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Louis stood before the gleaming blue portal with a rolling suitcase at his feet and his lizard familiar Oli perched on his shoulder, giving Harry what he could only think of as a warning glare-- steely, his usually blue eyes a stormy grey. It was shit hot, is what it was.
“Why do you have to go?” Harry whined, unleashing his inner brat to get just a taste of Louis’ ire before he stepped through the portal and disappeared for three days. Why did witches need to go to conventions anyway? “Are you sure I can’t come with you?” He tipped his chin down, batting his eyelashes. “I’ll be good.”
“Oh baby, no you won’t,” Louis said with a shake of his head. “And I’ve told you already why I have to go.” He cocked an eyebrow at Harry.
“Because you’re very good at what you do and they’re paying you to be a keynote speaker, which is a big deal,” Harry intoned with a huff. Of course he knew why Louis needed to go and why a very human Harry couldn’t join him. There were plenty of things that human friends and partners of witches were able to experience, but their biannual conventions weren’t one of them.
“And?”
“The likelihood of being spelled, ensorceled, or ingesting poison would make it too dangerous for me to even walk around there.” Harry barely held back from rolling his eyes. He’d once joked that maybe he wouldn’t mind being ensorceled by the right witch and spent the next week incapable of speaking anything but the complete truth. When he’d complained about it, Louis had asked him if he really thought being ensorceled was fun; the answer was a resounding no.
“But?” Louis stepped into his space, reaching up to stroke Harry’s cheek and look into his eyes. Harry sighed, unable to keep himself from smiling at the feeling of having Louis so close and so sweet.
“You’ll video chat me every night to debrief, and you’ve left me gifts around the house to keep myself entertained.” Louis leaned in and kissed Harry softly, a chaste little thing, Harry letting out an indignant hmph as he pulled away. Louis took pity on him, leaning in again and kissing him deeper this time, open mouthed and warm, only stepping away when he felt Harry relax.
“I love you, H. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m away, hm?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I won’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Now go before I try to figure out how to keep you here!”
With a step backwards and a gust of ozone tinged air, Louis was gone, along with the portal. Harry spun around the room trying to decide what to do with himself for the day. When Louis was around, Harry liked to sit in the room with him doing his own thing-- painting, crocheting, doomscrolling --taking copious breaks to just watch Louis at work. He’d always wanted to believe there was magic in the world, and marrying a powerful witch gave him lots of chances to stare wide-eyed at the sorts of things he could hardly dream were real.
Magic still being a secret to most of the world and Louis being as powerful and successful as he was, Harry didn’t work beyond his hobbies and volunteer shifts at various local organizations. He managed to maintain most of his old friendships, thanks to a couple of binding spells many of his friends had agreed to once Harry and Louis had gotten serious.
The first, a binding spell that wouldn’t allow the subject to talk about magic to anyone who wasn’t already aware of it, was one that Harry had agreed to right after Louis had told him about his magic on their fourth date. It was sooner than he’d told anyone his secret, and Harry knew immediately that his feelings for Louis were reciprocated. They talked more about it after their first (wildly perfect) time fucking, and then they were just. Together.
Harry never felt the need to agree to the other spell that some of his friends chose to have cast on them-- one that allowed them to forget that magic was real unless they were speaking with someone who was already aware of it --but he was grateful for its existence. All in all, there were a million spells that Harry got to benefit from, and he often told Louis that he would always agree to be a guinea pig if Louis wanted to try something out.
(That had led to Louis turning Harry into a guinea pig one afternoon, which Harry had actually found to be a surprisingly fun and relaxing experience. 10/10, one note only: no hay before changing back to human form; Harry’s digestive system wasn’t a fan.)
Of course, thinking about his time as a guinea pig left Harry craving crunchy vegetables, so he headed to the kitchen for a little snack. Right there on the counter, he found a square box roughly the size of his palm-- the first of the few gifts Louis had left in the house for him. He wasted no time pulling off the bow that was wrapped around it and lifting the lid to reveal four small chocolates that were covered by a blue note card the exact shade of Louis’ eyes when he was in a good mood. Harry picked it up to read it.
