L

Here's the thing. Louis was horny. Like, really, really 'ohmygod if I don't get off soon I'll explode' horny, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

He sighed as he laid there, frustrated, sweating and knowing what he was supposed to do- save his pleasure for his daddy like a good boy. He pushed off his covers and tucked his erection into the waistband of his boxers before ninja-tiptoeing to the bathroom.

He splashed cold water on his face then cranked the shower all the way to cold, doing his best to be quiet and not wake his mother. He stripped off his briefs, bracing himself for the shock before stepping into the frigid water. He sucked a quick breath in through his teeth and watched himself wilt back to softness. His decision to remain obedient was a comfort as he gritted his teeth, resisting the instinct to jump out of the cold stream. He turned it off and got out as soon as he'd achieved it, shivering and toweling his goosebump riddled skin dry and redressing. Technically I didn't touch myself, so no rules were broken.

He crept back to his room and though it felt silly, he took out Mr. Styles' house key from his desk drawer where he'd hidden it in an old glasses case before getting back into bed. He tucked his hand under his pillow, holding the solid metal loosely in his fist and feeling somehow connected to his beloved daddy. He curled his little body into a ball around his pillow and hugging it to his cheek, smiled softly with pride at his will power.

-

Mr Styles

Sunday morning light filtered through Harry's bedroom window. The man rolled over to snooze a minute longer and a tiny smile graced his lips despite his dull headache. Today he was getting his butterfly tattoo finished. As he slowly awoke, the previous night filtered in bit by bit and he lurched upward into a sitting position, the bedsheets sliding down his naked chest and gathering by his waist when it all came together.

He was at that ridiculous bar that Niall liked, The Thirsty Lizard, talking to his friend while drinking a sparkling water. Niall teased him for it, asking if he was an old man. Harry decided to loosen up a bit and ordered a round of shots for them...

A heavy hand slid across Harry's back, resting lightly between his shoulder blades. He turned to see a handsome, brunette young man in tight clothes to his left, smirking at him. His youthfulness reminded him of Louis, though not as appealing as his boy.

"Sorry, not interested." Harry tried shrugging off the unwanted advance, the man's hand just sliding to his arm instead.

"Sweetie, I have excellent gaydar, you don't have to be coy," the man replied.

Harry frowned in response. "I said, not interested." Niall had noticed by now, and slung an arm over Harry's shoulder, flicking the man off of Harry like an annoying mosquito.

"That is my fiancé you're hitting on, kind sir," Niall announced with comical drama dripping from his words. "We're celebrating six years of queer love, and I didn't agonize over the font for the invitations to be cuckholded right in front of my very eyes." Harry snorted and the man scoffed, giving up and walking away in search of another person.

"Thanks Niall, I'll accept only if it's a destination wedding in Jamaica. Need to work on my tan." The two men laughed and clinked their glasses together in a cheers.

"You're very picky when it comes to would be suitors," Niall observed.

Harry nodded in agreement. "I mean, he certainly was attractive but a little too domineering for my taste. He doesn't hold a candle to my L-" Harry dissolved into a nervous coughing fit at his drunken recklessness, cutting off his near slip of the tongue. Niall raised his eyebrows in response to Harry's hinting at both his sexuality and being involved with someone, but changed the topic graciously...

A few more shots and a glass of expensive whiskey later, Niall and Harry thought it would be hilarious to play up their ruse of engagement and took to the tiny dance floor in the middle of the bar, with a few couples and singles swaying to the music. Niall grabbed Harry's wrist and they awkwardly waved next to each other like the white men they were that couldn't dance for shit. They didn't care, laughing and nudging one another when Mr. Excellent Gaydar was spotted staring at them from ten feet away at the bar...

Niall left before Harry, the latter insisting he would be fine alone. Harry had become quite the lightweight after his brief sober period, and was drinking a glass or two of water before getting behind the wheel. The brunette was mindlessly crunching on an ice cube at the bottom of his glass when Mr. E. Gaydar appeared again, like a dumb moth drawn to an artificial light.

"Fiancé ditched you, huh? Something tells me that was a lie and you just like playing hard to get," the man bumped his hip playfully against Harry's, who rolled his eyes at the awful flirting. "And if he is actually your fiancé, he doesn't deserve you."

Harry had to laugh. "Oh, and you do?" The other man shrugged as Harry signaled the bartender. "Another ice water please, no lemon." And that's where everything became unclear and difficult to recall...

