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In the kingdom of Chesire, just like anywhere else, little children dream of one day becoming royalty. They dream of intricate formalwear, glittering jewelry, and a mighty throne. They dream of a stately crown, life in a palace, and the world at their fingertips. But for almost everyone, that remains a dream, far out of reach. For most, it is merely a romanticized, wistful dance with imagination, fizzling out into a juvenile yearning as they grow older.
But for Harry Styles, Prince of Cheshire, his childhood dream was to one day become eighteen.
For most of the kingdom, eighteen is a rather inconsequential age. While it signifies social adulthood, the average individual does not transition from their adolescence with much immediate fanfare. Education, apprenticeships, courtships, and marriages gradually fill the lives of these new adults, but with little sense of urgency. For the nobility, however, eighteen marks the age in which Omegas and non-firstborn Alphas are meant to begin courting intentionally for the purpose of a fruitful marriage, often arranged to benefit political and social relationships between neighboring nations.
As both a second-born and an Omega, Harry knew from a young age that he would face a near-immediate entrance into the high-society courtship circles upon his eighteenth birthday. Cheshire is a peaceful and plentiful kingdom, dependent on strong alliances for the continued stability of its economy and its people. Although much of the credit of maintaining such prosperity is owed to Harry’s mother, Queen Anne, Harry knows that part of his royal duties is to marry well to ensure continued success for the kingdom past his mother’s reign.
Thankfully, he never dreaded this moment, nor ever felt forced to marry solely for political gain – his mother, as Queen, will arrange a vast slate of eligible Alphas for Harry to meet, but he ultimately gets to choose who he is interested in courting. If he decides that no one is viable, then the search shall continue. He knows that some young royals have taken advantage of such modern luxuries, delaying their marriage for years and years. Truly, Harry pities them – he’s always wanted to find love, and finds the idea of the search exciting. The moment he finds an Alpha who meets his standards – or, rather, intrigues him enough to garner a second conversation – Harry will jump at the chance for romance.
He recognizes that much of his positive outlook is due to his mother’s fair guidance. Queen Anne, despite being an Omega herself, took over the throne upon her husband’s – King Desmond’s – death nearly ten years ago. While society and royal succession is primarily organized by secondary gender, in which the firstborn Alpha is immediately the first to rule, blood is of near utmost importance. It is also widely understood that once two people are mated, they are considered to share the same blood. Thus, when King Desmond passed, his eldest Alpha daughter – Harry’s sister, Gemma – was much too young to rule, the line of succession naturally fell to his mate, Anne, as King Desmond was an only child.
Queen Anne remarried five years after her husband’s death, marrying an Alpha, now Prince Consort Robin, of a lower level of nobility. He does not have the same ruling power as Anne or as Desmond once did, but Anne was sure to instill in her children that love should be a priority in their lives. She promised to never force them to love someone they do not and to never sacrifice their integrity for another person.
Gemma, as the eldest Alpha and the crown princess, does not have the same pressure to marry soon after the age of eighteen. Her time is spent in training for the crown, and she will choose to find an Omega when she feels the time is right. Harry could envy her, with her freedom of choice and elevated responsibilities, but he’s grateful for his quickened timeline. Ever since he was young, he’s yearned for the day he gets to meet his Alpha, his husband. Call him a hopeless romantic, but he’s ecstatic to be a wedded, mated Omega.
That’s why today – the day after his eighteenth birthday – is the most exciting day of his young life to date. Yesterday, the palace was decorated with the most beautiful floral arrangements and intricate streamers of satin in celebration for the Prince’s birthday. Harry, his family, and his closest friends danced, ate, drank, and talked until their bellies and hearts were full, and he fell asleep knowing that the love he felt that day would only be extended by the soon-to-be addition of his Alpha. His mother had kissed him goodnight with the promise of a moderately early morning to welcome the first round of suitors to the castle.
This morning, Harry awakens with the sunrise and is unable to fall back to sleep, instead opting for an hour’s meditation on the terrace attached to his room. There, he cycles through the traits of his desired Alpha, reminding himself not to get too attached to anyone during the first round of introductions. He is eager, yes, but not naive. He can’t let himself become overwhelmed by the excitement of finding a mate and ignore who is best suited as his eternal partner.
“Good morning, Your Highness.”
Harry turns to find his best friend and trusted handmaiden, Niall, smiling knowingly from the doorway. He must’ve let himself in after Harry didn’t answer his knock, a common occurrence when the pull of sleep is too much for Harry to escape from without his help.
“Morning, Niall. What’s with the formalities this morning? You’ve hit me over the head with a pillow one too many times to get me to wake for me to be fooled into thinking you’re suddenly abiding by palace regulations.”
“I just thought it was fitting,” Niall muses, sitting next to Harry on the plush bench on his balcony. “You’re going to be hearing it a lot today, so you’d better get used to it. You also might want to wear gloves. Those Alphas are going to be kissing your hands left and right, and who knows what diseases they carry.”
Harry giggles, cheeks flushing warm at the thought of such attention. “I want my Alpha, if he is here today, to not have a barrier interfere with the first brush of his lips to my skin. I’ll take the risk for true love.”
“Ugh, spare me of any infections you may contract. Someone else will have to attend to you if you catch the Alpha flu.”
“That’s not a real illness and you know it. You’re just jealous.”
“Oh, I most certainly am not, H. You know I’m a free spirit.”
“I’m a free spirit too, Niall. I like the wind in my hair on a horseback ride, the feeling of grass between my toes when I run in the gardens, and altering traditional dress wear to make it my own. So what if I’m eager to find a mate? I’m just eager to find someone who loves all of me and then some. Someone who will bring even more beauty into my life in ways I could never find by my lonesome.”
Niall smiles over at his oldest friend, nudging Harry with his shoulder. “And someone to have pups with.”
“That too,” Harry admits, feeling his face heat up once more. “But that’s further down the line. Right now, I’m just eager to meet the love of my life. My Alpha.”
“Right then,” Niall claps his hands together, standing from the bench and offering Harry his hand. “Let’s get you all dolled up, shall we? We can’t let your magical first impression be wasted on a dull outfit.”
Harry beams, letting Niall lead him back into the main chamber of his bedroom. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
******
Pale green satin billows around Harry’s legs as he walks to the Grand Ballroom, in which twenty of the neighboring regions’ finest young (male, as to accommodate Harry’s preferences) Alphas mill about, socializing with expensive champagne in crystal flutes before the Omega Prince is set to arrive. The February chill still manages to seep its way into the walls of the castle, which makes Harry ever-so grateful for the heavy emerald velvet robe cinched in an empire waist across his unique, self-crafted gown and breeches combination. Modeled much like the traditional Omega silk dresses with high waists and dipping busts that flow out over the hips, the fabric is instead pulled into loose trousers instead of a billowing skirt, buttoned and tied as one piece in the back underneath the addition of the velvet robe that hangs open in the front. Harry wanted to elevate the typical Omega dress to blur the lines of fashion, so Queen Anne graciously allowed him to experiment with the royal tailors. Now, Alphas and Omegas alike are beginning to favor his style of dress, with Gemma debuting one of his designs alongside him at the last Winter Solstice Gala.
Standing before the ornate doors of the Grand Ballroom is Queen Anne, a proud smile stretched across her lips as she spots her son and his handmaiden. “Oh, my darling. You look enchanting. How are you feeling?”
“Thank you, Mum,” Harry leans into her embrace, kissing her cheek softly. “I’m… a bit nervous, but mostly excited. I think my Omega can sense all the unmated Alphas and it’s a bit confused.”
Anne chuckles warmly. “It is unusual for such a heavy Alpha presence to grace this castle. Nonetheless, if your Omega ever feels unsettled, then we shall end the introductions immediately. Your Omega should feel calm and safe when meeting your Alpha for the first time, and we don’t want anything to interfere with that.”
“I don’t feel threatened,” Harry assures her. “I’m just not used to all of the Alpha scents, like you said. And it doesn’t help that my future mate could be behind these very doors.”
“Yes, it’s all very exciting.” Anne’s eyes twinkle as she reaches for the golden handles of the door. “Are you ready, my dear heart?”
Harry gives his mother his most assured nod, letting the giddy beam he’s been holding back slip onto his face. “Yes, Mum. I’m ready.”
With a reassuring pat on the back from Niall, Harry follows his mother into the ballroom, training his eyes on the two thrones that sit at the head of the room. He refuses to glance around at the Alphas who have instantly stopped chatting amongst themselves, instead facing the two royals as they walk gracefully to their intended positions. Although Harry keeps his eyes trained on the back of his mother’s head, following just two steps behind her, he notices in his periphery how each of the Alphas bow as they pass, dipping their bodies in silent respect. Harry has never felt as powerful as a royal as he does now, knowing that the Alphas are all vying for a morsel of his attention.
It’s not until Harry’s settled into his throne, Niall standing just to his left, that he can take in the crowd. Dressed impeccably and unblinkingly watching the Queen for instructions, the Alphas are the picture of eager restraint. Though Harry’s eyes dart around to each suitor, their eyes are trained – in proper formal procedure – on the highest-ranking individual in the room.
Except for one.
The blue-eyed Alpha can’t be more than two years’ Harry’s senior, and despite his polished dress, manages to look rakishly handsome in an almost rogue kind of way. The gentle tilt of his lips into a smirk accompanied by the sharp cock of his hip exudes a cool confidence that enraptures Harry’s attention. His gaze is magnetic, boring into Harry’s psyche and willing him to draw closer, to learn what that devilish smirk has in store for him. The Alpha quirks an eyebrow just so, just enough for Harry to know that he intends to capture the Prince’s curiosity. Indeed, he already holds Harry’s intrigue in the palm of his hand, the Omega yearning to simply know his name.
Only when Harry registers that his mother has finished speaking does he break eye contact with the Alpha, wishing he didn’t have to be the first to do so. His Omega already feels the loss, the smallest twinge of disappointment coursing through his chest as he addresses the crowd with his prepared greeting.
“Good morning, gentlemen. My mother and I thank you greatly for taking the time to travel to Cheshire to meet with us today. I am personally quite exhilarated at the prospect of getting to know each one of you, and I hope that today will prove to be fortuitous on numerous accounts. Ultimately, we wish all of you well, and extend the sentiment that Cheshire is eternally grateful for the interest in the collective good that all of our nations share. We hope that today, no matter the outcome, can act as a surefire representation of such camaraderie. Our morning will proceed as follows – each man will have five minutes to speak with me, followed immediately by five minutes with the Queen. Afterwards, I will choose five suitors to return for an intimate lunch with my family, and then will proceed to have three one-on-one meetings this afternoon. If I have chosen a potential Alpha by this evening, he will join my family for dinner. If I do not find a connection I would like to continue exploring, the remaining men will be sent home prior to mealtime. You should already be ordered alphabetically by surname, so please wait your turn patiently. Thank you.”
As the Alphas shuffle into a loose single-file line, Harry watches the blue-eyed Alpha retreat to the near-end of the order. His heart sinks with the realization that he’ll have to sit in suspense until the last quarter of the suitors approach their time to meet with him. God. He can’t let someone affect him this much already, let alone someone whom he has yet to speak to.
Alas, he doesn’t have time to bask in his momentary melancholy, for a sandy blond-haired Alpha saunters up to his throne, leading with a deep bow. When he rights himself, a lecherous grin slides across his lips, settling uncomfortably in Harry’s stomach. He wears his confidence differently than the enchanting Alpha, eyes roving over Harry like he’s a treat waiting to be devoured. There’s an arrogance and an entitlement that bleeds from his posture that sours the mystery of his demeanor, repelling Harry rather than drawing him in like the Alpha from earlier.
The Alpha either forgets or purposely decides not to ask for Harry’s hand to kiss, forgoing the traditional gesture of romantic deference in royal courting. While Harry’s not strictly a traditionalist, he is a romantic, and he wants his future husband to carry out all the cheesy gestures that make his heart sing. Before the Alpha even opens his mouth, Harry’s already decided. Wesley Harms, Duke of Bournemouth, is not his Alpha-to-be.
Ten minutes later, after Harry’s been sufficiently bored by his second Alpha contender, the admittedly-pretty-but-strikingly-dull Viscount of Norwich, he catches his mother’s eye and has to stifle a laugh. Finally free of the awful Duke of Bournemouth, Anne wrinkles her nose and shakes her head upon his retreat, breaking her collected composure to will her son to pick any other Alpha. Harry rolls his eyes in a silent response, sharing a smile when she gets his message. Of course he’d never go for the Duke. Or the Viscount, for that matter.
Before the next suitor can step up before him, Harry makes the mistake of gazing out over the room full of Alphas. Without a second thought, his eyes search for the blue-eyed Alpha, breath catching in his throat when he finds him already staring back. He’s engaged in casual conversation with the Alpha behind him in line, flicking his eyes back and forth between the redheaded man and the thrones at the head of the room. Although he adds in a few quick words between the other Alpha’s ramblings, his attention is clearly diverted towards Harry. When he notices Harry finding him in the crowd, he ducks his chin in a subtle recognition of royal procedure, demonstrating his respect before he lets a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, pressing his lips together smugly.
Harry can’t resist. Ignoring the tall, curly-haired Alpha approaching his throne, he holds the captivating Alpha’s gaze, tilts his head to the side, and bares his neck in an obvious – and blatantly improper – display of his scent gland. He lets his eyebrows flick up once, signaling to the Alpha that he knows what he’s doing – or so he tries to convey, feigning blind confidence as his insides turn to jelly. He’s never flirted like this – or, well flirted in any way before, and he’s never purposely broken the carefully crafted image of chaste politeness that the royals work hard to manufacture. But this Alpha makes him feel just on the right side of dangerous, and they’ve only met through a couple of heady moments of eye contact.
The next Alpha in line clears his throat, watching Harry awkwardly. He’s sporting pink cheeks at the display of coquetry that is obviously not meant for him, and Harry spirals back to reality with a hot coil of shame twisting in his stomach. Before he can pay attention to the Alpha, he looks to his mother to make sure she didn’t notice his slip-up, thankfully finding her already glazed over at the Viscount’s rantings.
This time, it’s Niall who clears his throat, a gentle but insistent hand on Harry’s shoulder willing him to stop wasting this Alpha’s precious five minutes with the Omega Prince. Figuring it’s better to brush his foolishness aside as if it never happened, Harry pastes on a beam and extends his hand to the Alpha, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control.
