Work Text:
“Oddałem Ci serce, co jeszcze mam zrobić?
Nie pytaj mnie nigdy, czy jeszcze Cię kocham
Oddałbym wszystko, by odbić się w oczach
Twoich oczach
Nie pytaj mnie, ja pokonam śmierć
By odbić się w oczach
Przeczekam wiek, milenium też
Po prostu Cię kocham”
/
“I gave you my heart, what else am I to do?
Don’t ever ask me if I still love you
I would give anything to reflect in the eyes
Your eyes
Don’t ask me, I will defeat death
To reflect in the eyes
I will wait out the century, the millennium too
I just love you”
– Dawid Podsiadło, millenium
2017, March 26th
Honey.
The morning atmosphere feels like they’re being submerged in a jar of bee’s finest work.
The rays of the yet-faint spring sun seem to delineate their bodies from between the ivory sheets.
“I loved drawing from the very beginning,” Harry starts as he’s tracing with his index Louis’ It Is What It Is tattoo, “I’d picture my future, a colorful house, a very eclectic one as I think of it now.”
The little chuckle rumbling from within him pours over Louis like a golden mead. All-encompassing his every crevice, every inch of his body.
“Yeah? What else?”
Harry takes a little breath in.
Then out.
Here goes nothing.
He cuddles into Louis’ neck and whispers, “I’d picture a nameless boy with whom I’d fall in love,” he hears a hitch in the Devil’s breath, but he continues to plough on, “I’d picture a wedding, a home, with children running around.”
He is met with silence. The anxiety is already creeping into his bones.
He’s seconds away from withdrawing his words, maybe even apologising. For what? He has no idea. For being too much. Or not enough. But then Louis’ palm nestled on his silk-covered hip tightens.
“Yeah, and what would that look like? This nameless boy? And you? What would you wear? Would it be winter or maybe the middle of summer?”
His voice is a lot steadier than Harry anticipated. Just as he’s ready to respond, Louis adds, “And don’t you think I haven’t noticed how rigid you’ve got. Relax, little dove, you did nothing wrong, okay?”
Always so considerate, his Devil.
“’Mkay,” Harry answers, still trying to gather his wits, seeing as they’re really talking about it, “well, maybe the drawings didn’t look like it, but I always knew I wanted to wear a dress, that’s for one.”
“Of course, angel,” Louis interjects with a chuckle.
“Shh, do not interrupt, please,” he teases with a little scowl marring his face.
“Always so polite.”
“Louis,” Harry giggles while lightly smacking the Devil’s chest, “I wasn’t picturing these things per se , I was drawing the feelings,” he admits coyly.
“Just as you do now?”
Their entire London house is covered in Harry’s works – the large canvas full of colourful mirth or dull anguish. Each one of them conveys different emotions, different times, and a different Harry.
“Yeah, sort of. Of course, everyone thought they’re just some senseless pieces, nothing of any significance.”
At the mention of everyone – his family – Louis’s grip tightens even more just for him to immediately release the tendons and start tracing the hem of Harry’s knickers under the light vert nightie.
“You know, some might think so,” Harry placates, “art is up to interpretation, after all.”
Silence.
Harry peers up at Louis, searching his face for any sort of emotion. He finds a clenched jaw, and a pair of abyss eyes.
“Could you describe the feelings?” he asks suddenly in a clipped voice.
Oh.
And here was Harry thinking that they were done with this topic.
With the attempt.
His attempt at showing Louis that he’s planning on being a constant in the Devil’s life.
As long as he will be here . As long as he will be alive .
“It was mainly happiness,” Harry recalls, “with a bit of contentment that despite all these odds, I’ll have my happily-ever-after.”
“And regarding your lover?”
“You mean the imaginative love of my life? I’d been thrilled about devoting my life to cherishing that one person. I didn’t think about any particular type. I just knew I wanted someone who’ll thrill me, excite me.”
“Not someone nice, then?” Louis teases.
Harry takes his time to regard him with a little glare.
“Nice is a very bland choice of word as for the person who will spend their whole life in your presence,” the excitement he was feeling seems to come back – he’s bound to sit criss cross and confide in Louis all of those feelings he had bottled up since the first love poem he read, “a loaf of bread can be nice. A plant can also be nice. A nice person is a boring one. A nice feeling is an indistinct one. Nice is a word we are choosing when we don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings – Sorry we have to break up, it’s all on me, you’re a nice one . I craved– crave someone extraordinary. But not in a pretentious way. In a way you’re looking at the sunset and are feeling lucky that you’re in a perfect place to witness it and are able to delight in its beauty. In a way you’re being undressed by that particular person and are feeling grateful that they have chosen you to cherish. In a way you’re looking into their eyes,” he says as he is maintaining eye contact with his Devil, “and all you see is the love you have for them being reflected back at you.”