Harry went to the bathroom and inspected his appearance. He didn't see any evidence of sex- no marks, no smell of lingering sweat or unfamiliar cologne. He even palmed himself and nope, he wasn't sensitive and definitely in need of an orgasm. His gaze went to his pants on the floor and he fished through the pockets. He produced a napkin with the logo 'The Thirsty Lizard' on it in bright green letters, and scrawled in faded ink was a telephone number and the name, 'Shawn M.' Harry felt a surge of nausea, from the alcohol or unease, he didn't know, and rushed to the toilet to empty the contents of his stomach.

"I need a good, greasy breakfast," he muttered after rinsing his mouth and washing his face. Maybe then everything will make more sense. As he was making eggs, he realized one way of getting to the bottom of things would be to call Shawn, though it felt a bit like poking an aggressive crocodile with a stick. Whatever, he could just block him after the conversation.

Shawn picked up on the second ring, and upon hearing Harry's tired hello, his smugness seemed to seep through the phone, thicker than the syrup that Harry was pouring over his waffles.

"Oh hello there handsome, didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Assuming you changed your mind?"

"What happened last night?" Harry demanded in an authoritative, deep tone that he hoped shook the man in his fancy little boots. He heard a sharp intake of breath and propped the phone on his shoulder, angrily cutting into his waffles and shoving a bite into his mouth.

"You don't remember?"

"Not all of it," Harry admitted. "Like I said, I'm not interested and I need to know that nothing stupid happened."

The other man sighed, long and put upon. "Okay, fine," Shawn snapped. "The only reason you have my number is because I slipped it in your pocket as you left. I was hoping you would change your mind but honestly, you're too arrogant for my taste."

"Oh that's rich, coming from you," Harry retorted, ending the call and immediately blocking the number. He shook his head in annoyance, then forced himself to take a bite of his buttery eggs.

When he was finished eating, he cleared his plate and washed his dishes. Then he nodded to himself as if agreeing with his own thoughts, and took his liquor from where he'd stashed it in the cabinet, turning it a bit side to side and watching the amber contents sloshing back and forth. He looked at it for what it really was- a crutch, a lazy way to unwind, and something that had a little too much control over him for his liking.

He unscrewed the cap and dumped the liquor down the drain of his kitchen sink, listening to the rhythmic glugs splashing against stainless steel as he gazed out the window at the trees framing his yard. They looked a little more lush and full, everything seemed greener. Summer would be here before he knew it. 

-

As the needle pressed to his skin, the man's thoughts wandered to the day when Louis drew the tattoo for him, how his voice was softer than expensive silk when he'd asked if he could help, the way his eyes lit up with pride when the man had complimented the lovely sketch, the passionate sex that followed.

He was broken away from memories when Ed sparked small talk, discussing possible tattoos he could get next. Mr. Styles wished to cover more skin in an array of meaningful art and had a few ideas.

"What about that swallow you have? I've never seen just one instead of a pair. A second would balance it out nicely."

"Yes it would. Maybe someday. I can't see it happening anytime soon though."

"Well if the day comes, I'd be happy to sketch something for you." When the butterfly was completed, Mr. Styles stuck around for a bit as he and Ed planned the next: two laurels, one running along the line of each hip. It was meaningful to him and would complement the large tattoo above pretty well. When the butterfly was healed, the man planned to come back. He left riding the surge of adrenaline one gets after a tattoo, looking forward to more.

-

L

Louis was laying on his bed, his curtains drawn back to let the sunshine in, having charged his ancient ipod enough that he could power it on and scroll through his juvenile music collection. Is this how the nineties kids felt? He wondered. He finally selected something he could tolerate, when he heard the doorbell ring. Curiously, he removed his earbuds and went to the top of the stairs to look down and see who it was as his mother answered.

He was definitely surprised to see Liam and Lexie standing on the stoop, looking determined as ever.

"Hi Jay," Liam greeted. Lexie waved.

"I'm sorry kids but Louis is grounded, so whatever plans-"

Liam interrupted her, "Actually, we're here to talk to you." There was a beat of silence, followed by Lexie complimenting her hair, and asking if she'd just had it done?

"If you think that you can convince me to unground him with simple flattery, you're wrong," she warned. "I doubt that he gave a fair recounting of what was said."

"Please just let us in," Liam said calmly. "There's something you should know, I think it may make accepting your son a little easier to swallow." Jay hesitated, before opening the door wider and gesturing them inside. Louis stayed where he was, out of sight but within earshot, rubbing his fingertip across the smooth, slippery surface of his painted nails, the repetitive movement comforting, as he wondered just what the hell his friends were up to.