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“Again?”
Harry quickly shucked his shoes and ripped trousers, careful to keep his makeshift pride flag skirt around his waist. He traded the torn bottoms for new ones that his stylist was holding out for him, roundly ignoring his boyfriend’s voice.
“That’s what, the second time this tour? The third?”
Harry huffed, tripping slightly as he tried to put his second leg in the new trousers. “Something like that,” he muttered, tugging the fabric up his legs and under the skirt.
His cheeks burned red as he could feel Louis’ eyes on him, his stare taking the place of the dozens of words Harry knew the man would be hurling at him if they were in private and not just backstage.
“You really need to be more careful,” Louis continued, voice thin and flat.
Harry slipped the trousers up over his bum and began to fasten them, finally looking up to meet the man’s hardened gaze. “Can we not do this now?” Harry asked, quickly undoing the pride flag now that he was no longer exposed. He slipped his shoes on one at a time before straightening up. “I’m kind of busy here.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the stage and the crowd beyond it.
Louis’ jaw tightened, just a touch; it probably wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone but Harry, especially in the dim light, but Harry caught it, swallowing hard as he turned and headed back towards the stage.
He knew he was really going to get it after the encore.
~
“Great show, loves. Thank you again,” Harry told Mitch and Sarah as he ducked into his dressing room, closing and locking the door behind him.
He turned and glanced up briefly to see Louis sitting on one of the couches against the wall, stern-faced and serious. Harry averted his eyes and quickly opened his water bottle to down the rest of it, needing something to keep his hands busy.
“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked with a slight gasp as he finished the water. He tossed the empty bottle into the bin and then walked to the mini fridge to grab a new one. It was ice cold, and he took a moment to press the outside of the bottle to his face with a sigh, the chilly plastic feeling like a fresh breeze on his sweaty brow.
“Sure,” Louis said plainly.
Harry pulled the bottle away from his face to have a drink. He swallowed and cleared his throat as he began pacing aimlessly.
Louis didn’t add to his one-word answer.
“I am obsessed with this shirt,” Harry went on, desperate to fill the silence that his boyfriend had hung out to dry in the air between them. “Alessandro really outdid himself this time. I wasn’t sure if the chips were going to look as good as the cherries did on that one shirt, but I think it looks great. Not too many of them. The chips I mean. The right amount. Hey, do you think the hotel would be able to cook me up some when we get there? How late is the kitchen open?”
“You’re not changing,” Louis spoke, interrupting Harry’s anxious chatter.
Harry wasn’t sure if this was a question or a statement, but either way, it was true. He wasn’t quite ready to remove his clothing and change into a fresh pair. He shrugged, taking another drink from his water bottle. “Don’t want to yet.”
Louis gave a slight scoff, looking away as he licked his teeth. “I’m not stupid, Harry,” he stated, looking back at Harry in such a way that made the boy squirm.
“I didn’t say you were stupid,” Harry countered as he set his water bottle down and removed his shirt, hoping that maybe this would get Louis to quit drilling him. He threw it to the couch beside the man, as if to emphasise that he was beginning to undress, but Louis was quick and reached out to catch the sequined top before it hit the seat.
“Come here,” was all Louis said then.
Harry gave an annoyed sigh, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he came to stand in front of his boyfriend. Louis was starting to tick him off, the man’s sharp mood threatening to perforate and deflate the post-show high that Harry loved to bask in after he performed.
“What,” Harry said apathetically, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
Louis was silent for a moment. “I know you put on those lace knickers after I told you not to.”
Harry swallowed roughly but stayed cool. He’s bluffing, he thought to himself. “I didn’t,” he said firmly, forcing his voice to be even.
Louis raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously going to lie to me? You really think that’s the best idea?”
Maybe he wasn’t bluffing.
Harry dropped his arms with a huff and gave in to the eye roll that had been tempting him. “Okay, so what, Louis? I covered up right away. It’s not like anybody saw.”
Louis snorted, reaching into his pocket to remove his phone. He tapped at the screen a few times before turning it to face Harry.
Harry’s eyes widened at the picture of himself staring back at him like some kind of cruel fun house mirror. This could not be happening.
He barely registered as his boyfriend spoke again.
“Everybody saw.”
