Archive of Our Own

The Asphodel Meadows, despite being a vast field of flowers, was not Harry’s favourite place, per se.

Still, as the god of Spring and firstborn of Demeter, he supposed he had an affinity towards the grey, simple flowers anyway. As he stooped down and held a bloom between his fingers gently, he was struck once again by how unremarkable they were individually. He’d always learnt to see the beauty in things, though. Because when he let his gaze roam across rows and rows of the only flower that grew naturally here, he had to appreciate the beauty they held in collective. 

The countless souls meandering about with vacant eyes though … that was still off-putting. Harmless, but off-putting. Some things he just wouldn’t get used to, he supposed. So he paid no mind to them, picking a bloom and adding it to the small bunch he had gathered. They wouldn’t do much in brightening up their room, but sitting around and waiting had made him itch with impatience, and this proved to be a decent way to occupy his time. 

Harry wouldn’t have had to entertain himself if Louis had been at their palace, of course. He’d returned to the Underworld — partly missing the richness of the earth, mostly eager to be reunited with his love — only to learn that Lord Louis was away. Where, he didn’t know, but he missed him terribly. It wouldn’t take long for Louis to return—it never did; word of Harry’s return and his whereabouts always got to him quickly enough. Still, being alone in their home only served to make him more jittery, which is how he had found himself in the Fields of Asphodel. 

“My Lord.”

Harry was startled, having been lost in his thoughts. He turned back and was met with Zayn, the doorkeeper of the house of Hades. He was striking as he was intimidating, but his tone had been quiet and respectful, directed at him. 

Harry smiled, nodding in acknowledgement. Zayn had a tilt to his lips, like he was amused at his momentary scare, but not daring to express it. “Zayn.”

“I have word that the King is on his way back to the palace, and should arrive shortly.”

Harry’s smile grew wider, and he dipped his chin gracefully. “Thank you, Zayn.”

Zayn bowed, and went on his way. Harry eyed his small bunch of asphodels. That would do.

Once he had made his way to their chambers and placed the flowers in a delicate vase, Harry stood in front of an array of clothes, each more magnificent than the other. He ran his fingers idly through the materials, considering. Too soft, too elegant, too much grandeur, far too revealing. A smile flitted onto his lips as he caressed the deep red silk, excitement fluttering in his belly. That was the one .

Harry slipped into the flowy, silken robe that swept the ground, adorned with tiny gold trimmings. The sleeves slipped off his shoulders, revealing his collarbones as they swooped invitingly, billowing out at the arms. He was helpless not to watch himself in the mirror for a moment as he cinched the garment at the waist, suppressing a shiver as the cool, smooth material glided across his skin and across his hardening nipples most tantalisingly with his movements. Cool air hit his leg as he cocked his hip, the long slit revealing a leg if he dared to pose himself a little boldly. 

He could’ve stopped there. But as he ran his fingers through his shiny, long curls, making sure they hung around his face perfectly, he knew what was missing. With a tiny twirl of his hand, small red geraniums and white daisies bloomed and coiled themselves into his curls, adorning his hair just right. He cocked his head at his reflection, lips curling.

He looked delectable . 

Harry knew fully well that he made a vision that would be hard for Louis to resist; that was the point, after all. Not that Louis ever deprived him; he gave into his each and every whim, and he didn’t even have to try. And Harry ached for him with everything in him. But there was a greater pleasure to be gained by playing coy, by waiting, by prolonging the inevitable. They both were familiar with this little game, and they played it well. The longer they would drag it out, the stronger the fire in Harry’s belly burned. 

It just made it all that much better in the end.

Harry carefully made his way to the throne room, sitting down at the table off to the side of the large room. The room was decorated in dark colours and velvety tapestries, grandiose despite the shadowy ambience. Candles lit up the room in a soft glow, momentarily distracting him in the way their reflection twinkled in the polished wood of the table. A quick glance around the room told him that Louis hadn’t arrived just yet; there was an air of nonchalance on the faces and postures of the Erinyes and the judges of the dead that were scattered around the room. Waiting. 

Harry didn’t mind being watched, but he wasn’t one to appear idle. He waved his hand, and a large silver platter and bowl materialized in front of them. He plucked a pomegranate out from the platter, sitting back, and started slowly ripping the fruit apart. One by one, he plucked the pomegranate seeds apart, methodically placing them in the bowl, admiring the red-stained fingertips and the tiny splatters of red on his skin. 

Getting lost in the mundane task, he almost missed the King’s arrival. Almost.

The sound of footfalls rang clear in the quiet, and the murmur of anticipation that went through the others in attendance did not go unnoticed. Harry didn’t stop what he was doing, but he sat up straighter, trying to quell the restlessness and anticipation making his own body tighten. The footsteps sounded closer, and he hooked one leg around the other, waiting. 

Almost there . He dropped yet another pomegranate seed into the bowl. 

So close. He dug his fingers into the flesh of the fruit, heart kicking up.

The footsteps stopped at their loudest. 

“My Lord.”

Harry smiled, breathing out. He was here.

Despite his best attempts at being poised, Harry whipped his head around swiftly, letting his eyes drink in his husband eagerly. Louis stood just a few feet behind him, draped in his usual long black robe, cloak swooping out from his shoulders, silver staff in hand. His eyes lingered traitorously on the way his neckline dipped, revealing a sliver of his chest. Louis cut a strong, imposing figure as he stood there, and it was easy to see how he was feared among gods and mortals alike. 

But Harry’s gaze eventually fixed on his handsome face. Steely blue eyes that shone with adoration, and his lips curving into a soft smile that betrayed his happiness. Harry wanted nothing more than to be wrapped around him, and feel the heartbeat of that love close. But he calmed himself, greeting him with a demure smile.

“Lord Louis.”

Harry kept his tone low, as he sat sideways on his chair, leaning forward a little and bowing to the god respectfully. When he lifted his eyes, he caught the way Louis’ eyes had strayed, dipped down, catching on the revealed skin of his chest for a flash. It took everything in him to contain the tiny thrill that ran through him.

Louis was eager, and it was palpable; he looked like he wanted to devour Harry. Along with the ever-present love, a certain wildness coloured his eyes, like he was a man starved. Harry could tell, he could sympathize; he felt the same. But where Louis took uneven, staggering steps towards him in his thinly veiled hurry and hunger, Harry remained serene and coy. 

All it took was a deliberate tipping up of his chin and a sharply raised brow. A single, well-placed, knowing look. Louis slowed, stepping into the pace he had masterfully created. The fire in his eyes never dimmed, but his lips pressed thin in something that screamed devious, and his lashes swept his cheeks in more languid strokes. 

Just like that, he could tell Louis was playing along. 

Louis took one last step towards Harry. Then, maintaining steady eye contact, he bowed a little, holding out a hand. Harry pursed his lips, trying to not let his lovestruck smile run wild, as he placed his hand in Louis’ outstretched one delicately. 

Never breaking his gaze, Louis raised Harry's hand to his lips and kissed it reverently. Harry felt weak.

“My queen ,” Louis murmured, lips grazing his skin, quiet, like it was reserved for only the two of them to hear. 

Such a simple word shouldn't have felt like he was cut open, and his heart fluttered, but he wasn’t willing to let it show. Not yet. Instead, he blinked up at him sweetly and squeezed Louis’ hand back. A simple little love note. Louis’ eyes crinkled beautifully, reminding him of the depth of the adoration he held for his husband.

“My lord,” Harry murmured, cocking his head at him slightly. “Care to join me? I’ve got fresh fruit … ripe and ready for you.” He bit his lip softly, glancing at the chair behind the adjacent side of the table. His fingers never stopped slowly plucking the seeds out from the pomegranate, red juice dripping down his unmarred skin. 

Louis took him up on his invitation, and fell into the chair closest to him. His eyes roamed over Harry like he couldn’t get enough. Ravenous , even though it was far too soon for it. The gaze returned to his face, as he spoke, “I’ve missed you very much.”

Harry was helpless to not soften, cheeks feeling warm. “And I, you.”

