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Louis can’t say that he’s ever cared one way or the other about Halloween parties before.
He does love parties in general, loves a bit of vodka in the system making him loose and happy and surrounded by friends. But all the extra effort that he has to go to in order to get an outfit together for a fancy dress party just didn’t feel worth it when he’s only going to be wearing it for one night.
That being said, this one time he’s willing to make an exception. Because this fancy dress party comes with an invitation from the one and only Harry Styles. And, although he may pretend to not be the only student on campus without a blooming crush on Styles, he’s entirely head over heels for him.
And Harry invited him!
There’s just something about Harry. Quiet and studious in class, but get him in front of a crowd and he shines. And Louis loves both sides. He practically drooled over Harry’s part in Robin Hood last semester. Went to see the play on three different nights (not that he’ll admit that).
So, here Louis is, walking up to a house party in one of the larger houses on 12th, wearing an Alice band with floppy golden brown dog ears and a shirt and trousers that… sort of matched.
People are spilling out of the house already, beers in hand, and Louis gets a few friendly waves as he makes his way into the house. It feels like half the people at university must have ended up here.
Inside he first steers into the kitchen and finds himself a Stella. He recognises a few familiar faces in the crowd, although no Harry anywhere. The first person to approach him though is Niall, a guy Louis vaguely knows from his Music Theory class.
“Here for Harry, aren’t you?” Niall asks into his ear over the music. Louis nods, trying to look calm and cool as he sips his beer.
“They’re downstairs,” Niall says, pointing to the corner of the kitchen near the back door. Louis spies a less conspicuous door caddy corner to it and nods at Niall, making his way over.
He opens the door and heads down the stairs behind it. They’re a little steep but lead to a finished room where a much more chilled out party seems to be going on; groups of people hanging out on furniture, some half on top of each other on conversation or in each other’s mouths, the music down here less of a party beat, quiet enough he can hear himself think.
And there Harry is, front and centre on one of the sofas. He’s got a crown on, and a blouse and trousers that could be vaguely Victorian. He certainly does seem to be holding court, the way people flock to him.
“Louis,” he says, spotting him immediately. “Glad you found us.”
“Yeah,” Louis says, walking through into the room. “Quite the contrast between the floors.”
Harry laughs, seeming delighted. “We like to be able to hear ourselves think down here,” he says. “Make a little conversation, you know?”
Louis nods, scoping out the area for what seating options haven’t been claimed (there’s not a lot). But before he makes his decision, someone at a different sofa speaks up.
“You’re Harry’s boy, aren’t you?”
Louis looks over. It’s a guy with dark hair and dark lashes, his outfit looking like some obscure superhero Louis’ never seen before. “Um,” stutters Louis, not sure how to answer.
“Yes you are,” the guy says, looking him up and down. “By the look of your outfit I’d say you’re his bitch.”
Louis is shocked into silence, suddenly terribly self conscious about his outfit choice, but also a little confused by the fact that the man isn’t saying it as an insult; he looks almost… impressed?
“Harry does know how to pick them,” another guy says, one in an obviously store bought Batman costume.
“I’ve got taste,” Harry says, and Louis blushes.
“It was the first thing I could find the materials to make,” he lies (he had the materials for a cat costume too, and he thought it looked better, but wasn’t sure about showing up in his skintight black leotard).
“Here,” says the obscure superhero, standing up. “Got just the thing for you.”
He picks up something from a nearby table and strides up to him, before snapping a dog collar around his neck.
“There,” he says. “Now you look the part.”
Louis reaches up to feel at the collar. It has something heavy on the side, not a tag but more like a little box. “Wha-?” He goes to say.
And then he gets shocked.
Obscure superhero breaks into laughter as he flinches. “Perfect,” he says. “Polite dogs don’t bark.”
He tousels Louis’ hair like a dog before striding back to his chair. Louis stands there fishmouthing, fingers still on the collar. “Wait—“ he starts, cutting off as he gets shocked again.
“Your dog’s a slow learner,” Batman says on the other side of the room.
“Oh give him a chance,” someone else says, a girl in a mouse costume that shows much more thigh than even mice might find acceptable. “Puppies take a while to train.”
Louis looks helplessly around, his face red and hot, and when he lands on. Harrry, Harry motions him over. Grateful for direction, Louis follows. Harry puts his arm up around the empty space next to him on the sofa, and Louis takes that as an opportunity to squeeze in. He tries to make himself comfortable without actually touching Harry at all, but as soon as he sits down, Harry’s arm goes around him and gently pushes Louis into his side.
“Glad you could make it,” he says into Louis’ ear, fingers carding at the hair Louis’ tucked into his Alice band.
Louis can’t answer, doesn’t want another shock, so he just sort of smiles at Harry in what he hopes is an agreeable manner.
Harry smells good. His blouse is soft and he’s carding through Louis’ hair in a wonderful way. Louis drinks his beer and listens to the conversation start up again. They’re discussing something about who upstairs is going to go home with whom, but also about the next game that the local football league is playing and who’s going to replace Jeff who’s broken both his feet and had to drop out.
