Bruise of Love | L.S ✔

Melody of Us [unpublished]

Summary: Louis works in a brothel and Harry makes Louis fall for him.

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May 12, Sunday, 8:00 pm.

"Do you think your man will appear tonight?" Zara leans against the mirror, her frame wrapped up in a frilly night gown.

"For the fiftieth time Zara, he's not my man. He's the man in red." Louis tuts, a finger pointing at her lace bodice.

Zara pokes at Louis' titled neck. The skin is soft and smooth under touch. Not a hair in sight.

The man in red-he seemed like a rich man. Loaded and young and very much attractive. He has an eclectic style- ostentatious suits were his signature.

He was wanted alike by both the women and the men. But to everyone's absolute despair, he never takes anyone. He never beds them.

He watches everything, bright eyes peering at everyone under the strobe lights, mingling with the men who seek out for the forbidden pleasures.

The owner yells at them to get back to work.

Zara sighs and walks away, her platform heels, or as Louis liked to label them-bricks, clicking sharp and pointy on the cheap wood.

Pari is wiping the counters free of any left over glitter that might get stuck on to the palms of the patrons, glitter is all fun and pleasing if you're not the one cleaning up. Louis gives her a wave and a sympathetic smile.

He gets back to his room, the coral walls comforting and familiar. He strips off the shirt and wriggles his way into a tulle dress. It is snug and fits like a glove.

11:48pm

The man in red turns up, a scarlet suit painted on his body.

Louis spots a silver fedora looking ridiculous on the table in front of him.

The man in red has a smirk titling his lips. Perhaps with the knowledge that he could have anyone. Anyone he wishes for would be at his beck and call. His arrogance comes with his confidence.

Glitter pours down and Louis feels it get stuck to his oiled neck and torso. He arches his back and looks out at the sleazy men throwing crumpled notes onto the stage.

He mostly searches for the scarlet suit man. Disappointed pinging his heart, he returns to wrapping his limbs around the pole.

For a while, he lets himself get lost in the music, the words fuelling his filthy dance. This continues into the wee hours of the morning when the moon is still bathing everything in a pale silver glow.

Just another day, another group of raunchy men.