I hope this is the first gift you’ve found! These are special chocolates made just for you…
The darkest chocolate should stoke your desire. The lightest one will cool the fire. The milky one is happily sweet, and the green will sweep you off your feet. Do me a favor and follow my lead, eating each one as I bid. To eat them all together there is no need, so listen to me and not your Id.
Harry gave a sensible chuckle at the rhyme, setting the paper down to bring the box to his nose and inhale. They didn’t smell like anything but chocolate, really, and Harry hummed as he set them down and put the lid back on, picking up the card to read it over again, aloud this time. As he said the words, a strange feeling settled over him. He needed to find more of his presents. Right now.
He set off through the house with determination, starting in the living room and moving through it systematically until it hit him that he was acting a little strange. Louis had spelled him. He inhaled, a pleased smile coming to his lips.
“Clever,” he said, resting his hands at his side and closing his eyes. “Go on, tell me where to go.” An image appeared in his mind’s eye: the powder room. Top drawer, maybe? He made a beeline for it.
Right there on the counter, he found a box wrapped in brown paper and stamped with an unfamiliar seal. He took it back to the kitchen, set it on the counter, and waited for the next location to come to him.
The craft room.
This time it was a soft package wrapped in layer upon layer of tissue paper, enough that he couldn’t tell anything about what was inside other than that it wasn’t anything with sharp edges or angles. If he had to guess, it was clothing, but he had no desire to guess. He took it down to the kitchen and set it beside the others, closing his eyes and waiting for his intuition to guide him to the next gift. Something told him there were four, just like there were four chocolates, but as he closed his eyes and took a breath, there was only one thought that came to mind: Not yet.
--
That night, Harry answered Louis’ call from bed, smiling into his phone when Louis’ face appeared bathed in the warm light of liminal space-time that allowed him to make calls when he was away on magical trips. It didn’t make any sense to Harry, but it was familiar all the same at this point in their relationship.
“Hiiii,” he said, wiggling his fingers at Louis, who broke into a crinkle-eyed grin in response.
“Hi yourself, baby.” Louis raised his eyebrows. “Felt you find my gifts earlier.”
Harry hummed. “So you did put a little spell into that first one, then?”
“If you say so,” Louis said with a shrug, eyes shining with mirth. “How many did you find?”
“Three, but I think there’s a fourth. Am I right?” Louis nodded. “And will I need to look for it myself, or will all be revealed later?”
“I think you know the answer to that one.” The mischief evident on Louis’ face set off a flurry of butterflies in Harry’s tummy.
“Do I get to ask more questions, or is it time to ask about your day instead?”
Louis considered for a moment, then said, “one more question, then I’ll tell you about the wanker who tried to start a duel with me and the complete shitshow that was the opening remarks earlier. Deal?”
“Deal,” Harry said with a single nod. “Okaaaaay,” he drawled, turning over a couple possible questions in his mind. He finally settled on one that might help him decide on timing. “I’m guessing, given the chocolates, that my gifts will be somewhat…experiential in nature--” Harry paused, waiting to see if Louis would react but unsurprised when he didn’t. “So I’m wondering if I need to consider the timing of opening them.”
“That wasn’t a question, love,” Louis said, shaking his head fondly. “And I don’t want to give more away than I have to.”
Harry huffed, caught. “Fine, fine. If I want to get maximum enjoyment from my gifts, when should I open them?” Ugh, not the question he probably should’ve asked, but it was done.
“Ooh,” Louis sucked a bit of air through his teeth, almost wincing at Harry’s question. “That’s a tricky one. On one hand, knowing you, the longer you have with your gifts the better. But on the other hand, you’ll probably get wrapped up in them until I’m back home, so if you have anything else planned for while I’m away, you may want to take care of that first.”