On and on it goes. Unexciting Alpha noble after unexciting Alpha noble graces Harry’s presence, brushing their lips against the back of his hand and spending their five minutes granting him a well-rehearsed pitch about why they would be best for his eventual hand in marriage. From their ruling prowess, to their familiarity with Cheshire, to their admiration for Harry himself, meeting the Alphas proves to be a never-ending cycle of self-interest and peacocking. Thus, by the time the line dwindles, Harry’s spirit is only slightly encouraged by the reality of the blue-eyed Alpha drawing closer and closer, his presence almost tangible as Harry dismisses each Alpha before him.
Finally, the room disappears. The instant the Alpha stands in front of Harry’s throne, calm and self-assured, Harry can’t help the tunnel vision that sucks him in. It’s not just the cerulean sea of the Alpha’s eyes, but the jut of his jaw, the quirk of his lips, the slant of his hips as he settles into an approachable but commanding stance that is so clearly natural. Harry clocks every infinitesimal twitch of his fingers, rise and fall of his chest, and shuffle of his feet in polished dress shoes. The Alpha bows deeply, holding Harry’s gaze as he rises again, reaching his hand out in a wordless beckon of long, strong fingers.
“Your Royal Highness.” A lilting rasp, bright and musical but brimming with depth that makes Harry shudder upon hearing it, spills from the Alpha’s freshly-licked lips. “It is an honor to be invited to stand before you today. I hope you shall take pleasure in my company.”
Harry gasps, just a little involuntary release, as the man raises Harry’s hand to his mouth. The brush of his lips is light as a whisper, plush and soft against his skin. The routine, formal act of respect is over in mere seconds, but before Harry can pull his hand away, the Alpha suddenly grips him tighter and carefully turns his hand over. He leans in close, hovering his lips above Harry’s inner wrist, his eyes darting back up to Harry’s. His breath is hot where it fans against his skin, sending sparks fizzling up Harry’s arm.
“Alright, Your Highness?”
Terrifyingly, Harry realizes he would give almost anything to the still-unnamed Alpha who is – rather boldly – mere millimeters away from the scent gland in his wrist. Although the wrist scent glands are not the most intimate of them all, even intentionally touching them upon meeting is bordering on improper behavior. Usually, the wrist scent glands help transfer pheromones to close friends and family during a chaste hug or wrap of an arm around another’s shoulder. But with a romantic partner, the scent glands on one’s wrist can be just as sensual as all others in the body. Harry’s never had anyone besides his family, Niall, and the royal physician touch his scent glands directly, and it’s certainly never felt so aflame.
But, against his better judgment, he nods. Harry nods, braces himself with bated breath, and watches as the Alpha presses his lips to his wrist.
The kiss lasts no longer than a millisecond, but Harry feels the shivers it sends down his spine long after the Alpha has dropped his hand. The entire greeting lasted all of a minute or two, but it’s already plastered itself to the walls of Harry’s brain, playing on an exhilarating repeat and sending phantom sensations to his scent glands – and not just to the ones in his wrists. Everywhere. Not to mention that the swirl of Alpha scent slowly seeping its way into Harry’s every pore smells delectable. Earthy and fresh, like the morning dew on the grass, mixes with a sweet, smoky undercurrent of charred vanilla in a tantalizing dance that sticks to the inside of Harry’s nose and begs him to take deep inhales.
“Your name,” Harry manages, breathless. “Your name, Sir.”
The man smirks, but it’s gentle and affectionate rather than lewd. “Louis Tomlinson, Marquess of Doncaster.”
“Louis Tomlinson.” Harry tests his name on his tongue, rolling the syllables around in his mouth and listening to how they’re reproduced in his voice. “And why are you here today, Marquess Tomlinson?”
“Well,” Louis chuckles to himself, as if he’s about to divulge a well-kept secret. “To learn more about you, of course. While I already think you’re rather enchanting, I’m curious to know what makes those eyes of yours light up. What makes you sing, Prince Harry?”
“Oh.” Harry pauses, taken aback. Not once have any of the suitors before him asked about Harry himself – they’ve used their time to try and prove themselves worthy of the throne and of the Omega Prince’s hand, but never once stopped to ask about the man they’re seeking.
“Your Highness?”
“Yes!” Harry blushes, swiping his clammy hands down the silken fabric of his formalwear. “Yes, um, what makes me sing... well, I do love design, especially with clothing. I made the very outfit I’m wearing with the help of our tailor.”
“You made this garment?” Louis repeats, mouth parting in genuine awe as he rakes his eyes over Harry’s outfit. “Harry, that’s incredible! My sisters would love to wear something like this.”
“I’d be happy to send your tailor the pattern,” Harry decides easily, beaming under the flattery. His heart flutters as Louis smiles back, easy and sweet. “But besides design, I do like to read. Especially when I can read outside in the gardens – the castle grounds are so peaceful. Oh, and I adore music – I am quite skilled at the piano, if I may say, and Niall is teaching me the guitar.”
“Niall?” Louis asks, not overstepping, but instead taking an obvious interest in Harry’s life. Harry’s chest seizes with affection as he gestures to the man standing just behind him.
“Niall Horan, my handmaiden and closest friend.”
“How do you do?” Louis turns his attention to Niall, dipping his head in respect. It’s not a full bow, as they are saved only for those of higher noble rank, but certainly more than what is decreed for the palace staff. It’s rare that nobility bow to the staff in any regard, let alone greet them directly.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Marquess Tomlinson,” Niall replies politely, and Louis immediately waves him off.
“Please, call me Louis. ‘Marquess Tomlinson’ makes me sound elderly.”
Niall grins toothily, glancing at Harry with a knowing glint in his eye. “Louis, then. Pleasure to meet you.”
Harry huffs out a breath, crossing his arms in faux-offense as he shamelessly wills Louis’ focus back to him. “Now, if Niall gets to call you Louis, I should be able to as well.”
“Darling, all you must do is ask.” Louis drops the pet name without an ounce of hesitation. Harry feels heat swell in his face, certainly tinting his cheeks a bright cherry red. “‘Louis’ only scratches the surface of what you may call me. But all in due time.”
Gods above. Harry might melt into his throne, heated to such a temperature that he could easily melt and become one with the gold-plated bronze that holds his throne upright. Still, digging his fingertips into his thighs to maintain some grounding sensation to the physical realm, Harry tilts his chin upwards in a repeat display of their prior silent exchange.
“And you may call me Harry,” he leverages, tracking the rapid inhale of breath and the way that Louis’ chest stutters with a stifled sound. “Among other names, of course. All in due time… Alpha.”
Harry hears Niall’s gasped “Harry!” before Louis even reacts, but he ignores the shock and mild panic radiating from his best friend’s hovering presence. Deep down, Harry knows he shouldn’t be throwing around such a title at an early stage. Mind you, the animalistic, biological tie to the moniker is quite serious, and should Louis have called Harry ‘Omega,’ he likely would have been thrown out of the selection process altogether. But Louis makes Harry feel reckless, makes him want to lean into the naivety of being newly eighteen and ready to find his mate. He makes him want to make mistakes because he already makes him feel safe enough to do so.
To his credit, Louis barely falters. His mouth drops open even farther, eyes flashing a darker quality that stirs intrigue deep in Harry’s abdomen. Louis’ hands twitch, as if they want to reach for Harry but know they’re not supposed to. Then, in an impressive display of restraint, Louis nods, twisting his lips into a smile.
“Duly noted, Your Highness. Know that I will dream of such a time when I can return your gesture. I am deeply honored.”
According to every old wives’ tale and countless biological literatures, it takes a feat of great strength for an Alpha to not address an Omega by their secondary gender in return when it is extended to them first – and vice versa. It’s an equal exchange, a give and take, and for Louis to withstand the natural instinct to call Harry ‘Omega,’ it takes a significant display of mental fortitude.
There’s no question as to who Harry’s Alpha is supposed to be. Deep in his bones, an ache is soothed while his nerve endings are set alight. When Louis bids his farewell, the distance of a few steps to stand in front of Queen Anne are too much, sending Harry’s Omega into a nauseating tizzy as it yearns for the scent of its Alpha to return. Not to mention that Harry is endlessly enamored with Louis outside of their biology – he bleeds compassion and consideration, witty and whip-smart while exuding nothing but loving affection. Harry barely listens through the last few Alphas in line, instead daydreaming about his impending afternoon one-on-one with Louis, certain no one else in the selection process could ever compare.
Wait. As Harry’s mind spirals towards courting and engagement and marriage and pups, he realizes the weight of his role in the here and now – he could put an end to this entire day instantly, should he desire. Why go through round after round of ceremony if he already knows who he will choose at the end of it all?
“Harry, darling?”
Queen Anne now stands in front of his throne, blocking his view to the room full of Alphas. She’s concerned, her brow pulled tight in worry, likely at how her son’s gone nearly catatonic since the last of the Alphas made their rounds.
“Are you alright?” She gentles, reaching out a hand to brush over his cheek. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you outside,” Harry answers, standing from his throne as a thrumming, frantic need suddenly propels him from his seat. “Just for a minute, please?”
Anne nods, quickly signaling for her staff to entertain the Alphas while she guides Harry out of the Grand Ballroom and into a nearby alcove. “Is something wrong, darling?”
“No,” Harry shakes his head, throat suddenly dry while his eyes well up with tears. He’s not upset, he realizes, just overwhelmed – dizzy with new feelings and the prospect of his future slotting into place. “Mum, I’ve – I’ve found him. My Alpha’s in there. He’s here.”
“Oh, Harry.” Relief cascades off of the queen as she gathers her son in her arms, pulling him close. “Love, that’s wonderful! Are you quite sure, darling? I know you haven’t had much time with any of the suitors –”
“I know,” he replies, firm and sure. “I can feel it somewhere deep inside me – it doesn’t make sense, and I – I know I barely know him, but my soul knows him. And the idea of sitting through even a simple luncheon pretending that I don’t already know my true heart’s choice hurts more than I can bear.”
“We’ll call the day off, then,” Anne decides easily, petting through her son’s hair. “We’ll send all the men home immediately – save for your Alpha, of course. Who is he, pet?”
The split second of thinking his name before transferring it to his tongue is enough for Harry to smile, wide and unabashed. “Louis Tomlinson – the Marquess of Doncaster.”
Joyful laughter spills from Anne’s lips instantaneously. “Oh, love, you delight me so! He was the most charming gentleman of the morning by leaps and bounds.”
“You truly think so?”
“Yes, Harry, I’m positively thrilled you’ve chosen him – that your Omega chose him. I don’t know if there’s biology involved, but something within me felt… settled while speaking with him, like my motherly instincts were comforted in his presence. He asked about me as a person, not simply as a queen or a leader. He is undeniably lovely.”
“I think so too,” Harry gushes, glee bubbling up so quickly inside of him that he feels like he may be floating. “Mum, I – I need to see him, to tell him –”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Anne comforts, kissing his forehead. “I will have Niall fetch your Louis and bring him to the library before I announce the abrupt end to our day’s activities. Why don’t you head there now to meet him, and I will join you after I see the Alphas out of the palace?”
“Thank you, Mother,” Harry sighs, grateful and relieved. “I–I know I’m supposed to have more preparation before an official courtship can start, but I – I’m embarrassed with how much I need to be in his presence.”
Anne chuckles. “Then he certainly is the one for you, my love. Remember to be chaste, but don’t be afraid to listen to your Omega.”
Harry flushes warm again, mind suddenly trying to work through how he might not be chaste. Such information is only divulged to Omegas upon their engagement, when the inevitability of mating looms heavy. Until then, he must meet the needy pull between his legs with tempered curiosity, must confront the pleasurably hot coil in his stomach with restraint. But why does the thought of having Louis’ mouth on his scent glands make him want to explore such intrigue more than ever before?
That is a battleground for later. For now, Harry needs to greet his Alpha in the library.
******
Pacing the floor of the library, Harry busies himself with a book he pulled off of a shelf at random. As fate would have it, it is a history of royal courtships and weddings in Cheshire, quickly tempting Harry to wonder how the pages of his and Louis’ story will read when they update the book in a few volumes. King Thomas and Queen Isla courted for several years before marrying, much to the surprise of the fifteenth-century public. But Queen Paloma and Queen Vivienne of the following century courted for a mere two months before they were engaged and then married just another three months later.
There’s something beautiful about an extended courtship, Harry thinks, and taking your time to get to know your future mate. He imagines that by the time you are to be wed, you would know the other person inside-and-out. But, in mulling it over… Harry’s an impatient person. He doesn’t yet know Louis’ schedule, how often he will be at the castle, or when Harry can travel to his homeland with him, but what he does know is that he wants to spend as much time with the Alpha as possible. He’s fairly certain that he will know Louis inside-and-out in much less than a few years.
As soon as the heavy double doors creak open, Harry freezes in his tracks, slamming the book shut in his hands. Goosebumps rise to his skin upon the first hint of Louis’ scent, stunningly strong despite not yet being in Harry’s line of sight. The smoky, comforting aroma fills Harry’s lungs and wraps around him like a thick blanket, calming his racing heart despite causing his legs to tremble.
From behind Niall, Louis rushes forward, composure be damned. He’s so strikingly beautiful, a whirlwind of navy fabric, gold buttons, and artfully messy hair falling to his knees at Harry’s feet. When he raises his head, his eyes are brimming with reverence, mouth already parted and speaking.
“Harry, my love.” Louis reaches for Harry’s hands, gently encircling his wrists and turning them over, much like he did just an hour prior. “You are an angel on earth, and I vow to be solely devoted to you. I pray that you will find as much joy and companionship in our courtship as I envision us discovering.”
“Louis,” Harry gasps, knees buckling in a mirrored display as Louis kisses each of his wrists, slower and with pointed intention. Louis only releases his wrists to steady him on his fall to the floor, guiding him carefully to kneel opposite him on the plush rug. Succumbing to Louis’ scent is like a blind freefall, entirely out of control but worth the exhilaration building in your chest. It’s terrifying for a split second until you realize that you’re tethered to him, undeniably safe in his arms. He will be the ground you land on, the place you seek refuge, the home you lay your head to rest in. And yet, every second is imbibed with the thrill of letting go and falling for him – falling with him.
Harry doesn’t realize the world has gone black until he distantly hears Niall’s panicked voice calling his name, drifting away into the warmth of campfire smoke and vanilla.
******
“There you are, pet. You’re alright, my darling.”
His mother’s voice, his Alpha’s scent, and… something wet upon his neck, an insistent, rhythmic sensation that should feel strange. Instead, he sighs happily, tilting his chin so that more of his throat is bared.
“Harry, love. Open your eyes if you can, sweetheart. You’re safe here.”
