Uh Oh It's Mental Obsession

Harry has an unusual glory hole. Big enough to fit his chest and all his fantasies about the varied ways his tits can be used. Louis's on his side, always.

That look Louis’s giving him. That look that says I may be wedged between two other blokes right now, but I’m in fucking charge, and that includes over you. That look consumes Harry.

And Harry knows full fucking well Louis’s right. It’s why Harry’s bound up, watching the love of his life fuck and be fucked by two fit lads who aren’t him, unable to do anything but watch, nearly close enough to touch and yet utterly unable to.

Knowing that, and methodically thinking through all he and Louis talked about that led to this moment, Harry’s flooded with desperation. Despite knowing this is exactly what he wanted. What he’d begged for, even (not that Louis had needed convincing). Harry also knows that no matter how hard he fights against his restraints, how much he might want to break free and get his hands and his mouth and whatever else he can manage all over Louis (and everyone else within reach), he never could. Louis’ rope work is not only immaculate in its beauty, but in its utility, too.

It’s not budging. And it’s bloody sure not breaking.

Harry is well and truly stuck. Doesn’t stand a chance. He’s completely at Louis’ mercy.

Right. That’s why I agreed to this.

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“You lads keep yourselves occupied while I get my boy ready, yeah?” Louis says to their soon-to-be much better acquaintances. He doesn’t take his eyes off Harry.

“Oh you’re going to like this one, Liam,” the slim one says, stilling his thrusts for a moment as he squeezes his arse. “Don’t you think?”

“Think I am, Zee. Don’t take too long, yeah? I’m more than ready for you, Louis, was it?”

“Very good, love,” Louis answers with a smirk. “Be with you shortly. Promise this one’s just as eager to get at it.”

“Well tell me then, genius, what does come after fleshlight?”

“Flesh.”

Louis rolls his eyes at Zayn’s infuriating deadpan. “Were you not paying attention to my TMI soliloquy? We’ve tried both of our fleshes in all the ways. Hands ’round, fingers in. I mean I s’pose we haven’t tried feet fucking, but honestly I don’t know that I’d be able to figure out those angles–”

Zayn’s dry laugh interrupts him and Louis looks up to find him shaking his head, a look of endeared disbelief coloring his gorgeous face. “Not more of your flesh, you tosser. I meant like, an actual other human’s...orifice. Like, the thing a fleshlight is meant to mimic? Just get another cock and another arsehole involved. Then one of you can get proper fucked while fucking the other.”

Louis blanches and immediately dismisses the idea, demanding the joint back as Zayn shrugs.

“Whatever, mate, just offering advice. But if you’d rather try YouTube tutorials on contortionist foot fucking, suit yourself.”

Louis sighs performatively as he circles to Harry’s back, mindful of his calves. He kneels behind Harry, careful not to even nudge him before suddenly and seemingly carelessly prodding at his hole, slick and pink and puffy from Harry’s ministrations over the past twenty minutes. He knows perfectly well that Harry’s done a thorough job of prepping himself, and he knows Harry knows it too. But the examination is part of what Harry loves about this. Being inspected like an animal on display, poked and stretched and scrutinized for any imperfection. Louis doesn’t find anything to criticize, of course.

Still, he sighs again, feigning disinterest. “Good enough, I s’pose,” he says, voice stoic. But then he leans forward a bit so he can whisper, placing his hands on Harry’s back just above his waist. “Very good, love.”

Harry shudders but doesn’t otherwise move.

Perfect.