pretty please (with sugar on top) - larry stylinson

21

When Louis woke up, Harry sensed it. The alpha didn't move, but his entire body became stiff and tense, like he was bracing himself for a bomb to explode.

Harry was also very still, but in the opposite way. While Louis was rigid and strained, Harry was relaxed. Sinking into the mattress, into Louis' arms, into the cradle of his hips. He wanted to be closer. He wanted more. But Louis was silently freaking out. So.

It wasn't until Harry experimentally shifted his ass against the hard, tempting dick resting there, that Louis let out a startled noise and pulled away as if he'd been burned. It would've been comical except he was legitimately distraught, wide eyes, breathing heavy. Like he hadn't noticed he'd been grinding against Harry's ass for the past two hours.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I- have no excuse for that."

Harry considered telling him it was okay. No harm, no foul. They could pretend that never happened like they pretended all the other little things never happened: the first morning they woke up together and Harry nearly begged Louis to fuck him, the conversations about relationships and sex and the unwarranted possessive jealousy that always resulted, the way their scents heightened whenever they got too close, stared at each other's lips for too long, touched each other too softly, too tenderly, forgot what they were here for and what they were doing together...

The only thing that came out of his mouth, though, was a broken whimper. Embarrassingly, it was full of longing.

Louis pulled a pillow over his lap to maintain a semblance of decency. Harry had no decency and wiggled against the mattress. He was half trying to tempt Louis to take care of him, half searching for some sort of relief by rubbing off against the sheets. He buried his face in the sheets too, because he was embarrassed but not enough to stop.

"Jesus, Harry. Fuck."

Harry turned his chin over his shoulder, even though it made his neck ache, and caught Louis' gaze. "Please? I'll be good," he whispered, voice deep and slow. "It can just be this one time. We won't have to- I won't ask you to touch me ever again if you don't want to."

Louis was watching with dark eyes. The scene was clearly getting to him, Harry rubbing himself off against the alpha's sheets, their scents of arousal intermixing in the air. Harry was still fully dressed in sweats and a t-shirt—and he was sweltering in the heat of his actions, under the heat of Louis' gaze—but he knew the back of his pants were wet with slick, and his skin was dewy with sweat. It was almost like he was in heat, that was how desperate he was. There was no way it wasn't erotic. There was no way it wasn't tempting.

"Alpha, please," Harry begged, and woah, the title just slipped out, just like that, without forcing it, without even thinking about it. "I'll be good for you, the best omega, please, I'll make you feel so good..."

Louis' fingers were clenched so tightly on the pillow he was grasping, as if that was all that was left of his self-control. He closed his eyes, wincing as if it physically pained him, and breathed through his mouth to think clearly.

"We're all caught up in pheromones," he reasoned, his voice raspy and strained, what it would sound like if he were to fuck Harry. His eyes were blown with lust and he licked his lips despite his words. "You would never- This wouldn't have happened if you weren't drowned in my scent. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go..? I should go."

Harry whimpered again, trying to hide it in the pillow. He wanted Louis so badly, wished he would give in to his primal urges just this once.

"I think we need something from the store," said Louis, shaky and uncertain. It was bullshit, obviously, but he was trying to convince himself to walk away from a wanting omega in his bed. An omega who was dripping slick everywhere. "I'm gonna go. I'll be back, in like, an hour. Will you be okay here alone?"