Lunch went well enough. Harry got a tough reprimand and a guilt trip from Gemma and Anne, but he promised he'd be home for the next week until school started. What really bothered Harry was what Anne told him about Leslie's murder.

They said it had to be a professional job. A hired hand. The video tapes from that night were erased and not a single print was left at the scene. Leslie was killed with two shots to the heart and one in the forehead. How could someone be so cruel?

Harry wanted to ask Louis if he could find out who did it. He had to have some connection that he could use to help the police. If Harry he told him what happened Louis wouldn't just stand by, he knew it.

But he wasn't allowed to contact him. He couldn't talk to him unless Louis called him. And he couldn't say when that would be. Until then, he had a few things he'd neglected over the past couple of weeks to do. He had to get his books for classes, finalize his lease renewal for his apartment near the school, and he promised to go see his friends down at the studio before he left for uni.

He went about his life as usual with one major difference. Every night he'd open himself up and pump his fingers inside his hole until he was stretched and whiny. He'd writhe and beg but wouldn't come because Louis told him not to. Instead he'd take out his special new stationary with pink swirls around the edge and write about much he missed Louis. Naturally being hard and horny while writing made the content of his letters rather explicit, but he didn't think Louis would mind.

He'd make sure to add in any new restaurants he found or if he had a really good yoga session that morning, but mostly he wrote about how much he needed Louis to tie him up and spank him or tease him until he went crazy. Which, surprise surprise, only made him harder. By the end Harry's handwriting was shaky and his grammar made no sense.

The end of the letter was Harry's favorite. He got to tell Louis basically whatever he'd dreamed about the night before because his dreams were constant fantasies of him and Louis doing so many things he never even considered before.

Last night he'd envisioned Louis hanging him from the ceiling by his wrists and flogging him before opening him up and sticking a large, glass plug in him. At the end of the dream Louis just left him there and told Harry he'd be back later to watch him come untouched.

Harry wrote out his fantasy at the end of the letter with shaking hands and folded it up to place it in the drawer of his desk with the rest of them. From there it was two smooth tugs and he came over his hand.

***

The building was a seedy dirt brown. the brick was covered in grime and most of the windows were either broken or barred over, or both. Louis begged Zayn to let him come with to set up his position in the house, but Zayn not so subtly pointed out that they have a cover story for a reason.

Louis was laying on their hotel bed, his gun in one hand, and his phone in the other. The room was silent except for the occasional sigh from Louis' tense body. Zayn left Louis spent and loose to start their most dreadful mission to date. He usual felt ready after his night with Zayn before the mission, but it seemed nothing was going to make the next few weeks okay with Louis.

Zayn wore a torn, dirty gray tee and tight pants with a beanie over his hair. He wasn't particularly a beanie kind of guy, but 'Max Ryans', his alias, seemed the type. He stepped into the dark high rise and up to the "Manager's Desk".

"You look a little young to be into my kinda people kid."

Zayn rolled his eyes, "I'm Max. The new..umm..."

"Oh the new slut," the Manager waved him off. "I've got your room ready. No more than one bag, right? You're not allowed stuff to show in your room. Customers don't like it."

Zayn couldn't help but cringe. Customers. A few of which he'd be in charge of pleasing. If he wasn't absolutely sure they'd kill someone he loved, there's no way in hell he'd be here right now.

"Yeah, just this," Zayn patted his backpack. Louis' actually.

"Good. Let me get someone to show you to your room." He turned around and pulled open a door off to the side, "Payno!" A couple seconds later a smiling brunet came the doorway and stood behind the desk.

"Yeah boss?"

"This is Max. He's new. He'll be in Matt's old room."

The guy nodded and came around to the front and gave Zayn a once over. Zayn could feel his honey eyes roam slowly over his body. He shifted uncomfortably and played with his beanie.

"You're cute. You'll do well." Zayn wanted to vomit. 'He'd do well' wasn't something he wanted to hear. The brown-haired boy must have seen Zayn's discomfort because he tugged him to the stairs and started in a soothing tone, "I take it this isn't your first choice of occupation."

Zayn scoffed, "It's not even my last choice. Its not my choice at all."

He nodded, "Well listen, I've been here for a while and I've got some pull. If you get into any trouble, find me. I'll take care of you."

"I don't need you to take care of me," Zayn shot out without really thinking.

Liam stopped in front of a door and held up his hands in surrender. "I only meant to help. This isn't always the easiest life, Max."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, here's your room. I'm actually right there," he pointed to the next door over, "Just in case. And the name's Liam." Liam handed him a key. "Don't loose that. You don't get another."

Zayn took it and sucked his teeth, "Well thanks, Liam." He rocked on his heels. "Night."

Liam just chuckled and turned around to his own room. Zayn watched him until the door shut behind him before unlocking his own. 'His' room was equipped with a queen size bed, clean sheets (at least it looked it, but who knew), a dresser, a desk and chair and a door. Zayn opened it to find a small closet, barely big enough for a few jackets.

Zayn dropped his bag on the bed and fell down next to it to stare at the ceiling. He couldn't believe he was here, that this was actually happening.

He'd almost cleared his mind enough not to want to choke himself when he heard noises from next room, Liam's room. Everything hit him all at once. This was real. Some guy is fucking Liam right now. His arms were probably tense and his face flushed. Zayn hoped he at least liked it a little. Zayn never did.

"Come on slut, show me how bad you want it," the tall, dirty blond ordered.

Zayn hated that. He wasn't a slut. Sluts gave it out for free, you had to pay for Zayn. And as much as he hated that too, it was a big difference. Nevertheless Zayn sat back on the guy's hard dick with more gusto.

"Oh yeah, fuck you love it. Gonna rip you open, bitch. Make you mine."

Zayn pushed his face further into the sheets to keep from yelling at the guy to just shut up and come. He didn't know why he always attracted the mean ones. The rough ones. The cruel ones. But now he had a small rep and he was stuck with his lot.

He didn't have to wait too long, but the guy did manage to leave red scratch marks on his thighs before he pulled out. Zayn collapsed on the hotel bed and pulled the sheets over himself.

"Thanks, babe. See you next week."

Zayn just hummed and turned away from where the guy was redressing. After he left, Zayn gathered his clothing and the money before leaving and going back to his apartment. Actually it was just an abandoned room in an old office building he broke into one day and never left. No rent, but no cable or internet, and he had to sneak around back to get in so no one saw him.

Same old, same old.