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eklovesharry · 1 year

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She looked at the drink in her hand, suddenly feeling demure and childish holding a drink the bartender told her was called Sex on the Beach after she asked for something that doesn’t take like alcohol. He noticed her hesitation and the way her eyes flickered between his drink and her own. “Would you like to try it?”

She nodded her head yes, letting him know that she did want to try it. So badly, she wanted to try it. Not because she wanted to taste the tequila, she was sure it wasn’t very good, but because she wanted to taste where his lips pressed against the glass. She could see the subtle fog where he was placing his lips every time he would take a sip. So, he handed her his drink and when she turned the glass and pressed her lips against where they both knew his lips had once been, he murmured a small, “Christ, Y/N.”

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before

Disclaimer: I didn't do a lot of editing to this, and it is also part one out of at least three!

Word Count: 14k+

Y/N was always one that was good at school work. She was punctual for class, thorough with her assignments, and would spend way more time than the average person studying for exams that she knew she would ace regardless. She flew through her undergraduate program, enjoying the learning component of school so much that she decided she would attend a graduate program.

She thought she would fly through it like she always had.

Y/N was wrong.

It was her first day in a teaching position as a graduate student, and the professor she was assisting for the semester only taught advanced level psychology classes. She thought that maybe assisting a professor in the class she was struggling most with — even though he was not her direct professor— might be helpful with bumping up her grade and understanding the content of the course.

Although Y/N was not new to this program, she was struggling with one psychology course in particular. As the opportunity arose for her to TA (the pay was minimal, but she would take anything at this point), she jumped at the offer when she realized it was a position for a class she was nearly pulling her eyelashes out over. Of course she went over it with her guidance counselor to make sure the school didn’t qualify that as an unfair advantage. She didn’t want to be scolded for thinking it was appropriate to TA for a class she was concurrently taking, but her guidance counselor quickly reassured her that as long as she didn’t TA for the professor she was taking the course with, she had absolutely nothing to worry about.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. The professor she was assisting was one she had never heard of before. With much frustration, she scoured the internet trying to find any inkling of information regarding him. There were no reviews on his teaching, no rating on how hard his course was, and the only thing she managed to find was his name (not even a picture) on the faculty website. Typically, Y/N could look up faculty and find a rating on some college website to let potential students know how hard their class was on a scale from one to five, how heavy the course load was, and if the student rating them would take a class with that professor on another occasion.

There she was, outside of his room, fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to be because she was always stressing over minuscule things (to her, five minutes early might as well be ten minutes late). Stress oozed from her pores, and she felt the tension build in her shoulders as it began sinking in that she knew nothing of the man who she would be spending quite some time with. She let out a small breath, trying to ease some of the tension in her shoulders and the way butterflies were infiltrating her brain and stomach. Y/N was in what she would call, a stress pocket. Like she had picked herself from the world and tucked herself away in a separate dimension that was only filled with stress. No happiness, no laughter, no sorrow, no anger. Simply stress. She could view the outside world from the clear stress pocket, but she couldn’t quite find a way to crawl out of it.

With one more breath and a copy of his course schedule in her hand, she flicked her gaze down and scanned it over once more preparing herself. As far as she was concerned, he had no class during this time slot and she could easily rasp her knuckles against the oak door, but a fizzle in her stomach stopped her from doing so.

What if he didn’t know he was given a TA by the school? Is that possible? She went over a few practice lines in her head to make sure she had the words flowing through her brain before she worked up the courage to knock. It was somewhat of a habit of hers. When she ordered food for takeout, she spent a few minutes rehearsing her order so the words slipped out of her mouth nicely. Otherwise, her brain became flustered, her face would heat, and her eyes would gaze down at her shoes.

Before she had the chance to rehearse what she was going to say, the door unlatched and popped right open revealing who she believed was Professor Styles. A satin shirt laid across his chest, slightly showing the tips of a tattoo she couldn’t quite make out. Long dark blue slacks covered his leg, flaring at the bottom and possibly made him look taller than he actually was.

“Thought I saw a shadow lingering outside the door,” he murmured, stepping to the side to allow space for her to walk in. “What’re you doing standing out there for so long?”

It took her brain a couple seconds to compose her thoughts. This is exactly why she always prepared what she would say in advance, because her brain was becoming foggy as he held her gaze. She couldn’t help but scan his face a little more intensely than she probably should have, noting the slight pink color to his cheeks that matches his lips, the way his green eyes had a sort of sultry look to them, and the way he brought his hand up to his jaw, scratching at the stubble growing in as he looked at her. She had to avert her eyes, otherwise she may have never been able to get the words out— his beauty was a little too intense and overwhelmingly unexpected.