Well, of course he’s safe. His Alpha is nearly surrounding him, a warm body pressed against the length of his back, strong arms wrapped around his torso. But his mother clearly wants him awake, so he forces his sticky eyelids open, blinking slowly to adjust to the light.
“What –” Harry clears his throat, surprised at how gravelly it sounds. “What happened? Did I fall asleep?”
Anne smiles down at him, petting soothingly through his hair as she shakes her head no. “You dropped, darling. You’ve been out for nearly an hour.”
Harry’s mouth runs dry. “I – I dropped? Mum, I – am I alright?”
Omega drop can be incredibly dangerous – when it happens, it’s often a sign of high stress or illness. For an unmated Omega, dropping can indicate serious medical or psychological issues, especially if they are forced to come up from the drop quickly or without proper coaxing. Mated Omegas, in the presence of their Alphas, are more likely to find drops soothing, if their Alpha can care for them through their drop and then out of it. While they shouldn’t happen often, mated Omegas experiencing Omega drop do not run the same risks as unmated Omegas, nor does it likely indicate a deeper problem.
Chuckling, Anne nods. “You’re perfectly fine, love. Louis was the perfect Alpha and brought you out of it with no trouble at all.”
“Christ,” Harry curses under his breath, suddenly all-too aware of the Alpha still cradling his body and – oh, heaven help him, licking at the scent gland in his neck. Right where his bond mark would be. His body suddenly feels entirely too warm, cheeks burning with mortification as his mother – god, his mother – watches him realize that he’s smothering his newly-courted Alpha in a position that is certainly not chaste nor polite for their very first day together. Let alone during courtship at all . “Louis, I –”
Louis’ eyes are bright when he meets them, turning in the Alpha’s lap to face him. His pupils are blown just enough to cut deeply into the blue of his irises, but waves of relief and pride overwhelm his features.
“Shh, H. Not to worry,” Louis interjects, smiling fondly. “Scared the living hell out of me at first, but I caught you before your pretty head hit the ground. Niall helped settle you here, and your mum came in shortly after. Might’ve scented you a bit more thoroughly than is typically allowed, but I think this is a special circumstance. Am I correct, Anne?”
Anne. At some point in the last hour of lying unconscious, Louis has already been granted the privilege of calling his mother – the Queen of Cheshire - by her first name. He knows his mother is a compassionate and humble person, but she has always found duty in the formalities of the crown. Now, with an easy smile directed at the – mind you, still mostly-a-stranger – Alpha wrapped around her son protectively, she chuckles lightly.
“Absolutely, darling,” she agrees. “I don’t want you getting any ideas outside of this afternoon, but neither of you have done anything wrong.”
“‘M sorry,” Harry murmurs nonetheless, discreetly attempting to tuck himself further into Louis’ hold. “I – I still don’t know why I dropped, I wasn’t feeling bad –”
Louis clears his throat, huffing out an awkward laugh that immediately sets Harry on alert. “Uh, well, we might have an idea, Haz.”
Haz. Butterflies flutter in Harry’s stomach even as worry turns it sour, again trading glances between Louis and his mother. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. It’s an old wives’ tale, really, but there have been documented cases recorded,” Anne sighs, lips twitching upwards. “We think you and Louis may be soul-tied. Destined for each other in every universe, there’s a surge of power when you meet in yours. Upon finding your soul-tie, Omegas do tend to drop in the presence of their Alpha.”
“Oh my god,” Harry breathes, dumbfounded as Louis links their fingers together overtop of his stomach. “Oh my god, Louis, we –”
“I know, love, I know.” Louis’ voice shakes with emotion as his beam lights up the room. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, darling. Think there might be a little more to that besides your beauty alone.”
“Louis,” Harry stutters out, embarrassed by the blatant display of flattery in front of his mother and Niall. “I did… I did feel so settled when you were near. Of course, I never would have called the day off without knowing implicitly that you are the one I am meant to choose.”
“Well then,” Anne interrupts, and as Harry studies her expression, he notices the beginnings of tears brimming in her eyes. Her own scent is carefully concealed under neutralizers and perfumes, a testament to her authority and status. But being of her blood, Harry’s not immune, and he can sense the calming, happy pheromones steadily rolling off of her. Suddenly, this moment feels bigger than the library it’s contained in, as if the curtain has just been pulled shut on act one of his life. There’s rousing applause as the show transitions into intermission, the cast and crew taking a breath as they set the scene for the next act.
Here and now is that breath. Swallowing down a lump of undefinable emotion, Harry wills himself not to cry as well.
“I’ll see to it that a guest suite is fixed for you, Louis, and that you will have the necessary materials to write your family. Our messengers will head for them directly upon your call.” Anne takes a deep breath, reaching out to rest a gentle palm atop Harry and Louis’ interlocked hands. “I’ll take my leave so you two may converse more. Niall will be your chaperone for the day, but you need not adhere to a schedule. I’ll inform the palace staff of our unique circumstances.”
“Thank you, Anne,” Louis dips his head graciously, as much of a bow as he can manage with Harry still plastered to his body. “You are ever so kind. I am deeply honored to be welcomed into your home.”
“Sweet boy,” Anne coos, warm and fond. “Today, you are welcomed into our family. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
“Mum?” Harry pipes up, still feeling floaty around the edges. He wonders if the gravity of his mother’s words have something to do with it. “What shall we do about the courting procedure?”
“That is not of any concern to you today, my darling. Just relax and spend time with your beloved. That is what matters now.”
With a kiss to Harry’s forehead, Anne takes her leave, entrusting the care of the new soul-ties to Niall and a vast, otherwise empty room. Never before has such leniency befallen the castle – newly courting royals are expected to get to know one another through structured dates with watchful chaperones, trading small, scented gifts to become accustomed to one another’s scent. Hand-holding may be acceptable after several successful dates, as well as chaste kisses to one’s hand. But beyond such physicality, engagement must occur before mates-to-be can directly scent one another or kiss properly – and even then couples' outings are supervised from a more generous distance.
Harry supposes that the soul-tie does add an unexpected element to the royal policy, and at least for now, he’s certainly going to take advantage of it.
“Niall?” Harry begins, sending a cursory glance in the direction of his handmaiden. “Haven’t you been saying you wanted to choose a new book to read?”
Rolling his eyes, Niall can’t help but smile. “Subtle, Harry. I’ll be amongst the shelves, but I still have ears, alright?”
As soon as Niall’s back is turned, Harry rounds on Louis, finding his Alpha staring back at him funnily, a poorly-concealed laugh tucked behind his lips. “Don’t look at me like that. But do tell me if I do anything severely out of line.”
“Alright, little dove, do your worst.”
Harry wrinkles his nose at the teasing but flushes under the attention nonetheless. With a surge of energy, Harry pushes upwards, careful not to elbow Louis in any unsavory places as he readjusts his position. Instead of laying with his back to Louis’ front, he now straddles his hips and lays forward, plastering their chests together as he buries his face in the Alpha’s neck, immediately sucking in greedy lungfuls of his scent.
“Harry,” Louis gasps, one of his hands skating up to Harry’s curls to hold his head against his scent gland. “Oh, love. You can scent me back, if you’d like.”
“How do you… do that?” Harry asks meekly, humiliation flooding his body as his words are muffled against Louis’ skin. In theory, he knows how to scent his family – brushing his nose against his mother’s neck, pressing the scent glands on his wrist against Gemma’s when he hugs his sister over her shoulders while she sits at her desk. He’s even seen Robin press a sweet kiss to his mother’s bond mark, knowing that saliva is the most effective way to scent someone. But for him to be confronted with his Alpha, his future mate, and have never before intentionally sought to douse someone in his scent – Harry feels undoubtedly out of his element.
“Whatever you feel comfortable with, angel, but you can use your mouth against me,” Louis explains, breaths careful and words delicate. “Find where I smell the strongest, and use your tongue to lick at the skin slowly. Or you can use your lips in a kiss as well.”
“Louis,” Harry shudders through the overwhelm, unsure why his hips seem to have a mind of their own as he squirms against the Alpha. He can’t keep still, even with Louis’ strong hands anchoring him to his body.
“You’re alright, darling. Take a slow, deep breath with me.” Following the guide of the steady rise and fall of Louis’ chest, Harry inhales and exhales in time with his Alpha. “There you go. Relax your body and let your instinct take over. Your Omega knows what to do.”
With a long, heavy sigh, Harry lets Louis ground him. Hesitantly, Harry parts his lips and places a soft open-mouthed kiss to Louis’ scent gland, reveling in the noise he pulls from the Alpha’s mouth. When he darts his tongue out to lick more confidently over his skin, Louis nearly jolts from the contact, a loud rumbling stuttering to life in his chest. The sensation is all-consuming, with the physical vibrations passing through Harry’s limbs and the sound of his rumbling sending his Omega into overdrive. Before he knows it, Harry’s purring in return, something he’s only ever done around his Mum and sister. Continuing to lap at Louis’ neck, Harry drinks in the intoxicating cocktail of their mixing scents, his own honeyed spearmint curling around the sharp edges of fresh grass and smoky vanilla.
“Omega,” Louis husks, groaning softly. “Oh, baby, you smell unbelievable. You feel unbelievable.”
Little insistent whines burst around them, and it takes Harry a moment to realize that the noises are coming from him. Truly, he can’t be arsed to care, buried to deep in Louis’ scent and Louis’ arms and –
“Uh, lads?”
The moment is broken by a very uncomfortable Niall, standing a good few steps away from the couch with cheeks painted a bright vermillion. “I told you I could still hear, but you didn’t believe me, did ya? Queen Anne would have my head if she walked in and saw you just now.”
“She wouldn’t have your head,” Louis retorts, as if he’s known Anne all his life, in perfect unison with Harry’s “She was witness to Louis scenting me before.”
Niall levels Harry an impressed look. “You dropped before, might I remind you? And don’t forget that I was witness to it, too. It was significantly more restrained than…” he waves his hand aimlessly towards the two of them. “ This.”
“But,” Harry trains his best pout on Niall. “We’re soul-tied.”
“Nuh-uh, no, I am not letting you use that against me when I will surely be your chaperone for however long you manage to stay unmated. Rules are rules.”
“Niall’s right, love,” Louis gently pushes upwards on the couch cushions, taking Harry with him as he rises. “We were a bit without restraint. But now that we’re both well-scented, we should be able to keep our hands to ourselves, yeah?”
With a disgruntled sigh, Harry slides off of Louis’ lap and onto the empty couch cushion next to him. In subtle protest, he interlocks their ankles together, grinning smugly as Niall shakes his head.
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
******
As it turns out, the royal pair of soul-ties is the first documented case in nearly a century, stunning the castle into a frantic discussion of how to treat the young lovers. From the previously recorded instances of soul-ties, the team of royal physicians determine that there’s an increased need to be in one another’s presence while unmated, as it is detrimental to both the Alpha and Omega’s physical and psychological wellbeing to go without the other for too long. Thus, Louis splits his time between Cheshire and Doncaster, blessedly less than a day’s carriage or horseback ride away. He spends one week at the castle with Harry, and then his next on his family’s estate.
The eventual mates-to-be are also uniquely allowed direct, physical scenting – once upon Louis’ arrival at the castle, and once just before he leaves each week. Both opportunities are highly regulated and always in the presence of both Niall and Louis’ valet, Zayn, to maintain appearances and keep the young prince and his beloved pure.
But regulation can only go so far when the prince has a large terrace accessible from the gardens via a sturdy trellis and an ounce of determination.
And Louis Tomlinson, Marquess of Doncaster, has determination – and agility – in spades.
“My darling, my angel, I – mmph –”
The instant Louis is on his feet, Harry rushes the Alpha with a whimper on his lips and insistent need in his heart. With both hands cupping the sides of his jaw, Harry kisses him soundly.
Kissing – most definitely outside of the appropriate boundaries of courtship – is arguably the most thrilling development borne of their secret trysts. They managed a month of covert nightly meetings in Harry’s bedroom without progressing past thorough scentings before Harry felt the pull to kiss his Alpha so strongly that resisting left a painful ache in his chest. Louis was easily convinced and initiated their first kiss against the far wall of the terrace just before he climbed down to leave before the sun rose over the palace.
Now, another month later, and Harry’s sure that their courtship is careening rapidly towards engagement. In fact, he suspects that if he kisses Louis long and hard enough, he might just weaken the Alpha’s defenses enough to spoil the surprise.
Not that it’s much of a surprise in the first place. He and Louis have already spent countless nights dreaming of their future, from the color scheme for their future wedding to which palace bedrooms will be best suited for their pups. Or if they’d get an estate of their own and leave the castle altogether, buying land equidistant between Cheshire and Doncaster and raising their family near both of their homes.
“Hello, my love,” Louis chuckles when they finally break for air, dotting quick kisses up the line of Harry’s cheekbone and onto his forehead. Harry hums contentedly and leans into the touch, upturning his chin to the moon so Louis can cover more surface area with bursts of affection. “I’ve thought of you all day, hour after hour. Even when we were together, speaking and touching, I could not get enough of you. My little dove.”
Heat ignites under Harry’s skin, surely tangible through the soft, thin fabric of his nightgown. Leaning heavily into Louis, he brushes aside the relaxed collar of his pajama shirt to fit his nose in the dip of his neck. “You make me feel like I am lit from within.”
“Omega,” Louis rumbles, gently walking Harry back to his bedroom to avoid the chill of the night air. “How would you like to be my betrothed?”
The words are delivered with such nonchalance, such surety, that Harry’s heart soars. He stays tucked against his Alpha as he purrs away, letting himself be guided into the warmth of his bedroom. While he does enjoy a bit of fanfare from time to time, he enjoys being alone with Louis more – he finds it more special and real.
“You know that I would give up everything for you, even if you were a mere commoner,” Harry muses. “I would love nothing more in the world.”
“Even if I could offer you nothing but my heart?”
“That is the greatest gift of all, Alpha.”
“I shall propose to you tomorrow, then,” Louis decides, swaying them softly in the moonlight. Harry’s bedroom rug is plush underneath his feet as they turn in gentle circles, not yet a waltz but not just an embrace. “Publicly, that is. I wanted to ask you privately to be my bride.”
“Call me your wife,” Harry insists, licking once over Louis’ scent gland and imagining the day he gets to swipe his tongue over the healed skin of his bond mark. “Call me your mate.”
“I will once you say yes.”
