulders and reaches for his iPhone charging on his nightstand.

He mindlessly scrolls through his social media for a while, unimpressed and eventually bored enough to get out of bed, he throws his duvet off, watching it land on the floor, and makes his way to his en suite to brush his teeth.

Once done, he wanders back into his bedroom, rummaging through his closet and putting on enough clothing to not get chewed out by his mom. Dressed and semi-pleased with his reflection, he stretches his arms back, wincing at his back cracking.

His eyes dart over to his balcony door, desperate for another peak, but through sheer will power and a growling stomach, he decides against it and begins making his way to the kitchen.

He's greeted by the surprising smell of coffee and french toast, and the equally as surprising sight of both of his parents in the kitchen- his mother reading the paper and his father whistling over the stove.

"I-uh, good morning?" Harry eloquently greets his parents, leaning his shoulder against the kitchen doorframe, trying to figure out what exactly is going on. He can't remember the last time they all ate breakfast together as a family, with his father being a radiologist and his mother owning a successful accounting firm.

"Harry, I can tell you're thinking too hard, take a seat. Breakfast is almost ready." His mother begins without even looking up from the paper in her hands. Oh shit, something is wrong, someone is dying, maybe someone lost their job? Shit, shit, shi- "I can literally see the gears going in your head. Everything is fine, we just both managed to have a day off at the same time." His father 's voice interjects Harry's panicky internal dialogue.

Harry cautiously walks over to the table, sliding into the seat across from his mom. "So... no one is dying? There's no news to break to me?" he asks, not completely convinced. Harry's father barks out a laugh at that, apparently finding his confusion funny.

"No son, we promise. Just a nice breakfast as a family since we don't get them very often." His mom says, with a soft smile as his dad places a huge plate of french toast in front of him. Harry breathes out a sigh of relief at that, thanking his dad for breakfast and digging into a breakfast food that's not cereal, for once.

He smiles at his parents, taking in the rarity of them all being able to enjoy a meal together. "Besides, we're all up early, no doubt from all that noise going on next door." Harry's mom says with a touch of venom in her voice.

Harry sends her an uneasy smile, knowing how she can be. Please don't make a big deal about this, please don't make a big deal about this. "You know what... I should go over there after breakfast and say something." Shit.

"I agree, hon, it was ridiculous! I mean, who does loud construction work at six am." His father says, seemingly egging her on. She nods her head with a glint of determination in her eyes. "I think I'll head over once I finish and let them know how rude that was." she voices conclusively. Oh fuck.

"NO!" Harry blurts loudly, fist slamming onto the marble table, making his coffee ripple. Both his parents whip their heads up, confusion all over their faces. "I mean, I-I can go over and say something." Harry rushes to cover up his outburst.

"Um, if you want to, Harry. I don't mind either way." His mom says, clearly not really understanding why Harry reacted the way he did. He just nods his head weakly and shoves a too big bite of french toast in his mouth, letting himself become nauseous over what he just got himself into.

He would've preferred bad news; his dad losing his job doesn't seem so bad anymore.