The Babysitter (boyxboy)

Chapter 12

Warnings: Bit of sexual content but it doesn't go into detail. Talk of violence and self harm, may be triggering to some.

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Darkness. That was all Harry saw as he slowly walked forward. The darkness was swallowing him. He put his hands out, trying to reach, touch anything that might be in front of him, but his hands were left empty as he blindly searched. 

“Hello?” He called out, “Anyone there?”

Silence. And it was horrible.

“Louis?” He called, his voice echoing through the dark silence. “Are you here?”

And then Harry felt it, a cold chill raced up his spine as a rough hand took a tight grip on his shoulder.

“Hello, Harry.” The gruff voice spoke.

No. Not him. Anyone but him.

“Robin,” Harry breathed, turning to see the face of his menacing step father.

"Guess what Harry?" His chapped lips pulled into a evil smirk.

"What?" Harry replied, eyeing the man.

“I know what you've been doing with your babysitter Harry,” he laughed; wicked and loud as he walked slow, intimidating circles around the boy.

“No.”

“Yes,” he breathed against Harry's neck. 

“No.”

“Yes, and I don’t appreciate it very much. Nor do I like having a step son who likes to suck cock,” Robin hissed. “So, do you know what I’m going to do?”

Harry didn't answer, just slunk away from the horrible man, but Robin caught his elbow in a bone tight grip.

“Hmm Harry?” He asked, his face inches from Harry’s.

Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, sink into the floorboards beneath his feet.

“Want to find out?” 

“No. No, no, no!” Harry protested, squirming in Robin‘s grip, “Please, no. Louis!”

“Oh Harry,” Robin laughed. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

“No, Louis!” Harry called desperately for him.

But there was no answer as Harry started to disappear into the darkness, Robin’s fingers tight around his wrist as he pulled him through what was now looking to be a dark hallway until-

WHACK!

A fist collided with his stomach and he doubled over, dry wrenching as he curled up on the cold, hard floor. 

“Louis,” he choked out, gripping his stomach in pain.

“Your boyfriend can’t save you now,” Robin laughed, wicked and hot in Harry’s ear as he pulled the boy up by his hair.

“Help!” he cried, tears forming in his eyes as Robin pulled his fist back up and high in the air, “Louis!”

“Harry?” Louis’ voice called; faint and quiet. 

“Lou-OW!” Harry cried as another fist hit his body.

“Harry?” Louis’ voice asked through the darkness again, “Harry."

"Lou," Harry called, feeling himself starting to sink into the floorboards.

"Harry wake up! Harry!”

Gasping loudly, Harry flew up from the bed; his body covered in a layer sweat, his chest heaving.

“Louis,” he whimpered, reaching out for him.

“I’m here,” Louis said, his face coming into Harry’ view, “I’m right here.”

Harry stared into those blue eyes; so full of worry, before he lunged forward, his arms tightly wrapping around Louis’ waist. 

The first sob broke from Harry’s mouth as soon as his face was pressed against Louis’ chest. Another when he felt Louis’ grip tighten, pulling him impossibly closer. And soon his whole body was shaking as sob after sob wracked through his tired and fragile body. 

“Shh, it’s okay Harry,” Louis cooed, his hand rubbing circles on Harry’s back, “you’re okay, shh shh.”

“H-he- he was there…a-a-and you weren’t- I-I couldn’t,” Harry sobbed, his voice raw and broken.

“Shh, shh, don’t talk,” Louis said softly, “just breathe, breathe baby. Calm down, shh it‘s okay.”

Harry whimpered into Louis’ shirt, clenching his fists tightly in the material. “H-help me Louis, please help m-me.”

“Okay,” Louis whispered into Harry’s hair, “okay.” Louis gently freed himself from Harry’s grip, easing him backwards until he was lying on his back with Louis hovering over him. 

Harry whimpered, his hands gripping Louis’ shoulders.

“Hey, shh,” Louis whispered, kissing Harry’s nose, “shh, I’m going to take care of you okay? Make you feel better.” 

Harry nodded his head, releasing a shaky breath as Louis kissed along his jaw, down his neck.

Placing soft, butterfly kisses to Harry’s soft, damp skin, Louis ran his fingertips down the stairs of his ribs before gently hooking them under the waistband of his boxers; inching them down his thighs.

Harry’s body shook as Louis’ warm breath washed over his groin, his eyes still wet with tears as closed them, waiting to feel Louis do something, anything to make him feel better. He was sad and scared and really wanted to just forget everything. He wanted to sleep. To sleep and never wake up unless the promise of a different life, a better life, was guaranteed. “Louis,” he whined out, his hands fisting the bed sheets. “Please.”

“Okay,” Louis said lowly, his breath washing over Harry again, causing a shiver to vibrate up his spine. “Okay.”

And then Harry’s head started to spin as Louis grabbed his dick and sucked at the tip, his tongue swirling delicately around it. A keening noise was heard above as Louis slide further down Harry’s shaft, his movements gently but just enough to have Harry biting his lip raw to hold back the whimpers and whines threatening to burst from his throat. 

Harry didn't understand. He didn't understand how Louis, a boy who loves painting and pepperoni pizza, could make him feel better. Make him feel good for the first time in a long time. As Harry stared down at feathered hair boy bobbing up and down, he forget. He suddenly forgot all the pain he felt. He didn't feel the need to press a blade against his skin. He forgot his dream. He forgot his shitty excuse of a step father and his friends who can’t even look at him anymore. He forgot the arguments and hits that followed. He forgot how lonely he felt. Harry Styles had truly forgot. Louis helped him forget and it felt amazing. But as Harry edged closer towards his climax, he realised that this feeling...this blissful feeling inside his stomach that was making him forget all the horrible things he felt and did and remembered, would be gone soon and it would all come back. When this moment between him and Louis was over, the feelings, the hurt, the memories, the words, the itch to feel his blood trickling down his skin, would be back. And Harry didn't want that, so he started to cry again; fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he felt himself let go down Louis’ throat.

Louis kissed Harry’s inner thighs; his lips running over pale skin. He expected it to be better - for Harry to feel at least just a little bit better. But as he looked up and saw Harry’s tear stained cheeks, he knew it wasn't. Something was very wrong with this boy. He needed help; help Louis hoped he could give.