“Oh,” Louis says, suddenly at a loss for words.
“The way they’re gripping your hips like that’s all they want to hold for the eternity,” he smiles shyly while situating himself on Louis’ lap, “the way they’re attending to your every need,” now he’s whispering into Louis’s ear, “the way they’re willing to give you everything.”
He starts placing kisses along Louis’ neck, adding a little bite every now and then.
“And what would it be, kitten?” Louis asks, clearly amused, having already figured him out, “what would everything contain?”
Louis places his hands on Harry’s thighs – stroking the inner parts of them with his thumbs. Just mere centimeters away from the protruding bulge of Harry’s cock.
Harry brings his palms to steady the Devil’s. He can already feel the precome wetting his lace garments. But he must stay focused. For a little while, at least.
He looks into his Angel’s eyes, and with a severity present in his voice, confides, “you. You are my everything. I’m madly in love with you and I want the whole world to know. I want to be your fiancé, then your husband. And I don’t care if I won’t be here for long – no, do not interrupt me, please – I’m greedy when it comes to you. And I want you. I want everything with you.”
He wouldn’t even notice that he started crying if it wasn’t for Louis’s thumb collecting the stray tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Hey, why the tears, baby?”
“Because I fucking love you. I want you so much it hurts. It pains me that you don’t want me.”
“And who said I don’t want you, huh?” Louis asks, albeit rhetorically – not giving Harry any time to answer, “how can you say that when the only thing I’ve been doing since the first time I saw you in that sodden bath is worshipping your existence? I don’t think I’ve ever felt as strong about a person as I feel about you. You are my everything. And I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Would you marry me, then? Today?” he challenges.
That’s the furthest they ever went with talking about their future. There’s no time like the present, after all.
“That’s what you’d like?”
“Yeah, but,” he narrows his eyes at the Devil beneath him, “only if you want it too.”
“Would that make you happy? Being a spouse of the Devil? The sin personified? The ugliest creature on the Earth?” Louis asks, amusement palpable in his voice.
“Just because you were destined to punish those who sin, doesn’t mean you’re responsible for their sins. So, yeah, if you are asking me if I want to marry a rightful person. One that has a beautiful heart underneath a gilded skin. One that worships the land underneath my feet. One that would do everything to make me happy. The answer is yes, please,” Harry concludes with a shy laugh.
“Okay.”
“Wait, what do you mean by okay?”
Louis’s laugh reverberates throughout their bedroom.
“Okay as in, okay, let’s get married.”
“Oh. Oh . Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah,” Harry stutters out.
“Are you okay, little dove? Overwhelmed much?” the Devil teases.
“Oh, fuck off,” Harry responds with an eyeroll while hopping off the bed and his place on Louis’ lap.
“Hey, and where are you going? What am I supposed to do with it?” he asks, pointing towards his angry red cock that’s clearly demanding attention.
“Oh, I don’t know, I have a wedding to prepare myself for. You’ll have to take care of it on your own,” he provokes, just as he enters the en-suite, full of amusement.
At Louis’s guttural groan, he pokes his head through the door and adds, “or you can just join me in the shower,” which efficiently prompts the Devil to his feet.
&
“What should I wear?” asks Harry while applying a serum to his face.
The drops of this protein-rich liquid leak from the pipette onto his fingertips. He smears it for a few seconds between both of his palms and then takes his time to apply it in a circular motion to his skin.
Louis is truly mesmerised, which didn’t go unnoticed by Harry if the little tug upwards of his plump lips is anything to go by.
He is truly smitten.
He darts his eyes over Harry’s nude body. His lean calves ready to encompass Louis’ waist. His strong thighs – ideal for riding. His mellow yet pert bum ripe enough to hide the pink puckered hole between its cheeks. His love handles begging for Louis to put his hands on them and squeeze. His lissom back – the panes of an unblemished skin ready to be kissed, bitten, kneaded. His long neck displaying a day collar more days than not – currently adorned by a delicate gold necklace with eight morganites — one for every month they’ve been together.
