"Louis booked a flight to Berlin to fuck Harry Styles. He should've booked an exorcist instead." After six months of radio silence and fifteen years into a beautifully toxic situationship neither of them will ever admit to, Louis Tomlinson wakes up in Los Angeles alone, to a sunrise, a half-smoked joint, and a text from Harry Styles that simply reads: "i want you to get me pregnant." His relationship with Zara just went public. She's all sunshine, green smoothies, and Instagram-ready happiness-everything Louis should want, and nothing that makes his hands shake. So, his life, on paper, should be content. Instead? He books a last-minute flight to Berlin, cancels his studio day, and lets himself fall headfirst into the kind of chaos he swore he'd grown out of. What follows: a private fetish club with chandeliers and chapels, MDMA delivered mouth-to-mouth, angel wings stolen off a stranger, and enough sin to make a priest cry. Somewhere between lace panties, pierced cocks, and a dungeon full of bad decisions, Louis realizes two very inconvenient truths: 1. He would do anything Harry asked him to. 2. Harry might've actually gotten himself pregnant. (Not really. Probably. Maybe.) In the end, they're wrecked, high, and tangled together-again. Because this is who they are: saints, sinners, and something far worse in between. Warnings: Toxic codependency, at least three separate existential crises, lace panties, molly-fueled mistakes, pierced cock emergencies, religious imagery used very incorrectly, and Harry Styles riding Louis Tomlinson straight into blasphemy. It's chaotic, unhinged, stupidly sweet in all the wrong places, and cruel enough to make you wonder why you ever started reading in the first place.

Louis is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival, moody dance prodigy, Harry, joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late? [COMPLETED]

Harry has a condition that disallows him to feel physical pain. For a man thriving on fear and resistance from his victims - his prey - Harry is not prepared for the affections of a witty and ignorant Louis. "Are you afraid?" "You won't hurt me." "Yes I will." Harry loses himself to the darkness that swallows his brutality and rigid anger, but he needs Louis to be his anchor. His sanity. "There is no one else now. You can only love me, feel for me as I do for you. What I am is too lost, too disturbed to retrieve. Do you understand? You've done something to me and I don't want it to stop, so you can never leave me again. You are just mine now. Mine."