Chapter Text
When Harry was 19 and studying at university for an English Literature degree that everyone said would get him no-where in life, working part-time at a night-club and the rest of the time doing shifts at a local strip club, he hadn’t expected to be where he is now. Two years later, he’s sat in a high-rise flat overlooking the sparkling city of London, wrapped in a duvet and wearing a diamond bracelet that cost more than his old flat used to.
Harry was in his final year of uni, and he no longer worked at that strip club- although he still did a few shifts at the night-club just so he could spend time with his friends who worked there- because when he was 19 he spilled a drink all over a man who changed his life.
Two years ago Louis Tomlinson sat in The Pussycat Lounge- the unfortunately named strip-club Harry had worked at- in Harry’s section, and when he had rushed by, Louis had just happened to stand up and be soaked with the tray of drinks in Harry’s hands. Harry had babbled and attempted to wipe up the mess, in the process accidently hitting Louis in the crotch which made Harry even more incoherent, causing the older man to laugh so hard that he had tears in his eyes. Harry had been shouted at by his superiors and Louis had gone home. He'd thought that had been it between them. He'd had no clue.
Three weeks later Harry had been attempting to carry eight hardback books home from the library when he tripped and landed on his arse surrounded by said books. A few seconds later a shadow had fallen over him and he’d looked up to see Louis’ grinning face: “Are you incapable of walking in a straight line, love?” he’d asked and Harry had blushed bright red and frowned up at him. Louis had made it up to him by buying him a cup of tea from a local café. Harry had had no idea that letting the man buy him a drink would put so much more into motion.
Suddenly Louis decided to invade every aspect of his life, coming to the Pussycat and then to Lloyds- the night-club Harry worked at Wednesday and Thursday nights- whenever Harry had a shift. Finally Harry gave up and accepted one of Louis’ proposals for dinner.
He found out that Louis was 28, worked in some fancy company that did business all over the world, meaning he travels quite a bit. It also meant that Louis’ watch cost more than anything Harry had ever been in the vicinity of. Louis’ fancy sky-high flat had amazed him the first time he’d been invited up, he’d wandered around wide-eyed and terrified that anything he touched would break.
They’d dated casually for a few weeks, Louis taking any and every opportunity to buy Harry anything he so much as glanced at, “Do I need to walk everywhere with my eyes closed when I’m with you?” Harry would joke, making Louis roll his eyes without fail.
The first time they slept together it was because Louis came home to find Harry laid half-naked on his bed, the long expanse of pale skin only covered by a tiny pair of sapphire-blue, silk boxer shorts. Harry had been so nervous wearing them for him, but the look in Louis' eyes had made it worth it.
Harry moved into Louis’ flat before they even hit their one year anniversary, and Harry didn’t miss the smug smile on Louis’ face when Harry’s possessions began to mingle with his. Louis liked things like that; signs of ownership. To be honest Harry liked it too. Harry enjoyed being Louis’ and Louis’ alone. Liked the bruises from Louis' mouth that cover his body, likes the possessive hand on his hip whenever anyone gets too close to him, and likes the firm hand around his throat when they fuck; the growl of “Who do you belong to?”
That’s why when the men came to install the camera, he wasn’t all that surprised.
Louis was in Japan meeting with some huge company that his boss wanted to merge with, and he’d already been gone for three weeks. He wouldn’t be home for another fortnight.
The men came with a letter for Harry and said they’d be setting up a surveillance camera in the bedroom. The men had looked a little embarrassed, their cheeks pink and their eyes not quite meeting Harry’s. Harry had frowned a little but let them do their job, moving to the kitchen to sit at the island in the centre. He ripped open the letter and found a message in Louis’ hand writing;
Couldn’t stand not seeing your pretty face for much longer, so I took matters into my own hands. Be good, little one, I’ll know if you’re misbehaving.
xxxxxx
The men left and Harry wandered into the bedroom curiously, not really sure what to expect. That was when he first saw it. A camera, a fancy looking CCTV thing, sat high on the wall facing their bed; it would have a perfect and uninterrupted view. Harry’s breath had hitched in his throat as he saw the red light blinking- Louis could be watching him right now. He figured out quickly that there was no way to know if Louis was watching, but he also knew that Louis watched the tapes back to see what Harry had been up to, because on the second day he’d been sat in bed watching Friends and eating strawberries all morning, and later that night before he’d fallen asleep, he’d gotten a text off of Louis asking him if his lips were still stained red. Soon he started to try and communicate through the camera, would hold up a piece of paper saying ‘I miss you’, but when Louis’ responses started to get less frequent, Harry would attempt to provoke him. ‘I miss you’ became ‘I’m horny’, became ‘I want to be fucked’, until Harry gave up on the notes and began to touch himself on the bed, attempt to put on a show for Louis, whenever he decided to watch the tape. Still, he got no response. So Harry resolved to turn up the heat a little.
Now, as he sat in the living room, looking out on the city, he finally heard the buzzer from the entrance. He hopped up and ran to the intercom, pressing the button to speak.
“Hi, who is it?” he asked cheerfully, anticipation bubbling in his stomach. He hadn’t spoken to Louis in 6 days, he was done waiting around.
“Hi, I have a package here for you, Mr Tomlinson?” the nasally voice buzzes through and Harry smiled at the mistake and chose not to correct him.
