Archive of Our Own

Louis’s father dying at a young age was…less than ideal.  Sure, the man had been a cruel sort of bastard, but having him alive had kept the wolves at bay.  As the new Viscount, Louis was expected to marry…with expediency.

It was also a shame that he’d recently found himself in a rather sticky predicament - specifically with his pants around his ankles and buried inside another man in the wine cellar at a ball.  He and Lord Brixton had been dancing around each other - no pun intended - for weeks.  He’d of course known that they shared similar preferences, as most men of their discernment tend to.  So finally, at another insufferable ball held by another insufferable family in a vain attempt to marry off their insufferable daughter, they’d stolen away to the wine cellar.  It had been delightful until a servant had barged in on them just as Louis had been about to finish.  Brixton was finishing when the door opened, right onto a selection of cabernet, if memory serves.

In a year that was decidedly dry of gossip, their mishap of course spread like wildfire, despite his best efforts to quell the talk.  Which is how he found himself engaged to Cecily Featherstone within a fortnight, and set to marry next month.  He’d also arranged a rather hefty sum of eight thousand a year, which had more than enticed the Featherstones into letting her marry Louis, rumours and all.

It could be worse.  He’d known Cecily since they were old enough to walk, and she was a nice enough girl.  Not that it much mattered to Louis, but she had a full bosom and a pleasing silhouette - neither too thick or too thin.  He’d heard other gentlemen talk enough of her attributes with thinly veiled desire, so the match was certainly society-approved.  And regardless of his reputation, being a friend to the Viscount was always a highly sought-after tie, so once they were married, he doubted anyone would bat an eye at his past indiscretions.

Cecily wasn’t the brightest of the ton, but she was spirited and amusing.  She was hosting a small dinner at her home that evening with “entertainment to follow”, whatever that meant.  Louis assumed it would be gambling or a performance.  Either way, he would be late if he didn’t get his damned cravat tied.  Sure, the starching made it look crisp, but the trials and tribulations one had to go through so as not to wrinkle it almost weren’t worth it.  But tie it he did, and he was off.

She and her family lived a mere two doors down the square, and so he chose to walk.  Her father was a spice merchant, and so he was gone most of the year.  Her mother typically lived at home, but had needed to visit her sister who had taken ill.  Hence the unchaperoned dinner, though Cecily’s cousin would be there to make sure things didn’t get out of hand.

The weather was mild for late July, and a mild breeze followed his steps.  One particularly strong gust nearly sent his top hat aloft.  The Featherstone home was nearly as large as his - a red brick front with flowers lining the path to the front steps.  Approaching the door, he was about to lift his cane to rap against the wood when the doors were opened by their butler, ushering him inside.

“Welcome, Lord Tomlinson.  Everyone is gathering in the parlour.”

He nodded, handing off his hat and cane.  He followed the voices across the marble foyer and into the parlour, the rich green walls burnished with the setting sun.  Cecily was holding court by the fireplace with about eight to ten others, resplendent in a pale green chiffon gown that showed off her ample bosom.  Her dark hair was pinned up to reveal her heart-shaped face, the small pearl pins glinting in the light.  She wore modest jewellery that gave off just enough shine so as not to be gaudy, and her cheeks and button nose were already flush with the effects of wine.

“Ah!  Lord Tomlinson, you’ve made it!” She grinned broadly at him, and he returned her smile.

“Apologies for my late arrival, though I doubt you missed me much,” he joked.

She waved him off with a delicate hand.  “Nonsense, we were adrift without you!  Do get him a brandy, would you Liam?”

Louis turned to Liam Payne, her cousin.  He and Louis had become fast friends, often spending entirely too much time and money at the gentleman’s club.

Liam handed him a snifter, then raised his own in greeting.  “Wasn’t sure you’d show,” he murmured.

Louis rolled his eyes.  “Of course I’d be here.  At least it’s not another damned ball.  One more and I think I’ll cut off my feet for an excuse.”

“Dramatic as always,” Liam teased.

Dramatic, probably, but he diplomatically chose to ignore the jape.  “So, ‘entertainment’ was mentioned - what on earth is your cousin planning?”

It was Liam’s turn to roll his eyes.  “Supposedly she’s going to summon a creature from another world,” he drawled.

“A what?” Louis scoffed, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh quiet, cousin, you’ll ruin my fun!” Cecily pouted.  Before Liam could retort, dinner was announced.

It was a standard affair - venison with a cherry wine sauce and all of the accoutrements, though he preferred the way his cook made it.  The chatter was the same as it always was at these things - who danced with who, who was about to propose, who was with child - though he supposed he should be grateful that his name hadn’t made the scandal sheets that week.

They lingered in the dining room through dessert, until everyone began to grow restless with anticipation.

“My dear CeCe, what antics do you have planned for us tonight?” Beatrice, one of her friends, asked, eyes gleaming over her wine glass.

Cecily sighed at the end of the table.  “I suppose I’ve kept you in suspense long enough.  We’re headed to the library, everyone!”  She clapped twice, and the doors to the dining room were opened, allowing everyone to file out, their drinks in hand.  Louis couldn’t say he wasn’t curious, given the minimal details he was provided.  Liam nudged his shoulder and winked as they entered the library.  The room had rich ruby walls and mahogany shelves lined with tome after tome.  He doubted Cecily would spend much time in here were it not for the pianoforte.  On that, he had to say she was rather gifted.  And he would know, seeing as he was considered the best of the ton, in addition to being a rather proficient drawer.  He often drew candid portraits of friends and family in what little spare time he had.

It was common to have candles lit in the evening, but as he glanced around the room, a truly excessive amount of candelabras adorned every available surface.  The room was so brightly lit, one could easily confuse night for day.  The flickers of flame illuminated the gold gilding along the fireplace mantle, as well as some of the furniture and crown moulding of the room.  The ladies of their group gasped as they beheld the glow.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Ce!” Louise stated, hand to her chest.

In the centre of the room sat a large round table laden with more candles, with chairs enough for everyone.

“Louis, come sit next to me, I will need your strength tonight.” Cecily commanded.  It wasn’t exactly proper, but they were betrothed, so their company decided to turn the other cheek.  He slid into the chair at her left, with Liam across from him.

Cecily proceeded to take a steadying breath, then addressed the group.  “I’ve gathered you all here tonight to partake in a summoning!” she announced giddily, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Everyone’s eyes caught one another’s around the table as this information was digested.  More than one of them began to look decidedly constipated.  Penelope, a perpetually sour-faced type, rolled her eyes.