Just as Louis gets to Harry’s chocolate locks, his boy turns around and gives him a bashful smile.
And this is Louis’s favourite part – the beauteous head of his being the home to the wonderful brain of his boy.
“Are you done?” Harry asks when it’s clear the Devil got quite lost in assessing the beauty displayed right in front of him.
He saunters towards his soon-to-be husband, places his palms on Louis’ uncovered chest and kisses him with intent.
“I love it when you look at me like that. All lustful and possessive, but I also love the idea of being yours, eternally, so maybe we should postpone this little session of adoration, huh?”
“Mmm, if we must,” replies Louis, slowly coming back.
“Mhm, it appears that we do,” says Harry while stroking Louis’ cheek, “so, what’s the plan? What should I wear?”
“You tell me, love. Where would you like to get married?”
“I always thought about Italy – just walking into a sandstone church in the middle of nowhere and tying the knot, but now, I want you to decide. Let’s elope to the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.”
“Hmm,” hums the Devil while tracing the dimples at the bottom of Harry’s spine, “do you trust me then?”
“Of course,” he scoffs lightly.
“We will see about it,” he assures with a wicked smile, “pick whatever you want, darling and meet me downstairs,” he finishes with a slight pat to Harry’s arse.
&
There was a time when wearing a dress, even at home, was something unthinkable for Harry.
There was a time when he thought he was accepted by his first and last boyfriend only for him to humiliate Harry by revealing this secret to all his, not Harry’s, friends.
There was a time when he felt like everyone was able to see through him like he was made of cellophane which led Harry to isolating himself further.
There was a time when he believed he’s a freak, an abomination.
There was a time when he deemed his life wouldn’t bring any more joy.
There was a time when he gave into the calling in his head and submerged himself in the water with no intention of emerging.
There was a time when he was rescued.
And then there is today, when he finds himself in love.
Harry, a blemished boy with a heart that was broken one too many times finds himself dressed in a pearly floor-length dress made of lotus silk – one of the rarest and most expensive fabrics in the world – ready to devote his heart to a man.
Not any man.
A man that was also broken. That bears the burdens of injustice.
A man that saved Harry. One that tends to him whenever Harry needs him. That opened his heart and let Harry make a home out of it.
But also a man that, as everyone else, has his blemished side. A man that is destined to punish those who sinned. A man that is the epitome of pandemonium.
And Harry deems it fitting, somehow.
Because who else can love someone so broken if not the one equally tarnished?
One might think Harry lost all of his marbles – then, when Louis told him the truth and now when they’re on their way to devote their lives to each other.
If being happy means being insane, so be it, then , he thinks as he descends the stairs to the foyer.
&
Louis turns around just as he hears the click of heels on the marbled stairs outside the main entrance.
He stops mid-sentence, the fag still nestled between his lips.
Zayn who is standing next to him seems to notice his stupor first. He follows the Devil’s gaze and lets out a little whistle which prompts Liam and Niall to turn around and face Harry who’s standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh shit,” mutters Liam.
“Yeah,” comments Zayn.
“Cupcake,” hollers Niall, immediately moving towards Harry, “look at you. I still can’t believe you are choosing this rusty one, when you could have me,” he laughs ignoring Louis’s “fuck off, Niall”.
“Hi,” Harry says, suddenly bashful.
“Hi, baby,” answers Louis while putting his palm on the small of Harry’s back, “you look stunning, darling. The most beautiful angel. My angel.”
And Harry blushes in lieu of an answer.
“Okay, so, do not freak out,” starts Louis, already gathering his wits.
“Mm, great beginning, sun,” interrupts Harry which prompts Zayn to snicker.
“Okay, I know that you hate flying.”
“I don’t,” comes Harry’s answer, confusion marring his face.
“Not on a plane, love.”
“Oh. Oh . No way.”
“It’s the quickest way, darling.”
“We will catch you if anything happens,” adds Liam.
“Honey, you are not helping,” sighs Zayn, fighting a smile.
“Oh, sorry, H,” he says sheepishly.
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” reassures Harry, “I’m fine with it. I believe that you won’t drop me,” he says while looking at Louis.
“I won’t, I promise, everything will be alright.”
“And the Devil never lies, right?”
This prompts a little laugh out of Louis.
“Never.”
“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”
This is all it takes for all of the four angels to spread their wings.
Liam’s are bronze, depending on the light, more like brass or fertile land ready to beget a new life, ready to nourish, ready to give.