Louis wants to ask something, didn’t know Harry was part of a league to begin with, but the collar… He reaches up with the hand not holding the Stella and fiddles with it, tries to see if the clasp is one that’s easy to remove.
“Oh puppy,” Harry says, laying his hand over Louis’. “Is that something a good puppy would do?”
Guiltily, Louis puts his hand back down. Harry re-adjusts his collar so that the clasp is at the back of his neck again, but already others in the room are jeering. For a room of about twenty people, all of them seem keenly aware of his movements.
“Can’t let your pet get away with that, can you?”
“The puppy’s going to get himself into trouble if he keeps doing that.”
“You should know how to put a bitch in her place, Harry.”
Then Batman is standing up and walking over. “I’ve got just the thing to help with that,” he says. Kneeling down, he takes the hand not holding the Stella and slips what seems like a mitten onto his hand, except without a thumb hole. It’s plush and his hand ends up balled up inside of the material. Then Harry takes the Stella out of his other hand and Batman slips an identical mitten onto that one as well. Both of them have Velcro at the wrists that he tightens, and when Louis looks at them he realises that the palms of both have dog paw patterns.
Which is, well, humiliating. Louis’ face is bright red again, his ears hot. He doesn’t notice Batman going to sit back down, although he does notice general cheers and congratulations about training a pet well. He doesn’t notice much of anything until Harry’s putting the Stella to his lips and telling him to drink.
Which Louis does, careful not to let any spill.
He sits there, leaning into Harry’s side as Harry plays with his hair and holds beer to his lips for him to drink, and Louis squirms with the want to speak to be included in the conversation and to talk to Harry because he desperately wants to please Harry, wants to be invited to things again. His hands sit uselessly in his lap because although he’s tried to adjust the mittens a few times, he knew from the minute they were on that he won’t be able to take them off, except maybe with his teeth, and somehow he thinks the people here will object to that.
Harry tips the Stella to his lips and Louis drinks again, downing it much faster than he would’ve on his own. “Good boy,” Harry whispers into his ear after he takes the can away each time.
Then suddenly the can is empty and Harry’s pressing something else to his lips — a glass— and Louis tips his head back and tastes something with gin.
Harry doesn’t let up either, tips the whole glass down his throat until Louis is nearly choking.
“What a good boy,” Harry whispers into his ear and Louis feels fuzzy with happiness. He leans heavily against Harry’s side and as more time passes he just sort of gets lost listening to the conversation, zoning out except for a few times when Harry drinks from his own glass and then offers Louis a sip. Not a full glass again, just a top up.
After a while, the fuzziness turns into a sort of dizziness, and Louis wonders what time it is, if he should go, if he should find a ride home. He stumbles to his feet — Harry’s bantering with someone about whatever class just got grades back — and tries to go for his phone in his back pocket to check the time. But his hands — he forgot they didn’t work. And he sort of — just falls sideways, or the floor dips under him and comes up to meet him. Louis lets out a yelp of surprise as he hits the floor and then he gets a shock for it.
“Oh no puppy,” a girl in a fairy costume says. She’s on the sofa on the other side of Harry, cuddled up against a guy with long dark hair whose costume seems to be vaguely shark-like. “This is why puppies don’t try to walk on two legs, that’s for humans!”
Harry laughs at that and pulls Louis back onto the sofa with him. “Mitch, I think you can help him out,” Harry says. The vaguely shark guy stands up and out of nowhere seems to produce a roll of thick black tape. He comes over and kneels down, very seriously folding Louis’ leg up against the sofa and winding the roll of tape around his leg, so that his thigh and calf are neatly folded together. Then he folds Louis’ other leg and does the same.
Louis’ world is still kind of spinny and it doesn’t even occur to him to try to stop this from happening. It’s taking everything in him to concentrate on not letting any noise come out of his mouth, lest the collar shock him again.
“There,” the girl says as Mitch sits back down. “That way you won’t be tempted anymore.
Harry smooths out Louis’ fringe and then smooths his hand down Louis’ side and down his leg. Louis shivers, pressing closer to Harry and closing his eyes in the hopes that the dizziness will stop.
“You know what else will help your puppy?” Someone else asks (Louis can’t see who, but he suspects it’s the guy in the very revealing Genie costume. “He’s missing a tail!”
“Some dogs have docked tails,” Batman helpfully supplies.
“Even docked tails are still tails,” Harry points out. He leans over and whispers against Louis’ forehead, a move that sends shivers up Louis’ spine. “What do you say, puppy? Where’s your tail gone?”
Louis whimpers and then whines at the shock he receives, tucking his head into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry’s hand, which was just petting at Louis’ thigh, moves up to his waistband and then dips underneath his trousers, under his pants, his fingers seeking out Louis’ ass.
Louis squirms, although not too much lest he fall on the floor again. He clenches his cheeks and Harry laughs, fingers massaging at his hole.
Then he leans over, toward where he sets his drinks, and comes back with something furry that he transfers to his other hand before Louis can get a good look at it (the way the room is still sort of spinny that would probably have taken a while).