Y/N doesn’t think she had ever seen anyone quite as beautiful as him. It was like an angel carved him from stone and decided the world needed a little more beauty. They planted him in the soil and grew him with the clearest spring water they could find, the sun nurturing his cheekbones and the soft brown curls that wrapped around the frame of his face so well. He was not accidental, he was planned by the Gods. Beauty that was a gift to the world.

“Sorry,” she managed to squeak out, her eyes plastered to the wall behind her as she cleared her throat to avoid any voice cracking. “I didn’t knock because I was a little early. I didn’t know if I would have been interrupting something.”

His fingers pushed the door closed once more, then turned away from her and strode to his desk with long steps. Y/N took a chance to look at him once more, familiarizing herself with his features. She could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved upward that he was sure of himself. “Mmm,” the hum coming from his vocal chord raised an octave up as he looked over a piece of paper on his desk. “You wouldn��t have been interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

She glanced down at the paper in between her fingers, and realized she was gripping it a lot harder than she processed. An indentation was made in the paper where her forefinger and thumb were straining it. In a few steps, she made it to his desk and slid the paper over to him, a slight shake of her hand as she gently pushed it across the desk. He looked up at her as he noticed the tremble in her hand, but chose not to say anything about it.

“I’m your new TA for the class that’s starting in about ten minutes.” She spoke clearly, quickly removing her hand from the wood of his desk, and shoving it into her coat pocket. Y/N shifted on the backs of her heels, a tendency she had developed to self soothe in tense situations.

His face lit up in realization, a look of understanding washing across his features like he finally put the pieces together as to why a random student, (certainly not one of his own because he’s great with names and faces), was nervously standing outside of his door. Her shy gaze faltering slightly as he asked why she was lingering behind the door suddenly made sense, and the nervous hand trembling was completely understandable when he realized she was reporting for her teacher’s assistant duties for the first time ever. She was just a little nervous, and he was determined to make her warm up to the new atmosphere around her.

“Yes,” he smiled down at her, trying to make her feel welcome and comfortable. “Y/N, right? If I’m being completely honest, I forgot that I was getting an assistant today, but I’m happy you’re here!” He reached out his palm, encasing her hand in his with a firm shake.

Her hand was delicate in his, the firmness of his made her feel small and she simply wanted to melt into a puddle against the tile as she took in his excitement. He wasn’t going to be so excited when he realized that she was actually very, very bad at abnormal psychology and couldn’t, for the life of her, remember any of the terms she was supposed to. A quick heat crept up her neck and infiltrated her cheeks at the thought of him thinking she was stupid.

Y/N was not stupid. Y/N was anything but, and her greatest pet peeve was being belittled or ridiculed for her lack of knowledge because she spent a great deal of time intaking the material her professor’s provided her with. Hell, that’s how she got into grad school. It was just that abnormal psychology wasn’t her strongest course, and she couldn’t be faulted for that. She spent a lot of time studying for it, but her test scores were suffering more than she would like to admit. It could be because of her bashfulness, or maybe it was just her ego, but she couldn’t bring herself to visit her professor during office hours or even show up to the tutoring center. On the other hand, it also could have been because her professor was not the most approachable human being to exist and quickly made it known if you were inconveniencing him in any way.

When she didn’t say anything back, he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and motioned for her to follow him. Inside his classroom was a medium sized personal office tucked in the corner. Walls and a chestnut colored door separated it from the actual learning portion of the classroom. His fingers gently tapped against the door with the red undertone as he hooked his long fingers in the door knob and pressed it down. The door swung open, revealing another girl probably the same age as Y/N sitting behind one of the two desks.

“Hi,” the girl behind the desk chirped. Her eyes were kind, and she sported big chunky glasses that suited her face well. One of the first things Y/N noticed was the subtle glow to her skin, and if she thinks a person could embody sunshine, it might just be this girl behind the desk.

“Y/N, this is my other TA, Mallory,” Professor Styles motioned toward the girl, Mallory, sitting behind the desk with a bright smile across her face. “She is also one of my TA’s for abnormal psych, but she is here with me in the mornings. I only teach abnormal psych this semester, so a couple TA’s will help me balance the workload. Sometimes your schedules may overlap for about twenty minutes or so, but whatever you’re falling behind on let Mallory know and she can pick up the following morning.” He glanced between the two girls, a smile spreading across his rose colored lips, “Same thing goes for Mallory. Whatever she needs help with, you’ll continue the task in the afternoon.”

Mallory motioned for Y/N to step inside the office, so she took the cue and walked inside. As she looked around, she noted that the office was decorated beautifully, like whoever designed the workspace must be keen on interior design. It felt more like a home than an office, really.