“Oh.” The implications were certainly interesting, Harry’s mind immediately whirring with possibilities. Would the chocolates physically transport him places, or put him in certain mental states? Would the other gifts build upon each other, or each offer their own specific experience, or perhaps a mix of both?”
“Yes, ‘oh,’” Louis said teasingly. “Not a bad question at all, baby, but I can see your brain working through all the possibilities and I promise you won’t know until you open your second present, at which point things should start moving you along.”
Before Harry could analyse what that meant, Louis continued.
“Now, did you get up to anything fun today?”
Harry shrugged. “Watched a Housewives marathon and painted my nails, went for a long run, and ordered in Thai food. Boring but perfect.” He sighed, content with how he’d spent his day and ready to set aside thinking about how he’d approach opening his presents tomorrow. “Now tell me about who tried to duel you and how thoroughly you humiliated them.”
It was Simon, the absolute tool who thought he was better than Louis and never was, and he’d been very thoroughly humiliated, thank you very much, and Louis’ stories about that and the rest of his magical conference were enough to keep Harry entertained until his eyes were drooping and Louis’ were too. They blew goodnight kisses through the screen-- Harry was sure he felt Louis’ land soft as feathers on his lips --and Harry drifted off to sleep, thoughts about his gifts coloring his dreams.
--
The next day, Harry had early brunch plans with a couple of friends followed by a massage appointment and pedicure, an absolutely picture perfect Saturday morning and afternoon. He planned on taking a little nap when he got home, but the moment he walked through the door his body practically rang with the thrum of magic. He put his things down, took off his shoes, and beelined for the kitchen. His gifts were arranged on the counter where he’d left them, and he picked up the note to re-read it aloud once again.
The darkest chocolate should stoke your desire. The lightest one will cool the fire. The milky one is happily sweet, and the green will sweep you off your feet.
Do me a favor and follow my lead, eating each one as I bid.
To eat them all together there is no need, so listen to me and not your Id.
He picked up the milk chocolate bonbon and popped it into his mouth without a second thought, letting it melt on his tongue for a moment before allowing himself to chew it. Caramel, sticky and soft. The slightest hint of sea salt. The milky sweet chocolate surrounding it.
Harry giggled, delighted by the taste. Practically giddy with it, really. He picked up the soft package, the one he’d been thinking of as the third gift, and ripped into it automatically. The layers came away in colorful strips, each sheet of tissue paper a different color, until he reached the prize inside, pulling it out triumphantly.
He probably wouldn’t call it a garment, exactly, but it was definitely meant to go on his body. The connected bands of fabric were soft and stretchy, and while Harry couldn’t tell from looking at it where his arms and legs were meant to go, he knew he wanted it on as soon as possible. Gathering up his next present and the chocolates, he headed for his bedroom.
Once there, he stripped, then hopped into the shower to get rid of any residual massage oil from earlier, cleaning himself as thoroughly as he might if Louis had mentioned wanting to top later. He kept cracking himself up the whole time, making up silly songs to sing and helicoptering his dick around as he danced to them. If Louis were here, he’d be watching from the doorway, laughing and calling Harry a goof.
Clean and dry, he stepped into the fabric straps in a way that seemed right and pulled them up his body, putting his arms through and adjusting until something told him to stop. A look in the mirror confirmed that, while not something he could wear anywhere other than his own home, the strappy thing was probably meant to go on his body. The straps met in a sort of X at his tummy, looped around his arms and down to his lower back where they intersected with another short strap. The straps around his legs also connected to the strip in the back, leaving his groin completely exposed.
He snapped a couple of pictures, dick chubbing up at the simple act of taking nudes to send to Louis later. If nothing else, the strappy little get up Louis had left him photographed well. It also felt as though it melted into his body like a second skin, so it was undeniably comfortable. He took one final picture, tongue out and barely holding back laughter, then decided it was time to open his next gift.
