In Los Angeles, the garden of evil, there was a Queen. La Reine was what they called him. He lived in his beloved kingdom, La Puissance, in the middle of the land of gods and monsters. He was the ultimate power and everyone else is just a pawn.
OR
T...
Special and dear thanks to @sorellarryoned for being my Italian translator for the dialogue in this fic :^) ___________________________
Red is such a bold colour. It can show emotions from rage to romance, a whirlwind of shades leading to a lone thought or memory.
Harry's favourite colour was orange, but now looking at Louis in a fitting silk red dress had him falling back onto the primary colour. The material clings to his curves and over the swell of his lower back. Louis' silhouette was outlined by the thin fabric, and the fringes sashayed with each taunting step he took. An absolute dream in Harry's books.
LOUIS' DRESS: VERSACE
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It didn't help Harry try to remain unfazed as Louis' panties were visible on the base of his hips. He clenches his fists by his sides and sees a woman walks toward him from the corner of his eye.
She was one of the designers and stylists Louis hired for tonight. She had short blonde hair in a pixie cut and dark green eyes. She was holding a large box with bold printed white writing on the lid. "Gucci." Harry reads and almost jumps out of his skin when a hand settles on his waist.
"Custom." Louis' voice rings with a hint of amusement. "One of a kind just for you."
Harry is in a haze when Louis excuses the stylist and orders him to strip. His wet hair drips onto his shoulders and he carefully unwraps the towel from around his waist. His cheeks heat when Louis' piercing stare lowers to his bare crotch. The Donna smirks, his red lips stretching and fingers trailing up the slit in his dress. His fingernails reach the fabric and pull it a bit higher, giving Harry a glimpse of the flimsy lace material of his panties. Harry almost melts at that moment, but his cock hardens and he covers himself like an insecure virgin.
"You have nothing to hide, daddy." Louis licks his lips. "Let me see you."
A simple request but Harry reluctantly removes his hands. Louis' eyes trace over his body, over every muscle, every tattoo, and every scar. The Donna steps forward, his dainty hand coming to rest on Harry's pecs, grazing his tattoos and tugging lightly on his nipple. One hand circles the back of Harry's neck, rubbing comforting shapes on his skin. Louis' other hand falls lower on the man's lean body, down his chest hair, and to his happy trail. His red fingernails brush Harry's pubic hair and the latter takes a sharp breath.
It was so viciously intimate, Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cock and locks his eyes with Louis'. His eyes were so blue, a blue Harry wishes to swim in and to be fair, he could drown in those eyes.
"Do you want me to touch you, daddy?" Louis' lips form the words so slowly, he drawls on. "Or do you want to touch me?"
Harry's eyes almost bulge out their sockets and he immediately grasps each cheek of Louis' plush bottom. "How about," he mouthes at the Donna's neck, inhaling his perfume of peppermint, "I touch you, and you touch me, babydoll?" He tags on the nickname, almost jerking out of Louis' hold when the latter let out a quiet moan.