A green sofa with orange throw pillows flushed against the wall, as what she assumed was a comfortable area for students when they visit Professor Styles during office hours. Two fully wooden desks, side by side, though one was more cluttered which she assumed was Professor Styles’ workspace. A faux leather swivel chair was placed directly parallel with his desk for students to sit at while he chatted with them, or maybe even his colleague friends that visited him for lunch. The walls were decorated with paintings, mostly paintings with sage green and a burnt orange color to match the same vibe as the couch, and when she cocked her head to the side, she saw a small bench next to the door that held papers with community resources so students could tear off the contact information they needed.

“Mallory, do you think you could get Y/N familiar with the desk and the space? My next class starts in a few minutes and I just want to prepare a couple things. After that, you’re free to go.”

Mallory simply nodded as Professor Styles strode out of the doorway and back over to his main desk in the classroom. Y/N tore her gaze from him, trying not to ogle too much to the point where it becomes increasingly more noticeable. She made her way closer to the desk, where Mallory began showing her where all the supplies were. The top drawer of the desk was for pens and pencils, the second drawer was for extra sheets of blank paper, and the third drawer in the desk held an organized filing system which held all the answer keys for the tests he gave throughout the semester.

“These are the tests I’m currently grading. I was able to get through his first two classes and part of his third class, but there are two more classes of 60 people that need to be graded plus the one that I didn’t finish all the way through.” Mallory pointed at the stack of tests that needed to be graded, and next to it was the hefty stack she had already worked through this morning.

Y/N looked down at the answer key displayed, and realized it was the same exact test she had taken just last week in her abnormal psychology class. “This is the same exact test I took last week,” she picked up the answer key and scanned it, noting the same wording on each question, same multiple choice answers, and same write-in questions.

Mallory nodded, a warm smile across her face as her voice chirped out, “Yeah, you’re in Professor Smith’s class with me. I recognize you. I sit behind you. Smith’s class is one week ahead of Harry’s which is why we’re able to TA for him, because we’re taking the same tests but a whole week before Harry gives them to his students,” she shrugs her shoulders up and down, “It makes it fair.”

It took Y/N a minute before she realized who Mallory was talking about. The name Harry got lost in her brain as she tried to understand who Mallory was talking about until she realized that Mallory was Professor Styles’ first name, and she knew that due to her deep Google searches on the young professor.

“I see,” Y/N nodded her head and placed the answer key back on the desk, not quite sure what else to say to Mallory. It seemed pretty straight forward, and if she finished before her time was up for the day, she was sure Professor Styles would give her something else to do for the remainder of the time.

“If there’s anything that you need, you can just ask me. My contact information is on that little piece of paper taped to the desk,” Mallory pointed at the corner, and Y/N read her full name, phone number, and email address, “But everything is pretty straight-forward.”

Y/N nodded, mumbling out an appreciative “thank you” as Mallory began gathering her stuff. Right before she exited the door, Y/N cleared her throat as she worked up the courage to get Mallory’s attention.

Mallory turned her head slightly, her eyebrows raised as she held the edge of the doorway with her fingers, waiting for Y/N to say something.

“I was just wondering if…” Y/N trailed off momentarily, her eyes drifting to where Professor Styles stood as he greeted the students that were flooding in his room in large groups, “I was wondering if you liked assisting Professor Styles.”

Mallory’s smile grew larger as she understood the nervous gulp Y/N gave in between words as she spoke. If Mallory was being completely truthful, she was skeptical of him at first too. She couldn’t find any ratings as this was his first year teaching and sometimes you truly don’t understand a professor’s temperament until you get to know them. “He’s great, I promise you.” Her eyes glanced behind her and she lowered her voice, “He’s nothing like Professor Smith… And he’s easy on the eyes.”

Mallory sent a wink toward Y/N, and Y/N felt that familiar heat crawl up her neck once more.

___________

By the end of the day, she had nearly finished the stack. With a glance toward the clock, she realized she only had a few minutes left and wouldn’t be able to crank out the thirty or so tests that needed grading. Her fingers drummed against the desk as she contemplated how to let Mallory know she didn’t completely finish.

Y/N could send her an email as her contact information was taped to the corner of her desk, but it didn’t feel like a good enough reason to email her and she really, really didn’t want to bug her. Y/N thinks if she were in Mallory’s shoes, an email letting her know she didn’t finish felt unnecessary.

Multiple shoes clicking on the floor in the main classroom rang in her ears, the sound of nonchalant talking as the students shuffled out the classroom, and the sound of papers rifling in backpacks signaled that Professor Styles’ class had ended, concluding his classes for the day.

It was only a few minutes before the last student finally made their way out the door, the familiar sound of the door clicking closed told her that he had finally completed his work day.

Like he was anticipating the end of his day, he gently tapped his knuckles upon the door of the office and before she could even mumble a small “come in,” the door was flying open. Y/N realized then that the tapping against the door wasn’t necessarily permission for him, but a courteous way of letting her know that he would be entering the room.