Louis’ hand twitched where it was on the table. A little like it was restless with not being able to pull Harry apart at the seams just yet. Instead, Louis was asking, even as he watched Harry and his busy hands enraptured, “How was your time on earth?”

“Beautiful,” Harry hummed, fixing the fruit in his hands with a little frown as a few pesky seeds seemed to stubbornly stick. “Wonderful, rejuvenating. But … it wasn’t without its shortcomings.”

Harry looked up at Louis through his lashes coyly, letting his voice dip. “Every night, I …” he paused, eyelids fluttering, “ thought of you.”

“Oh.” Louis hadn’t failed to catch the implications, if his darkening eyes were anything to go by. 

“Did you?” Harry continued lightly.

“There was never a moment where I wasn’t … utterly consumed by you. Even in your absence.”

Harry crossed his legs together tighter, suppressing a sigh of desire. Not yet. Not yet.

“Who knew the king of the underworld could be such a poet?”

Louis rolled his eyes mirthfully at his playful jab. “You should know it better than anyone else, Harry.”

Harry made a noise of agreement, biting back his smile. He fixed Louis with an arched brow. “Pomegranate?”

In lieu of an answer, Louis leant forward, aiming to dip his hand into the silver bowl that had been accumulating the tiny seeds. Harry immediately batted his hand away, suppressing a giggle at Louis’ affronted gasp. 

“Let me.”

He gathered a couple of seeds he’d just messily plucked from the pith and leaned forward, further letting his silk robe dip and flash skin. He held steady eye contact with Louis as he brought the bleeding seeds up to his lips, as he wrapped his lips around the fruit and the tips of his own crimson-dyed fingers. The sudden warmth and contact were intimate, heavy, and Harry ignored the uncomfortable stretch of his spine in his extended position just to savour the familiar feeling.

As Harry pried more seeds from the pith, reaching out to once again feed them to Louis, the king considered him for a second. “Why don’t you come sit a little closer, petal?”

It was a genuine and kind invitation, but Harry saw the challenge dancing behind it. And well. He was never one to back down from a challenge, let alone one so tempting.

Harry stood up gracefully, letting his robe flow with the movement. The couple of steps he took towards Louis were calculated, and his eyes never left him, even when he came up to stand right next to Louis, making him have to crane his neck up. Instead of going around to sit in the chair right next to him, Harry placed a hand on Louis’ shoulder and sat down sideways in his open lap. 

If Louis was surprised, he didn’t show it. He wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist securely, holding him in place. “Comfortable?”

“Very.” Harry smiled at him coquettishly, enjoying that he was gazing down at Louis a little from where he was sitting. It was improper for the queen to disregard etiquette in front of his subjects. It sent a thrill down his spine. They probably had seen and heard worse, he supposed. 

The proximity made his movements rough, and pomegranate juice splattered as he plucked more seeds. He wordlessly lifted them to Louis’ parted lips, vaguely grateful for having a legitimate reason to focus on his mouth intently. Simmering, he swiped a crimson-dripping finger across Louis’ bottom lip, smearing the deep colour onto it, only serving to stain his lips a shade darker. 

It was as if he were drawing a path to his own demise. Harry wanted to lick the tart juice off his lips and bite them raw to match the hue of the fateful fruit.

“Mmm,” Louis hummed around a mouthful, eyes drinking him in. “Sweet.”

A drop of red juice oozed from the corner of Louis’ mouth, down his chin. A moment of weakness. Harry leant in before he could even think, lips on Louis’ chin, oh so close to the corner of his lips. He left an open-mouthed kiss there, a fleeting touch, tongue darting out to taste the juice on his skin. Savoured the sweet and tart flavour, savoured the way Louis had gone still. 

Harry pulled back just as quick as he had swooped in, and blinked at him innocently. “Sweet,” he echoed.

“Like you,” Louis said, thumbing across his cheek sweetly. Harry tutted, but was sure he couldn’t keep the fond out of his face this time.

“So generous with the compliments today, my Lord,” he simpered, crushing the seeds in his hand slightly before pushing them past Louis’ lip. He took great pleasure in swiping the red across Louis’ mouth each time. Enjoyed something about subtly dishevelling the much-feared king. 

Who, to his credit, looked as at home as ever, content with Harry invading his lap, serene at him purposefully undoing his impeccable appearance. “How could I not be? You look so radiant.”

Calloused fingers brushed against his jaw, and Harry preened inwardly at the appreciative gaze on him. “Such life on these cheeks … your time on earth has turned you golden, petal.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you what you want any sooner, my lord.”

Louis eyed him challengingly. “Will it not?”

“You’re just going to have to find out, aren’t you?” Harry quipped, barely separating the seeds now, a little caught up by having Louis so close to him. Giving himself something to do with his hands hadn’t done much to quell the constant pull in his core. He lay one stained palm on Louis’ chest as Louis threw his head back in slight frustration. 

“You’re so cruel to deny me so, my queen,” he lamented, the hand not wrapped around his waist coming up to rest on a thigh. “Isn’t that my reputation?”

Harry hummed, a smile flickering at the corner of his lips. To chip away at a powerful being was an aphrodisiac like no other. He trailed his palm down Louis’ chest, snagging the robe down a little, touching bare skin for one scandalous second. “Perhaps it is … perhaps you’ve influenced me.”

Louis’ grip on his thigh tightened. “I like hearing that.”

“Of course you would. You are partial to anything that shows that I am taken by you, in every way.”

“I cannot deny that,” Louis rumbled. Harry was entirely unprepared to feel his hand slip through the slit in his robe, and warm skin met his own as Louis’ hand rested on his bare thigh. 

Harry couldn’t let his eyes stray from Louis’ as he gasped involuntarily. Daringly, he placed a hand on Louis’, guiding his hand further up the slit, up his thigh as he widened his legs a touch. He leaned closer to Louis. “A man of integrity.”

Louis’ fingers dug into his inner thigh, despite the conflicted expression painted across his face as he hissed, “They’re all going to see .”

Harry let out a tinkering laugh; he’d almost forgotten that they were in the throne room, surrounded by Erinyes and judges of the dead placed a few feet away. Desire flooded him, rippling at the awareness of being watched. Glee prickled his skin pleasurably at the petulant, jealous look on the king’s face. 

“Let them,” he said, winding a hand into the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. The fingers caressing and groping at his thigh pulled each of his strings loose slowly.

“What if I don’t wish for them to?”

Harry brought his other hand up to Louis’ mouth again, this time just plainly smearing the crimson juice around. “What, you don’t wish for them to know of the ravenous beast you are?”

Louis’ eyes darkened. “You’re mine,” he said simply.

Simply lighting a match under Harry’s ever-growing desire.

“Let them see,” Harry soothed, bringing more crushed pomegranate to Louis’ mouth, unable to tear his gaze away from the juice dripping down his chin, staining lips that were calling to him. “They can only watch. They will never see me like you do. They cannot touch me like you do.”

A pleased smile made its way onto Louis’ lips at that, and his mouth lingered on Harry’s fingertips for a moment, sucking at them for the briefest moment before letting go. “That’s right, petal.”

“Because I’m yours.”

“Good.”

“It’s so sweet that you get so jealous, my lord,” Harry tittered, palming at his chest. “So possessive. Don’t you wish to show me off?”

“No.”

Harry arched a brow. “No?”

Louis’ hand slipped higher, an inch away from brushing against his half-hard cock. His other hand travelled up his back till it was resting on the back of his neck possessively. “No. You are a rare, precious jewel. I wish to keep you for myself .”

Against his will, a soft groan left him, and suddenly he needed Louis much, much closer. In a swift move, he shifted so that he was straddling the king, now sat so that their chests were almost touching. He tried to calm the slight heaving of his own chest, one hand feeling the marching of Louis’ heart. The half-eaten pomegranate remained in his other hand, almost forgotten.

“Selfish, selfish king,” he whispered. He was unsure who had moved closer, but he could practically taste Louis. “Is that behaviour fit for a king?”

“Perhaps not,” Louis muttered, and his breath hit the side of Harry’s neck from where he had crowded closer. “It matters not. All that matters is that you like me exactly like this, don’t pretend.”