“Silly Alpha,” Harry grins, picking his head up from Louis’ shoulder. Seeing undying devotion so blatantly written across Louis’ face will never fail to make Harry feel like the ground’s pulled out from under him, spiraling him back into the never-ending freefall of loving Louis. “I’ve been yours since day one. But if I must… yes.”
“My love, my life,” Louis says, a radiant beam stretching across his face. “You are everything to me. My wife. My mate.”
“Lou, you’re my husband – my mate –” Harry whines, overcome, as Louis presses his thumb into the scent gland in his neck that will soon bear his mark. “Tell me how it’ll go. Please.”
Louis freezes, suddenly stock still. “How what’ll go, darling?”
“Our mating,” Harry presses, blissfully unaware that they’ve stopped swaying. “Kiss me and tell me what it’ll be like.”
“Baby,” Louis groans, releasing Harry from his hold and taking a step back. “Why must you tempt me so?”
Shame courses through Harry instantly, making him curl inward onto himself. He feels the loss of Louis like a phantom limb, and yet he shrinks under his Alpha’s pained gaze. “What – what do you mean?”
“You’re asking me to talk about our mating,” Louis repeats, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Love, I’m not upset at all. I’m just – do you… do you know what happens when two people mate?”
Harry shakes his head instantly, hot tears of embarrassment pricking at his eyes. “No. That’s why I asked you, Louis. I – I trust you, and… I’ve never been told, I’ve never been allowed to know –”
“Oh, pet, I love you,” Louis soothes, hurrying to bundle Harry back up in his embrace. “I love you infinitely. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad, darling. Thank you for trusting me, and I never want you to doubt that.”
“Why won’t you tell me?” Harry sniffles into his chest, feeling childish and needy as he clings to Louis’ clothes.
“You just caught me off guard, love. I know that some… things are considered “improper” for Omegas to know before they’re mated – which is bullshit, really – but I didn’t realize –” Louis sighs, kissing Harry’s hair. “I thought that maybe your mother or your sister had told you before.”
Harry shakes his head. “Never.”
“Well then,” Louis decides, tone firm but brimming with open compassion. “Tomorrow night, I will bring some books from the library, and we can talk about it. Alright?”
“I feel – I feel so silly,” Harry whispers, and Louis growls under his breath as he tilts Harry’s chin up to face him.
“No, Haz, it is not your fault. It is the fault of some ignorant, sexist, bullshit social standards, okay? I will not let my mate feel bad about wanting to learn what he does not know, and I will certainly not make him feel like he’s less than for asking about it.”
Harry nods. “Will you kiss me?”
“Of course, angel.”
Louis’ kisses always ignite something smoldering inside of Harry, twisting his insides in a pleasant, pulsing pattern that he wants to chase. When Louis slides his tongue against Harry’s, coaxing his lips open, Harry feels the flame in his abdomen burn bright, triggering a slow, seeping wetness to spread between his legs.
“When you gather the books,” Harry murmurs between kisses, drawing Louis back towards his bed. “Will you remember to bring one about why there’s a mess down my thighs whenever you kiss me?”
“Oh, fuck,” Louis curses, breaking the kiss and dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder. “Yes, my love. I will bring a book about that.”
“Splendid.”
******
Louis proposes just before tea time the following afternoon, deep in the gardens and surrounded by Harry’s favorite rose bushes. His mother, though she must have signed off on Louis’ intentions, openly cries as she hugs both Harry and Louis tightly, rambling on about having a summer wedding if they want to get married sooner or a fall wedding if they want the weather to be temperate or a winter wedding if they want the natural decoration of a backdrop of fluffy snow. It’s only after Gemma and Robin tear Anne away do they get to offer their own congratulations to the happy couple, insisting that they can keep the news confined to the castle for a few days before they announce their engagement to the neighboring kingdoms.
Then, much to Harry’s surprise, Robin and Gemma steal Louis away from his mate-to-be, promising to reunite the couple for dinner that evening. In the meantime, Anne wipes her tears from her face with a handkerchief as she directs Harry back to her quarters, refusing to explain the sudden separation of the pair.
“Oh, my darling boy, I am so happy for you,” Anne sighs as she beckons Harry into her study, guiding him to sit across from her in dual plush armchairs. “I love you, my dear heart, and I do truly love Louis as well. I cannot wait to welcome him in as my second son.”
“I love you too, Mum,” Harry replies, glancing to the closed door that he heard his mother lock behind them. “What are we… what are we doing here?”
Anne blanches, then, and looks down to her interlocked hands for a long beat of silence. For the first time in ages, an uncomfortability weaves its way between mother and son, leaving Harry increasingly more unsettled. The Queen coughs, clears her throat, and manages to raise her head to meet Harry’s eyes again.
“Love, there’s a conversation we need to have now that you’re engaged,” she starts slowly, hesitantly. “When you and Louis are wed, you will be expected to… expected to mate.”
Dread curls in Harry’s stomach, remembering Louis’ reaction to his questions about mating from the night prior. If Louis, the man who wants to make him his mate, was hesitant to discuss the topic, then hearing about it from his mother must be more embarrassing.
Nonetheless, he nods slightly, refusing to let her know anything is amiss. She can’t find out about his curiosity, let alone that he’s been discussing such things with Louis. “Yes, Mother, I know.”
“Yes, well, your body is – it is prepared for it,” Anne continues, fidgeting with the sleeve of her gown. “As an Omega, your body will… open up for your Alpha, and he will take care of you. Do you – do you remember what your heat was like?”
Oh god. His heat. Upon presenting, Omegas experience a singular heat and Alphas a singular rut until they are mated. Only once they mate do the cycles resume, expected to be shared between partners. That much Harry knows, though the details about how two people share a heat or a rut are lost to a lack of education about the subject. All he does know about his own heat is that it was the most physically painful week of his life, his body subject to treacherous hot flashes and excruciating abdominal cramps. Unknown fluid – much like what he finds in his undergarments after spending some time kissing Louis – bled from his body without ceasing. And god , was everything – down there – inflamed and painfully swollen.
Harry can’t help but gasp, worry flooding his mind at the thought of such pain marring what he’s been looking forward to for months. “Mum, will it really be that painful?”
The fear tinging his voice mellows out the creases of Anne’s brow, morphing her discomfort into something more gentle. “No, darling, do not stress. Quite the opposite, actually. As long as Louis takes care of you – which I have full faith that he will – mating will feel very good. It’ll help you bond with your partner emotionally and physically.”
“Then why bring up my heat?”
Anne tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth, a nervous tick she passed along to Harry. “Well, your body will react to the desire to mate much like it did to your heat, but without the pain. You will feel hot, and – and it will be messy, but just let it happen. Louis will guide you. Your bodies are built to enjoy it.”
Louis will guide you.
Harry suspects that’s an excuse for his mother to get out of sharing further details, but he will take it to heart. Just… maybe not exactly how his mother intended for him to do so.
******
“Do you have the books?”
“Hello to you too, Omega,” Louis chuckles, slinging himself over the stone half-wall of his balcony. “ Betrothed.”
Harry giggles, kissing him silly before he even has two feet flat on the ground, which. While that might be a little dangerous, Harry’s certain he could catch him if he started to topple back over the edge. Or he’d at least follow after him, making the whole scenario quite dramatic. His terrace is not high enough off the ground that they’d be at risk of any fatal injuries… just death by the hands of embarrassment and a significant scolding from the royal court.
“Betrothed,” Harry sighs against his lips. “Officially. Which means we can kiss during the daytime hours.”
“But I kind of like our naughty little secret.”
“ Louis.” The tone of his voice alone is enough to send Harry blushing.
“No matter. We have plenty of naughty little secrets still, hm?”
“I’m not sure,” Harry plays coy despite the thrumming heat in his veins. “Did you bring the books?”
Louis nods, sliding his bag off of his shoulder. “I cleared nearly an entire shelf of the ‘Alphas Only’ section.”
“Oh.”
“What is it, love?”
Harry wrings his hands uncomfortably. “They really don’t want Omegas to know this, do they?”
“Fuck what they think, H. You deserve to know about yourself and about other people. You’re so smart it’s mind-boggling sometimes, so even if it’s new, it’s not like you won’t be able to comprehend it,” Louis assures him, pulling book after book out of the bag and setting it atop Harry’s dresser. “When we have pups, we won’t keep this from them once they’re old enough to understand. You’re being pretty damn revolutionary, Haz.”
“I’m sorry if it’s improper,” Harry murmurs, and Louis immediately drops the books he’s holding and tugs Harry into his arms instead.
“I love that you’re a little improper. I love that you’re curious, and witty, and a fucking tease underneath all of the politeness you wear so well.”
Harry adores when Louis speaks this way, voice a touch darker and more private. He’s heard it a few times before, when they’re deep in a drawn-out kissing session or when Harry purposefully arches his back under his nightgown when he bends over to pick something up. He knows he loves studying Louis’ body – and he understands that there's a base instinct to want to see all of your partner bared before you – so he assumes that Louis feels the same way. But what he will do with such instincts is the mystery that he hopes to unravel tonight.
“Let me open a book before I get distracted,” Harry shoots back, unable to contain his excitement as Louis passes him one off of the stack. “You know, as your superior, I could decree that your job is to lay in my bed, look pretty, and kiss me all day.”
“That’ll be my job whether you decree it or not, Omega. I’ll see to it.”
“Hm, alright. Depending on what I learn from this book, maybe you can also –”
A beat of silence, then: “Harry, darling? Are you alright?”
Spread out on the page before him are two detailed diagrams, each boasting a strikingly large depiction of male genitals. One of the drawings features an inflated, bulb-like addition at the base of the erect penis, capturing Harry’s attention. He’s obviously familiar with his own anatomy, and these images are not vastly different from his body. Except for that.
“I think –” Harry swallows, feeling incredibly out of his depth. “I think it might be helpful if you tell me what Alphas are taught, first.”
Louis strolls up behind him, glancing over his shoulder. Harry hears him suck in a breath, and when he turns to face him, the Alpha’s face is painted an impressive shade of tomato red.
“Um, we can start here, I guess.” Louis clears his throat. “That’s… that’s an Alpha cock. And that –” he reaches around Harry, pointing to the swollen protrusion at the base. “– that’s a knot.”
“A knot,” Harry repeats under his breath. His nightgown sticks to his skin, but he doesn’t remember when he started to sweat. “Is it – is it there all the time? Is it painful?”
“It only appears when the Alpha is aroused,” Louis manages, putting some distance between him and Harry as he crosses the room to sit in the chair at his desk. “It can be painful if you don’t… take care of it.”
The involuntary spread of Louis’ legs as he sits draws Harry’s line of sight right to his crotch, and – christ almighty – he can’t stop thinking about Louis’ cock. About his knot .
His attention is laser-focused, so it’s no surprise when Louis notices. He fidgets under Harry’s watchful eye, but doesn’t turn his body away from the scrutiny.
“When we mate,” Louis says next, and Harry only manages to tear his eyes away from Louis’ lap when Louis’ voice takes on a breathier quality. “I’ll spread your legs and touch you where you get wet when we kiss.”
There’s no air left in the room, little sparks of lightning zapping up what’s left of the oxygen between them. Harry backs up a few steps until he hits the edge of his mattress, knees falling weak as Louis continues.
“Have you ever touched your cock when it gets hard?”
Harry shakes his head ‘no.’ The royal physician had always taught him that should his genitals ever swell, he should douse himself in cold water to rid himself of the ache.
“Tonight, after I leave, I want you to try it,” Louis suggests, splaying his hands on his thighs and pushing them forward, as if he’s physically at war with the desire to reach out and touch Harry himself. “Don’t be scared, darling. It’ll feel good, and you’ll come to what’s called a climax. That’s when the pleasure within you erupts, and you’ll make a bit of a mess. But there’s nothing wrong with it, baby. I promise.”
“What – what does this have to do with mating? Aren’t you –” Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to touch me ?”
“Yes, dove, I am,” Louis nods. “And you are to touch me, too, if you’d like. But I say all of this because that sensation will be intensified tenfold when we are together. When you’re ready, during our mating… I will fit my cock inside you. Where you get wet – slick, where you get slick.”
Eyes widening, composure be damned, Harry chokes on his next words. “In – inside me?”
“Yes, Omega. Our bodies are made for each other, so as long as we are both feeling pleasurable and safe, it will feel indescribable.”
“And then…” the puzzle pieces start to connect themselves. “And then your knot will be inside me as well?”
“Exactly. It will expand to hold us together so we may not separate for some time,” Louis explains. “When we decide to have pups, it will help impregnate you.”
“Oh my god,” Harry murmurs, glancing down at himself. In the haziness of the conversation, he somehow failed to recognize his own arousal, now a prominent tent visible underneath his thin nightgown. With Louis just across the room, clearly attuned to Harry’s predicament, Harry yelps out an embarrassed whine and grabs the nearest throw pillow to place over his lap.
“My love,” Louis rasps, and when he shifts in his seat, Harry notices the way his trousers catch on the outline of his cock. The sight sends wetness – slick – pooling underneath him and surely soaking through to his bedclothes. “This is all… this is all very natural. We’re supposed to feel fucking rabid for one another. I don’t want you thinking this is bad.”
“I don’t,” Harry replies, feeling the familiar ache deep in his abdomen. “I just – we’re not married, Louis. This is all for mated couples.”
“I know, darling. And I won’t ever pressure you to do anything, even when we’re married –”
Harry’s stomach sinks. “Have you – have you done this before?”
“No,” Louis’ cheeks glow pink, suddenly bashful. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard a lot from friends who have. It’s… it’s something I’ve dreamed of many times, but I’ve never.”
Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Have you ever dreamed of me in that way?”
“Angel,” Louis rushes out. “You’re all I dream about.”
A high whine slips through the press of Harry’s lips, and he feels his hole pulse as more slick floods his thighs. Besides his heat, he’s never let himself feel this out-of-control, normally gritting his teeth and desperately seeking out the stabilizing chill of cold water. But, time and time again, Louis makes him feel dangerous in a way that he craves, tonight being no exception.
“Louis,” he pleads, not entirely sure what exactly he’s asking for but certain that his Alpha implicitly knows. “Please –”
“You know we can’t,” Louis begs, knuckles turning white as he grips at his trousers. “Harry, don’t – my Alpha needs to take care of its Omega. I love you to the ends of the earth, baby, but we can’t.”