“Really, Ce?  Parlour tricks?  Which charlatan did you pick this up from?”  It was honestly impressive that they could understand her with her lips pursed so tight.  A few of the gentlemen around the table chuckled with her.

It was true - Cecily was easily amused and prone to fanciful ideas.  She had a vivid imagination and everyone knew she read books that were not suitable for a lady of good standing.  These were all things that drew Louis to her, in fact.  He imagined that if she knew the truth about him, she likely wouldn’t have many objections outside of their impending marriage.  One couldn’t be faulted for saying she was a forward thinker, but the truth of it was that she simply couldn’t be bothered with those sorts of prejudices.

Lifting her chin, she straightened her back defensively.  “I’ll have you know that no charlatans were involved with tonight’s plans.  I consulted only the most renowned spiritualist on this matter.  I can assure you that what you will experience tonight will be something quite otherworldly.”

“Don’t know how you’ll stand this, Tomlinson,” Basil Hayward, a baron, droned, “Might want to mind what she reads once you’re married!” he crowed, garnering a few too many laughs for his taste.  Louis had never liked him - not his beady eyes, his Roman nose, nor his limp, mousy brown hair.  

He examined his wine, not deigning to look at him.  “Not all of us can be a perpetual bore, Hayward.  But you do it so well!”

He had the decency to shirk at Louis’s gaul, but Cecily clapped her hands.

“Now, now, boys!  That’s enough.  If you’re frightened, Lord Hayward, you are of course free to leave,” she cooed, gesturing towards the door.

He blustered in his seat, a crimson flush stealing across his cheekbones to match his ostentatious red waistcoat.  “I am not frightened!” he scoffed, though most of the guests seemed sceptical.

“Oh, go on, cousin - let’s get on with this,” Liam grumbled.  Louis shot him a warning look across the table.  At the very least, she was his friend, and he wouldn’t see her demeaned or belittled in her own home.  “Please,” Liam tacked on begrudgingly, to which Louis gave him a wink.

“Yes, darling, we’re all waiting with bated breath!” Louis assured her.  It seemed to work, for her posture relaxed just slightly.  She gave him a grateful smile before continuing.

“We’re to hold each other’s hands, and I will speak the incantations.  It seems quite simple, though I wouldn’t recommend trying it without the guidance of a professional.  Do not fear.  I learned from Monsieur Reynaud, and he was quite impressed with my talents,” she boasted.  

Again…Monsieur Reynaud was a spiritualist of some repute, though many of the ton considered him to be wholly ridiculous.  He was spoken about in hushed tones in the tearooms, typically consulted by desperate mamas who couldn’t find suitors for their wayward daughters.  Though he had heard of a gentleman or two that had sought his services for their gambling debts.  Of course, one could argue that they were simply exchanging one gamble for another.

But Cecily adored these things, and who was Louis to deny her her sport?

Speaking of which, she opened a thick, leatherbound book in front of her and held out her hands, and he took hers gently in his palm.  Slowly but surely, everyone joined in, and once all hands were clasped, she took a deep breath and began.

Her incantations were in Latin, and in spite of his father’s best efforts, Latin was not his strongest suit.  Eventually, after a few minutes, he tuned out, glancing at everyone around the table.  Despite his protestations, Basil did in fact look mildly horrified.  Others had faces of barely concealed boredom, though Beatrice, bless her, looked on in rapture.  It was good that Cecily had her for a friend - they were much the same in their thirst for adventure, be it as small as propriety would stretch to allow.

A gasp drew his attention back to the table, and with good reason - the candles throughout the room flickered, as if disturbed by a phantom wind.  The group shuddered as a whole, all but Beatrice, who egged Cecily on.

“It’s working, Ce!” she whispered loudly, “Keep going!”

Cecily nodded and continued diligently, reciting everything to the letter.  Now, his Latin was more than a little rusty, but he could pick up words here or there.  Words like “daemonium”, and “infernum”.  And that gave him pause.

“Cecily, darling,” he whispered, “are you certain about this?” he whispered, but she pressed on, the words flowing faster and faster as she gripped his hand tighter.  When she finally fell silent, so too did the room, before another gust of wind blew a large majority of the candles out, plunging them into relative darkness.  Gasps and cries erupted around the table.

“Ce, what is this?!” Penelope wailed, the sounds of her shifting in her chair creaking and shattering the pregnant silence.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Came a decidedly male voice from the other side of the room.

Gasping, Louis reeled to see a very tall, offensively attractive man seated atop the pianoforte next to a lone still-lit candelabra, looking none-too-pleased.  He had beautiful curly chocolate hair that cascaded over his broad shoulders, a chiselled nose, and a sharp jawline.  His unnaturally green eyes glittered back at him beneath pinched brows, and his mouth was set in a stern line.

“What?!  Did something happen?!” Cecily asked excitedly from beside him, following his gaze but appearing to see nothing.  But Louis couldn’t take his eyes off the man.  He lifted a long, delicate finger to his lips, shaking his head slowly, then flicked his fingers at Louis to return his attention to the group.

Judging by the fact that none of the others seemed startled or bewildered beyond the effect of the candles being snuffed, it appeared he was the only one who could see him.  This Adonis, clad in a white shirt, the neck left open and exposing the edges of his collarbones, and black breeches with even blacker boots that gleamed in what candlelight remained.

But he did as he was told, and shook his head as if to clear it.

“N-no.  Sorry…I thought I heard something, but it was nothing.”

Cecily eyed him for a moment, then shrugged.  “Damn.  I wonder if we got the incantation wrong?”  As she pulled the book towards her, brows furrowed, a snort sounded from the newcomer.  “Hm…maybe we should try it again?” she mused aloud.

“Ohhhh, I wouldn’t do that,” he sang, examining his nails.  “One of us is more than enough, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked, barely concealing his amusement.

“Let’s not,” Louis quickly interjected, “maybe it takes time?  We were trying to call someone from another realm, it may not be as instant as we’d like.”

The…demon?...looked mildly impressed.  “Not bad, little human.  You lot do have a proclivity for fabrication, I’ll give you that,” he murmured with a smirk.