Harry merely hummed. He struggled to rein in his focus as Louis dragged the tip of his nose down his neck, the puffs of breath escaping him already making goosebumps rise. The grip he had on the fruit was painful as he sucked in a breath. 

Then Louis’ hand was caressing his own, stilling him, taking the fruit from him. Harry’s eyes flicked down, curious. 

“Will you let me be a little more selfish, my queen?” Louis asked, lips faintly brushing his neck. Harry shivered, and watched Louis’ fingers dip into the hollow of the fruit, turning red.

“Will you let me be a little greedy?”

Harry couldn’t speak. The hand not occupied by the fruit spread across his bare thigh, so close to where he was aching. 

“Will you … let me have a little taste?” Louis asked, voice a mere rumble. 

Harry couldn’t breathe. He still couldn’t look away from where Louis’ fingers were idly tracing the pomegranate seeds. Couldn’t explain why it left a phantom touch on him, everywhere and nowhere at once. 

“Will you let me …” he paused, dropping his voice and whispering directly into his ear, “spread you open, and taste you whole?”

The tight reign he had on self-control snapped pitifully as Harry let out a loud whine, trembling at the way Louis’ hand had dug into his thigh at the words, the other hand pressing into the seeds hard enough to have its juice ooze and splatter. That’s where his attention on the fruit stopped, because Louis had taken his whine as an answer, and sealed it with his lips pressing against his neck fully.

Harry gasped and pressed against him closer as Louis began kissing his neck softly, almost teasingly. It wasn’t fair, nor enough, but it was their game . In turn, he wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, sighing softly. With his eyes fluttering close, he could almost imagine it was just them two. It wasn’t, though; he was acutely aware of how public their little display was, and it made him arch his back.

“My darling,” Louis finally murmured against his skin, dropping all titles, the term of endearment reserved just for him, for his ears. One of his hands cradled the side of his face in a sure grip. “I have missed this.”

Louis’ lips found the sweet spot just beneath his jaw, and opened, suckling. The quietest of moans escaped him. Fingers brushed along the crease of his inner thigh beneath his robe, drawing minute shiver after shiver from him. 

“I have missed your beauty,” Louis mumbled, continuing to suck, humming like this simple act brought him great pleasure. “Your radiance, your presence.”

“But equally so, I’ve missed …” he trailed off, nipping at the tender spot, sending a zip of pleasure through him at the pain and making him grind down against Louis once in abandon, “…the way you feel under me.”

The movement drew to his attention that Louis was just as hard underneath him, and he couldn’t help but move against him again, this time keening at the delicious friction, delighting in the stutter of Louis’ breath.

“I’ve missed the way you sound-” he groaned, kissing his way down his neck, bruising and losing finesse. Harry felt his hand slip down his neck all the way to his chest, curling so that they scratched against his hardening nipples ever so faintly, the silk of his robe rubbing against them in the most exquisite of ways. “— just for me.”

“My Lord,” he gasped, almost able to feel the heat of him through the fine material of both their robes. Absence hadn’t merely made the heart grow fonder; it opened up an abyss of gaping yearning and desire that begged to be acknowledged and filled till it was brimming, sated. He still had to be patient, but that never meant that it had to be slow. 

He tugged at Louis’ hair sharply, pulling his head away from where it was buried in his neck. Louis appeared disgruntled for a second, before his eyes zeroed in on his neck, and his lips curled in satisfaction. 

“Look at you, stained with my kisses,” he said, wiping at his lip, and then tracing spots on his neck in awe. Harry frowned, lost, till he realized that Louis’ lips looked significantly less stained by the pomegranate juices. 

Because it had been smeared and pressed onto his skin with every kiss against it. 

A stain of Louis’ love and hunger left on him for all to see . The thought made his breath catch in his chest. 

“So beautiful,” Louis murmured in earnest. “Stained with my kiss and bruised by my touch. Is that what you wanted? For everyone to see my claim on you?”

“Louis,” he murmured, bowing at the possessiveness in his tone. 

“They’re all watching, my darling. But even if they hadn’t, they’d know, just from this. That you are so undeniably mine.”

Yours , his mind echoed, purring at the contentment it brought. Yours, yours, yours. 

“Kiss me,” he finally demanded, urgent and shaky, but uncaring. 

A command, nonetheless, that Louis seemed just as eager to follow.

When his lips finally captured Harry’s in one fluid move, it was heated and fervent. Louis kissed him like he was parched, cupping his face and intently licking into his mouth. Harry was weak, always so weak under a passion that fierce, so he let himself be consumed, sighing and falling into the kiss. A tug to his hair pulled a moan out of him, and even in his frenzied state, he could make out the smile Louis pressed against his lips. 

It was only when Louis’ hand had at some point travelled down and back up the slit in his robe to blatantly cup around his hard cock did he break from the kiss with a loud gasp. He couldn’t bear to pull away too far; he merely wrapped a hand around Louis’ to still him, but moved back in to cover his panting mouth with languid, nectarine kisses. He delighted in Louis’ impatient huff and drank in the pleased little noises that followed not more than a few seconds later. He had missed him. Harry hoped that at least that much was conveyed in every deliberate, overwhelming press of his lips. 

When he couldn’t take the thrumming under his veins any more, he pushed Louis away a little with a hand on his chest, laughing at the look of indignance on his face. “Something upsetting you, my Lord?”

For his cheek, Louis dug his fingers into the meat of his thigh as he replied, “Yes. My queen is being utterly cruel.”

“How so?”

“By denying me simple pleasures … like pleasuring him.”

Harry flushed deeply, squirming in his lap at the lack of regard for anyone who might be privy to their conversation. He shook his head at the smirk lingering at the corners of Louis’ mouth. “Your hands are inside my robe, and I’m wearing your marks. I’ve been very generous, I would say.”

“Not nearly enough,” Louis said with a low growl, hiking his robe up even higher, and as much as Harry enjoyed the eyes on them and the rush that came with being desired but them not being able to touch, he needed more.

“I think we must retire to our chambers,” Harry said loudly, carding a hand through Louis’ hair teasingly. “You must be aching … to have a rest.”

Louis tutted at him but played along. “Of course. I’m craving it.”

Before Harry could make a witty remark, he found himself being jostled with no warning as Louis stood up swiftly, picking him up as he went. An ungodly yelp left him as Louis held him bridal style easily, and he looped his arms around his shoulders instinctively. 

“What,” Harry gasped, “what are you doing?!”

“Going to our chambers,” Louis said simply as he began to walk, sure and steady. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the Erinyes and the judges watching, and his heart kicked up a storm, elated and flustered all at once.

“Put me down!”

“That would be rather counterproductive, my queen.”

“Louis!” Harry tried to say sternly, but it came out punctuated with a giggle as they rounded into the hallway. “Everyone’s watching!” he hissed, slapping his chest lightly. 

“Oh? So now you do not prefer to be watched?” Louis asked mockingly. “Do you only wish to be watched when you want to have others desire you? When you’re being a temptress?”

Harry couldn’t answer, so he pushed his face into the crook of his neck so Louis wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing his reddening cheeks. When they reached their room, he was gently placed back on his feet, and he immediately glared at Louis, hands on his hips.

“What were you thinking?”

“I’m more a man of action. As a king.”

Louis was taking slow steps towards him, and Harry ignored how each step made his heart race. “That was not a very kingly action.”

Louis, now mere inches away from him, held his chin in his grasp. “I do not care. As king, I can do as I please, and I wanted to carry my queen. It pleased me immensely; do not pretend it didn’t please you as well.”

“Cannot deny that I enjoy it when you’re being brutish.”

“I’ll show you brutish,” Louis quipped, surging closer to kiss him, but Harry had other plans. 

In the blink of an eye, he had Louis pushed up against the wall closest to the shut door, the dagger he’d swiped from his husband’s scabbard now resting lightly on his throat. He caught the wild shock in Louis’ eyes, and grinned.

“Not so fast. Tonight’s about taking my time,” he stated slowly, his own face so close to Louis’ he could feel his panting breaths against his skin. “And doing what I please.”