It’s not that big, thankfully, is the first coherent thought Louis has after Harry has pulled the waistband of his trousers down enough to tease at his entrance with the toy. His second thought is, vaguely, that this seems premeditated. This is what finally clues him in that perhaps Harry had been planning for something like this, although wondering how he learned about Louis’ outfit is is enough to make Louis’ already floaty head start hurting. As he pushes in the toy and Louis tenses on instinct, he wonders if this means he’s special.
Then the toy makes its way all the way inside, and Harry pulls up the waistband until just the end of the tail is sticking out, and he gives it a few small tugs.
Which is apparently the signal for the very low vibrator in the plug to spring to life.
Louis’ thighs clench in shock and, because what he wants to do is cry out and whine and other embarrassing things, instead he does the only thing he can think of, and he bites down on Harry’s shoulder.
The controlled groan Harry lets out shouldn’t have been that sexy.
Harry whispers soothing things into his ear until Louis, shame-faced, lets go. Then quick as anything, Harry shoves a rubber bone into his mouth, sideways, so that it pulls his lips apart like a bit in a horse’s mouth.
“Good puppies don’t bite,” Harry admonishes, smacking him softly on the nose. Louis goes to spit the rubber bone out, but Harry holds it in place before pulling out the string that holds his royal cape around his neck, and tying it to one end of the bone, just before the bump in the end, and wrapping it around the back of Louis’ head to tie it to the other end.
“I’m not taking a chance with a bitey puppy,” Harry says, massaging at his shoulder. Chastised, Louis looks down at his paws— hands. Drool spills over his lips with the bone holding his mouth open.
“I told you you should’ve brought a muzzle,” someone says.
If you’re a good boy, you can earn back that privilege later,” Harry tells him. Oh no, is Louis not a good boy?
He sits there mournfully, clenching around the vibrating plug and drooling, until Harry takes pity on him and pulls him back into his side, so that Louis is leaning against the shoulder that now has a small tear in the blouse from his teeth.
Harry goes back to petting up and down Louis’ flank, soothing him. That goes on for minutes or maybe hours, and Louis eventually starts to squirm. Tries to keep himself still, but the vibrator isn’t going unnoticed.
Then Harry moves his hand further toward his inner thigh. Slowly. Casually. Louis bites hard on the bone in his mouth to keep from whining. Harry’s deep in conversation again, back to talking about songwriting for some project they’re doing, not even seeming to pay Louis any mind as his hand is now massaging his inner thigh, ghosting over his obviously tented trousers.
Louis bucks up into his hand and Harry pushes him down, moves his hand away. Agonising.
He does it twice more and Louis can’t control himself enough to stop chasing that friction that Harry won’t give him. He’s so zoned in on what’s happening that when Harry shifts, suddenly Louis looks up and almost everyone is gone. Just Harry, obscure superhero and Batman left.
“I’m going to get Zayn home,” Batman says. “He’s had a bit much.”
“You’re a bit much,” obscure superhero says.
“Yeah, I think it’s about time,” Harry says, and he stretches, both arms high in the air. Louis blinks. Does this mean… he’s leaving him?
Like this?
Harry stands, dislodging Louis a little on the sofa. Then he turns back and looks at him. At Louis’ predicament, such as it is.
Harry leans over, and reaches behind the sofa, drawing out a lead.
He clips the end of it to Louis’ collar.
“Come on,” he says. “It’s time to go home.”
Louis blinks at him.
Harry pulls at the lead a little.
“I think your puppy’s afraid of getting down on his own,” Batman says as he pushes obscure superhero gently up the stairs in front of him.
“I think you’re right,” Harry says. He leans down and picks Louis up, arms wound round his middle, before placing him on the floor. Louis, in a kneeling position because of the tape around his legs, goes to try to undo the tape with his mittened hands.
“No no,” Harry says. He reaches down and hikes Louis up by his thighs so that he’s on his knees. Louis squeaks in surprise and receives a shock as he falls forward onto his hands.
“There we go,” Harry says. “Come on, pup.”
He pulls at the lead, stronger this time, until Louis follows. He’s still dizzy and fuzzy, vision not quite able to focus on anything, so he stumbles as he goes, even with the support of being on all fours. The plug inside of him shifts with every step, and his drool falls unbidden from his bit-gagged lips.
The stairs are hard, steep and scary.
The way Harry pulls him through the part upstairs is worse.
Louis’ face is burning and he tries not to make eye contact with Niall, although when he does, Niall gives him a knowing look.
Someone — not Harry, all Louis is concentrating on is Harry in front of him with his hand on the lead — someone pulls his tail.
The vibrations get stronger.
Louis’ cock, with the help of the meager friction from his trousers as he crawls, eventually is tipped over the edge and he comes right in the middle of the front room, in his pants, stumbling with the shock of it.
Harry looks back and quirks an eyebrow, a crooked grin on his face.
And then keeps walking, forcing Louis to follow, getting no relief from the vibrations, now overstimulated and pathetic as he limps along.
Into the night air.
Toward home, wherever that is.
with Harry.