Shades of Styles

9

Louis:

When we reached the dining table a paper was on top of it, I sat down looking at it before staring at Harry, "What's this?"

"It's a Non disclosure agreement...you cannot discuss about us to anyone." A frown marred my face,

"I won't talk about us to anyone anyway." And yup that's the truth because even when I came back from his hotel I hadn't told Zayn a thing about what happened, it's just not me. I don't gossip.

"My lawyer insists you sign on it." He takes a Gulp from his drink, I sigh and pick the pen signing the paper. "Where's my pizza?" I grumble, Harry leans forward and kisses my lips, "Please don't be mad."

"Harry how can I be not? You clearly don't trust me!" I scoff and he caresses my cheeks, "I'm trying. Louis, I've never let someone evade my space so much. You're doing something that I've never let someone do. It's new for me." He breathes.

"I need my pizza." I call out, he pulls away chuckling softly, "Of course. Here." We ate in silence but his hand was holding mines, giving it a caress.

"I want to show you something." The alpha says once the dishes are in the dishwasher, "Huh?" I stare at his outstretched hands noticing how they're trembling, I didn't like how nervous he was getting.

Holding his hand I stood up, we both walking from the dining to a hallway, stopping at a closed door,

"It's just beyond this door?" He announces.

"Uh what is?" I could see the way his Adam's Apple bobs,

"My play room." My head tilts, "Like your X-box and stuff?"

He looks at me, indescribable look in his eyes, it was making me nervous for fucks sake!

"It's important that you know you can leave any time."

"Why? What's in there?" He removes a key from his pocket,

"I meant what I said, the helicopter's on standby to take you whenever you wanna go."

"Harry, you're scaring me. What's in there!" I exclaim and he takes a deep breathe before inserting the key and opening the door,

The first thing I notice is the smell; leather, wood, polish with a faint citrus scent. It's very pleasant, and the lighting is soft, subtle. In fact, I can't see the source, but it's around the cornice in the room, emitting an ambient glow. The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark bur-gundy, giving a womb-like effect to the spacious room, and the floor is old, old varnished wood. There is a large wooden cross like an X fastened to the wall facing the door. It's made of high-polished mahogany, and there are restraining cuffs on each corner. Above it is an expansive iron grid suspended from the ceiling, eight-foot square at least, and from it hang all manner of ropes, chains, and glinting shackles. By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. From them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery implements.

Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slim as if designed to contain specimens in a crusty old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually do hold. Do I want to know In the far corner is an oxblood leather padded bench, and fixed to the wall beside it is a wooden, polished rack that looks like a pool or billiard cue holder, but on closer inspection, it holds canes of varying lengths and widths. There's a stout six-foot-long table in the opposite corner - polished wood with intricately carved legs - and two matching stools underneath.

But what dominates the room is a bed. It's bigger than king-size, an ornately carved rococo four-poster with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century. Under the canopy, I can see more gleaming chains and cuffs. There is no bedding... just a mattress covered in red leather and red satin cushions piled at one end.