Harry reached for the phone, clutching it tightly as he began scrolling through Tumblr. It was overwhelmingly cluttered with post after post containing pictures and gifs of his ripped trousers from all angles, including many with a strip of purple lace peeking through the leather.
Louis’ words from only hours earlier suddenly echoed like a dark scar carved in Harry’s mind:
“Don’t wear those, Harry. With your luck something will happen, and someone will see them.”
But Harry hadn’t listened.
“Fuck,” Harry cursed softly, running his hand through his damp locks.
“Yeah, ‘fuck,’” Louis repeated, tone mocking.
“God dammit!” Harry said louder, chucking Louis’ phone to the couch and beginning to pace again. It bounced off and hit the floor with a clatter.
“Oi!” Louis hollered, bending forward to retrieve it. “Watch it!”
Harry ignored him, knowing the phone was fine. He’d bought Louis a heavy duty case for Christmas after the man had broken three phones in the past year, so he didn’t feel too bad.
“This cannot be happening,” Harry muttered, clenching his water bottle in his hands with a loud crackle.
“Well, it is,” Louis said as he casually tossed his phone from one hand to the other. “All because you had to be defiant and wear your stupid knickers. I told you not to.”
Harry exhaled sharply. “You’re not bloody helping.”
His mind was racing as a dozen worries began whipping through his brain. Everyone was going to see it. His mum. His sister. His friends. The fans. And the press was probably going to have a field day. Soon a hundred media outlets would be running articles with pictures of his knickers plastered at the top. He could picture the headlines now: Popstar’s Panty Palooza. His publicist was going to kill him.
“Come here,” Louis said for the second time, making Harry jump as the man’s words tore through the anxious inner monologue in Harry’s head.
Harry was tempted to ignore him, maybe give some flippant comment, but Louis’ voice had the slightest hint of warmth and calmness hidden beneath the rough exterior, a delicate combination that had Harry’s nerves suddenly paused. He turned and came back to stand in front of Louis.
“What,” Harry said, mirroring the first time Louis had called him over. This time however, Harry’s arms were not crossed, and he was instead choking his water bottle between his trembling hands.
“Show them to me,” Louis told him, his gaze steady and expectant.
“W-what? Harry stammered, taking a half step back.
“Your purple lacy knickers that you just had to wear. I want to see them.”
“Louis.” The man’s name was meant to come out as more of a warning, but instead it spilled from Harry’s lips in a soft breathy tone that had the corner of Louis’ mouth twitching in the hint of a smile.
Louis cocked his head to the side, softening as he reached forward and gently removed Harry’s water bottle from the tight grasp the boy had on it.
“Come on, baby,” Louis said, his tone causing Harry to shudder. “You want to be good for Daddy, yeah?”
Harry’s stomach leaped into his chest, making his heart skip a beat as it quickened its pulsing. He wanted to be good. He wanted that very much, especially after screwing up and disappointing Louis, and god knows who else. And now that his mind was spinning with racing thoughts, threatening to drag him into a downward spiral, Harry needed it, needed to be good for Louis, needed to obey a simple command to get his head out of dangerous waters and back to an even existence. But he couldn’t say all that. He sucked his lip between his teeth and bit down, unable to find words.
“Besides,” Louis continued, shifting and leaning back into the couch. “The whole world has already seen them. The least you could do is give me a private viewing, don’t you think?”
Harry’s head tipped into a nod as the yearning to be submissive shot through his veins as if Louis had injected him with it.
“Go on then, darling,” Louis encouraged gently.
Harry’s fingers were already at the button on his trousers, fumbling with it in a haste to get it undone. It took him a few tries, but Louis made no move to help him. Finally Harry got it, pulling it open and slipping down the zipper and revealing the top of the purple lace that cloaked his groyne. He paused, looking up at Louis.
The older man’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, eyes fixed to the space between Harry’s hands. “All the way, love. Don’t get shy on me now.”
Harry took a breath, sliding his trousers past his hips and pushing them down so the entirety of the pants was revealed.
“Well, those are lovely, aren’t they?” Louis admired, making Harry blush. “Do a little turn for me, sweetheart.”
Harry obeyed, slowly rotating and breathing deeply as he let himself melt further into his submissive headspace under Louis’ inspection.