Zayn’s are silver, not only the colour, but also the texture reminiscent of titanium – unbreakable but ready to fracture.
Niall’s are aurelian – the colour of a crown adorning the heads of those virtuous, deserving of bearing their tenure – the colour of the laurels of righteousness.
And Louis’ – unimpeachable white. The wings of an Angel are like testaments of their heart. One would think that the wings of the Devil would be black, as his soul ought to be full of blame. They couldn’t be more wrong.
Just as Harry is ready to settle himself into Louis’s arms, there’s a meow that prompts him to look down and find Veritas.
“Can we take her?” he asks Louis.
“Weren’t planning on leaving her, love. Niall’s already on it.”
Harry turns his head in time to see her nestled in a crock of Niall’s arms.
She seems very content. Harry wishes for the same for himself.
Louis lowers his arms, placing one on Harry’s back and the second one under Harry’s knees and hauls him into his embrace.
There’s nothing left for Harry to do than snuggle into the Devil’s neck and hold tight.
&
“Was that a splash?” questions Harry.
His face is still hidden and his eyes are shut down.
“Yeah, you can open your eyes, kitten,” Louis placates the trembling boy in his arms.
“Okay,” Harry says unconvinced, peeling one of his eyes open.
He gasps and immediately opens the second one.
“Louis.”
“Harry.”
“Where are we?” the boy asks as the Devil tries to place him on the ground, “No! Wait!”
“What? Why?” he asks, promptly straightening back.
“My shoes, Louis,” he says with an eye roll, “I don’t want to ruin them.”
“Baby, I will buy you a new pair, I promise.”
“Okay, but you could have told me earlier, you know?”
“Mhm, sure,” answers Louis, “may I place you back?”
“You may.”
He darts his eyes over the endless sheet of water that’s meddling with the sky reminiscent of the Strelitzia’s flowers creating a feeling of an absence of division between Earth and Heaven.
Just like they aren’t divided despite their origin.
Everything around them seems all-encompassing and Harry wonders if that’s what Heaven looks like.
He takes a step forward, feeling the heels of his Jimmy Choo’s getting stuck in the subsoil, which, as he notices, is white.
“Is this salt?” he asks, turning back towards his soon-to-be husband.
“Yeah, we are in Bolivia and this is the Salar de Tunupa – Earth’s largest salt flat,” he explains while taking Harry’s hand and bringing him closer.
Always closer.
“And the story of this place…”
“Why do you think there’s any story?” Louis questions with a chuckle.
“Oh, c’mon, there’s always a story,” Harry states with a gleam in his meadow-like eyes.
“There’s actually one,” Liam interjects.
And Harry would lie if he’d tell that he didn’t forget they weren’t actually alone.
“So, the surrounding mountains–”
“Tunupa, Kusku, and Kusina,” provides Zayn.
“Thank you, babe,” says Liam while pecking Zayn’s cheek, “–were once giant people. Tunupa married Kusku, but Kusku wasn’t happy with her and decided to run away from Tunupa with her sister, Kusina. Grieving Tunupa started to cry while breastfeeding their son. So her tears mixed with the milk and formed the Salar.”
“That’s actually quite tragic,” admits Harry, “are you planning on running away with my sister?”
“No, baby, I am not,” promises Louis, trying to maintain a serious posture.
“So, why this place?”
“Because,” he starts while placing one of his hands on Harry’s cheek, “I thought we could charm away the curse of this place. With our love.”
And how could Harry object to that?
He manages a nod and whispers, “let’s do it, then.”
&
They start their vows just as the sun begins to descend, making the ambience even more iridescent than earlier.
There’s no-one around. They are alone. All six of them.
“Can I start?” asks the Devil timidly.
Harry nods in lieu of an answer.
He tries to contain the tears that are already gathering in his eyes.
Unsuccessfully, to say the least.
Each of them already said the I Do, leaving the vows for last as they knew they wouldn’t hold back all of the devouring them emotions.
He looks Louis in the eyes, seeing the love reflected back at him, just as he always dreamed of.
“H, my beautiful angel,
You took a chance on me,
And because of that I no longer deem myself broken.
With the delicate touch of your hand
And the kind words flowing from your heart,
You healed all my fractures
And mended my soul.
And because of that,
I promise to adore you,
Cherish you,
And love you,
For centuries on end.