“Tell me what to do when you leave,” Harry urges, chest heaving with panting breaths. “Alpha, please –”
“Take this,” Louis stands, hands shaking as he peels his gauzy pajama shirt off over his head. The noise that escapes Harry’s throat at the sight of his Alpha’s bare torso – golden tan and toned, smooth curves dipping into firm muscle – is unrecognizable to his own ears. Mesmerized by the flexing of Louis’ abdomen as he strides to meet him, Harry clenches his legs together as the heady smell of his Alpha draws nearer. He passes the shirt to Harry with frenzied urgency, backpedaling away from the bed and towards the French doors that lead to his terrace. “I want you to think of me as you touch your cock… a-and your hole. Try and get two fingers inside of yourself, love, and imagine that it’s me. That it’s my – shit – my cock, baby. I’m not gonna last two fucking seconds once I get my hand around myself.”
“Are you –” Harry presses the shirt to his nose, moaning openly. “Is your knot –”
The gaze Louis trains on him is positively wrecked. “Yeah, I’m gonna pop a knot. Wish it was in you, lovely.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Harry admits, and Louis shakes his head wildly.
“I know, Omega, I know. I’ll get to stay so soon. And then I’ll never leave.”
“I need a summer wedding,” Harry whines, pulling a surprised laugh out of the Alpha as he steps onto the balcony.
“Whatever you want, darling. Sweet dreams, angel.”
As soon as the French doors are shut behind Louis, instinct overwhelms Harry’s senses. He doesn’t think twice before stripping off his nightgown, crawling backwards into the middle of the mattress. With Louis’ shirt draped over his neck, Harry lays down and plants his feet on the mattress, lifting his hips as he searches insistently for the source of his wetness. When he reaches his soaking rim, all it takes is gentle pressure for his finger to slide inside. Rocking down onto it, he moans, easily pressing in a second digit beside the first. Pleasure sparks alight underneath his skin, coursing through his body at a dizzying pace. Gulping lungfuls of Louis’ scent from his pajama shirt, he can almost imagine the lilt of his voice encouraging him to touch himself. In his fantasy, Louis stands at the end of his four-poster bed, Harry’s legs splayed out on either side of his hips. The – now very real – image of Louis’ naked torso stretches into the thought of his bare cock, heavy and leaking at the tip as he watches Harry follow his instructions. With that fantasy behind his eyelids, Harry barely manages to get his hand on his cock, one solid, firm stroke from base to tip, before he cries out, back arching as his body pulls taut. A swell of pleasure, so strong it causes his limbs to tremble and give out, crests and breaks within him, sending his vision dark as his hole clenches around his fingers and pearly ropes of liquid splatter across his stomach.
“Louis,” he whimpers on the comedown, suddenly untethered without his Alpha next to him. He can’t bear to move, can’t muster the energy to clean himself off, so he simply buries his face into his Alpha’s shirt and lets sleep overtake him.
******
“Holy fuck, Harry, why does it reek of Alpha in here – oh my god!”
At the sound of Niall’s voice, Harry scrambles awake, desperately grabbing at his blankets to try and cover himself. Niall’s helped him dress and bathe for years now, but he’s never seen him in such blatant – and illicit – disarray.
“Harry. Edward. Styles.” Niall rounds on his bed, mouth agape and face aflame. “I swear to god, if Louis’s fucking hiding somewhere in here, I’m gonna find him and chop his knot off!”
“He’s not here,” Harry blinks up at his best friend from beneath a mountain of pheromone-and-fluid-doused bedclothes. “I promise, Niall.”
A heavy sigh, then: “When the fuck did he leave, then?”
“Before sunrise,” Harry admits, reaching out of his cocoon to snatch as many of the pillows as he can reach, lest Niall get any ideas. He’s downright dangerous when armed with a weapon of cotton and feathers. “We didn’t do anything… improper, Niall.”
His handmaiden scoffs. “Right. I can smell the sex on you. I have half a mind to ask you to show me your neck.”
Harry brushes aside the flagrant disrespect of Niall requesting he prove his purity in favor of valiantly displaying his scent gland, tilting his head back so Niall gets a clear view. “See? Nothing.”
“How long have you been doing… this?” Niall gestures to the bed, shaking his head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you’ve been fucking right under my nose this whole time.”
“I’ve never even touched him, Niall, please,” Harry sighs, pushing himself up in bed. “Not like that, really. I – I did this all to myself. By myself.”
Niall’s eyes widen, a strangled whimper of mortification trapped in his throat. “Oh my god. Harry. I’m – I –”
“Louis was here,” Harry explains, figuring it’s better to be honest since they’re already in this deep. “He’s been visiting me each night since our courtship began. But I swear, last night was the first night anything…”
Harry cuts himself off, casting his eyes down to his sheets. Niall clears his throat, seemingly regaining enough confidence to continue his questioning.
“So something did happen?”
“The night before we got engaged, Louis visited me and proposed to me in private.” He smiles at the memory, twisting the gold band, inlaid with multicolored gems, that sits on his left ring finger. “And I asked him what it would be like when we mated. I didn’t know, Niall, what even happens when two people mate. So Louis promised to tell me the next day, and last night, he brought a stack of books from the ‘Alphas Only’ section of the library. I started reading them, got overwhelmed, and begged Louis to tell me what he knows. He did… and I was affected. He knew we couldn’t touch each other in that way just yet, so he left me his shirt and went back to his room.”
Niall narrows his eyes at the prince, determining the truth behind his words. “Alright.”
“...Alright?”
“ Alright, I’m not going to murder you before your mother can murder me,” Niall remarks. “But holy shit, Harry, you’re still playing with fire.”
“I’m in love, and have you seen my Alpha?” Harry huffs out, as if that would be enough. That should be enough. “Wait a minute, you’re an Omega. Niall – how do you know about mating and – and sex?”
“Oh, um,” Niall shrugs, redness creeping up his neck again. “I learned about it from one of the stable boys a few years ago. Said he got his Omega girlfriend pregnant and her parents were calling for them to mate and have an expedited wedding.”
“You’ve kept this from me?” Harry can’t keep the hurt out of his voice as he speaks. “All this time? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
“Harry, mate, I’m sorry,” Niall holds up his hands in defense. “It’s not like I’m allowed to tell you – I’d get fucking fired if I did! The royal court would have my ass back in Mullingar by the end of the day!”
“I’ve kept your secrets before,” Harry retorts, refusing to let Niall see the tears well in his eyes. “I know who you’ve kissed, what food you’ve nicked from the kitchen, and everything else about you.”
“I couldn’t, Harry, I’m sorry. I knew your mum would tell you eventually –”
“My mum could barely string two coherent sentences together,” Harry interjects. “I love her dearly, but she isn’t perfect. I would still be in the dark if it wasn’t for Louis. He made me feel so safe, Niall and so – so visible, like I was worthy of information about my own fucking body –”
“I’m so sorry,” Niall murmurs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his waistcoat. “I had no idea.”
Harry sighs, letting his body fall backwards into the mattress. He closes his eyes, hot tears dampening his lashes as the clawing yearning for his Alpha strikes him in the chest.
“I’ll set out your clothes for the day, Your Highness. I’ll return to bring you your lunch if you decide to eat alone.”
The formal title rings loudly in his ears, punctuating the slamming of the door.
******
“Harry, darling. Omega, it’s time to wake up.”
“Louis?”
Forcing himself out of his slumber at the sound of his Alpha’s voice, Harry opens his eyes to find Louis perched on the edge of his mattress, dressed for the day and smiling down at him fondly.
“Hi, baby. I heard you’ve had a rough morning.”
“Did Niall send you?” Harry grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Louis chuckles, nodding as he reaches out to card a hand through Harry’s sleep-rumpled curls.
“He did. Told me everything, too. I think he feels pretty bad about the whole situation.”
“I’m still mad at him.”
“I know you are, and you’re allowed to be. For as long as you need.”
Harry sighs. “Probably won’t last a whole day without Niall. I hate that I love him so much.”
“Hm, you’re so quick to forgive. Good to know if I ever fuck something up.”
“I’ll stay mad at you longer. Mostly ‘cause I know you’ll stick around.”
“I’m strangely endeared by that. You’re right.”
“I’m –” Harry can’t find it within himself to be embarrassed, so he simply keeps his duvet pulled up to his chin. “I’m naked right now.”
Louis raises his eyebrows, a pleased smirk slipping onto his lips. “Tempting. You also smell like me, so. My Alpha’s well chuffed.”
“Well, I did what you told me to do last night. And it was mind blowing.”
“Good, baby. I’m glad. I fucked a pillow into the mattress – a classy Alpha, I am.”
Harry chuckles, content with how their casual conversation about something so private and unchaste can be this easy. He’s still madly interested in the topic, his cock easily persuaded to chub up to half-mast, but the need in the pit of his stomach isn’t desperate. It’s comfortable, just happy to be in the presence of his Alpha after a rude awakening.
“Alpha,” Harry starts, pushing himself up in bed and resting a hand on Louis’ arm. “Kissy?”
Obliging him with a hum, Louis presses their lips together in a slow morning embrace, pulling a sweet sigh from the Omega. As they break apart, the Alpha’s eyes roam over the uncovered skin revealed when the blankets pool around Harry’s waist.
“Just like an angel,” Louis mumbles under his breath, tilting Harry into one more insistent kiss. “Why’d they send you down to Earth, love? You belong in Heaven.”
“To be yours,” Harry answers easily, giggling at the dopey, lovestruck grin that makes its home on Louis’ face. “C’mon, Lou, you can help me dress.”
“Um –” The Alpha blanches, mouth dropped open. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t mean for you to help with everything,” Harry laughs. “Close your eyes until I’m at least half-clothed. No peeking.”
Physically turning away from the rest of the room and shoving his face into the closest pillow he can reach, Louis obeys his Omega’s orders. Slipping out from under the covers, Harry heads first for the small basin of water adorned with a fresh cloth. As is his daily routine, he wipes over his face first, then supplements his regimen with the addition of cleaning the dried, sticky mess off of his abdomen and from between his legs.
Finally, he’s able to slip on his usual undergarments, lacing up the pair of loose trousers that Niall laid out for him today. It’s a chilly April morning, so he’s glad that Niall knows him well enough to leave his dresses and skirts for the warmer days that are bound to arrive in the coming weeks. Once his shirt is pulled over his shoulders, he stops with his hands on the top buttons.
“Louis? I’m ready for you.”
In an instant, his Alpha stands before him, greedily drinking in the sight of his half-covered upper body. Harry preens under the attention, sliding the first button through its buttonhole.
“I was hoping you could start at the bottom and meet me halfway,” Harry explains, doing up the second button. “It would go much faster.”
“Of course, darling,” Louis agrees. With a dull thunk, his knees hit the floor, holding Harry’s gaze for the duration of his descent. Now eye-level with the lower buttons, Louis carefully begins with securing the very bottom of the shirt.
“I like you in this position,” Harry muses, not letting himself feel the embarrassment that sneaks in alongside his charged, purposeful teasing. “It reminds me of the day we met.”
Louis encircles his wrists, pushing up the cuffs of the starched cotton so he can kiss each of Harry’s scent glands in turn, an exact mimic of his greeting when Niall brought him back to the library. “I’d stay here for eternity if I could. I love you, Omega.”
“And I love you, Alpha,” Harry echoes. “I think I’d like to kneel before you sometime. What do you think of that?”
Louis’ hands freeze midway up his shirt, and Harry tracks the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “I think you’d put the stars to shame with how radiant you are.”
Harry giggles, releasing his shirt in favor of brushing his fingers through Louis’ hair, swept back in a messy quiff. “You flatter me. But I suspect you have more to say that you’re keeping from me.”
“Harry, the day’s barely started,” Louis laughs, tone full of fond exasperation. “If I say what I’m thinking, I might not make it through. I have to meet with the royal court this afternoon.”
“But I’m your betrothed,” Harry pouts, softening his eyes in the way he knows Louis is endlessly weak for. “We don’t keep secrets.”
Louis sighs, securing the final button and rising from his knees. He drops a quick kiss to Harry’s mouth once they’re eye-level again before strolling over to the Omega’s dresser and retrieving a book from the pile.
Harry watches curiously, tucking his shirt into the waistband of his trousers as Louis flips through the pages. When he settles on what he’s looking for, Louis retrieves a clean handkerchief from Harry’s dresser and slides it between the pages, closing the book’s cover once more.
“I’m going to make my way to the dining room for lunch.” Louis passes him the book with one hand, drawing the omega close with his other hand skirting around Harry’s waist and landing on the small of his back. Harry sucks in a breath as Louis languidly kisses just under his ear, barely moving his mouth from his skin when he speaks. “If you want to know how I envision you on your knees, read the bookmarked pages.”
A shudder ripples down Harry’s spine, immediately feeling the loss of his Alpha as Louis pulls away, tossing a wink over his shoulder as he shuts Harry’s bedroom door behind him. Though he has a deep purple, brocade-accented waistcoat set out to complete his outfit, the temptation of opening the book in his hands is too great to wait any longer.
“Oral stimulation of the genitals is an acceptable and pleasurable addition to traditional coupling between a mated pair. Orally pleasuring Alpha anatomy requires readiness for the potential of accidental or purposeful knotting of the mouth –”
Harry barely suppresses an involuntary moan, pressing the heel of his hand against the base of his cock as it kicks to life in his trousers. When he rips his eyes off of the page to steady himself, he meets his own stare in the mirror and can’t help but wonder what he’d look like with his lips stretched around the length of his Alpha. The idea of servicing him, bent on his knees and chasing only his Alpha’s pleasure, flares something uniquely possessive inside of him. Only he gets to make his Alpha fall apart; only he gets to be used solely for Louis’ gratification. All his life, Harry’s had people bow at his feet, prostrate in the face of royalty. Louis will be the only person who gets to see the gift that is the Prince on his knees, wholly dedicating himself to his Alpha.
Against his better judgment, Harry reads on.
“Male Omega anatomy responds to the same stimulation as Alphas, but with the addition of finding great pleasure in oral ministrations to their opening –”
“Christ,” Harry hisses, lurching forward into the chair by his desk, his legs too unstable to hold him upright. Louis’ mouth is magic already, whether he’s scenting Harry, kissing Harry, or merely talking – it’s all devilishly mesmerizing. But the thought of his mouth there, shiny with Harry’s slick and licking furiously at his most sensitive place… it’s too much. For a split second, Harry questions if Louis would even want to do that to him, but the thought passes just as quickly as it appears. He saw the way his Alpha looked at him last night when he could only smell his slick – his Alpha is greedy, and generous, and in love. It’s silly for Harry to think that he wouldn’t want to give his Omega absolutely everything.