“You’ve already taken your own sweet time, Harry,” Louis groaned, though the fire in his eyes and bobbing of his throat told a different story. “Let me just-”

“ Ah, ah ,” Harry warned, pressing the blade just so. Not enough to draw blood, merely enough to acquaint him with the feel of the dagger’s press. “I find that the longer the wait, the sweeter the reward.”

“Harry.”

Harry ignored the edge of warning, watched the glint of the blade and Louis’ darting eyes with a rush of power that travelled south instantaneously. “You … can either show a little patience, let me take my time, and I’ll eventually let you have what you want … or you can be forced to do nothing but watch and refrain from touching me as I pleasure myself.”

The sight of Louis swallowing harshly, cautious with the blade on his throat and still carrying sheer need in his every move was so pleasing to him. Harry cocked his head at him, silently waiting for an answer, pushing, pushing, pushing . Knowing exactly just how much to, knowing this game like the back of his hand, no matter what turns it took each time. They never missed a step. 

“I suppose I will wait,” Louis finally sighed, and Harry’s grin widened.

“Wise choice,” he whispered, before pulling the blade away. As a reward, he ducked in to kiss him, nibbling at his lip briefly, and smiling when possessive hands gripped at his hips.

“Strip for me,” Louis breathed against his lips, “let me see you.”

Harry pushed him away lightly, crowding him backwards till his knees hit the bed, and he was forced to sit down. He caressed his face as Louis looked up at him, straining, like he couldn’t bear to look away. “What’s the hurry, my love?”

A slight huff left Louis as he resigned to lean back on his hands a little, giving him his best attempt at innocence as Harry slowly walked over to the dresser. “Can you blame me? I’ve had to be separated from the love of my eternal life for half a year, and now he’s making me wait even more.”

“Aww,” Harry cooed, turning back and leaning against the dresser so he could face him. Pursing his lips, he slowly began sliding off a ring, letting it drop onto the dresser with a small chink under Louis’ undivided attention. He had him.

“Yeah,” Louis continued, a little distractedly, much to Harry’s delight. “So cold, so merciless, for a god of Spring.”

“Maybe,” Harry drawled, sliding another heavy ring off and placing it on the dresser, movements calculated and graceful, “he just needs to be persuaded a little. In the right way.”

Louis seemed almost hypnotized, missing a beat before his answer. “What more persuasion would one need, when I’m asking and promising to ravish him?” 

“Perhaps he isn’t convinced.” Chink.

Louis’ eyes narrowed. “What more could I possibly do to sway his mind, hmm?” 

Harry dropped another ring with a tiny chink . “Oh, love,” he simpered, “must I give all the answers?” 

“What must I do to please you, hmm? Do whatever you wish? Get on my knees and beg for you to let me have you?” 

Harry arched a brow at him. “You could. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to that.” Chink.

“Harry,” Louis groaned, “do not torture me, petal.”

Harry slipped the last ring off his finger, playing with it briefly before letting it drop. “Oh, but I’m not. You would know if I was, my Lord. Might have picked up a trick or two, being around the King of the Underworld, you see.”

Harry half expected a reprimand for his daring attitude, but he had to turn away and steel himself when he instead watched Louis cup his own cock like he was enjoying it. Patience , he told himself. He had it all planned out. So he slunk towards the full-length mirror, feeling the burning gaze on him, on the purposeful sway of his hips.

“You’re torturing me now,” Louis sighed behind him.

Harry smiled to himself, gathering his hair over one shoulder, before letting his hands trail down his chest teasingly. “Am I, truly?”

In the mirror, he could see Louis stand up from the bed and walk up towards him, and chose not to protest. “Yes.”

Harry’s eyes found Louis’ as he stood just behind him. His gaze didn’t stray as fingers found the laces that held his robe together and cinched in at the waist. It remained on Louis’ face even as the latter’s eyes caught on the movement, transfixed as he began undoing the laces like time belonged to him and him only.

“Mmm, but isn’t it a little sweet? If this is torture?”

“You’re always sweet,” Louis mumbled, watching hungrily as Harry loosened the robe, slipping the sleek material off his shoulders and down his chest. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that went down his spine at the way the silk caressed him as it went, and Louis couldn’t seem to hold back from reacting viscerally to him.

“Are you trying to sweet talk your way into me giving in to you?” he asked, bunching the material up at his waist, prolonging the moment where he would be fully bare. He batted his eyes at Louis, for good measure.

It was worth it for the way Louis’ mouth was ajar, like he couldn’t even think of being composed. “Wouldn’t dream of such deception or tricks, my darling.” He stepped even closer, hovering, looking like a mere shift in the air could make him snap. Harry could practically feel his lips at the back of his neck as he spoke, “But won’t you consider being generous and letting me have you, hmm?”

“Patience, don’t touch,” he teased, taking a tiny step forward just as Louis’ lips grazed his neck. He barely gave Louis the chance to grumble; he bent over elegantly as he slipped the robe down over the curve of his bare arse, down his legs, pausing like that for a moment till he heard the sharp intake of breath behind him.

Biting back a pleased smile, he straightened up slowly, stepping out from the silk pooling at his ankles. He’d never been shy, but he hung his hands over his hard cock and crossed his legs at the ankles, throwing a coquettish smile at Louis in the mirror to top it off. He would’ve been lying if he said that the fire in Louis’ eyes as his gaze roamed over him didn’t make him nearly buckle.

“Oh, darling,” Louis rasped, the deep timbre making his cock twitch mortifyingly. He appeared to be overcome, genuine desperation written across his face. When his eyes found Harry’s in the mirror, the unbridled desire in them rendered him weak.

This time, when Louis’ hands started mapping out his skin once again, he let him. Sensing that Harry wasn’t going to push him away, Louis’ lips were on his neck again, sucking a kiss in a near frenzy. Warm hands wrapped around his wrist, and the groan against his neck was felt before it was heard.

“There is no sight in this realm or any other that holds a candle to your beauty, I swear,” he said in earnest, making him blush despite having heard a hundred versions of the same from those very same lips over time. Louis pulled him closer, dropping his head to his shoulder. “Let me see you properly, please.”

This close, and after this long, Louis’ touch was disarming. He allowed his hands to be pulled away, keening in the back of his throat as Louis ran his hands down his thighs, mere inches away from his cock. “Beautiful,” he was muttering, more to himself than anything, like he couldn’t help it, “no amount of poetry or statues erected to celebrate you would do your beauty justice.”

“Louis,” he sighed, indulging in the skittering touch and mindless kisses. His defences were slowly weakening under the affection and lust.

“I’ve missed you … I’ve missed this, I-” Louis gritted out, all heaving breaths and palpable desire. “ Please , my darling.”

Harry turned around in his grasp, and Louis stole the opportunity to pull him into a proper embrace. He wasn’t sure that his carefully crafted poise and nonchalance were holding up; how was he to not crumble a little when his husband, a most feared god, was begging to please him?

“Sweetheart,” Louis implored, holding his chin in a delicate grip. “Please. Allow me to please you.”

Was he losing, if it meant that he would be on the receiving end of such devotion and pleasure?

“Let me treat you like the queen that you are.”

Harry waited, and the plea hung in the air, simmering. When it looked like Louis would simply succumb to insanity if he didn’t have his fill of Harry in the next instant, he relented, patting his cheek lovingly.

“I just adore you far too much to deny you when you’ve been so patient,” he said with a mischievous smile. He only just caught the relief and joy overtaking his features before he was being pushed down onto the soft bed, Louis’ mouth moving to cover his own with every intention to take and claim. 

“You are killing me a little,” Louis got out in between kisses, physically manoeuvring him till he was higher up on the bed. In the flurry of movement, Louis brushed against his neglected cock, and he shuddered, quickly losing grip on his composure.

“You-” he gasped, panting into Louis’ mouth so loud it was obscene, “are a god, of the dead — that’s ironic to say-”

Louis straddled his waist, palms flat on his heaving chest as he looked down at him darkly. “I’m reduced to a simple man with nothing but weaknesses and needs before you, Harry. If anyone could plot my demise, it would be you.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry chastised. He fingered the hem of Louis’ dark robes idly. “Though I enjoy knowing how taken by me you are.”