Cecily’s shoulders sank in disappointment.  “I suppose you’re right.  Let’s have some port while we wait?” she offered, and everyone seemed glad to get away from the table.  She instructed servants to relight some of the candles, and as they all rose from their seats, Louis kept glancing surreptitiously at the man, who seemed to have no intention of leaving.  He simply stared back at Louis between observing the others.  He pivoted on the pianoforte, folding his legs underneath him, much like a child.  Crossing his arms over his chest, he pinched his lip between his thumb and forefinger, face contemplative.  Louis was finding it harder and harder to look away, and made sure to choose a seat facing him, which happened to be a wingback chair next to the fireplace.

As everyone settled into chairs and settees, the fire gave a sudden flare with a dull roar, causing them to jump.  Louis glared at the man, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t resist.  You humans are such a skittish bunch, you have to forgive me a little fun!” he said, pinching his fingers in front of his face.  It took considerable effort not to throw a vulgar gesture his way.

As conversation resumed, Louis felt as though he were losing his mind with trying to ignore the un-ignorable.  He had a comment for everything.

“Did you hear the latest about Lady Dalton?” Penelope had asked.

“She’s fucking the butler,” the stranger whispered in his ear, making Louis jump at the sudden proximity.

“Louis, darling, are you quite well?” Cecily asked him, brows pinched in concern.

“Shhh,” the entity whispered.

Louis rubbed at his temple.  “Sorry, I’m fine, go on.”

Penelope eyed him for a moment before continuing.  “I hear she painted her parlour yellow , of all things!  How gauche!”

The creature settled on the arm of Louis’s chair, much to his chagrin.  “That’s the gossip she has on Lady Dalton?  Pathetic.”

Louis’s jaw clenched.  He didn’t know how long he’d be able to stand this.  And it was with that thought that he noticed how he smelled .  Like musk and smoke with a hint of something sweet.  It was enticing, as if he needed to be more alluring.  Louis almost cursed him for it before remembering he’d look like a madman.

“Well, she did it in revenge,” Beatrice added over the lip of her wine glass.

“Revenge?” Cecily asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“Of course!” Beatrice cackled, “Lord Dalton has taken up with a mistress!”

And as everyone gasped, again the stranger leaned down to his ear.  “If by mistress, you mean mister, then yes.”

Louis snorted rather indelicately into his glass of port, and Liam raised a brow at him, to which he shook his head minutely.

“Lover of yours?” the demon asked, nodding towards Liam.  Louis snorted yet again, clapping a hand over his mouth.  It was thankfully soon enough in the conversation that everyone just assumed he was laughing about Lord Dalton.

“Louis, darling, surely you can confirm this - you see him enough at the club!” Cecily implored him, and realisation dawned on the creature.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Louis chuckled.

“I see now.  How fascinating!” he brayed, eyes sharp and keen.

“Oh, my Lord, I refuse to be betrothed to such a bore!” Cecily teased, garnering more laughs from the group.

“My sincerest apologies, my Lady,” Louis bowed deeply in his seat, making Cecily blush furiously.  He heard a snicker over his shoulder, which he chose to ignore.  Why was he the only one that could see this infernal creature?!

And the whispering campaign continued, though somehow unbeknownst to Louis, this demon seemed to have access to juicier scandal than anyone.  “Lady Morton’s servant was with child”?  Oh no, according to the demon, she’d already given birth and sent it to the country.  “The modiste was making the pelisse for the Princess?”  Why yes, because she’d made a deal with the devil.  She’d sacrificed twenty years of her life and just as many years of service for the opportunity.  “Lord Francis only had weeks to live”?  That was because he too had traded his soul for fortune.

After nearly an hour of that madness, Louis couldn’t take any more.

“Forgive me, my Lady, but I must retire.  Too much port, I’m afraid,” he bluffed.

She smiled knowingly.  “Of course, my love.  My father’s port is notoriously vicious,” she grinned, standing to show him out.

“Aw, I was just starting to have some fun!” the demon whined.  But Louis was mere steps from the door, and mere steps from freedom.  It took everything in him not to sprint for the threshold, his strides almost too long for Cecily to keep up with.

Her butler retrieved his hat and cane as Cecily pouted at the door.

“I should have warned you about my father’s port.  It’s deadly,” she simpered.  Again, the demon appeared behind her, stifling a chuckle behind his palm.  “You’ll make it to promenade in the morning, won’t you?” she asked, eyes large and pleading.

Louis smiled indulgently at her, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of her knuckles.  “Of course, darling.”

The sooner he escaped this weirdness, the better, he thought.  

Donning his hat, he escaped into the night, taking a deep breath of the cool air.  “Oh, thank Christ,” he sighed.

“I’d really prefer to leave him out of it, if you please.”

Louis nearly jumped out of his skin, clapping a hand to his chest.  “God almighty!” he cried, whirling to find the creature standing directly behind him, looking entirely too entertained.

“Let’s leave them both out of it, for the time being,” he glowered.

Louis whirled in place, noting that there were carriages still on the street.  Gritting his teeth, he strode purposefully towards his home.  The clicking of the heels of the stranger’s boots behind him sounded like a ticking clock, counting down to the last dregs of his sanity.  Between trying to ignore how bloody attractive he was to maintaining any semblance of normalcy despite having his voice in his ear for the past hour, Louis was hanging on by a thread.

He took the steps to his door two at a time, resolutely ignoring the presence behind him.  His butler sprang to his feet as he burst into the foyer, taking his hat and cane in stunned silence.  Louis nearly ran up the stairs to his chambers, slamming the door behind him and locking it.  But the creature didn’t even give him a moment to believe he’d escaped.  Instead, he chuckled from across the room where he was seated on the windowsill overlooking the garden.

“What in the bloody hell?!” Louis cried.

“I suppose that’s a little better,” he said, again examining his nails.

“Who the hell are you?!” Louis demanded.

The creature tapped his index finger against his lips for a moment.  “You can call me Harry,” he said simply with a shrug.

Louis gaped at him.  “ Harry ?” he asked, brow lifted.

“Yes, Harry,” the demon nodded, “What did you expect?  Beelzebub?” he cackled as he flopped onto Louis’s bed.  HIS BED.

“Frankly, yes,” Louis muttered.  “What the devil are you, if not the devil ?”

Harry shrugged.  “I used to be a God of fertility and abundance.”

“And what are you now?” Louis asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned on one hip.

“...adjacent.” Harry answered after a moment.

“So…you’re a god?” Louis asked, trying his best not to let his voice waver.

He tilted his head back and forth in consideration.  “After a fashion.  Tell me, does your betrothed know about Lord Brixton?” He asked, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Chrissake,” Louis murmured under his breath, “Is there anything you don’t know?”