He broke the seal on the box without eating another chocolate, only doubting himself for a moment before remembering that his first instincts were more than likely a direct result of Louis’ spell. Best not doubt the magic when Louis had explicitly mentioned doing ‘as he bid.’
Lifting the lid, Harry found an elegantly shaped, unlabeled glass bottle, opaque and full of liquid resting inside. Upon touching it, he knew where to find his final gift, and turned to open the drawer of his nightstand. Inside was another box, similar in shape and size to the one he’d just opened. He set it on the bed, then looked between the glass bottle, the new box, and the box of chocolates before closing his eyes and letting his body decide what to do.
Dark chocolate exploded on his tongue, unfathomably richer and deeper in flavor than he could’ve imagined. His mouth went dry as though he’d drained a bottle of dry red wine, head suddenly swimming with drunken amorousness. He opened his eyes and found his hands already peeling away the pretty wrapping around the final box, a spiral of paper like the skin of a perfectly pared apple.
The toy in the box wasn’t anything particularly groundbreaking to look at. For all intents and purposes, it was an ordinary fleshlight. Yet it pulsed with the familiar thrum of Louis’ magic, hard and steady like a dancefloor at the height of a party. And suddenly, A plus B equaled C. He twisted the lid from the bottle of liquid and drizzled it liberally down his now achingly hard dick, watching it twitch at the sensation. Then he pulled the fleshlight from the box and let lube flow in and over it, unworried about the mess he was making.
Truthfully, nothing mattered to Harry at that moment except pleasure, and there wasn’t anything that sounded more pleasurable than pushing into the wet warmth of the toy in his hand. It wasn’t a mouth or an ass, but in a way that was better. There was no partner to consider, no gag reflex or sensitive inner walls, nor the threat or promise of being unable to walk or talk the next day.
He grunted as he pushed into the opening of the toy and slid in right to the hilt in one steady motion, twisting his wrist just slightly as he bottomed out and groaning at the perfect pressure around the head of his cock. He fell back into the bed, legs spreading wide as he moved the fleshlight up and down his length, each movement of the toy sending rivulets of lube down his balls and over his taint, dripping onto his hole.
“Fuuuuck yeah,” he moaned, throwing his head back and listening to the wet sound of his cock moving inside the fleshlight. He found himself reaching for the lube again in spite of the plentiful wetness, stilling the movement of his hand for a moment to allow a fresh squirt of lube to flow over his shaft before returning to stroking himself with the toy.
The pleasure of it burned like hot coal, an all encompassing steady warmth that radiated from every point of contact between his cock and the toy, traveling up his fingers and into his arms. It slipped into his veins and traveled through his bloodstream to his heart, which pumped the glowing heat back into his body, up to his brain and down to his toes, then moved like lava right back into his cock. It didn’t build. But instead of bothering Harry that almost made him like it more.
He let himself ride the flow of it until his arm got tired, at which point he rolled over onto his belly, the toy not leaving his cock even when he took his hand away. He rolled his hips experimentally and felt a burst of flame hit like an arc of lighter fluid. It stole his breath, so he did it again. Then once more just to check.
This heat was different, missing something that his hand had given him but bringing something entirely new to the experience of using the fleshlight. It was almost perfect. Almost. He grabbed blindly at the box of chocolates. The one he chose turned liquid when it hit his tongue, running down his throat so quickly that he almost choked on it. He couldn’t even process the taste.
When he swallowed, the change was instantaneous. The straps of fabric around him tightened and shifted, manipulating his pliant body as if he were some sort of doll. He levitated above the bed, his cock clinging to his belly as if caught behind one of the straps, the fleshlight pulsing to squeeze it in time with his heartbeats. His hands roamed his body, collecting as much lube as they could before reaching around to spread his ass cheeks. One finger slid in, then two.