I promise you,
No matter who you will become in the next life,
Whatever is you make,
Whatever shape you take,
Whatever hope or credence your heart embrace,
I will find you
And I will love you.
All of you.
I will love you now
And any potential repetition of who you are.
You are only mine
Because I am only yours.”
Harry holds Louis’s gaze. Sees the peace in his eyes. His blues no longer troubled.
“Oh, fuck,” sniffles Niall, “and here I thought I wouldn’t be crying, you bastard,” he sighs into Veritas’ fur, making her purr.
And just like that, the tension is dissolved.
Thank Heavens for Niall.
“You okay?” Harry asks Louis.
“Yeah, baby, go on,” he encourages.
“Okay,” Harry nods, then clears his throat, “I actually wrote it some time ago, for you, obviously.”
“Wrote what?”
“A poem, it’s called millenium.”
The smile that blossoms on Louis’s face placates immediately Harry’s rabbiting heart.
Here goes nothing.
“I saw your sheen like thousands of suns
I’m running away through the grass, I’m running away from here
And the smoke from the trees kisses my nose
At a snail’s pace, I stick out my horns
I gave you my heart, what else am I to do?
Don’t ever ask me if I still love you
I would give anything to reflect in the eyes
Your eyes
Don’t ask me, I will defeat death
To reflect in the eyes
I will wait out the century, the millennium too
I just love you
Though almost without feathers, though my hands bleed
Though my clothes are torn, though I’m slowly sinking
I’ll fly to the clouds, I’ll clench my fists
And naked as a king I will reach the surface
To see myself in the eyes
Don’t ask me, I will defeat death
To reflect in the eyes
I will wait out the century, the millennium too
Reflect in the eyes
Don’t ask me, I will defeat death
To reflect in the eyes
I will wait out the century, the millennium too
Just spare me a glance.”
The words are still ringing in the air when Louis decides to kiss him. And isn’t letting him go.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” Louis responds.
And their lips meet again. The starvation hard to contain, bubbling from their cores, ready to engulf them both.
Harry’s kisses are feverish, hungry, while Louis’s are laced with reassurance, I’m here, it’s okay, you’re okay .
&
“I waited the whole day for this,” Louis admits as they enter the mansion.
Veritas is smart enough to immediately saunter off to her serene alcove in Harry’s orangery.
Louis’ mouth is immediately at Harry’s as he takes a hold of his hips and picks him up, letting Harry’s legs settle around his waist and Harry’s hands in Louis’ hair.
Perfect.
He gets a little distracted and nearly misses the first step which prompts a burst of guffaw laughter out of Harry. He tries to stop it, to no avail.
“You promised you wouldn’t drop me,” he teases.
“Well, I didn’t, did I?”
He doesn’t give Harry the chance to answer as he’s immediately attaching his lips to Harry’s neck which results in a guttural moan prolapsing out of the boy.
“You have no idea how divine you look, baby,” Louis says as he’s ascending the stairs, “such a sinful look, kept me hard all day.”
“You’re, ugh, one to talk,” Harry gets out in between moans, “you and your dandelion-like suit, reflecting the fucking light and creating an aura all around you.”
Louis places Harry on the bed, his boy’s hazel curls already creating a halo, making him look even more like an angel. And in this instance, Louis is convinced he has an actual seraphim at his hands.
He traces his hands along Harry’s lean legs, letting the silk dress pool around his hips, taking in the sight of the white tights attached to a lace garter belt.
“Can we leave them on?” Harry asks.
“Yes,” Louis answers. I will die tonight between those thighs , he thinks.
He continues his journey, leaving kisses on the inner parts of Harry’s calves.
He finally gets to his boy’s – husband’s – heels-clad feet. And starts by kissing one ankle, followed by removing the pump and doing the same with the other.
His hands return to Harry’s hips and in one move of Louis’s strong arms, Harry finds himself on his tummy.
Louis gathers the pearly dress above Harry’s bum and takes the sight in front of him – the aforementioned garter belt and underneath it lacy knickers with a frilly hem.
The Devil traces the hem and then peels the panties just below Harry’s rump, leaving the cheeks bare.
He places some kisses with an occasional bites on them and then spreads the cheeks to reveal the pink hole.
So tight.
So desperate.
He can’t contain himself anymore.
Louis dives in like a starved man, which makes Harry lose it completely.
The boy starts to rut against the sheets.
Already distressed. So easily affected.
“No, kitten, you will stay still, okay?”