Acting purely on instinct, overcome with need and fantasies so tangible he can nearly touch them, Harry throws his head back, closes his eyes, and scrambles to pull his cock out of his trousers. The speed with which he comes is impressive, and now that he’s prepared for his release, he manages to catch it all in the handkerchief Louis used to mark the pages of the book.
Once Harry gathers himself enough to stand, he cleans himself with the same damp rag from earlier before heading down to the dining room to meet his family – and Louis, of course – for lunch. He’s only a few minutes late when he arrives, catching Louis’ attention as soon as he strolls into the room. It’s like the Alpha was waiting for him, his smug smirk and the knowing quirk of his eyebrows enough for Harry to feel a weak rush of slick trail down his legs as he attempts to shuffle nonchalantly to his seat. When he sits, a wall of sweet vanilla and campfire smoke slams into him, enveloping his senses even as the palace staff sets a full plate of roast in front of him. Louis’ pheromones have never been this strong in public before, and he glances around the table to see if anyone else notices that something’s amiss.
Sure enough, his family is eating and talking as normal, even directing conversation towards Harry and Louis. Harry shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, jolting when he feels the press of his Alpha’s hand on his thigh under the table.
“You smell so fucking delectable,” Louis murmurs, voice low as he leans close to Harry. “You touched yourself after I left, didn’t you?”
“Couldn’t help it,” Harry whispers, mouth dry. “Thought about your mouth on me. Would you… would you want that?”
Louis’ fingertips dig into his thigh, just firm enough that Harry has to cover a breathy whimper with a cough. “Darling, if I don’t taste you soon, I might die.”
“Mother,” Harry clears his throat abruptly, interrupting whatever conversation Anne was having with Robin and Gemma. “We’ve decided on a summer wedding.”
The Queen and Prince Consort turn their attention to the engaged couple, smiling. “Oh, that’ll be just lovely. Have you thought about whether you prefer this summer or next?”
“This summer,” Harry replies with a touch-too-much urgency, causing both Gemma and Louis to hide near-identical snorts of laughter with a napkin to their mouth or a sip of water, respectively.
“Very well,” Anne nods, eyes darting between her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law. “If we plan the wedding for August, that will give the florists and bakers time to prepare –”
“Um, well…” Heat floods Harry’s cheeks, and he just knows that Louis is barely keeping an amused smirk off of his face. He refuses to look at his Alpha, keeping his composure settled on his mother and stepfather. “I’ve heard that the end of June is lovely.”
“Harry, you’ve lived in Cheshire all your life,” Gemma points out, grinning wildly. “Haven’t you experienced the end of June?”
“I meant for weddings,” Harry shoots back, caught out and desperate to hide it. “I was hoping we could plan it for the end of June.”
Robin shrugs, glancing at Anne. “I think we could make it work, love. We have the rest of April and then all of May and June to throw ourselves into it.”
“The end of June it is,” she decides, picking up her fork again. “You two pick a date, and we will immediately start contacting personnel.”
“Thank you,” Harry replies, still refusing to meet his Alpha’s gaze, feeling it boring into the side of his head. Instead, he turns his focus on his plate, chasing peas with his spoon.
Only when he feels Louis interlock their ankles underneath the table does he chance a look his way, surprised to find nothing but adoration sparkling in his eyes. It hits him then – in just over two months, they’ll be married. Married and mated.
God, he loves Louis. To the ends of the Earth.
******
That evening, Harry doesn’t look up from his book when he hears the warning knock and the sound of his bedroom door opening. “Niall, did you know that there are so many sex positions you can try?”
“Is this your way of saying that I’m forgiven?”
Harry grins, leaving the book open on his bed in favor of pulling his best friend into a hug. “You are. I was an arse. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, you know. It took me a minute to understand, but I get how feeling like you’re the only one in the dark about something can be really lonely.”
“It’s alright. It’s not your fault that society is so backwards. Especially when mixed with royal standards.”
Niall sighs. “That is true. But I promise that I will keep your secrets – as always. You’re my friend first.”
“I trust you. But I should probably let you know that Louis will keep visiting me every night that he’s at the palace. I’m not giving that up.”
“Whatever you choose to do is between you and Louis,” Niall shakes his head in fond exasperation as they break apart. “Just don’t give each other your bond marks before you’re married, please . Save us all the hassle and have some patience.”
“Niall. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – have you seen my Alpha?”
“I have, and I’d quite like to see his neck unmarked for the next two months.”
“Oh, did you hear about our wedding date?”
Niall nods. “Word travels fast in the castle. And you two travel fast to the altar.”
Harry rolls his eyes, flopping backwards onto his mattress. “After all our conversations today, are you surprised?”
“Not at all. But I am relieved – you two wouldn’t make it until next summer.”
“God, I know. I read about riding this afternoon – I need to try it while my knees are still young.”
“Harry, your knees will be young for a very long time.”
“Each day that passes is another day spent without my Alpha fucking me.”
Niall barks out a laugh. “Your Alpha’s turned you crude.”
“Hm,” Harry hums, studying the velvet canopy above him that covers his four-poster frame. “I think I’m just… a more liberated version of myself. And, I repeat, have you seen my Alpha?”
The only response he receives is a long-suffering groan.
******
As the days pass, Louis continues to bring Harry book after book, returning the ones he finishes to the library in an endless cycle. Harry devours all the literature he receives, and god, he fears for the wellbeing of the castle launderers. His bedclothes have never been this repeatedly soiled, both from his own doing and from the countless dreams he’s started having.
The weeks that Louis spends in Doncaster are filled with increasingly raunchy letters to one another, sparing no detail as they promise to fulfill each other’s wishes after they are wed.
My little dove,
When I awoke this morning to your scent clinging to the pillowcase you gave me, I could not leave my bed until I soothed the ache between my legs. I yearn for the day when I am greeted with your beauty the minute I open my eyes, reminding me of everything that is good in my life. While my imagination is vivid and quick to provide me with fantasies of us becoming one, I couldn’t help but reach for your most recent letter. I have it tucked inside the drawer of my bedside table, and I’ll admit that I’ve read it over a dozen times. The scent of you still clings to the paper, darling, and I fear that I will never recover from the visual of you marking those pages with your slick. My god, love, I miss you. I’m tempted to ride all the way back to Cheshire myself and climb up to your terrace just to kiss your lips. In your last letter, you said that you imagined positioning yourself atop my face, unabashedly seeking your own pleasure against my tongue. I would give anything to have you like that right now – including the breath from my very lungs. I am yours to have and to keep, Omega. Since you wrote that you like to hear about how I pleasure myself, the hand not writing this message to you is wrapped around the base of my cock, desperately trying to keep a knot from forming. I want to complete this letter before I give myself over to the baser desires of my Alpha, surely knotting my fist to thoughts of my angel.
I love you, my dear heart. I cherish every letter you write to me, and I long to be with you. Only a few more days until our next reunion.
Only a month until our wedding.
I miss you endlessly.
Yours and only yours,
Louis x
***
My dearest love,
I adore you more than I can even describe. Every letter you write me fills me with starbursts of happiness so explosive that I cannot contain them to my body. If Niall’s around, he will receive an enthusiastic diatribe about my love for you, which he surely appreciates. Gemma’s also been the subject of my lovestruck rants when she’s not too caught up in her royal duties. I imagine that both she and Niall are almost as anxious for our wedding as I am just so they will not have to hear about my undying love for you.
Well. They are foolish if they think that our marriage will cause me to cease in my ravings about you. I fear that it will only add more fuel to the eternal flames within me.
Speaking of flames within me, I cannot stop working myself over on my own fingers, wishing they were yours. Wishing they were your cock – and your knot. No matter how many fingers I manage to fit inside myself, I know it will not compare. I have no point of reference to how you will feel inside me, but I am desperate to know. Lust is a funny word – it speaks to the sexual, to the physical, to the unchaste. But it does not encompass the indescribable power of love – how it compels me to want you even more than attraction alone. Every part of you is mine to love, and I rejoice in that. I can’t wait to have you with me, always, after we bond. The day feels so close yet so far away.
Imagine how much I love you, then multiply it infinitely. It still won’t come close.
Until we meet again – so soon, Alpha. So soon.
Your devoted Omega,
Harry x x
On a balmy June night three weeks before their wedding, Harry waits, head tilted backwards and eyes shut, with anticipation pooling nervously in his stomach.
He hears the gentle thud of Louis swinging himself onto the balcony, followed by the slow opening of the french doors that lead into his bedroom. Surely his Alpha is confused, used to Harry waiting on the terrace to greet him with a passionate kiss.
“Harry? Love, are you alright?” He hears Louis call softly, careful to not reveal his presence to anyone outside of Harry’s suite. He can smell how worry sours Louis’ scent as panic creeps in, pushing further into the darkness in search for his betrothed. “Darling, where are you?”
His Omega forces him to reveal himself, not wanting to send his Alpha into any real distress. “In here, Louis.”
The door to Harry’s washroom stands slightly ajar, a gentle glow emanating from the crack. Illuminated by the glow of the numerous candles Harry placed around the room, Louis peeks around the door cautiously. His jaw goes slack as worry melts off of his expression, eyes darkening as he tentatively crosses the threshold. When he speaks, his voice comes out hoarse and reverent, laced with that sensual quality that always makes Harry want to give into his desires and welcome illicit behavior with open arms.
“Oh, fucking hell, Omega.” Louis groans, jerking his head away as he closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath to maintain his composure. “You’re tormenting me, darling.”
Harry beams, sadistic pride thrumming in his chest as he watches his Alpha’s hands curl into fists, digging his nails into his own palms. Submerged deep in the bathwater, he feels himself growing hard under the scrutiny and the sudden surge of the Alpha’s scent. There’s no way for Louis to see anything past his shoulders, for the bath that Niall prepared for him is supplemented with milk and sweet-smelling oils to nourish his skin. The frothy liquid obscures his body while still rendering him more exposed to his Alpha than ever before.
“What do you want me to do?” Louis rambles, a bit frenzied as he takes in the scene before him. “Little dove, I would – I would move mountains for you, just to have a piece of your heart –”
“Come here,” Harry beckons, reaching out for him, his arm extended and dripping onto the tile floor. “Alpha, please.”
Louis goes easily, scrambling to kneel at the side of the tub. Twisting his body towards Louis, Harry cups his jaw with his hands and drags him into a slow kiss, humming happily as they break apart. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” Louis insists, grasping Harry’s arm and peppering kisses up the length of it. Harry’s gasp turns into a giggle as he reaches his neck, lapping unabashedly at where his bond mark will soon be, thoroughly dousing him in his scent.
“Louis,” Harry sighs, tone dipping into something shyer. “Would you… would you do things with me before we are wed?”
“Baby, I –” Louis flounders helplessly, mouth opening and closing as he stammers. “How – how am I supposed to answer such a question?”
“Honestly,” Harry retorts simply, taking pity on the Alpha and explaining further. “If I… wanted to do things before our wedding night, would you want to do them as well?”
“Fuck, Harry, yes,” Louis admits, hanging his head in shame. “I – It is all borne out of love. I long to connect with you in that way, so… I fear that I would give in should the chance be presented to me.”
“I would as well,” Harry breathes. “But I don’t trust myself not to bond with you upon our first touch. I crave for you to become a part of me.”
“I crave it too. I do worry that our soul tie might be too strong, and that the very first time we are truly intimate, it might encourage us to bond.”
“That’s what I’ve gathered from my readings as well. And I cannot hide a bond mark until the wedding. Nor can you.”
For a long moment, Louis studies the calm bathwater silently. “I may have an idea.”
Harry’s stomach flip-flops excitedly, finding Louis’ eyes in the glow of the candlelight. “I’m listening, Alpha.”
“I’m going to wait in your room while you towel dry. If you are truly comfortable, do not put your nightclothes back on – only conceal yourself with the towel. Join me in your bedroom whenever you are ready – you can settle yourself on your bed.”
Harry nods, eager to comply. “I won’t be a minute.”
As soon as Louis takes his leave, Harry steps out of the tub and onto the small rug in front of it, immediately reaching for the plush towel Niall set out nearby. He barely dries himself off before he wraps it around his waist, following Louis’ direction and heading back into his bedroom.
The air is thick with Alpha pheromones, rolling off of Louis in waves as he lounges in Harry’s desk chair, shirtless and with his legs spread wide. He does nothing to hide his arousal, erection straining in the thin fabric of his pajama pants. Whether it’s subconscious or intentional, Louis’s scenting the room, blanketing the space with a heady aroma that has Harry slicking up immediately.
“Alpha,” he breathes, his mouth dry as he takes in his mate-to-be. “Alpha, tell me – I want you, please –”
“Get on the bed, darling. Face me.”
Harry whimpers at the rasp in his voice, crawling onto the mattress and propping himself up against his pillows so that Louis is in his direct line of sight at the opposite end of the room. Louis nods, smiling with such fondness that it catches Harry off-guard, so attuned to the raw desire of the moment. “Good Omega.”
“O-oh, god,” Harry moans, hips twitching involuntarily. “Alpha, I need you.”
“I know, baby, fuck. If you want, love, you may take the towel off.”
Harry doesn’t think twice, emboldened by the comfortability and the unabashed hunger that Louis ignites in him. Parting his thighs, the air hits his slick skin and sends a shiver up his spine, fully exposed in front of his betrothed for the first time.
“Oh, Christ,” Louis grits out, a whine caught in his throat. “I’m gonna need a minute, fucking hell, darling, you are ethereal. There is no one more beautiful, Harry, fuck –”
Leaking precome onto his stomach, Harry’s cock stirs at his words, begging to be touched. He can smell the cloying sweetness of his slick intermingling with his Alpha’s woodsy scent, spiraling his Omega into debauched thoughts of truly melding themselves together, skin on skin, mouths everywhere, and a soul tie completed with a bond mark.
And a knot. Harry keens at the sudden pulse of his hole, the ache of emptiness building in an overwhelming crescendo. He doesn’t know when his eyes fell closed, but when he opens them again, Louis is bare before him, his cock heavy and hard in his hand. God, Louis’s big – despite his trousers leaving little to the imagination, the reality of him unclothed and squeezing the base of his dick to hold back a knot is overwhelming. Distantly, Harry wonders if he’ll fit – but his mouth waters and his hole flutters and he knows he definitely wants to try.
“I’m here, darling, I’m here,” Louis soothes from across the room, his gentle words attempting to calm the squirming Omega in front of him. The reminder of his presence is enough for Harry’s Omega to settle slightly, desperate for the touch of his Alpha but placated by the proximity. “Love I – god, I want to bury myself in you. Whether it’s with my tongue or my knot, I don’t care. You are otherworldly.”