“Oh, kitten. You didn’t tell me it was a thong.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tips of his ears grow warm as he paused with his bum facing his boyfriend. His heart was fluttering so quickly that for a moment he worried that it would press itself into his butterfly tattoo and fly away.
“You’re such a pretty little thing,” Louis was saying by the time Harry had turned back around. “You just wanted to be pretty underneath your trousers for the show tonight, is that it?”
Harry nodded. “Yes, Daddy,” he breathed, hand coming up to finger at his lip.
Louis sat up and moved to the edge of the couch. “Come here, baby,” he instructed warmly, extending an arm towards the boy.
Harry quickly rushed into it, letting himself relax into the man’s touch as Louis wrapped his arms around him.
“You’re very pretty, angel. But you disobeyed me. I told you not to wear them in case your trousers ripped again, and look what happened.”
Harry hung his head, a concoction of embarrassment and shame cloaking him like a thick overcoat.
Louis’ finger found Harry’s chin, nudging it upwards until Harry met his eyes.
“I do think that’s worthy of a punishment, don’t you agree, love?”
Harry nodded quickly into Louis’ hand, which was now cupped around his chin, Louis’ thumb softly smoothing back and forth against his skin. “Yes, Daddy.” The prospect of a punishment filled him with nervous anticipation, and he was suddenly eager to get changed and go back to the hotel.
“Good,” Louis said, the fingers of his other hand playing with the fabric at Harry’s hip. “Over my lap then, doll.”
Harry’s eyes widened as it dawned on him what Louis was saying. “Here?!” he squeaked, his voice taking him by surprise.
“Yes, here. Now that I’ve seen you in these, I can’t very well let you get changed without first taking the punishment we both agree you deserve.”
Harry’s breaths were coming slightly quicker, Louis’ words sliding into his ears and tickling the submissive parts of his brain as he processed what was about to happen.
Louis had never punished Harry in his dressing room before. Sure, they had fooled around a bit from time to time, usually with a quick handy or maybe some fingering to get Harry’s nerves out before the show, or a rough and fast shag while his adrenaline was still coursing through him after his encore. But a punishment, a spanking, that was another thing entirely. He could handle a quick orgasm and go on about his day just fine, seeing whoever he needed to see, doing whatever was required of him. But a whole d/s scene, knowing that afterwards he would have to be okay enough to leave the room and most likely talk to several people before he could crash into his hotel bed? He wasn’t sure if he could handle that.
Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, fidgeting as he debated internally.
“You can say no, Hazza,” Louis reminded him gently. “We can play later, or another day.”
Harry’s eyes flitted to the door, double checking that he had locked it before entering the room. He met Louis’ gaze once more, his stomach jumping at the steady blue eyes that stared back at him. There was that feeling again—the need to be good for Louis, the need for the man to take control and keep Harry from falling apart, keep him from unravelling into a messy pile of overwhelmed strings. Being good for Louis kept him tied together. And he needed that right now.
“I want it,” he said, his voice airy but confident. “Now.”
Louis gave a reassuring smile. “I’ve got you, babe. Come here.”
Harry scrambled to lay across Louis’ lap, sighing happily as he settled his cheek into the sofa and adjusted so he was in a somewhat comfortable position.
Louis leaned to the side and tapped at Harry’s mouth, which opened excitedly, quickly sucking Louis’ pointer finger inside of it. “Jeeze, kitten, you’re eager,” Louis said with a chuckle as Harry made work of getting the finger as wet as he could.
Harry hummed in response, wrapping his tongue around it and pulling it deeper into his mouth. He loved sucking any part of Louis that he could get his mouth on, and he was always willing to put forth his best effort, showing Louis how well he could work his lips and mouth and tongue.
Louis pressed down on Harry’s tongue slightly before beginning to remove his finger. “That’s enough now.”
Harry pouted a moment, but his scrunched brow quickly disappeared as he felt Louis move aside the thin strip of fabric between Harry’s cheeks, petting his entrance lightly. The boy pushed himself upwards, trying to back up into it and get Louis inside of him. He waited for a scolding, but instead Louis obliged, pressing his digit into Harry until it was all the way in.