“Do not pretend it's the first you’re hearing of it, darling, I fear I’m losing my reputation a little; even the children recite sonnets of how you hold my very heart in your palms.”

“Don’t worry, dearest, I’ll pretend that you’re a big, scary brute and that I’m terrified of you,” Harry laughed, patting his chest in playful consolation. Louis’ eyes narrowed.

“It is not that I don’t know exactly how to put you in your place,” he said lowly, leaning down, lips to his ear, “ fuck this attitude out of you.” Teasing kisses were pressed against the shell of his ear, making his breath catch. “But not today. You’re addictive when you get like this, so I’ll let you be. Just for now.”

He pulled away, thumbing at Harry’s bottom lip, stealing a moment to hook his thumb in and tug at his lip. He regarded Harry carefully as he smeared the spit on his finger around his chin. “Right now, I’m going to worship you a little.”

Like a flower to the sun, Harry leant into the drag of Louis’ fingers down his cheek as he continued, “Who am I if I don’t devour you when you look so delectable?”

“Louis,” he sighed, his hands meeting bare skin as he hitched up Louis’ robe. Belatedly, he realized the stark difference in their appearances. And that wouldn’t do, he longed to feast upon his golden skin, feel how steady and warm he would be under his touch. Six months had felt like an eternity.

“Take these off,” he whispered, gently tugging at the robe. “I’ve only had dreams and memories to satisfy me when I was away, let me see you.”

Louis softened and complied, pulling off his robe and discarding it on the floor without a care. Harry took his time to drink him in, hands tracing his sinewy muscles, lapping up the way his husband trembled at the adoring touch.

He was his oasis, right here, right now.

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled, honest, voice catching slightly. Louis thumbed away the slight frown, and kissed his fingers and the inside of his wrist tenderly.

“And I’ve missed you, petal. Let me show you how much.” 

Words failed Harry as Louis moved down the bed. He could only watch through his lashes as Louis knelt there, at the bottom of the bed. Could do nothing but suppress the anticipatory twitches in his body as Louis held one foot in his hand, pressing in with his fingers lovingly. Could do nothing but sigh softly as he then lifted it up higher to press a gentle kiss to his arch, repeating the same motions with his other foot.

“You deserve to be worshipped every day, my darling,” Louis said, as he traced his fingers up his calves, following them up with feather-like presses of his lips, working his way upwards slowly. Harry groaned, splaying his legs dutifully, feeling both overcome but also like it wasn’t nearly enough to quench his thirst.

“Cannot believe-” Louis grazed his lips up his thigh, sucking kisses to his sensitive inner thighs like he was feasting on something decadent, “- that all of this is mine to devour.”

“Louis,” Harry whined, as blunt nails scratched lightly down his thighs, red bruises blooming with every spot Louis stopped to suck and nip at, soothing them over with a kiss each time. Louis was unhurried, his movements like molasses, so every touch felt deliberate, pulling sharp inhales from him. It sent waves of pleasure through him, top to bottom, adding to his ever-slow-building arousal, and he vaguely wondered if Louis was simply giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“Breathe, darling,” Louis urged, nosing around in the crease of his thighs, so close yet so far from where he needed him the most. He closed his eyes, awaiting a touch to his cock, but it never came. He felt Louis press a kiss just below his navel, an inch away from his hard cock rested, and he couldn’t even be ashamed of the needy cry it drew out of him.

“Patience,” Louis drawled, a cocky lilt to his lips as he echoed his own taunt back at him. He eyed Harry with faint amusement as he kept showering his quivering belly with sensual kisses and scrapes of his teeth.

Harry scowled at him. “Do not make me regret letting you have this.”

“Are you going to tell me that you aren’t enjoying this?” Louis asked, clever hands sliding up his chest to rub faintly across his hard nipples. A shaky sigh puffed past his lips, much to his dismay and to Louis’ evident smugness. “Are you going to lie to your king?”

“N-no,” Harry faltered under the command in his tone. And under his wicked fingers pinching and rolling the hardened nubs, making his breath go staticky. Overwhelmed, he threw an arm over his face, a faint moan fighting past his bitten lips.

“Just let yourself go for a moment, Harry,” Louis said softly, right before he wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked. Harry arched, Louis’ name a wanton groan hanging in the air. Louis laved his tongue over the other one just the same, before continuing, “You deserve to be pleased and pleasured till it is all you can feel or think about.”

Harry’s entire attention was pulled into simply trying to keep inhaling and exhaling as Louis kissed and licked his way up his chest, straying momentarily only to kiss each and every fingertip adoringly. It came as a surprise to him when he could feel his eyes burn behind the closed lids; not even from the desperation or pleasure, but from the earth-shattering magnitude of love he could feel pouring out from every single touch placed on him.

“Louis,” he rasped, trying to get back some semblance of control as Louis mouthed at his neck, and then the corner of his lips. The single word came out in a tremble. As Louis shifted so he could kiss him better, one of his legs slotted in between Harry’s and rubbed against his aching, throbbing cock, making him cry out loudly and clench his legs.

“So needy, pet,” Louis hummed, purposefully moving his leg so it moved against his cock relentlessly, the sensation dizzying after so long of nothing. Harry was quickly getting lost in it, struggling to recall that he had better plans in store. “Do you need me to take care of that for you?”

Did he need—cocky , smug little devil. Harry hadn’t lost the upper hand as far as he was concerned, he just held his cards real close. Louis knew full well that tonight was an orchestra Harry was leading, and had indulged him, being the doting husband he was. The temporary power he’d handed over to him though … that was getting to him, clearly. Not for long.

But why work for something when it could be handed to you on a silver platter?

“Starting to think you’re just all talk,” Harry quipped, idly dragging a hand down his chest. Louis caught the movement, but frowned down at him.

“And pray, tell, why is that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he shrugged nonchalantly, skimming his hand past his cock, till his fingers were covering his hole just so. “Just wondering if all that pleading to spread me open … and taste me … were just pretty words.”

The incredulous look that fell across Louis’ face was at least a little amusing. Harry waited, caressing the puckered skin around his hole, a subtle taunt and irresistible invitation written all over him, his tensing muscles, the at ease lopsided grin he was flashing at him.

“ Persephone ,” Louis rumbled, a quiet command. 

Harry’s heart dropped. Using his god name? He gulped, but even the shock of it wasn’t enough to dull the sharp spike of his excitement.

“Yes, my Lord?” he simpered, batting his lashes at him for extra measure.

“When have you ever known me to be a man who doesn’t keep his word?”

“Wellll,” he dragged out, metaphorically begging for the glint of a blade up against his throat.

“Cannot have my queen doubting my intentions,” Louis grumbled under his breath, before batting Harry’s hand away and roughly spreading his thighs wide enough to feel the stretch. He saw Louis’ head duck, could feel the breath ghosting across the sensitive skin, and he smirked, tasting victory.

His smile dropped instantly as his mouth fell open on a ragged moan.

Louis may not have punished him the entire day for all his cheek, but the way he delved into Harry’s hole was nothing short of biting and punishing. He didn’t tease, didn’t warn, didn’t kitten lick around the edges like he so loved doing when he wanted to slowly torment Harry with pleasure. Instead, he was licking across his hole in broad, firm strokes, relentless and ravenous. 

Harry only had enough space in his mind to think that Louis truly meant it when he said he wanted to devour him.

“ Oh ,” he cried out weakly, helpless not to arch into Louis’ mouth on him. Hands twisted themselves into his own hair to tug at it, desperate, in an attempt to not completely lose his mind. The fervent touch, when mere moments ago he was empty and needy, was entirely too much, and his body spasmed as he kept rutting up involuntarily into Louis’ eager flicks of tongue.

“Taste so divine,” Louis broke off to say, before diving back in, and only when Harry took a moment to try to calm down his pants did he hear the sheer noises of delight and pleasure that escaped Louis as he pushed his tongue into him firmly, over and over.