Gasping, Harry’s hands fly to the blankets underneath him, gripping the sheets as his body thrums. When he chances another look at his betrothed, Harry’s eyes fall to the steady motion of Louis’ hand as he strokes himself, attention trained on Harry’s every movement. Harry wants nothing more than to be touched – by his Alpha, preferably – but he can’t seem to bring his hands towards his body. His Omega’s frozen in waiting, seeking validation and permission from his Alpha.
“Can’t wait to mate you and make you mine, Omega. God, you smell so fucking good. Wonder if you could come from just my voice.”
“I could,” Harry sobs, vision blurring – from tears or dizziness, he doesn’t know. “Alpha, please –”
“Oh shit, baby, you’re waiting for me to tell you how to touch yourself, aren’t you?” Louis realizes suddenly, his hips erratically fucking up into his fist as Harry nods. “Alright, Omega, take your cock in your hand, love. Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”
“I – I use my fingers, too,” Harry whines, but encircles his cock with his hand nonetheless. “O-oh, Alpha, feels so good.”
“Such a pretty Omega, Harry. Look at you, all spread out for me, being such a good boy.”
Harry shakes his head suddenly, a blush rising to his cheeks. “We – we’re not being good.”
Pausing his ministrations, Louis studies Harry carefully. His lips slip into a frown, features softening. “Darling, we can stop. It’s alright if –”
“I like it,” Harry interrupts, bashful. “I like that we’re being… improper. Naughty.”
A strangled cry escapes from Louis’ lips, and Harry tracks how a strong blurt of precome falls from the head of his cock. “Fucking hell, Omega, you like misbehaving? Being naughty?”
“I want to be good for you,” Harry clarifies, and when he shifts his body, he can feel a puddle of slick forming under his arse. “But I don’t want to be good with you. I want to be bad.”
“Imagine what the royal court would think if they knew,” Louis husks, voice low and tinged with a uniquely-Alpha quality. “Imagine what they would say if they discovered that their sweet Omega prince defiled himself in the presence of his Alpha before they were mated.”
“Fuck, Alpha , I need –”
“Are you feeling empty, my love?”
“So empty,” Harry wails, uncaring if anyone outside of these walls hears him. Maybe he wants people to know how much he loves his Alpha, how well he can take care of his Omega without even laying a finger on him.
“Touch your hole, baby. Fuck yourself however you like. Show me how you do it when you write about it in your letters.”
Harry barely gets to show Louis the full extent of how he chases his pleasure, for the instant he slides two fingers past his dripping entrance, his body tenses, barrelling towards his climax. Stars erupt behind his eyelids as the clamp shut, desperately calling out for his Alpha as he shudders and clenches around his fingers.
“So beautiful, Omega, so perfect. I adore you, darling, gonna take me so well when we mate.” Louis’ voice is fuzzy in Harry’s ears, slow to his recovery as his chest heaves with panting breaths, but he can tell from the audible strain that Louis’s getting close to his own orgasm. Reaching out a hand, Harry tries to signal for the Alpha, stuttering out a few broken words when his voice comes out thick with need.
“Alpha – here – please –”
Louis groans. “Omega, what –”
“Come here, please,” Harry manages, beckoning him over. “Please, Alpha.”
Scrambling to his feet, Louis is by the side of Harry’s bed in a flash, hesitation marring his features. “Harry, I’m not – I’m not sure what you want –”
“Mark me,” Harry breathes, arching towards his Alpha. “Mark me with your release.”
“ Omega.”
“If we can’t mate now, mark me with your release. I need to be yours.”
“Shit,” Louis curses, but his hand resumes stripping his cock at a breakneck speed. “Fucking love you so much, Omega, you’re mine, gonna make you mine –”
“Please,” Harry whimpers, moaning at the first splash of his Alpha’s come across his torso. His eyes trail from the streaks staining his skin up to Louis’ face, reveling in the blissful satisfaction that he granted him. When his gaze drops to his cock, still steadily drooling from the tip, Harry’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the engorged, pulsing knot at the base of his dick. With his hand squeezing it rhythmically, Louis drains pulse after pulse of come onto his Omega, covering him in his scent in a way that will stick for days, even after Harry washes it off.
“It’s not going to go down for another ten minutes or so,” Louis says breathily, and Harry can detect just a hint of embarrassment that he desperately needs to quell.
“I’ll get under the blankets,” Harry decides, peeling the covers out from under him. Louis flounders for a moment, cupping a hand under the head of his cock in a futile attempt to stop it from leaking onto the bed. Harry smiles up at him, shaking his head fondly. “Alpha, I want you to mark my nest.”
“Your… nest?”
Harry nods, cheeks pink. “It’s not assembled right now, obviously, but I… I’ll make it in the morning with these linens as the base. The urge is creeping in.”
A deep rumbling starts in Louis’ chest, growing louder as Harry invites him into his bed, encouraging the Alpha to hold him with the blankets as their barrier. Louis stays firmly on top of the covers as he pulls Harry to his chest and they wait for his knot to go down.
“We’ll spend every night like this after we’re mated, Omega,” Louis promises, coaxing steady purrs out of his Omega. “And I won’t have to leave at dawn.”
“It feels like a dream,” Harry murmurs, already drifting off, safe in his Alpha’s arms. “I can’t believe it.”
The pull of sleep is too great a temptress, and Harry easily succumbs while listening to his Alpha’s whispered declarations of love and devotion.
******
“Oh, fuck me! Should have fucking learned by now.”
“At least Lou’s facing away from us. We only have to see his arse.”
“Very true. It’s… quite impressive. For an Alpha.”
“I know! I’ve always been a bit jealous. Don’t tell him that.”
Harry groans, blindly flailing his hand around in search of a pillow he can press over his head, blocking out the sound of his best friend’s morning chatter. He hasn’t woken up enough to hear what he’s saying. “Be quiet, Niall. Today’s schedule allows for me to sleep in.”
“Yes, but your Alpha is required to have a late breakfast with the Ambassador of Doncaster, and he wasn’t in his room when Zayn went to wake him.”
Harry’s eyes fly open, his body finally registering the warm, comforting weight pressed against it. Louis’ somehow still asleep, and Harry’s heart stutters as he takes in the fan of his eyelashes across golden cheeks, the sleep-rumpled hair sticking out in every direction, and the gentle part of his lips as he snores softly. For all the nights they’ve spent together, he’s never gotten to share a bed with his Alpha upon waking. Inevitably, his beauty extends even to his deepest slumber.
Much to Harry’s surprise, Niall’s not alone. Staring on beside him is Zayn, Louis’ valet, openly amused in comparison to Niall’s exasperation. “Good morning, Your Highness.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Harry begins, but Niall cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
“Somehow, I can’t bring myself to care. Louis needs to be in the dining room in an hour, preferably not stinking of his bride-to-be.”
“I don’t stink,” Harry frowns, but turns in Louis’ hold nonetheless. Fully uncaring of their onlookers, he presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead and then his cheek, gently shaking his shoulder. “Wake up, darling. You need to get up, Alpha.”
“Mm, we fell asleep,” Louis rasps, a smirk gracing his lips. Harry wills himself not to slick up just at the sound of his morning voice. “I should get up and head back to my room before Zayn comes to wake me.”
“Too late, mate.”
Louis freezes, eyes opening and falling on his betrothed. “Shit. Are they –”
“They are.”
Reaching up to card through Harry’s hair, Louis sighs in defeated acceptance. “Are you alright, my love? After all of this?”
Harry smiles. “Niall won’t give us away, and neither will Zayn. I’m quite pleased I got to spend the night with you.”
“And…” Louis drops his voice to a low murmur. “After last night?”
Heat rises to Harry’s face, and he nods eagerly. “More than alright. Best I’ve been, actually.”
Louis grins, private and undeniably in love. “Good. Me too. I love you so much, Omega.”
Suddenly, Zayn clears his throat, rounding the bed to stand behind Louis. As he approaches, Louis instinctively grips Harry tighter, curing around him as a quiet growl escapes his lips.
“Oh, come off it. I’m not going to take your Omega – unless you refuse to get out of bed, that is,” Zayn sighs, arms crossed in front of him.
Louis only growls louder, and Harry preens in his hold. They both know that neither Zayn nor Niall are a threat, but that doesn’t mean Harry can’t bask in the possessive attention.
“C’mon, Lou. Give me three more weeks of solid effort, then you get to be on your honeymoon.”
“Thank god for that,” Niall chimes in, collecting Louis’ discarded clothes from the floor. “I’ll be able to sleep without nightmares of waking up to the prince being mated, pregnant, or both.” Niall pauses, scrutinizing the couple. “Dare I ask…”
“I can see from here. No bond marks,” Zayn reports. “Just a fuckton of dried come.”
Harry chokes on his own breath. “Oh, god.”
“Lovely. Thanks for sharing that information, Z.”
Louis groans. “Alright, if you’ll please stop embarrassing my Omega, I’d like to get up without an audience.”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen it all before, mate. Nothing to write home about.”
Niall tosses Zayn Louis’ clothes, turning his back to the bed. “Harry, you’re next. Up and at ‘em.”
Louis stops mid-climb out of bed. “Not until Zayn leaves. Niall’s fine, but otherwise… no one sees my Omega like this but me.”
“Christ, you knot your Omega once –”
“We didn’t do that, Niall,” Harry sing-songs, keeping the duvet pulled up to his armpits. “We do have some restraint.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Okay, love,” Louis leans back over the bed with a knee on the mattress, now fully-but-haphazardly clothed. “I’ll see you this afternoon?”
Harry beams, pushing upwards to meet him in a chaste kiss. “Love you, Alpha.”
“Love you too, little dove.”
As soon as the door shuts behind Louis and Zayn, Niall turns on Harry with a poorly-concealed smile. “I don’t think you two would’ve survived waiting for even a fall wedding.”
Harry giggles, shaking his head emphatically. “Absolutely not.”
******
The morning of the wedding of Prince Harry of Cheshire and Marquess Louis of Doncaster breaks with sudden rainfall, cutting the oppressive heat of the June day for the few hours it pours. By early afternoon, the sun reappears from behind the clouds, a single rainbow stretching across the sky as the citizens of Cheshire and Doncaster gather outside of the palace, waiting to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds.
Inside the royal chapel, Queen Anne cries softly into her handkerchief, surrounded by her daughter and her husband, as her only son honors his soul-tie through a historic marriage. Harry stands at the altar, swathed in a slim-cut gown of white lace and embroidered with shimmering beads, an intricate, long veil trailing behind him. The light makeup he wears accentuates the way his cheeks glow with joy as he vows himself to his Alpha, lashes clumping not from the mascara but from the gleeful tears that spill over as his Alpha promises to love him for all eternity.
Louis, smartly dressed in formalwear that echoes the same deep blue he wore the day he met Harry – a detail his Omega requested for their wedding – has no shame in letting his overwhelming happiness turn to tears. There is no one more precious than his Omega, and none more perfect for him.
Artists have already begun to paint the couple’s wedding, historians have already begun recording every detail of the event, and authors have already begun attempting to write a love story as great as theirs. What the onlookers will never understand, however, is that behind the romance of the soul-tie, their love is simple. It’s easy, pure, and nothing grand. That’s the beauty of it, and that’s what will last for decades to come.
******
“I’ve spent all day trying to think up what to say to start our first night together,” Harry giggles, listing heavily into Louis’ side as the carriage pulls them towards their honeymoon cottage, a quaint estate by the lakes of Delamere. “I could try for romance, or for seduction, or for blatant honesty, but I’m not sure if any of them feel right.”
“Try me, darling. I’m sure I’ll be enamored with whatever you say.”
“But I want you to be more than enamored,” Harry pushes. “I want you to be verklempt.”
“Verklempt?” Louis chuckles, dropping a kiss to Harry’s hair. “My love, I’m overcome with emotion just looking at the ring on your finger. You need not try to make me verklempt. I already am.”
Harry sighs happily, reaching for Louis’ left hand so he can play with the gold band on his ring finger. “I love you.”
“I love you too, H.”
Harry pauses. “I… also really have to wee.”
Louis sputters out a laugh, peering through the windows of the carriage. “Oh, little dove. How I adore you. We should arrive in mere minutes, by the looks of it.”
Sure enough, the carriage jolts to a stop just moments later, the carriage drivers helping the newlyweds bring their luggage into the house. Before they know it, the drivers bow and shut the front door behind themselves, leaving them – finally – alone.
“I’m going to have a wee,” Harry says into the silence, twisting his hands together in anticipation. “And then I’ll meet you in our bedroom?”
Our bedroom.
Nodding, Louis’ face burns bright at the implication. “I’ll be waiting.”
Harry rushes through the motions of doing his business, splashing cold water on his face when he washes his hands. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he’s just as flushed as his husband was a moment ago. It appears that despite their mutual trust and adoration, the nearing of their mating is enough to overwhelm both of them.
“Alpha,” Harry greets softly upon entering the bedroom, finding Louis sitting stiff-backed on the edge of the large bed. “Today has been the best day of my life.”
“Mine too, Omega,” Louis agrees easily, his legs falling open as he reaches for his bride. “You look divine, darling. I love you endlessly.”
Harry doesn’t hesitate to fill the space between his legs, ducking his chin down to meet his Alpha in a slow kiss. By the time Louis’ tongue pets over his, Harry’s already bending his body closer to his husband’s, desperately seeking out all the contact he can manage.
A needy sigh falls from Harry’s mouth the instant Louis breaks their embrace, dragging his lips down to lave open-mouthed kisses along Harry’s jaw, surely leaving a few marks along the way. His hands are roaming over Harry’s back, landing to rest over the flesh of his arse. Harry feels himself being tugged forward, so he wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and lets him maneuver him carefully into his lap, Harry’s legs straddling his hips with his thin traveling dress rucked up to his waist.
Two weeks before the wedding, Harry swallowed down his mortification and made a special visit to the royal tailor, blushing and stammering over the drawings he presented him. Thankfully, with all the discretion and professionalism in the world, the tailor produced a dainty, ivory satin and lace undergarment that sits low on his hips, cutting delicately across his bum and accentuating the bulge of his cock. Created in his daydreaming as both a gift for Louis and for himself, Harry opted to don the undergarment underneath the dress he chose to travel in after the wedding instead of a traditional chemise. Now, as Louis’ hands come into contact with his lace-covered arse, Harry sucks in a breath and just barely refrains from hiding his face in his Alpha’s neck.
