pretty please (with sugar on top) - larry stylinson

10

At 9:00 AM, three hours after Louis left for work, Harry finally rolled out of bed. The sun was streaming in through the open windows, carrying the calming sea breeze with it. It was a beautiful day.

The first thing Harry did was explore the house, this time on his own. He inspected the pictures on the walls more closely, enjoying the resemblance between the alpha and his family members. There was a picture of him and Niall both holding guitars, and it made Harry smile.

He picked up the keys on the countertop and checked out the car in the garage. It was something he couldn't name, but bright cherry red and flashy. That made him smirk to himself more than anything—he would have to have fun with that later.

After making himself a breakfast of scrambled eggs and a fruit smoothie, Harry put on his most publicly acceptable bathing suit and wandered out to the beach. He was a little stressed about the clothes he packed, because almost all of the things in his suitcase were obsolete now that he knew he wouldn't have any sugar baby duties for the next week. The lingerie and bold, sexy outfits were impractical now, but he didn't have much else to wear.

The day turned out to be everything he ever wanted: sleeping in, eating a good breakfast, and relaxing on the beach. He rested on his towel in the sand, close to the water and delighting in the melody of the waves crashing against the shore. He snacked on cold grapes out of a chilled tupperware container and started on the stack of books he had been promising himself he would read for months. He was already thirty pages into the first one when he decided to take a break and go for a beach walk.

Louis' waterfront house was in a gated community, on a private beach. It was mostly empty, aside from the occasional person lying in the sun, or standing in the water with a fishing pole, and for that Harry was grateful. Crowded beaches could be fun, but they were definitely overwhelming. He walked at least two miles down the shore, mindful that he would have to turn around eventually and walk back, and finally got to a heavily populated beach.

It was hard to tell if he was imagining the eyes on him as he walked, but it certainly felt like he was on display. That was something Harry didn't mind—he had worked hard to be comfortable with his body, physically and mentally, and now that he was here he didn't mind others looking at him.

That was the thing, too. The few people in Harry's life who knew he sugared were always interested to hear if it bothered him when it was obvious—when he was out to dinner at a pricey restaurant, a young omega dressed to the nines, sitting across from some old alpha. For most people, it was obvious what was going on, and Harry received a lot of stares and glares throughout the night.

It didn't bother him, though. If he was being honest with himself, the idea of people knowing kind of turned him on. Besides, he worked hard to create an image that almost guaranteed that strangers were thinking I could never afford him rather than something crueler. One time, when he was feeling brave and a little annoyed, he full out winked at an alpha-omega couple who wouldn't stop staring at him. It was a stupidly empowering fuck you moment, and it still made him laugh.

Walking along the shoreline was peaceful, too. As he walked, barefoot in the sand, with the water rushing up every so often, he could gaze ahead at the beautiful view and zone out for a while. The wind whipped around him, blowing his hair in his face, and he took deep breaths, trying to eternalize this moment in his memory.

When he got back to his towel and books waiting for him on the beach, he laid out for a while longer before deciding it was time for lunch. There was enough food in the fridge to make another meal, this time a refreshing salad and a bowl of yogurt topped with bananas and strawberries.

He sat out on the deck as he ate, dipping his feet into the infinity pool. Maybe he could get Louis to go for a swim with him later. It was relaxing alone, but significantly less fun.

The reminder of tan lines was what stopped him from going back down to the water's edge. Instead, he climbed up to the third floor and changed out of his bathing suit and into a cherry red thong, the same color as the car. After a moment of self love and admiring himself in the mirror, he grabbed his towel and wandered out to the secluded veranda, lying out on the chaise.

With the sight of the ocean in front of him, and the warm sun on his skin, it was like heaven.

A/N: How's it going? What are your thoughts on this story so far?