Harry bit his lip, a soft moan fleeing from his throat as he forced himself to remain still instead of chasing the finger with his prostate. He knew that the sooner he settled and showed that he was ready, the sooner their fun could begin. If he was too greedy, he was sure that his boyfriend would call the whole thing off.
“Fucking hell, Hazza,” Louis breathed suddenly, his right hand coming to cup one of Harry’s bare cheeks, just below the strap of his thong. “These really do look amazing on you.”
Harry's chest fluttered as he bit back a tickled grin. He loved how good he looked in his knickers, and having Louis acknowledge it always had him chuffed to bits. He could feel his dick filling in response, beginning to press against the lace clinging to the front of him.
“Thank you, Da—ung!”
Harry gasped as the first swat hit him, not too hard but enough to startle him. He could practically feel Louis smirking as he smoothed his hand where it had just slapped the boy, lightly brushing him in such a way that had Harry’s head feeling floaty already. He clenched his hole around Louis’ finger, wishing it was more than it was.
“I bet everyone else thought so too,” Louis continued, punctuating his statement with another smack. This one was harder than the first, on the opposite cheek, sending a groan from Harry’s chest as Louis’ words rippled through him.
“You really thought you could pull one over on me.” Another slap. “Thought that I would have no idea.” And another. “You figured you could just cover your slutty little arse in lace and slap some leather over that, and give a performance to thousands of people on stage, and we would all be none the wiser.” Another.
The last spank hit Harry especially hard, causing him to jerk backwards, sending the tip of Louis’ finger directly into the boy’s prostate.
“Daddy,” he sighed, his head dropping to the couch as his pride and dignity were slowly peeled away. He felt something on his forehead and realised it was his discarded chips shirt, sweat soaked and smelling like the rush of the concert he had just left only minutes ago. He gripped it in his hands as Louis kept talking
“But you had to push it,” Louis said, grabbing a handful of Harry’s flesh that was starting to sting before pulling back and giving another series of swats. “You had to drop to your knees in the middle of your song, spreading your legs too fast like a naughty little minx, and you ripped those stupidly tight trousers you insist on wearing, giving everyone in the front row a clear view of your little secret.”
Louis was really putting in effort now, firing burn after burn into Harry’s skin. Harry’s cock was fully hard and dripping, and he just knew that soon he would be leaking through his thin sheer knickers and making a mess of Louis’ leg.
“Daddy,” he said again, rutting himself lightly against the man’s lap.
“Now everybody knows what a little whore you are, Harry,” Louis taunted, scratching his nails painfully down the pink prints that were undoubtedly blossoming on Harry’s cheeks. “They all know that you wear women’s knickers while you’re skipping around, shaking your hips, putting on a show for everyone.”
Louis gave him four quick smacks then, right in a row on the same cheek, all the while his finger remained unmoving inside his boy.
“Fuck, Daddy, please,” Harry whined, earning himself another hit. He gave his hips a slight thrust backwards, but Louis kept his finger away from where Harry needed it most.
“A little whore, Harry,” Louis repeated, hand roughly massaging where it hurt Harry the most. “A filthy little knicker-wearing slut.”
Harry heard and felt the man spit on him, and suddenly the slide of Louis’ hand became wet before another hard slap shot delicious pain throughout the boy’s body
“Daddy, I’m sorry!” he gasped, tears prickling his eyes as a thick searing heat pulsed on his backside.
“Sorry?” Louis questioned with feigned confusion. “Sorry for what?”
“I’m sorry for—” Louis smacked him again, cutting off his words in a choked sob. “I’m sorry for being a little slut on stage, Daddy.”
Louis paused, his fingers trailing gently to the waistband of Harry’s thong. He slowly snuck a finger underneath before tugging it backwards and letting it snap back against Harry’s skin.
“Who do you wear these for, baby?” Louis questioned, thumbing over the lace again.
“You, Daddy, only you, wear them for you,” Harry babbled, rocking his wet cock into his boyfriend’s thigh.
“And yet you showed them to everybody here tonight before you showed them to me, didn’t you?”
Harry sobbed again as he nodded into the couch, tears pushing past his eyes and tumbling down his cheeks, onto the cushion below him.
“And why’s that?” Louis asked, tracing his fingers along the prints his hand had made.