“Oh, shit,” Louis murmurs, eyes dropping immediately. If Harry wasn’t so nervous about everything the night has in store for them, he might laugh at the urgency with which Louis leans back, fumbling with the fabric of Harry’s dress that pools in his lap, desperately trying to reveal what he feels underneath. Holding Harry’s dress up to his chest, Louis groans his approval before diving into another hurried kiss, his hands grasping Harry’s bare waist as the material falls back down.
“Alpha,” Harry gasps, and the barrier of his dress is suddenly too much to bear. Tugging at the hem, he has to pull back from Louis again in order to draw it over his head. His Alpha’s stunned for a long moment, watching in awe as the willowy lines of his body ripple and stretch as he raises his arms. He finally gets the message that Harry would be naked much quicker if he helped him rid himself of the dress, gently dragging the fabric off of his arms and over his head.
Upon Louis freeing him from his dress, Harry shakes away a few rogue curls that fall in front of his face and grins brightly as his Alpha. The answering smile he receives in return makes Harry’s heart burst and then repair itself once again, thudding hard in his chest.
“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Louis breathes, reverent as he dances his fingertips down Harry’s bare torso, sending trembling shivers in shockwaves across his body. “I’m so lucky, Harry. No man has ever been more in love than I am now.”
“You’re wrong,” Harry replies, shaking his head. “For I am here now, even more in love than you are.”
Louis’ eyes sparkle with mirth as he raises an eyebrow. Harry wants to fall into them, to drown in the bright blue – and he will, over and over again. “Impossible. I love you like your heart lives in my own chest. I live and die for you.”
“Louis,” Harry huffs, overcome. The Alpha doesn’t speak, instead ducks his head and presses his mouth in a meandering path up Harry’s torso, stopping only when he reaches the site of Harry’s future bond mark. More intimately than ever before, Louis nips at the skin before sucking hard, drawing a loud keen from his Omega.
“Alpha!” Harry cries, his body going lax as he melts against him, Louis’ scent overwhelming his senses. Slick stains the gossamer fabric of his panties, surely soaking the Alpha’s thighs beneath him. “Oh, fuck, Alpha, want you to bond me so badly –”
“I could do it now,” Louis rasps against his skin, licking over the spot like he’s already bitten down. “Just like this, right now…”
“No,” Harry chokes out, rutting his pelvis forward and feeling a surge of pride when he hears Louis’ sharp intake of breath. “Want you inside me. Want to be full of you when you make me yours.”
“All it took was a couple books for you to become this desperate,” Louis teases, gripping the meat of Harry’s thighs and lifting him upwards, standing from the bed so he can turn them around and lay Harry onto the mattress. “Who would’ve thought?”
“I was always desperate for you,” Harry retorts. “I was just given the words to describe it. And the visuals. My god, how I dreamed of you every night, just like this – hovering over me, your lips on my neck, your skin on mine…”
“You can have that. You can have me,” Louis insists, rapidly ridding himself of his loose button-down shirt. Harry doesn’t even have a chance to get his hands on it to help him before it’s flung somewhere across the room, lost in desperation. “All that I am, Harry. All that I am is yours.”
“I need to feel all of you,” Harry whines, reaching out to undo Louis’ trousers. “Please, I’m – I’m so wet, Louis.”
“Fucking hell,” Louis moans, shedding his trousers even faster than he did his shirt. It’s an instinctive response, really, that Harry’s mouth waters the instant Louis reveals himself, naked and proud. Harry’s legs part wider, hips already seeking the delicious friction that he knows is bound to come. “God, baby, you smell fucking unbelievable. Gonna give you what you need.”
Glinting in the dim light of the room, Louis’ wedding band catches Harry’s eye as he moves to hover over him, caging him in with his arms. The physical manifestation of their newly wedded status acts as a reminder of what they now can do – touch. Harry’s traced over the skin of his Alpha’s arms, kissed every inch of his neck, and held him close with hands pressed against his back. But now, he coaxes Louis upwards and into another kiss, knowing that his Alpha would otherwise immediately turn his attention towards his Omega’s pleasure. Harry wants to be the first one to touch tonight.
Thus, with trembling hands, Harry skates down Louis’ stomach, finally wrapping his fingers around the hard length of his cock. Instantly, Louis tears away from the kiss, sucking in a gasping breath as he groans. Smug pride swells in Harry’s chest, a dizzying addition to the arousal coursing through his veins. He trains his sweetest smile upwards, stroking down to the base of his Alpha’s cock and squeezing the bulb starting to form at the base.
Louis hisses through his teeth, hips stuttering against Harry’s hand. “Omega, you’re – you’re playing with fire. I won’t last.”
Harry licks his lips, stare locked on where the head of Louis’ cock pops in and out of his fist as he works him over. “But I wanted to put my mouth on you.”
“Darling,” Louis laughs breathlessly, incredulous. “Oh, you perfect, lovely boy. Tomorrow, alright? We have the rest of our lives for you to do that, and I sure as hell won’t tire of it. But if you want me to bond you while you’re locked on my knot, it’ll have to wait. As much as it pains me to say that.”
The mere thought of Louis’ knot expanding inside of him nearly has his eyes rolling back into his head. Reluctantly, Harry removes his hand from Louis’ dick, meeting his eyes as he raises his hand to his mouth and licks at the drops of precome that stain his skin.
“Holy fuck, Omega. Gonna make me knot the fucking air.” Louis drops himself lower, pressing the lines of their bodies against one another in a tantalizing glide. “I hope you can forgive me for my hypocrisy.”
Confusion settles on Harry’s brow at his Alpha’s words. “Louis, what –”
In one smooth motion, the Alpha slides down his body, effortlessly tossing his legs over his shoulders and spreading his cheeks wide, licking a hot stripe over Harry’s hole. Immediately, Harry’s back arches off the bed, his Alpha’s hands coming to grip his hips and keep him steady as laps at his slick rim, moaning unceasingly against Harry’s sensitive skin.
“O-oh, god, fuck – I can’t fucking believe – oh shit – that you’re putting your mouth on me – ah – and I can’t –”
Louis lifts his head from between his legs, grinning madly with glistening lips. His eyes are blown, and he licks over his lips like he can’t bear to be apart from the taste of Harry for more than a moment. “Forgive me, darling. But you can come more than once. Really, this might help you take my knot.”
Harry better be able to come more than once, for he is already careening towards his first climax. When Louis attends to his hole once more, he dives in between his legs with a fervor, obscene, wet noises filling the bedroom in tandem with Harry’s cries of pleasure.
“Oh, Alpha, please – gonna come, Alpha,” Harry warns, reaching down to fist his cock and provide it with some relief. Somehow, Louis clocks his movement, batting his hand away and encircling it with his own fingers, using Harry’s own slick to ease his glide.
His orgasm crashes over him in shuddering waves, sensation unceasing as Louis continues to dip his tongue into his hole as it pulses. Even before Harry can catch his breath, his Alpha slides two fingers into him, an aching sensitivity that is just on the right side of painful.
“Gonna prep you for my knot, Omega,” Louis husks, slick-drunk and dazed. “Love you so much, darling.”
Harry begs Louis back down to meet his lips, licking the taste of himself out of his Alpha’s mouth. Louis doesn’t separate their mouths as he works Harry up to three fingers, biting his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth as he pushes in a fourth. By the time they have to break apart to catch their breath, Harry’s panting and open, his Alpha grinding their cocks together in a frustratingly delicious slide that’s not nearly enough.
“Fuck me, Alpha, please,” Harry whimpers, canting his hips up to meet Louis’ thrusts. If he tries hard enough, maybe, just maybe, would he be able to catch his hole on the head of Louis’ cock, sheathing him inside. Surely neither of them can stand the teasing much longer.
Louis kisses him one more time, strikingly slow and sweet. “Alright, Omega. I’ve got you. Lift up your hips for me, love.”
Harry does as he’s told, eyes locked on Louis’ as he feels his Alpha reach down in between them and position himself at his entrance, the blunt head of Louis’ cock providing gentle pressure against his rim.
“Ready, darling?”
Harry nods, lips parted and cherry red, cheeks pink with exertion. “Please, Alpha.”
With the most tantalizing drag, Louis pushes forward, his cock easily nestling itself inside of Harry. The stretch doesn’t hurt, true to Louis’ promise that his earlier attention would help Harry to take him later. A rumbling moan rips itself out of the Alpha’s chest as he fucks forward, his balls pressed tight against Harry’s body.
Harry’s voice almost sounds unrecognizable to his own ears, coming out high and reedy. “Oh my god, Alpha – oh!”
Louis chances a quick thrust, then another, pistoning deeper inside with each movement. His jaw’s gone slack, mouth panting with breaths that keep getting caught in his throat every time he fucks into Harry. His hair’s falling down onto his forehead, sticking to the sweat that’s started to bead there, but Harry’s never seen him look more beautiful. Not in slumber, not in his royal dress, not even on their wedding day. Here, he is nothing short of radiant, overcome with rapturous pleasure that only Harry can create.
“Omega,” he groans, slowly starting to build a steady pace. Harry whimpers as he’s knocked up the mattress, steadying himself with hands raking down Louis’ back. “You feel so fucking good, so fucking tight, baby –”
“Fuck me,” Harry encourages, swiveling his hips as pleasure starts to mount. “Alpha, fuck me, feels so good – ‘m so wet –”
“Yeah you fucking are,” Louis grits out, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, punching a series of ah-ah-ahs out of Harry’s mouth. Drawing Harry close to his chest, Louis pounds into him relentlessly, covering Harry in praises all the while.
“So good for me – taking me so well – such a – fuck – such a fucking good Omega – gonna keep you full forever – my wife –”
The hot coil of arousal twists unceasingly in Harry’s stomach, his limbs trembling as tears spill down his face. Louis is taking him apart so tenderly but so thoroughly, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last much longer. He can feel his grasp on reality slipping as he tilts his chin upwards, baring his neck to his Alpha as his second orgasm dawns on the horizon.
“So full, Alpha,” he wails, digging his nails into Louis’ shoulder. “Alpha, gonna come – need your knot, please! Need you to bond me, mate me –”
A possessive growl vibrates deep in Louis’ chest, his thrusts growing erratic as he drops his face to Harry’s neck, nosing at his scent gland insistently.
“Fuck, Omega, love you so much – gonna knot you – make you mine –”
White-hot pleasure courses through Harry’s body as he comes, crying out for his Alpha as he feels Louis’ knot expand within him. The stretch of it only encourages his walls to pulse tighter around Louis’ cock, rope after rope of come shooting deep inside of him.
Instantly, Louis’ mouth finds his scent gland, kissing once over the area in an excruciatingly slow precursor. Harry’s breath stutters to a halt, blood pounding in his ears as Louis bares his teeth, settles them against Harry’s skin, and bites down.
It’s transcendental. One minute, you are alone in your body and soul, knowing that the person with you is half of your heart but not truly feeling the tug of the tie. Upon bonding, the tie pulls taught, strong and unyielding, and you’re no longer kept in solitude. You do not go without your other half. You do not breathe without your other half. You do not love without your other half. Your body is not your own, and nor is your soul, but it feels more complete than ever before. Your blood is shared just as much as your hearts and your lives.
On instinct, Harry clings to Louis, sobbing out moans and cries and desperate pants of ‘Alpha.’ The Alpha licks over his bond mark as it bleeds, gently healing it and sealing their bond. Through the ringing in his ears, Harry can tell that Louis is rumbling comfortingly, his chest vibrating against Harry’s. Slowly coming to his senses, Harry knows that he must return the favor, so he entreats Louis away from his neck, nosing under his jaw and down to his scent gland. His bite is calculated and careful, soothing over the mark with his tongue as Louis shudders and sobs against him.
Harry doesn’t know how long they stay wrapped up in each other, wordlessly scenting one another between tear-filled kisses. He only starts feeling in control of his body when he feels Louis’ knot start to deflate within him – an odd sensation, come and slick slowly dripping out of him.
“Alpha,” he purrs, nuzzled into his neck. “My Alpha.”
Louis lets out a pleased chuff, cradling Harry closer. “Love you, Omega. My wife. My love. My life.”
“Forever,” Harry murmurs, reality still a bit fuzzy around the edges. “Yours forever.”
******
“Alright, alright, we fucking get it! Fucking hell, if only high collars were back in fashion. We’d all be spared.”
Harry sticks his tongue out at Niall, preening as he catches sight of himself in the nearby window. His fresh, week-old bond mark is on full display for his first trip back to the castle as a mated, married Omega, and his first order of business is to rub it in his best friend’s face. “You’re just jealous.”
“Trust me, I’m quite alright.”
“Mhm,” Louis smirks, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist as he walks up beside him. “I’m sure you are, considering you smell like Zayn.”
Niall freezes, eyes wide as a blush rapidly overtakes his pale complexion. “I – I do not.”
Harry snaps his fingers, looking to his husband as he nods. “I knew I recognized that scent!”
“Oh, Zayn’s all over him,” Louis teases. “You think I wouldn’t recognize the scent of my best mate?”
“I –” Niall sighs, biting back a private smile. “I thought we were more discreet.”
“Now Niall, if you’ve mated before your wedding night…” Harry begins, earning a dramatic eye roll from his best friend.
“God, I can’t believe that I’m stuck working for you for the rest of my life, probably. You’re insufferable.”
“Hm, you’re lucky to have us,” Louis quips. “Zayn’s locked in for life, so that should help things along. And since we’re your employers, we’re not going to send you away if you do mate before you’re married.”
“A free pass for impropriety,” Harry grins. “You can thank us later.”
Niall groans to keep from laughing. “I don’t need to thank you. It’s my payment for keeping quiet about all that I knew about your impropriety.”
Harry shrugs. “You’re right. Which means we’re also paying you to keep quiet about how I’m about to force my husband into a broom closet and get on my knees for him.”
Louis chokes on his breath, coughing slightly. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me.” Harry smiles innocently. “We have thirty minutes before lunch with my parents. Let’s make it count.”
Niall closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Now that you’re mated, please keep such things to yourself.”
“But then who is going to keep the cleaning staff from barging in on us?”
Niall glances around the hallway and tragically finds no one else. “Fuck me.”
“That’s Zayn’s job!”
“I quit!”
“No you don’t.”
“... No I don’t.”
Somehow, Harry and Louis make it to lunch relatively put together, while Niall spends his time inspecting a broom closet to make sure the couple didn’t leave anything amiss. Distantly, he wonders if their mating actually solved any of his problems. He’s starting to think it’s only going to cause more. He doesn’t even want to consider when they eventually have pups.
Soul-ties are going to be the death of him.