“Judging by my last question, one could assume yes.  I don’t ask unnecessary questions.  I may be eternal, but my patience is not.”

“Eternal?” Louis asked, gaping at the…god?  Demon?

“Yes.  My time on this plane is endless.  So you can imagine it can get quite boring.  I find my amusements from time to time.”

Louis cocked his head to the side as he observed Harry, who shoved himself off the bed and began walking around the room, running a finger along everything within reach.  “Why could no one else see you tonight?”

Harry grinned.  “The real question is, why could you see me and the others could not?”

Louis rolled his eyes.  “Surely that was by design.  You mean to toy with me.”

Harry held his hands up.  “You’ve caught me.  But I can’t say it was without cause.  I could hear you, calling out for help.”

Louis scoffed.  “Calling out for help?!  What on earth are you talking about?”

Harry shrugged.  “You’re telling me you’re marrying that girl of your own accord?”

Louis sighed heavily.  “Of course I am.  Cecily is a lovely girl.”

“Oh I’m certainly not disputing that.  She was lovely enough to summon me.”

“Did…did she know what she was doing with all of that nonsense?” Louis asked, wincing.

Harry chuckled as he ran a hand through those luscious curls before leaning against the post of Louis’s bed.  “Of course not.  She’s just the first that I’ve bothered to listen to.  Monsieur Reynaud has been after me for months.  Almost had me once, clever little devil.  I recognised his incantations, but young Cecily’s voice was so sweet, unlike Reynaud’s.”

Louis slumped into a chair by his fireplace.  “What do you mean by ‘almost had you’?”

Harry pushed away from the bed, sauntering over to Louis.  He gestured to the chair across from him.  “May I?” he asked slyly.  Louis gestured to the other seat.

“I don’t know that I could deny a god,” he muttered.

“You could.  I’d take the seat, regardless, but you could voice your objections.”

Louis rolled his eyes.  Harry snickered.

“So.  Why me?” Louis asked, reaching to the side table and pouring himself a few fingers of gin.  He lifted the bottle in Harry’s direction, years of propriety demanding he offer this creature a drink.  Harry nodded, and he poured the second glass, passing it to him.

“Cheers, love,” Harry grinned, taking a sip from the glass.  “That’s lovely,” he sighed.  “Anyway, you wanted to know why I let you see me?  I suppose it’s because…I could hear you above all the rest.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment.  “You strike me as a man that is…trapped, by the constraints of a stilted society.”

Louis sighed heavily.  Clearly this being knew more about him than he’d prefer, so there was no sense in playing dumb.  “You’re referring to my…dalliances?”

Harry sniffed a laugh.  “What a nice word for it. ‘Dalliances’.  But yes, that’s exactly what I’m referring to.  Did you know that where I come from, that’s as normal as breathing?”

“And where is that, Hell?” Louis asked smartly.

Harry groaned.  “It’s not that simple.  Open your mind, Louis!”

“I never told you my name,” Louis said warily.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you as of late.  Your extracurricular activities are rather entertaining, I must confess,” he explained nonchalantly, as if the idea of a demon-god stalking him wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation.

“Entertaining?!” Louis hissed.  “What about me is ‘entertaining’?!”

“I mean…where do I begin?  The way you tiptoe around your desires is frankly laughable.”

“Laughable?!” Louis cried, “So what, you think I should just let everyone know of my preferences?!”

Harry shrugged.  “I understand your world comes with limitations.  Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy your efforts.  As I said, an eternity is not without its boredom.”

Louis ran a ragged hand through his hair, mussing it before tugging at his stiffly starched cravat around his neck.  “The mere fact that you find entertainment in my suffering is proof enough that you’re from Hell,” he snipped.

Harry snorted.  “If you’d spent any modicum of time there, you’d see why.”

Louis brooded as he sipped at his gin.  “Hang on.  You must’ve been watching me for some time.  Me and everyone else tonight, perhaps the entire ton!  How could you possibly have known what you did about everyone otherwise?”

He shrugged.  “Guilty.  Think of it like an assignment.  You lot have been mine for some time now.  It’s better than reality tv, I swear.”

“Reality tv?” Louis asked him quizzically.

Harry waved him off.  “Time isn’t linear and it would take too long for me to explain.  Bottom line is that I rather enjoy you all, but you especially.”

Louis’s brow furrowed.  “Me especially?  But why?”

Harry grinned, his peridot eyes glimmering in the firelight.  “We all have preferences.  You just happen to embody many of mine.”

Louis couldn’t help the tingle that travelled down his spine.  Harry was nothing short of distracting to look at, and by the way that he carried himself - so self-assured - he knew it, too.

“And…if I was a betting man - which I am - I’d say I embody quite a few of your preferences as well.”   And then he winked - WINKED - at him.

Louis barely held back the shiver threatening the base of his spine.  He definitely didn’t hold back the twitch of his cock.

Rather than argue - and really, what was the point, arguing with an immortal that, for all intents and purposes, seemed relatively omniscient - Louis downed the rest of his gin instead.

“So what do you want with me, then?” he asked.

“To tell the truth, I didn’t have much of a plan in letting your betrothed summon me.  But now that I’m here with you, I suppose I’m making things up as I go,” he said, swirling the remainder of gin in his glass, watching the light filter through the liquid.  “You intrigue me, Lord Tomlinson.”

That really shouldn’t have been as flattering as it was.  Harry had danced around the subject, but Louis was essentially courting the devil.

“Not the devil,” Harry interrupted his inner monologue, and Louis nearly dropped his glass at that.

“How-”

“The longer I’m around you, your thoughts become clearer to me,” Harry shrugged, “And you have many interesting thoughts about me at present,” he said suggestively, his eyebrows dancing.

Mortification stole across Louis’s face, and he dragged his hands down his cheeks.

“There’s no shame in it, Louis,” he grinned, “Besides, I know what I look like.”   He had the audacity to preen.  But was it audacity when he looked like he did?  With curls that Louis wanted to tangle his fingers in, cherry-red lips that begged to be kissed, and a neck that was desperate to be licked from base to jaw?  His long legs were elegant, yet powerful.  He’d thoroughly enjoy having them wrapped around him.  Louis’s cock practically jumped in his breeches at the mere thought of it.

“You’ve been sent here to torture me, haven’t you?” Louis groaned from behind his palms.