Harry whimpers, but still adds, “yes, Daddy.”
There’s no time to lose, as Louis digs straight away with his tongue, licking his husband’s tender walls.
He gets lost. For how long? Seems both like an eternity and no time at all.
Harry gives him a lube he fished from underneath Louis’ pillow, letting him know he’s ready.
The Devil lubes his fingers and adds them alongside his tongue.
When they get to a third one, he removes them, making his boy let out a little cry.
“Hey, be patient baby,” he soothes, “how do you want it?”
“On my back,” the answer comes slightly delayed, which proves how overwhelmed he’s already.
“Okay, can you turn over, then?”
“Mhm,” Harry replies.
Looking at him trying to do it is like looking at a baby giraffe learning how to stand. He lifts his bum, gets his limbs to work, somehow, and turns, landing on his back with a thud.
Louis is very endeared.
“Good job, baby.”
Harry preens.
“Can you sit for me? I don’t want to ruin your beautiful dress,” Louis explains while already hauling Harry into a sitting position.
He deposits the dress on the floor and once again is left breathless by the beautiful sight in front of him.
Harry is left in his panties that still restrain his angry red cock, but leave his bum naked, a garter belt keeping the tights in place and a lace bralette with little colorful flowers sawn all over it to match the set.
“Isn’t this one of the few sets we bought in Burano? At the beginning?” Louis wonders out loud, having recognised this specific lace.
“Mhm, the very same, so be careful, with me, and with the lace, please,” Harry chirps, his eyes already glazed over.
Louis nods and situates himself in his personal Heaven – between Harry’s thighs.
He hooks his finger under the already lowered knickers and tugs them delicately upwards to get access to Harry’s waiting hole.
Harry, on the other hand, covers the Devil’s cock with a generous amount of lube.
“Ready?”
“Yes, please, get on with it,” Harry says impatiently.
Louis presses his cockhead to Harry’s rim and releases a moan at the tightness he feels.
“Always so fucking narrow, baby. So fucking perfect,” he admits while sliding his length deeper.
He takes his time bottoming out, but once it’s done, he withdraws until only the tip is left and then harshly bottoms out.
“Oh, fuck, yes, fuck me,” Harry yells, not caring about anything but the cock nestled deep inside of him.
He brings Louis’s hand to the little pouch under his navel, and trying to maintain eye contact, whimpers out, “do you feel yourself? You’re so fucking deep. So fucking good.”
“Yeah? Want me deep, kitten?” he asks as he’s trying to immerse his dick even more.
“Oh, ugh, yes, ugh, Daddy, want you, ugh, so deep. Want you to fill me up with your cum, please.”
“What a filthy mouth, baby,” Louis chuckles, “an innocent angel at day, and little devil at night, aren’t you?”
Louis starts pistoning his hips, slapping his balls over Harry’s bum, rendering him speechless.
“Daddy, please, I want to come,” his boy nearly cries after a while.
“Come, baby, I know you can do it with only my cock in your little hole.”
And Harry loses it then, moaning out loud, his hands scrambling at the duvet for something to hold, finally setting on Louis’s back to leave feral scratches.
Louis lowers his head and murmurs into Harry’s ear, “come”.
And just like that, Harry comes.
Louis slows down and trusts once, twice, and then buries himself deep and comes for what feels like eternity.
They’re both left panting, trying to catch their breaths.
When Louis prepares himself to pull out, Harry whimpers.
“What happened, baby?”
“It’ll leak out,” he says with a pout adorning his face.
“The come?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, “could you stay in? Please? I don’t want it to leak out.”
There’s a slight trembling palpable in Harry’s voice, which means that his boy went under.
“Yeah, baby, of course,” Louis reassures, “let me just find a comfortable position. I don’t want to crush you.”
Louis slots Harry’s legs on his hips, picking up the boy and turning them around until he is nestled on his back with Harry covering his front.
There’s a little keening sound from between the boys lips followed by, “I love you, Louis.”
Not Daddy, so not as deep into the subspace as Louis thought.
“I love you too, Harry, my little angel.”
“Always,” the boy adds, his voice already marred by the impending waves of sleep.
“Always,” reaffirms the Devil, holding his husband tighter.
There are little puffs of air escaping Harry’s lips only a few minutes later, which means that he’s already in the land of nod.
Louis can’t help but bury his fingers in the bronze ringlets and think about Harry’s poem, don’t ask me, I will defeat death, and almost pray for this to become true.