“Louis,” he moaned, weaving a hand into Louis’ hair, just so he could hold onto him. Both of Louis’ hands were spreading him open, as he fucked his tongue into him as deep as he could, curling it and knocking the breath out of him. Harry clenched down on him, voice shaky as he whispered, “Please …”

“So proper and polite now, hmm? Learning to ask instead of pushing me around, when me making you fall apart depends on it?”

Harry felt swept away by the strong currents of ecstasy and love pulling him under. Six months spent feeling a chill take home in every bone in him, even as he spent the days under sunshine and bloom. Six months where he didn’t have Louis lovingly tear him down and build him back up, coming apart at the seams from being filled with love, and satiation, and bliss. 

He was more than making up for it now.

Just as the rhythm and depth were getting toe-curlingly good, Louis slowed down. Harry was composed and graceful most of the time, but he could have sobbed. Despite his attempts to keep quiet, a loud keen ripped through him as Louis switched to laving his tongue over him in slow, sensual drags, keeping that spitting arousal in him simmering.

“So sweet for me,” Louis mumbled, lips grazing against him as he spoke. “The finest reward I could ever have is this. The way you sound, the way you feel, the way you look as you allow me to take you apart.”

“Quiet,” he whined, overcome, feeling the telltale pricks of tears in his eyes. Louis paid him no mind, continuing to tease and prod at him with the tip of his tongue, moaning against him like he was lost in the sensations himself.

“You’re perfect for me,” Louis breathed, burying his face in between his cheeks so that the scruff was rubbing against him in the most breath-catching of ways. “Cannot believe you’re all mine.”

As infuriating as the slow and intentional drags of his tongue were, Harry found himself rolling closer and closer to the edge. A violent tremble wracked his body, and only when he caught Louis’ hushed “That’s it, let me hear you, darling” did he become aware of the reedy gasps and whines that were being pulled out of him. His cock twitched, and wetness pooled in his navel.

“Sweetheart,” Louis coaxed, sucking at his rim gently. Everything was too much, and there was a roaring in his ears. An inhale, and the wave of pleasure seemed closer to crashing over him.

“Louis,” he uttered nonsensically, trying to think, finding a pleasant fog wrapped around his thoughts. He needed something, he had wanted something-

“Going to let go for me?” Louis pressed, licking into him filthily. “Mm- going to be my darling and come for me?”

Harry’s eyes flew open, as his words clicked, clearing him of the fog immediately.

He wore a sultry little smile as he gazed down at Louis, tugging at his hair to get his attention. Louis’ eyes flicked up, briefly flashing with concern, which momentarily had him feeling touched, but-

“C’mere,” he begged, a wanton moan spilling out of him easily. “Need-need you to kiss me.”

Louis softened, and was shimmying up his body and capturing his lips in a flash, groaning against his lips as Harry rut up against him. The sudden friction against both of their cocks was mind-numbing, but most importantly, it had Louis’ finesse crumbling. Harry kept it up, waiting, till he felt the stutter of Louis’ breath, and the rhythm of his movements turning erratic. He smirked into the kiss.

In one swift movement, Harry flipped them, pinning Louis to the mattress as he straddled his hips. A surprised yelp had come from below him, and Harry laughed lightly at the shock in his wide eyes and heavy panting making his chest balloon.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked gruffly, staring up at him, not having made a move to regain any sense of control just yet.

Harry ran his fingers through his sparse chest hair, tilting his head in delicate consideration. “Taking my time, torturing you … you can call it what you wish.”

“ Persephone …”

Harry was filled with something akin to lightning at the desperation tinting his groan, at the way his eyelids fluttered close as if he needed a moment to grapple at sanity. He thumbed at his nipples with a feather-light touch, revelling in the goosebumps that erupted across his skin.

“Will you not serve your queen?”

Harry ran his hands up Louis’ arms as he moved them up to place them above his head. He leaned down as he did so, tracking the way his throat moved with his harsh swallow. He hovered, close enough to map out a constellation amongst Louis’ freckles.

“Will you not appease a god ?”

A staccato in the breath Louis drew in.

Harry sat back up, and when he had Louis’ eyes on him again, he flicked his wrist. Thick green vines materialized out of thin air and started wrapping around Louis’ wrists, binding them together and to the slats in the headboard so that he couldn’t tug them down. 

“Harry-” Louis gasped, tugging at his hands once in a futile attempt to free them. “W-what-”

“Hush, my love,” Harry shushed him with a finger to his lips. “I couldn’t have you getting greedy, or impatient.”

He traced the vines, testing the feel of them. “Alright?” he simply asked, soft and quiet. Louis would know what he meant.

Louis nodded, relaxing against the sheets. He held Harry’s gaze meaningfully. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of not abiding by my queen’s wishes.”

He jutted his chin out, a challenge dancing in his eyes despite his current predicament. “Would not dream of not giving my boy everything he asked for.”

It was wicked, the choice of words. Spiked with disarming sincerity and adoration, and tinged with just the right amount of jab. 

Harry sighed, toes curling at the words. His move .

“Generous king,” he praised, caressing his cheek for a brief moment. “I will have to find a way to thank you …” he trailed off, bracing one arm on Louis’ chest, and moving one hand to his back.

“After I satisfy myself,” he finished, as his fingers found his entrance and he pushed two fingers in, hissing at the twinge of discomfort, the slide only being aided by Louis’ spit acting as a natural lubricant.

Needless to say, Louis was transfixed as Harry moved his fingers back and forth inside himself, breathing harshly as the discomfort turned to pleasure. He eyed Louis’ thick, hard cock, and was consumed by an almost feverish need to feel it inside him. It had been long, but not nearly long enough to forget how it felt to be split apart by his cock fucking into him perfectly.

“Harry,” Louis urged, quiet. He couldn’t even actually see what was going on; couldn’t see the way Harry’s long fingers were curving upwards as he pushed them into his hole, couldn’t see the spit-slick muscle stretching around the girth of those fingers. Still, his eyes were hazy in arousal as if he could; or perhaps, it was simply from the sounds falling from Harry, or the promise of what would come next.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright and also staying composed. “I am letting you watch me, aren’t I? You ought to- to be grateful.”

Louis looked like a man starved, but he kept up, because he was so good. “My petal … you’re a vision. Wish everyone could see you like this so they could worship you, but … I’m far too selfish to share what’s mine.”

Mine .

A pleased shiver ran through him. He pulled his fingers out after a few more weak thrusts, impatient now that he was so close to what he wanted. Louis’ brows knitted together imperceptibly as he watched. His eyes widened a fraction as Harry shuffled till he was kneeling right above his crotch.

“Wish everyone could see us ,” Harry mumbled, taking Louis’ weeping cock in his grip. The quiet keen that bubbled in him was pure ecstasy to him. He waved his hand, conjuring a small vial of lavender oil in his palm that he opened and poured generously into his hand, then discarding the bottle next to him carelessly. 

He then coated Louis’ cock with the oil thoroughly, moving his hand in a tight grip, slow and purposeful. If only to watch the beautiful arch of Louis’ back as he whimpered brokenly, breaths punched out of him in time with the unhurried drags.

“Wish everyone could see and envy what we have … watch but not touch … lament over the pinnacle of pleasure that is ours and just ours.”

“Harry … fuck,” Louis shuttered, hands twisting in their binds. “Do not draw this out any further, I am not above begging-”

“Then beg.”

The simple words fell like a blow, and Harry paused as Louis went still under him, mouth gaping. For a moment, he wondered if he had gone too far, pushed too hard, pushed to snap instead of gently bending to his every whim. He held his breath unknowingly, not being able to get a read on the myriad of expressions that flickered in Louis’ eyes. 

When Louis spoke after a moment, it was soft and ardent. “Persephone … please.” 

Like a prayer.

Something fierce took hold of Harry at the quiet plea. “Please what, my love?” he crooned, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Louis’ leaking tip in faux absent-mindedness. 

“Please, I-” Louis shuddered, “do not toy with me so.”

Harry arched a brow at him even as he shifted, that he was now hovering right above his cock that was still held firmly in his grip. “Is that a demand? That’s a far cry from begging, darling.”

“N-no. Just … make haste, Harry, please . Have I not waited long enough?”