Harry guffawed.  “Hardly.  Contrary to popular belief, I do have better things to do than seduce poor little closet-cases like you.  Besides, I was summoned, remember?”

“What’s a closet-case?” Louis asked him.

Harry shook his head.  “Nevermind that.  I’ll be honest with you, Louis.  I went into this evening not knowing what to expect, but I must say I’m pleasantly surprised.  Imagine what Cecily would think, knowing she brought us together?”

Together.  A myriad of salacious images flashed across his mind that would rival even the filthiest of novels in Cecily’s personal library.  Heat curled within his chest, and he tugged at his cravat again, loosening it so he could simply breathe .

Harry rose from his chair and closed the distance between them, bracing himself on the arms of Louis’s chair as he invaded his space.  He bent, his cheek brushing Louis’s, his lips barely touching his ear.  “You smell divine, you know.  Like sweet vanilla and something sharp, spicy,” Harry rasped, lifting a hand and trailing his finger down the side of his throat.  “I can see everything you’re thinking.  What you want to do to me,” he all but groaned.  “I can feel your desire, so intense.”  

Crisp trepidation tightened in his chest at Harry’s words.  He’d been with men before, but this was different.  It was something else entirely.

“You don’t need to be afraid, Louis,” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting across the heated skin of his neck.  He brought his index finger under Louis’s chin.  “Look at me, Louis,” he commanded.  Louis’s eyes flickered to his. “Let me tell you a little secret.  You’ve already let me in.  Now what are you going to do to me?”

This close, God , the smell of him.  Leather and tobacco with something bright and sweet like citrus.  His mouth watered as a terrible yet delicious ache bloomed in his hands from the need to touch.

Harry brushed his lips along Louis’s jaw, down to his chin and back up to his ear, and those curls - those curls - fell into his face.  They felt soft as silk, and Louis’s knuckles went white against the arms of the chair as he fought to keep them there.

“Go on, love,” Harry crooned, “touch me.”

Louis leaned back in his chair, needing to look him in the eyes.  He half-expected them to glow red like brimstone, but was instead met with that ethereal mossy green, so deep and vibrant.  “Will you take my soul?” He whispered.

Harry’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.  “That all depends.”

“On?”

He shrugged one shoulder, then reconnected their gaze.  It was so intense that Louis felt rooted to the spot.

“On how well you fuck me.”

It felt like the gunshot at the start of a race.

Louis lunged for him, fingers finally finally plunging into those silky tresses and dragging his mouth down to his.  Their lips seared together, and something like relief made him moan into Harry’s mouth.  Where he expected to taste ash, he tasted something cool and sweet like mint, and where he’d anticipated being dominated, Harry was wanton as he climbed onto his lap, those strong thighs bracketing him.  Harry’s body rolled languidly into him, and Louis tore his lips away and brought them down to the side of his neck, pressing hot wet kisses down the length of the vein there, feeling it jump beneath his tongue as Harry groaned loudly.

“Shhhh,” Louis tried to quiet him, “we’re not alone in this house.”

“No one will hear us, I’ll make sure of it ,” Harry assured him while simultaneously grinding himself along Louis’s hard length, making him hiss.

“How can I trust you?” Louis asked as he bit harshly on the skin over Harry’s collarbone, eliciting a rather delicious sound from him.

“It wouldn’t do me much good to have your sisters or your mama barge in here and ruin my fun,” he chuckled, again lowering his hips against Louis.  He’s sure he made a valid point, but Louis was suddenly past caring.

He took Harry’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding him in place as he licked over and into his mouth.  But he needed more and slid his palms down Harry’s sides, past the dip in his waist, and settled them on his thighs.  Gripping them tightly, he stood from the chair in one fluid motion.  Harry actually squealed against his lips, those sinful legs clamping around him as he strode to the bed, lowering him onto the coverlet before climbing over him.

Bracing one hand beside Harry’s head, he trailed a finger down his chest to the low collar of his shirt, tugging it away before letting it drop back to his pectorals.

“You look obscene like this,” Louis said, gently biting at his lip, “half-dressed like a harlot between culls.”

“So let me be your harlot tonight,” he said, “undress me.”

Louis didn’t need to be told twice.  Leaning back onto his knees, he pulled Harry up by the collar of his shirt before roughly tugging it free from his breeches.  With the broad planes of his chest exposed, Louis nearly groaned at the sight.  His skin was flawless and warm, so soft beneath his fingertips as he ran them down the length of him, over the ridges of his abdomen to where they disappeared into his breeches.  He watched, fascinated as they contracted, allowing Harry to sit up and pull Louis to him by his cravat, crashing their lips together so hard it almost hurt.

“Undress now, play later,” he growled, then pushed him away again with a coy smile.  He then tapped the top of his boot, and taking the hint, Louis pulled the first, then the second off of him, both clattering to the floor.  He peeled his stockings down, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder before finally reaching the piece de resistance, his breeches.  Louis wasted no time unfastening them, and Harry lifted his hips, allowing him to pull them down and off each leg.

In short, Harry was exquisite.  In length, well, he had that too.  Louis’s eyes raked down his naked body, from his curls fanned out on the pillow to his cock, hard and long, laying between his hips.

“Love when you look at me like that,” Harry murmured as he slid his hand slowly down his body, ultimately curling his fingers around his length and giving himself a firm stroke.  “I don’t love that you’re still dressed, though.”

At the mention of it, Louis instantly felt too warm in his clothes.  Sitting back, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “Two pairs of hands make light of work,” he winked over his shoulder, and Harry quickly left the bed and knelt on the floor between his legs, hastily pulling his boots and stockings off while Louis untied his beyond-wrinkled cravat.  Harry rose to his feet and pulled Louis up before pushing his waistcoat over his shoulders, then dropped his hands to his breeches, unbuttoning them as Louis pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.  At last, Harry pushed his breeches over his hips and Louis stepped out of them with the intent of pulling Harry’s equally naked body to him, but Harry held him at bay for a moment, allowing himself the pleasure of a slow and measured perusal.

“Look at you,” he said, voice already rough with want.  His gaze travelled south, settling on his cock, hanging hard and heavy between his legs.  “Oh, I can’t wait to feel you inside of me,” he groaned, then licked his lips.

How could Louis not kiss him then?  He held him by the hips, sinking his fingertips into the littlest bit of softness there, just for a moment, before pulling away.  “Get on the bed,” he said gruffly, and Harry practically scrambled to follow his orders.  “Lay back.  I want to look at you some more.”