“Because I’m a dirty whore, Daddy,” he panted, changing the motion of his hips so that he was trying to fuck himself on the single digit sitting so teasingly against his prostate. “Please, Daddy, I need it, please.”
He gripped his chips shirt tightly in his hand as he whined through the frustration building in his belly.
“Oh, such a polite little slut, begging for his Daddy. So you do know how to be a good boy, hm?”
Harry swore he felt Louis’ finger twitch the tiniest bit, and Harry was nearly gagging with how badly he wanted it to move for real. “Yes, Daddy, please, I’ll be so good for you, please, please.”
“I suppose you did take your punishment really well… And you look so pretty for me all in purple and pink.” Louis gave Harry’s left cheek a squeeze, and the boy braced himself for another smack that never came. “What do you want, kitten?”
“Fuck me, Daddy, please, I-I need to come, please, I’m so hard.”
Louis chuckled, low in his throat. “I know you are, baby.” He moved his finger once, for real this time, and Harry tightened around it with a gasp. “Is this what you want?” Louis did it again, just gently pressing against the boy’s prostate with the pad of his finger.
“Yes!” Harry nearly shouted. “Please, Daddy, fuck, I need it!”
Louis said nothing, only finally, finally beginning to finger Harry properly.
Harry let out a relieved open-mouthed moan, dropping his hips as he began to grind himself once more into Louis’ lap that was now slightly damp beneath the boy’s lacy erection.
Louis’ pace didn’t falter, working his finger evenly as the opposite hand swirled circles with his fingertips on Harry’s back above the waistband of his knickers.
“My sweet boy,” Louis cooed, earning another moan from his boyfriend’s writhing form. “So eager to get his knickers messy with cum, yeah?”
Harry nodded fiercely, his fingers turning white and shaking with how hard he was clutching his abandoned shirt. “I need it, Louis. Please, please,” he implored, not even caring how pathetic he sounded. He knew he wouldn’t last too much longer with how overwhelmed and wonderful he was feeling. He was breathing hard now, the rhythm of his hips growing sloppy and faltered.
Louis made up for it by increasing the motions of his finger, coaxing Harry towards the brink of his climax and producing a harsh cry from the boy in his lap.
“Oh god, fuck, please Daddy,” Harry choked, his voice ragged and wet.
“You can come, darling, go ahead.”
Harry stuffed his shirt in his open mouth, and in five hurried thrusts later he was coming hard with a muffled shout and new tears slipping past his lashes as he shook.
Louis worked him through it, curling his wrist until he knew Harry couldn’t take any more. And then his finger was gone, and the shirt was being carefully removed from Harry’s mouth, though he still grasped it tightly in his hands, desperate to hold onto something as he continued shaking.
Louis adjusted their positioning and helped Harry sit up, letting him curl up small with his tear streaked face tucked into Louis’ neck. Louis rubbed Harry’s back soothingly with one hand and ran his other carefully through the boy’s hair, shushing him softly as he whimpered.
“You’re such a good boy for me, love, so good,” Louis murmured, rocking Harry just a bit.
Harry sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut as the events of the evening began seeping through his consciousness.
“What am I going to do, Louis?” Harry asked timidly moments later. “Everybody saw.” He repeated back the words Louis had said to him earlier. They felt even more daunting now.
“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Louis reassured softly. “You’ll get through it. Who knows, maybe you’ll even get a lingerie spread in a magazine or something. Remember how thrilled Vogue was to have a man in a dress on their cover? Remember how many boys wrote to you saying how happy they were to see someone like them being themselves and proud of it?”
Harry nodded wordlessly, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck.
“You’re not the only man who wears knickers, angel. And I know that your little incident on stage will help at least a dozen people feel better about the fact that they wear them too. Probably even more than that. And I’ll be here for you, love, I promise. I’ll help you through whatever happens.”
Harry nodded again, craning his neck to place a soft kiss against his boyfriend’s stubble. “Thank you, Lou. For everything. I love you.” He snuggled in close and hugged Louis tighter, content with how safe he felt in the man’s arms. He was still scared and knew that he had a bumpy road ahead of him, but knowing that Louis would be by his side made him feel a bit better.
Louis pressed a kiss into Harry’s hair, nuzzling him sweetly. “I love you too, darling.”