“So you’re begging me to get you in me so you can afford some relief? A bit greedy, if you ask me.”

Despite tugging at the vines reflexively as Harry teased the head of his cock against his hole, Louis looked up at him dead on as he said, after a moment of thought, “No … not greedy. Just … eager.”

Harry shot him a look, still grinding down against his cock, teasing but not letting it breach him just yet.

Louis sighed, the whimsy in it curling around them. “I want you to sit on my cock, so I can feast on the sight of you falling apart … I want to be able to watch you be overcome with pleasure and know that I’m the only one who gets to elicit that from you. I want to hear how pleased I’m making you feel, and I-I long to feel you around me and feel so close to you again that the time we spent apart is laid to rest and forgotten.”

Even when he was trembling out of sheer want, Louis was full of adoration reserved only for him. Harry couldn’t deny the skip in his heartbeat at the sincerity lining those words, and he half longed to kiss Louis until the emptiness and chill that took root from being apart would be vanquished. 

“Do you think you’ve earned that, hmm?” Harry asked instead, tracing Louis’ cheekbones, and cupping his face, tone saccharine sweet. “Tell me, do you deserve it?”

His eyes tracked the movement of Louis’ throat. The pulse ticking wildly at his temple. The hitch in his breath. The air around them positively crackled with anticipation.

“I think … I have been … so good,” Louis breathed, and the coquettish timbre to it made Harry smirk, because oh, he was good, so clever , “for you .”

The words tacked on sent a ripple through the arousal pooling in his core. Harry hummed in consideration. “You have … though you have been impatient at times.”

“Yes, but … impatient to please you.”

Harry tittered, leaning close enough so that Louis’ breath caught. “ Liar .”

An impish grin crossed Louis’ face for a split second before he schooled himself, long lashes fluttering. “No,” he whispered, “and now I want to be good and make you come.” He paused, before he said lowly, “When you finish, not a soul in the Underworld will have gone unaware of the fact that you have returned. I’ll make sure of it.”

Harry’s only response to that was to dig his nails into Louis’ chest harshly, but if Louis’ puffed-out chest was anything to go by, he knew.

“I’ll behave,” he rumbled, and then he was lining up Louis’ cock, the tip of it snagging on the tight ring of muscle a couple of times before he started to ease down on it slowly, desperately trying to force air into his lungs as he felt his whole body quiver with the stretch, the control, the pure bliss at once again having Louis this close.

Louis did not seem to be faring any better, lip bitten down harshly and muscles tense. Harry locked eyes with him as he sank down the rest of the way in a controlled movement. The beating of his heart was thunderous. The ache he carried around the entire time was replaced with the more pleasurable ache of being filled, finally, and he thought, this was worth it.

When he was flush against Louis’ hips, shaky sighs tumbled out of both of them, and Harry closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling.

“Look at you,” Louis mumbled, awe colouring his eyes, “Sat on your throne like the queen that you are.”

A moan spilt from him at that, and he rocked his hips ever so slightly, clenching. Victorious, when a louder, strangled moan was ripped out of his husband. Harry knew he wouldn’t last; not when he had gone without this for far too long, not when he had spent the better part of a day feeling like he was seconds away from tumbling over the edge. Louis’ eyes on him were heated.

“Harry - please, you have had your fun, move-oh-”

Louis’ rambling plea was cut off by his sharp gasp as Harry lifted and sank back down in a fluid move without preamble, hissing at the gratifying drag of his cock. The poise and control he had carefully curated fled his mind as his body took over, seeking satiation as he repeated the movement, quickly building up to a steady pace.

“Is this what you so desperately wanted?” he asked, his breath choppy as he rocked his hips down and was met with sparks of pleasure each time Louis’ cock went in deep, occasionally nailing his sensitive spot. “- from … fuck - from the very second you walked in?”

“Yes,” Louis groaned, breaths loud and rough, throwing his head back. “How-how could I not? Wish you could see yourself right now, petal … never seen anything more ravishing.”

“Charmer,” Harry huffed, bracing both his hands on Louis’ chest for support as he picked up his speed, keening at the back of his throat at how incredible it felt. “Such a way with words.”

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Louis asked, as a swivel of his hips changed the angle, and now each rut downwards had Louis’ cock hitting his spot dead on. A sharp cry rose in him, the same desperation that Louis had been drenched in all day seeping into him, making him frenzied. He ignored his thighs shaking, mind fixed on a singular thing alone.

“Louis,” he mumbled weakly, vision swimming with how good it felt, little whimpers escaping him. He couldn’t even speak more, feeling flushed, like he’d burn down to ashes if he didn’t get to come soon.

The air around them was rich with the loud snaps of his arse meeting Louis’ hips, unabashed moans and panted breaths. Everything around him was blurring into nothingness, his focus being driven to just the two of them, and the crescendoing feeling rising up in his body. He ground down into Louis harder, whining his name mindlessly.

“Look at me, pet,” Louis urged hoarsely. 

Tucking his now dishevelled hair away from his eyes, he looked down at him. A wilting flower that had fallen out of his hair into the crook of his neck caught his attention for a brief second, before it was pulled back again to Louis, always Louis. Who, despite panting, and twisting his hands in the vines, seemed unfairly composed, in sharp contrast to him. Harry could sense his power shifting, but couldn’t be bothered. He was so close .

“Precious,” Louis praised, as Harry bounced on his cock. The simple compliment unravelled something in him, his chest burning. Never had he felt more cherished or adored the way he did like he did now, fucking down onto Louis’ cock under his undivided attention. He had longed for this.

“Come on, darling. Let go … take what you need.”

Harry gasped, trying to do exactly that. But he was tiring, quick movements turning erratic, and he whined in frustration. He slowed his pace to a grind, pulling a bit-back groan from an otherwise composed Louis. He couldn’t be too apologetic over the switch, because this way, he felt so much fuller, Louis’ cock deep in him and continuously rubbing against his spot as he ground down in tiny circles. He exhaled shakily.

“So beautiful,” Louis whispered, a little like he wasn’t even thinking before the words were spilling from his lips. “Always so beautiful, - ah - so beautiful, my darling. But especially like this.”

Harry shook his head slowly, almost withering under the love burning in his eyes. Louis regarded him as the only thing that mattered. Like he was his.

“And only I have the pleasure of seeing you like this, hmm? This is just for me .”

“Just for you,” Harry breathed. Pearly white drops of precome were dripping down and pooling on Louis’ stomach, betraying just how far gone he was, and he couldn't care. 

“Gorgeous. And all mine.”

Harry mewled at the possessiveness colouring his words. Louis’. Louis’. Louis’.

Separated or together, Louis was his, in the same way. All his. Feared king and aloof god who was nothing but devoted just to him. 

Mine.

He didn’t even have to stake a claim on him. He was using a bound Louis’ cock to please himself, and Louis was letting him, coaxing him even. He was so pleased, he gazed up at him with subtle pride twinkling in his eyes and he-

Harry couldn’t breathe with the intensity of it all. Mine.

A sudden wave of emotion crashed over him as he slowly continued to grind down on Louis’ cock, pleasure fizzing through him from that one spot, spreading out through him and tightening like vines, sweet yet unrelenting. Harry's heart seized awfully. 

“Mine,” he gasped out the ricocheting thought, never breaking his movement, never stopping the chase of pleasure. Louis’ stormy eyes were burning into him from below, and he met the gaze steadily, feeling the same fire in his belly. He clenched, watching in dizzying satisfaction as Louis’ kiss-swollen lips parted on a moan. The only one who could even cause a chink in his armour.

“Mine,” he repeated, the word - the ferocious emotion and intent behind the single word - wrapping around every fibre of him, becoming one with him. Dazed, he dragged one of the hands that were resting on Louis’ sweaty chest up, up, up , till it flirted just so on the column of Louis’ throat. Not pressing, not yet, just resting.

A dark threat, an alluring promise, a bold indulgence.

Beneath him, beneath his hand, a slow smile curled at Louis’ lips, challenging and poised. The echo in Harry’s head grew louder, denting his focused movement a little. He blamed that, and Louis’ sudden snap of hips, for the way he slipped forward a little, pressing down on Louis’ throat for a fleeting moment. 