As he did so, Louis took hold of himself, squeezing once to relieve some of the ache, then pumping himself once, twice to the sight before him.

Miles of creamy white skin lay before him, so perfect and unmarred that it did not seem real.  Hell, he wasn’t even sure this entire encounter was real at this point.

“This is very real,” Harry said as he too wrapped his hand back around himself, “As is this,” he hissed, pulling with a slight twist of his wrist at the head.

“Don’t touch yourself, not yet,” Louis ordered him, “I’m rarely afforded the opportunity to take my time.  I intend to savour this.”  It wasn’t as though he could bring another man back to his chambers.  And if what Harry promised was true, if no one could hear them or be any the wiser to what he was about to do, then he was going to seize every last drop of this moment.  He went to his bedside table, pulling open the drawer and retrieving the small vial of oil he kept there, along with something he only brought out for special occasions when he was home alone - a phallus of clear, tempered glass.  It was heavy in his palm as he set it onto the tabletop.

Harry watched, his eyes lighting up at the sight.  “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.”

“Just you wait, darling.  You’ve no idea.”

Climbing back onto the bed, Louis again settled himself over Harry, bracing his forearms on either side of his pillow as he leant down, brushing his lips over his, teasing and delicate.  Harry whimpered, trying to chase his lips, but Louis had other plans.  First and foremost, he wanted to trace every inch of Harry’s body with his mouth, and so he set to work.  He drifted down his neck and across his chest, lavishing wet, open-mouthed kisses on his warm skin.  Harry writhed beneath him, tangling one of his hands into his own hair.  Louis glanced up to see him tug at the strands, noting it for later.

For now, he’d reached Harry’s nipples, and he took one into his mouth, sucking gently as Harry bowed off the bed, moaning loudly.  He lightly pinched the other, rolling the tender bud between his fingers and delighting in how Harry’s breaths became short and erratic.

“So sensitive, darling,” Louis cooed, lapping at him one last time with his tongue before continuing his journey south.  He licked and kissed a trail down over his ribs, biting marks into his flesh.  On one particularly harsh bite, Harry gasped and Louis looked down just in time to see his cock blurt some precome onto his belly.  “Look at you, already wet for me,” he marvelled, then bent down, dropping his tongue to the tip of him, giving a single kitten lick across his cockhead, enough to gather the sweetbitter taste of him.  Harry whined at the too-short contact, twisting against the sheets.

“Please, please,” he breathed, eyes wild.  But Louis persisted in his teasing, kissing everywhere around him - his thighs, his belly, anywhere that wasn’t Harry’s considerable length.  In fact, to Harry’s dismay, he then left him entirely, settling himself back against one of the posts.

“Before you get stroppy, see that bottle on the table?” Louis tilted his chin towards the bottle in question, and Harry took a steadying breath before following his gaze and nodding.  “Good.  I want you to use that to open yourself up for me.  I want to watch.  But do not touch your cock, understood?”

Harry pouted but nodded again, reaching for the oil.  Uncorking it, he drizzled some over his fingers before setting it back down and leaning back against the pillows.  Drawing his knees up, it gave Louis the perfect view, his dark pink hole fluttering just slightly in anticipation.  Harry circled his rim, light breaths shuddering out of him as he teased at himself, then finally sunk his first finger in.  He bit his lip as he concentrated, thrusting the digit in and out, slowly and meticulously.

“Another,” Louis said quietly, torturing himself just as much by refusing to touch himself.  Harry furrowed his brow and added another finger, sighing happily at the stretch as he moved them in and out.  A sudden gasp made Louis realise that he’d found that sweet spot, and Harry quickly moved to brush it again.

“You’re not allowed to come.  Not yet,” Louis said sharply, and Harry nearly cried as he doubled his efforts, spreading his fingers several times before adding a third.  “You won’t be coming anywhere but on my cock.”

A few minutes later, once Harry was wet and open, Louis stood from the bed, walking around to the table.  “Get on your hands and knees facing away from me.”

Blinking his eyes dazedly, it took Harry a moment to gather himself before he did what he was asked.  He let his head hang down as he tried to control his breathing, his dark curls shielding his face.

“Look there,” Louis nodded ahead of him, and when Harry lifted his gaze, he saw himself in the reflection of the mirror against the wall.  “Look at yourself, watch what I do to you.”

Reaching for the glass phallus, Louis dripped some of the oil down its length, then brought it up to the nape of his neck and dragged it down, down his back, goosebumps erupting at the sudden cool contrast on his skin.  When he passed it between his cheeks, Harry let out a needy groan, pushing himself back against him.

“So desperate, aren’t you?” Louis mused as he let the tip of the glass catch on Harry’s rim.

“Please, just-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Louis pushed the first few inches of the toy into him.

“Fuck, yes,” Harry sighed as Louis gave it a slow twist.  He tried to fuck himself back further onto the toy, but with each press, Louis would pull back slightly, driving him wild.  It was art, the way the glass refracted the light from the fireplace as it slid in and out of Harry’s hole.  “More, please,” he begged, and Louis took some pity on him, pushing the toy deeper and a bit harder that time, twisting it again until Harry’s shoulders sagged when it brushed against his spot.  “Fuck, right there, please!” he wailed, arse in the air and fingers twisting into the sheets, his forehead pressed to the mattress.  He looked so utterly fucking perfect as a light sheen of sweat broke across his back, gleaming in the firelight.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Louis ordered, and Harry nodded listlessly as Louis fucked him with the toy, in and out, again and again.  He drizzled more oil over his hole, watching it run between his cheeks and around the toy.  “Play with your nipples,” Louis said gruffly, and Harry slid his hand between his chest and the bed, doing as he’d asked.  He cried out as Louis thrust the toy into him while he simultaneously pinched and pulled at his nipples, his whole body shaking with need.

“Are you close?” Louis asked him, sliding the toy in to the hilt.

Harry groaned and nodded against the bed, and Louis pulled the toy out of him, dropping it onto the table with a clatter.

