Larry Smut

Rivers Flow In You

"I mean, I think Sansa and Ser Loras would make a cute couple," says Niall, shrugging his shoulders.  "That's not an awful match."

"You idiot, Loras is gay," says Zayn from Liam's lap.  "I'm pretty sure any girl would be an awful match, for him."

Louis isn't sure how they've managed to find enough time to watch two-plus seasons of Game of Thrones in the time they've spent touring Europe, but all of the hours they've spent on the tour bus have really added up.  Unfortunately, it's all kind of blurring together for him.  They're on the fourth or fifth episode of the third season now and Louis still isn't sure who all is gunning for the throne or why. 

"I thought that Alpha with the brown hair was gay!  The one who got killed by the demon baby?" says Niall.

"Yeah, he and Loras were mates, I think," says Harry.

"But now Loras is in the capital," says Louis, from where he's tucked into Harry's side.  Harry squeezes his mate's shoulders and nuzzles into his hair. 

"I swear, this f*ckin' show," groans Niall.  "Can't keep half the characters straight."

"I know who the Dothraki are," puts in Liam, looking proud of himself.

"That's 'cause they're all exotic looking," drawls Louis, burrowing closer to Harry.  "Like Zaaaayn."

Liam chuckles lowly and smoothes his hands up and down his mate's arms.  "Can't argue with that."  Zayn makes a content sound low in his throat.

"Gross," complains Niall.  "Christ, I can't wait 'til we get to the hotel so I can go out and pull.  You four are disgusting."

"Well, hopefully you can wait, because we have another hour left," calls Paul from the front of the tour bus.

"Paul, you'll take me out, won't you?" asks Niall, reaching for a bag of crisps.  "We can have guy talk, beta to beta–"

"I'll let you go out under the condition that you don't try to engage me in 'guy talk,'" says Paul.

"Done," shrugs Niall, popping a handful of crisps into his mouth.

They lapse into silence, their eyes glued to the screen as Loras flirts with an attractive squire.  Louis leans across the couch to try and grab the crisps bag from Niall when the show abruptly cuts to the two men frantically snogging on a large four-poster bed.  Louis freezes, bag forgotten, and feels a tight, terrifyingly familiar tugging sensation low in his belly as he watches them mouth at each other's necks.

Sh*t sh*t sh*t, he thinks.  "I... I'll be right back," he blurts out, racing toward the bathroom.  Once he gets there, he shuts and locks the door and leans back against it, panting.  This feels an awful lot like a heat coming on, but it can't be – it isn't due for another week.  They'd specifically scheduled a break into their tour schedule to account for Louis's heat, and that isn't happening until next week. 

He's on suppressants – has been since the end of X-Factor, when he and his mum agreed that he didn't have time for a heat every month.  Male omega suppressants were, according to his mum, like birth control for female betas such as herself, except instead of regulating the menstrual cycle they would regulate his heat.  The doctor had recommended that they still allow time for a three-day long heat twice a year just to make sure Louis's body was healthy and functioning correctly.

"Plus," the man had added, "I'm sure your mate doesn't enjoy pulling out before he can knot."

Louis had blushed, thankful that he was of age and didn't have to have his mum in the examination room with him.  "How d'you know I'm mated?"