“Okay, thank you. Send it up, please,” Harry says before walking to wait at the front door. The knock comes only five minutes later and Harry opens the door with a grin. The staff member looks at Harry clothed in only a pair of denim shorts and rolls his eyes. The staff here had gotten used to the fact Harry wasn’t ‘sophisticated’ a long time ago. At first he’d gotten a few polite but exasperated requests to not come down to the main lounge in his pyjamas when collecting his post or coming to talk to the staff, but after a few months they’d given up and their exasperation was tinged with an edge of fondness.
Harry took the parcel with a ‘thank you!’ and closed his door excitedly, almost running into the kitchen for scissors. He hacked open the box and pulled out the smaller box from inside, it was bright red with a black lace design around it. He opened it and giggled a little. He’d bought a dildo. Not just any dildo, one of those ones that looks like a real dick and has a flat end so that you can stand it up. And it’s pink. He picked up the little packet beneath it and even he blushed a little. He may have also bought a ball gag. It was all black and had spikes on the side that Harry had thought looked pretty badass at the time but now looked slightly scary. This was going to be interesting.
***
That night Harry took his time prepping himself in the bathroom, getting himself ready and shaking with the need to orgasm, his abdomen tight with want. He shakily pulled his fingers from himself and looked up into the mirror. His naked body was flushed and shiny with a layer of perspiration, his lips swollen from his teeth and tongue and his eyes wide and glassy. His arms trembled a little, especially the muscles in his right arm from the ache of the awkward angle he’d had to use to prep himself. His cock stood hard and red in front of him, the tip shiny with precome that’d smeared on his stomach a little.
He took a deep breath, quelling the nerves in his stomach. He hadn’t seen Louis in weeks, hadn’t spoken to him in days, he felt this nagging worry in him that Louis was bored of him. Maybe that was why he’d thought of this, why he’d shoved aside his insecurities, and forced himself to realise that if he wanted to keep Louis interested then he had to be interesting.
He’d already dragged a chair from the dining room to stand in front of the foot of the bed, facing the camera and giving it a full view of what would happen there. He grabbed the dildo and gag from the side where he’d left them out of the camera’s sight, carrying them over to the chair. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the bathroom and looked up at the camera. He blinked up at it lazily for a few moments, gathering his confidence a little. He grabbed the dildo and squeezed some of the lube onto it, using a hand to spread the liquid over the surface of the toy.
He glanced up at the camera one last time before moving over to kneel on the chair with his legs slightly apart, his back to the camera, one arm braced against the chair-back, the other holding the dildo. He took a deep breath and moved the toy back, brushed the end of it over his entrance, felt his abdomen tighten in want. He leant forwards so his bum was displayed for the camera, turned his head slightly to peek up at the blinking red light as he slowly started to slide the toy inside of himself. His lips dropped open on a breathless moan as the toy made it to the halfway point. He took a second to breathe, stilling his movements as his body adjusted to the intrusion. The toy was nine inches total, and it’d been a while since he’d had anything but his own fingers at an awkward angle that didn’t allow for much depth.
He tensed his body again, began to push in that last half and groaned as the toy rubbed over his prostate. When the toy bottomed out, the flared bottom- made to look like fake balls- sat snugly between his cheeks and Harry had to mewl a little at the sensation, whispering Louis’ name helplessly before he bit his bottom lip stubbornly.
He shuffled back slowly, every movement making the toy brush his prostate teasingly, until he was stood before the chair. He turned to face the camera, chest heaving, eyelashes almost brushing his pink cheeks with how heavy his eyelids felt. He moved back, sitting down on the chair but having to jump up a little when the pressure on the base of the dildo sent pleasure shooting through his stomach. He reached a hand down to hold the base of the toy, his other hand holding the arm of the chair steadying, his legs spread wide, feet braced flat on the floor for leverage, and drew himself up until only the tip of the toy sat inside of him, the base sat on the seat of the chair as Harry hovered above it. The little suction cup on the bottom kept the toy mostly in place for him. Harry gave one last heated glance up at the camera before slamming his body back down onto the chair and onto the toy, his breath punched from his lungs at the sensation, and he didn’t stop. He lifted himself up and down, fucking himself onto the toy over and over, mouth open wide as whimpers of Louis’ name spilled from his tongue.
He felt his arousal build so stilled his motions, legs trembling, to reach over and grab the gag. Harry never broke eye contact with the camera as he slotted it in place, he knew it must look a little obscene, the large rubber ball stretching Harry’s red lips, the black, spiked straps harsh against his pale, blushing skin. He fluttered his eye lashes up at the camera before suddenly rotating his hips around the dildo, the sensation tearing a moan from his throat that came out muffled and erotic around the ball in his mouth. He began fucking himself onto the toy in earnest, chasing his orgasm. He snapped his hips up and down, the toy making an indecent sound as it slid in and out of his body.
Tears leaked from his eyes and his chest heaved desperately and he didn’t know how much more he could take of this, until suddenly it was all too much and just enough and not enough and he was coming. Coming so hard his vision whited out a little around the edges, stars flickering over his eyes. His body tightened in on itself and when he could move, he yanked the gag loose, taking a desperate breath through his mouth. He looked down at the cum lining his stomach and thighs, dripping from his skin and onto the chair before looking up at the camera, aware of how utterly wrecked he must look right now. And grinned.
Harry unsteadily stood and walked out of view of the camera, dragging the filthy chair with him, feeling fucking powerful.