“Turn over, darling, let me see you,” he said gently, tapping him on the hip.  Harry rolled onto his back, revealing a spot on the coverlet where some precome had stained.  His cock was red, and it reminded Louis of his own.  He’d been so focused, so mesmerised watching that toy slide in and out of him, he’d forgotten how hard he’d gotten.  It almost hurt, the pressure that had built within him, but he’d get his relief soon enough.  For the moment, he returned his focus to Harry, whose face and neck were flushed with want.  “So beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down and trailing more kisses over his feverish skin.  When Harry’s breathing levelled out just a bit, he took that moment to lick up the underside of his cock without warning, and Harry nearly screamed at the sudden contact.  He’d almost become too sensitive with the teasing and the edging, and seemed to be warring with himself whether to lay still or to turn away.  Louis took him in his hand, holding him steady as he sank his mouth down as far as he could go, earning another shout from Harry as he tried desperately not to thrust into Louis’s mouth.  Not that Louis would mind normally, but again, he had no intention of letting him finish in his mouth this time.

He bobbed on his length once more before pulling off again, much to Harry’s dismay.

“Please, Louis, need you,” he panted, spreading his legs wider.  Finally taking pity on him (and let’s be honest, on himself), he joined him on the bed, shifting them so they weren’t dangling off the edge.  He settled between his thighs, gathering them both in one hand and stroking them together.  He finally reconnected their lips, kissing him filthily before lining himself up with Harry’s hole.  He poured more oil onto himself, then finally gave in and pushed the head of his cock past that tight ring of muscle.  They both groaned in harmony as he slid all the way in, his hips crushed against Harry’s arse.

“Holy hell, you feel so good,” Louis breathed, licking into Harry’s mouth.

Harry drew his legs up higher, hitching them around Louis’s waist.  “Fuck me, Louis, wreck me.” He thrust his hips up, grinding himself against Louis’s hips, making them both moan.  And who was he to deny them any longer?

He pulled out, almost all the way, before slamming himself back inside.  Harry was so tight and hot that Louis feared it would all be over embarrassingly quick if he didn’t control himself, but that control was slipping with every thrust.  He did have the presence of mind to remember Harry pulling his own hair earlier, and so he slid his fingers behind his head at the nape of his neck, gathering a fistful of tendrils and applying pressure.

“Oh fuck, harder!” Harry cried, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.  They welled and spilled over as Louis pounded into him, fist curled tightly in his hair.  He bent and licked a flat stripe over his nipple, and Harry’s entire body shuddered.  Louis could feel him clenching on his length, spasming as his orgasm barrelled for him.

“Are you going to come for me?” Louis panted in his ear, biting his earlobe harshly before laving his tongue over it.

“Yes, fuck, please!” He yelled, each word punched out of him by Louis’s hips.

“Give it up for me, darling, come for me,” Louis cooed, and as he slammed himself home, Harry let out a long, low moan as come shot up between them, coating their chests.  He clenched like a vise around Louis, drawing out his own pleasure as he spilled inside of him.  He collapsed on top of Harry, breathing hotly against his neck as they both came down, unable to move.

“That was heaven,” Louis said, barely above a whisper.  Harry’s chest shook with mirth under him.

“Can’t say I’m familiar with the concept of heaven, but it was delicious,” he purred in his ear.  Louis was suddenly reminded that he’d just fucked a demon, and his brain took a moment to decide whether or not to panic.

He tried to pull out as gently as possible, but Harry still winced.  Looking down, he immediately saw come begin to leak out of his hole, and he’s not entirely sure what possessed him, but he quickly bent down and lapped at it, trying to push it back in with his tongue while Harry squirmed against him, likely oversensitive.  The taste of himself inside Harry was something else, so heady it made him dizzy.  His cock managed a feeble twitch, and he glanced up between Harry’s legs, looking at him.  Harry lifted a brow at him as his own gave a small kick, and they both started giggling.

“Give me a minute, would you?” Harry laughed, and Louis climbed up the bed, flopping onto his back next to him.

Harry turned and glanced at him for a moment, then snapped his fingers, and a narrow stick of rolled paper appeared between the fingers of his other hand.  Louis’s brow furrowed as he watched him flick his wrist, a small flame appearing at the end of his finger.  Bringing the stick to the flame, he lit it as he inhaled, then exhaled the smoke.

“What on earth is that?” Louis asked him.

Harry laughed, “That’s right, you lot won’t have these for a few decades more.  It’s a cigarette.  It’s how the later generations smoke their tobacco.”   He took another drag off of it before offering it to Louis.

Taking it between his fingers like Harry had done, Louis brought it to his lips.

“Gently, not too much,” he instructed, though Louis still ended up in a coughing fit.  Harry chuckled as he looked on, taking the cigarette back from him and smoking it down to the filter.  Harry watched him closely, smiling when his lungs finally settled.  A moment later, his head swam a bit.  “They’re particularly good after sex,” Harry explained, and Louis could see why.  There was a fizzling feeling in his veins and muscles, and he relaxed back into the pillows with a heavy sigh.  Harry also conjured a rag from the ether, and began wiping his cooled come from their chests.

“Don’t know if that will totally do the job, but it’s appreciated nonetheless,” Louis chuckled as Harry waved his hand, sending it back to wherever it came from.

“Feel like a bath?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Louis propped himself up by his elbows.  “Don’t suppose you can magic one of those in here, can you?”

Harry snorted.  “Challenge me, someday,” and with another flick of his wrist, suddenly there stood a copper tub at the foot of the bed, full to the brim with steaming water.

Louis barked a laugh, scrambling onto his hands and knees to crawl to the edge of the bed and peer inside.  The water was milky, with flower petals floating on the surface.  Scents of lavender, jasmine, and lily wafted up at him, and he nearly tumbled arse-over-tit into the bath.  “That smells absolutely divine,” he sighed after inhaling the scent as deep into his lungs as he could manage.

“Well go on, then,” Harry tucked an arm behind his head, eyeing Louis’s arse from a prime vantage point.  Louis may or may not have wiggled his bum a bit before climbing off of the bed and around to the side of the tub.  Lifting his leg over the side, the water was perfectly hot, not scalding, and he slid into the water with a satisfied groan.  Harry chuckled as he watched him.

Once he was settled, he turned his head to look back at Harry.  “There’s plenty of room in here.  Aren’t you going to join me?”

He didn’t need cajoling.  He also didn’t need to bother getting up from the bed.  One moment he was there with an eyebrow raised and a smug look on his face, the next he was somehow situated in front of Louis, having barely disturbed the water.

“Christ!  That would take getting used to.  Do you do that often?  Just pop yourself from place to place?”

As Harry leaned back into Louis’s chest, he shrugged.  “It’s faster.  What’s the point of having such abilities if I’m not going to use them?”

“How does that work?  Is it similar to the tub and the cigarette?”