Despite the spell of sharp pleasure that shot through him, Harry caught the way Louis’ smile widened, his eyes fluttering close. Harry’s voice dipped possessively, ringing sure, fingers splaying over his neck, a claim , as he murmured, “ Mine. ”

Louis looked at him like he was the only god he'd pray to. Airy moans interspersed with the odd snap of his hips were like a hymn to his ears. Desperation clawed at him, and he picked up pace, hissing in pleasure.

“Mine,” he choked out, “ fuck , mine.” Nothing but sheer want and a mantra of ‘ mine mine mine ’ was all he was. All he was reduced to. 

Suddenly he desired Louis’ touch everywhere, unbearably. Ached for the touch of it, to claim and ground him.

Mine mine mine.

“Louis,” he whispered. Unsure it was even heard over both of their moans and sighs. “Mine.”

“Look at me, my darling,” Louis coaxed, jiggling his leg once, breaking him out of his trance-like state. Harry was consumed by the sheer adoration in his eyes, the same lust and want he felt mirrored in them. As Louis smiled at him, the moment seemed suspended in time.

“ Yours .”

Harry let out a wanton cry and collapsed forward, shuddering violently. Half out of his mind, he opened his mouth on the skin closest to him, kissing Louis’ chest messily, merely so they’d be connected at one more point between them. He needed . He needed more, he needed it like it was a forbidden fruit and his gums ached with the urge to sink his teeth into it and taste. To give over. The desire that grew in him rapidly was monstrous.

“Please,” he mouthed against salty skin, whimpering at a sharp little thrust from Louis. “Need you to- need you-”

Louis sounded pleased, yet tender when he asked, “What do you need, pet?”

Harry shook his head against him, clawing at him. “Take- I need you to take-”

“Aww,” he cooed, serving only to draw a fierce blush to his face. “Need me to take over, darling?”

The unbridled glee and taunt in those words would’ve made Harry bristle a few moments ago, maybe. Not now. Now, he simply nodded, making a noise of assent. When Louis didn’t move for a few moments though, he lifted his head to look at him, brows drawn.

Louis grinned wolfishly. “Cannot do as you asked, you see … I’m in a bit of a predicament,” he said, tugging once at his hands bound by vine, and oh-

Embarrassed, Harry tutted at himself before waving his hand, making the vines disappear and freeing his hands. No sooner had he done that, than he found himself flat on his back in the blink of an eye, barely even getting a gasp in there. He looked up, heart pounding, to see Louis hovering over him, hands gripping his waist tightly, cock still in him. 

When Louis leant down to kiss him, he wasn’t expecting the surprisingly tender touch, the softest brush of his lips. Their lips grazed as Louis whispered, “I’ve got you.”

Between one inhale and the next, Louis was fucking into him, setting a near-rabid pace, knocking him higher up the bed with each thrust. Harry wailed, scrambling for purchase on his sweaty back, unable to do anything but let Louis take him with ferocious vigour.

“My petal,” Louis rasped, hands wrapped around Harry’s thighs tightly as he drove in further, “my pretty little flower …”

“Louis,” he whined, so close to the edge it was blurring his vision. His lungs burned, but sweeter was the way the arousal simmered and grew in his belly, and he was helpless to do anything but rush headlong into it.

“Look at what a mess a little power has turned you into,” he cooed, wickedly sharp. His prostate was being nailed on every thrust, and Harry’s restraint was fast disappearing.

Louis cursed under his breath before continuing, “Did you enjoy that, darling? Being in command? Hmm?”

Nothing but a garbled whimper came out of him as he clenched hard, feeling waves of pure ecstasy creep up on him alarmingly fast. Still, he had a reputation to maintain. “Enjoyed- fuck - enjoyed torturing you a little.”

Louis grinned, appearing utterly besotted. “Am I tainting you, my love?”

Harry returned the smile, drunk on love and lust, dazed. “A little.”

“Good.”

Harry could tell Louis was close. He snapped his hips into him with unfaltering vigour, but each of his exhales ended in barely there whines, and he was tensing. He looped his arms around his neck to bring him closer, wishing feverishly that they could just meld into one so no space existed between them.

“C-close,” he gritted out, nails digging into Louis’ back, and earning a low moan.

“Just needed me like this, didn’t you, petal,” he got out as Harry’s legs started to tremble. “You like-you love putting on your little act of being tough, untouchable, but-”

Harry felt himself seize up, eyes scrunching shut in anticipation, body drawn tight like a bowstring about to snap-

“-just need me to take care of you in the end, hmm? Only I can give this to you.”

“Louis-”

“- Only I can pleasure you like this.”

He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, it was all too much, the pleasure near suffocating, he needed to-

“Because you’re mine. ”

Harry came with a hoarse shout of Louis’ name, arching high off the bed and shaking violently as thick spurts of come coated his chest and neck. His orgasm was ripped out of him with an intensity that made his ears ring, barely registering Louis’ own grunts as he spilt into him, never slowing down his movements till he began to whine from the sensitivity, kicking out. 

He didn’t realize he’d been crying till a minute later, when he felt Louis thumb away wetness from under his eyes. Harry’s death grip around Louis’ shoulders remained, wanting him to be closed, half feeling like he’d shake and crumble into nothing if he didn’t have his husband’s solid weight and warmth keeping him pinned to their bed. Safe. 

“My darling,” Louis mumbled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. 

Harry laughed, free and blissful. He was soaring. In the dimly lit room in Louis’ warm embrace, feeling boneless, he was soaring.

“I adore you, you know,” he said, sighing at satiation seeping in through every pore. 

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Louis smile.

“I know. And I, you.”

******************************

An hour or so later, Harry was still basking in the warm glow of finally being reunited with his love, sinking into the waves of bliss. He was on his front, lying next to an equally nude Louis, with his head propped up on one hand so he could better admire the vision that his husband made. 

Louis lay relaxed on the silk sheets, one arm behind his head, and eyes closed. He appeared serene, a little disarmed. Love twisted and braided itself into every fibre of his being over and over again.

Harry waved his hand lazily in the air again, like he’d been doing for the past ten minutes. A small pink flower materialized, floating down gently till it fluttered against Louis’ nose. The delicate touch made Louis scrunch his nose, and Harry giggled before plucking it out of the air and choosing to place the flower amongst the few others scattered in his wispy hair. He looked beautiful and uncharacteristically sweet. 

“Are you enjoying yourself over there, my darling?” Louis asked dryly, voice raspy. 

Harry laughed lightly as he conjured a small lily and trailed it down his toned tummy, endeared by the way the ticklish touch made the muscles clench and elicited a faint chuckle. He decided to leave that one on his navel, admiring the slowly growing collection of flowers on the expanse of his golden skin as he answered, “Very much so.”

The next second, Harry was met with a playful glare that he held for a moment, before Louis cracked a smile, and closed his eyes again. “Good,” he rumbled. 

Heart swelling, Harry kept going, pulling a small red bloom out of the air to place it on a nipple, grinning impishly as he watched the nub harden a touch. A few flowers fell off his body as he tugged the covers higher up his hips, but Harry didn’t mind; he simply conjured up a few more leisurely. 

“Are you happy?” Louis asked, quieter.

Harry shuffled up higher so he could cradle his face and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline. “Very much so,” he repeated, soft and sincere. 

Louis opened his eyes and turned his face, meeting his with a love that was turbulent in its ferocity, but sure as day. “Good. I’m glad, my love.”

“Are you?” Harry asked, tracing the lines by his eyes, even though the answer was etched onto him in every way. Mine.

“With you? By my side once again? Always .”

“Αγαπημένε μου,” (my beloved) Harry breathed, overcome at the promise in his words. 

Louis brought his hand up to his lips and kissed them fervently before holding it to his chest. “You are my truest joy and my only love. I’m ruined without you.”

“You’ll never have to be without me. I understand the frigidity of winter truly when I leave your side.”

Louis’ smile was the most beautiful thing to bloom, he thought.

“And I feel the beauty and hope that spring brings when I’m with you. You are my life.”