Harry lost time, caught in the strange loop of pleasure and heat and discomfort all jumbling together. His body was his and yet not his at all, every piece of consciousness he could muster concentrated on his cock and nothing else.
His next coherent thought, the one that pulled him out of his fugue state, came to him in Louis’ voice. “The lightest one will cool the fire.” White chocolate coated his mouth, followed by the brightness of raspberry and the slightest hint of rose. He exhaled a breathy sigh, his eyes fluttering open to find himself lying face down on the bed, his wrists restrained above him. His cock was still sheathed inside the fleshlight, but now the toy was squeezed inside a fortress of pillows.
Taking stock of the situation, it occurred to Harry that he hadn’t come yet. The desire to do so rolled over him in a crushing wave that seemed to hit him from behind, shoving his hips forward in a harsh motion that had him crying out in a mixture of shock and pleasure.
The pleasure made sense. The shock came from realizing that the pleasure was concentrated in his ass instead of his cock. He thrust in again to confirm, and there it was: fullness and the glancing pressure against his prostate. He shifted his hips, altering his angle just slightly, and bucked forward once, twice, a third time. The fullness became more apparent, the pressure against his prostate undeniable and mind-bendingly good.
He stared down at the fleshlight, trying to make sense of what was happening, and saw a vision of himself fucking an ass that looked a lot like his own. His hole, full of his own cock.
“Open up for me, baby,” he slurred, dazed at the sight. He couldn’t feel his cock, but it didn’t matter. The sight of it was enough when combined with the feeling of how stuffed he was, how well he was hitting his prostate now that he was paying attention to it. He rocked his hips into the ass in front of him, eager to speed up but realizing that it wouldn’t get him where he wanted.
“You’re gonna come untouched,” he said to himself. He thrust in deep, his movements less pronounced and far more precise than before, sobbing at how good it felt to have the near constant pressure on his spot. He hadn’t thought about it when the heat burned through him, and the realization spurred him on, made him want to make it perfect for himself. “That’s it,” he said, mouth dropping open as the pressure built.
He coaxed the orgasm from himself with steadiness and care, savoring it as it crested and then crashed, muscles tightening reflexively. As he came the first time, the feeling began returning to his cock, and suddenly he could feel both sides of the pleasure. He groaned, still hard in spite of already coming, and realized he definitely needed to come again. Less careful this time.
Instead of a slow rock or a focused grind, this time Harry pushed in hard and fast, fucking himself like he was just a hole to get off in. The slick heat of his lubricated ass was perfectly tight, gripping his cock better than the fleshlight had. Each brush of his overstimulated prostate was agony, but combining it with the relief of pistoning into himself made it pleasurable in a way he doubted he’d ever be able to articulate.
He fucked himself into the mattress, grunting and sighing and moaning incoherently until the ghost of a flavor-- matcha tinged with strawberry --hit his tongue on a particularly harsh exhale. It sent him soaring, hips stilling as he emptied inside himself, the unnerving sensation of his own come filling his ass making a laugh bubble out of him even as he rode out the aftershocks.
--
“Miss me, baby?” Louis asked. He woke Harry with a kiss laid on his bare back and a soft, appreciative caress from the nape of his neck down to his bum. “Looks like you had fun with your gifts.”
Harry hummed, nodding, then rolled over to give Louis a lazy smile. “You’re back,” he said, reaching out to pull Louis in closer. “Kissy.” Louis came easily, and they kissed until Harry’s body screamed at him to take care of the important bodily functions he’d missed during his sex delirium.
He didn’t ask Louis for explanations of the magic he’d used in the chocolates or a rundown of how things should’ve happened. It might’ve been a cycle that repeated two or three times over. It might’ve been real once followed by maddening dreams of it happening again. Or maybe it was all spell induced hallucination, not a bit of it happening in reality. None of it mattered. It was fucking fantastic. And next time Louis went out of town, Harry planned to strongly hint that he wanted a very similar present once again.