He pulled Louis’s hand onto his chest, playing idly with his fingers.  “It’s a bit complicated to explain, but there are pockets between realms and within worlds.  They create shortcuts that I can use, or places for me to keep things for when I need them on demand.”

Louis shook his head in disbelief, instead choosing to focus on something his mind could actually comprehend, which were Harry’s curls floating in the water against his chest.  “These are lovely,” he said, using his free hand to twirl a wet tendril around his index finger and giving it a light tug.

“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning forward slightly to create an extra bit of tension.  “Many say they’re my best quality.”

“Certainly one of.  I’m rather partial to your eyes.  Not what I would have expected.”

Harry smiled knowingly.  “You mean glowing red and oozing malice?”

“Something like that,” Louis giggled.

“Mine don’t do that.  They do turn black though.”

“Really?” Louis said, tilting his head to the side to try and see his face.  Harry turned in his lap, manoeuvring carefully until he was straddled atop Louis’s thighs.  Tipping Louis’s chin up, he blinked at him, and all at once, the colour was just gone.  Instead were deep pools of black licorice, both gleaming and sucking in all of the light at the same time.  Despite the eeriness of those eyes, he was still beautiful as water droplets chased each other down his chest, falling from the ends of his curls that hung heavy over his shoulders.  Unable to help himself, Louis’s hands pressed to Harry’s back, cradling him close and licking at the drops and catching them before they returned to the bath.  Harry released a shuddering breath as he let his arms drape limply over Louis’s shoulders.

The licks turned into kisses, and soon enough, they were both hard again, grinding against each other, sending water sloshing over the side that would miraculously vanish before staining the wood.  Harry held Louis’s face between his palms as he brought his mouth down to his, licking hotly into him as he undulated his hips.

“Again?” Louis asked against his lips, to which Harry nodded enthusiastically.  Rising up onto his knees, he reached behind himself, grasping Louis at the base and holding him steady as he sank down onto his length with a groan.

“Fuck.  Feel so full,” he murmured as he sheathed Louis inside of him, sitting his full weight down and taking the moment to adjust again.  “I could get addicted to this.”

Louis pressed his forehead to Harry’s chest, nodding in agreement.  Harry then lifted just slightly before dropping back again, setting a more languorous pace as he used Louis’s shoulders for leverage.  More than once his fingernails curled into Louis’s flesh, at one point leaving thin red crescents in their wake, some of them oozing a drop or two of blood that Harry would quickly lick away.  It would do Louis’s head in later trying to figure out why that act turned him so inside out, but for the moment, he was too busy gripping Harry’s hips and urging him on as they chased their pleasure.

“Touch me,” Harry panted, dragging one of Louis’s hands to his cock and closing his fingers around it.  Louis stroked in time with his thrusts, and Harry rolled his hips back and forth, keeping Louis as deep inside of him as he could as he came a second time, his nails raking down Louis’s chest.  The pleasure-pain sent Louis hurtling after him, and again he filled him with wave after wave of release, ultimately sagging back against the tub as Harry pressed their foreheads together while they caught their breaths.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Louis chuckled, his thumbs rubbing up and down Harry’s hipbones.

“Me neither,” he said, a lazy smile on his face.  “You’re wasted in this time,” Harry said as he lifted himself off of Louis.  “Having to hide, not being able to love and fuck who you want when you’re so bloody good at it.”

“I’ll take the compliment I suppose.  Are people free to do that in another time?”

Harry shrugged.  “Freer than they are now.”

Louis’s eyebrows raised.  “I can’t even imagine that.”

“Men even get married, adopt children.  It’s beautiful.”

“Part of me wishes you’d never told me that,” Louis said sadly, looking down into the murky water.  “Because now I know what I’m missing.”

Harry’s brows furrowed.  “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Louis laughed wetly.  “Funny, coming from a demon.”

Harry grimaced.  “I’ve never liked that word.  It just doesn’t do me justice.  Though there really isn’t an English equivalent.”

Louis mulls all of this over in his head.  “You’ve told me so much tonight.  Things I feel like I shouldn’t be privy to.”

Harry is nonchalant.  “Probably not.  Are you going to tell the masses?”

Louis laughs.  “Tell them what?  That a demon-god visited me, that I fucked him and he told me about the future?  I’d be sent howling to bedlam!”

“There, see?  I’m safe.”

“Am I?” Louis asked, “You never said whether you’d take my soul.  Though to be honest, I’m fairly certain I already poured it into you.”

Harry searched Louis’s face for a moment, then sighed heavily.  He snapped his fingers, and Louis somehow found himself dry under the covers of his bed, with Harry laying next to him, smoking another cigarette.

“By all rights, I should.  Your soul is…it’s so good.”

“Doesn’t say much for me that when Ce did summon a demon, it found the only degenerate in the room,” Louis muttered bitterly.

Harry turned his head on the pillow and lifted a brow at him.  “Degenerate, you say?”

Louis rolled his eyes.  “Well what would you call it, then?”

Harry shrugged.  “Uninhibited.  Free.  Your soul is no darker than any other man’s.  It’s exactly the kind I should be after, but…I think I’ll let you hold onto it for now.”   He exhaled a plume of smoke towards the ceiling, then turned to look at Louis, who watched him curiously.

“A magnanimous demon.  Who would have thought such a thing exists?” Louis mused, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

“I could always change my mind.”

They had only known each other for a matter of hours at that point.  But somehow, Louis knew he wouldn’t.  He felt as though he knew Harry better than some of the people he saw every day.  It was inexplicable, as if he could read every expression on his beautiful face, every minute gesture, fully attuned to his body language.

“You won’t,” Louis said simply, trying to stifle a yawn.  Harry shifted further under the covers after flicking the cigarette away to who-knows-where, then gathered Louis in his arms, resting his head on his chest.

“Sleep,” he whispered quietly, pressing a kiss into his skin.  “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“Where will you go?” Louis murmured into his hair, breathing his scent deep.  A phantom heat warmed the sheets, lulling Louis further towards oblivion.

“Somewhere you cannot follow,” he said sadly, his arms tightening just a fraction around Louis.

“Will I see you again?” he slurred before his eyes fluttered shut for the last time that night.

“Whenever you like, pet.”

And then, Louis tumbled into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he awoke the following morning, the lingering scent of Harry clung to the sheets, and in place of him lay a bouquet of black hellebore, the pigment so deep that it immediately reminded him of those eyes.