He stood in the doorway, his lean shoulders pressing against the frame. The satin top that exposed just the tips of his tattoos taunted her, almost as if they were looking back at her while she tried to decipher what might lay under his shirt.

With hard eyes, he glanced down at what she was staring at and when he realized where her gaze was studying, he brought his nimble fingers to the top button and securely covered it so that the tattoos were no longer in sight. He cleared his throat and she swallowed hard, glancing around the room to try and play off her wandering eyes.

“How was your first day?” He asked, giving her a somewhat hopeful look. The kind of look that told her he must have had a TA at one point that had a terrible first day, and ran out of his abnormal psych class screaming, never to be seen again.

If she was honest, the subject in itself was something she might have had trouble mastering, but the assistant duties weren’t that terrible. All she had to do was review an answer key, mark in red pen if they got the answer wrong, and total up the number of points they got on their test. It didn’t get much simpler than that.

“It was good, Professor Styles,” she tried to make her voice sound as chipper and friendly as possible. She wanted him to know that she was happy to help him out and liked doing it.

He shook his head slightly, a small smile forming across his lips to indicate amusement. It was almost as if she could see his eyes shine a little brighter than they were before as he brought his hand up to his neck and rubbed in a comforting way like. He searched the air, trying to find the same words he used for Mallory when she began assisting him.

“I like to be called Harry if that’s something you’re comfortable with. I want you to feel like we’re on the same level, almost like we’re colleagues. You don’t need to address me as ‘professor’ because I’m not your professor,” he began the same spiel he told Mallory, letting her know that they were equals and it made Y/N’s insides warm a little bit. “For example, if one day you told me you wanted to teach the lesson, I would absolutely trust you to do so.”

Her eyebrows scrunched and her tongue flicked against her lower lip, the eyes that were previously locked with him now analyzing the pattern of the wooden desk as she shook her head in a gentle way. Giving a lesson was definitely not something she wanted to do. Maybe Mallory was the kind of TA that wanted interaction with the class, but not Y/N. No, that wasn’t Y/N at all.

Y/N considered herself to be a simple person. She didn’t mind sneaking into the office he had tucked away in his room with the door closed as she graded papers. She didn’t mind the silently working alone, reading through answers, trying to decipher sloppy handwriting, but she did not want to teach a lesson,

Maybe Mallory was her polar opposite, balancing out his two TA’s. Mallory was talkative enough when she met Y/N. She seemed like the kind of girl that could discuss a topic as bland as oranges for thirty minutes by constantly adding new components to the conversation. Mallory and Y/N might be a yin and yang ordeal, opposites that balance each other out just enough that it works together.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want to teach a class,” she explained. It took a second for her to calm the thoughts that were picking at her brain. Maybe the idea of teaching a class sounded some sort of internal alarm that forced her shoulders to tense up, her knees to lock, and her mouth to produce more saliva than necessary because she physically felt her body constrict at the idea.

“No, you don’t have to,” he shifted against the doorframe, sensing how uncomfortable she was and silently cursing at himself for putting her in such an awkward position on her first day. “I was just trying to explain that I want us to be equals.”

She simply nodded, not quite sure what else to say. She could confirm that she was comfortable calling him Harry, but she thinks he probably already knew she would if that is what he was requesting. She settled on two words that expressed her gratitude, “Thank you.”

He gestured his hand as if to say don’t even worry about it, but a puzzled look formed on his face as he did so. “Do you mind telling me why you don’t want to teach a class? Mallory nearly fell out of her seat with excitement when I told her she could if she really, really wanted to.”

There it was: confirmation that Mallory was her opposite. A sense of relief washed through her veins as she realized it was perfectly okay for her to be the quiet one, as long as Mallory was outgoing.

Her eyes narrowed and Harry could tell she was trying to find the words to explain how she felt about the idea. She was very thoughtful, and in the short three hours he had known her, he appreciated that quality about her. Y/N couldn’t tell him she sucked at abnormal psychology and was almost failing her class. She couldn’t tell him that she would pretty much be setting his students up for failure if she taught the class, but she could tell him that she was uncomfortable in big groups of people. That was true. As soon as the group exceeded five or so people, she realized she never wanted to participate in the conversation as she felt like she never had anything good enough to say. Y/N was more of a listener, and sometimes even then, five people in her friend group was overwhelming.

“I’m not a good public speaker,” as the reason slipped from her lips, she suddenly felt like that was such a silly reason to make a fuss over it. It was true though, public speaking was not really her element.

“We could always work on that if that’s something you’re interested in?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. If she refused the offer it wouldn’t really bother him, but he wanted to give her the option anyway, just in case it’s a goal she wants to work toward.

Y/N didn’t know what possessed her because even though working on public speaking would be helpful in its own way, she really didn’t want to. She had already taken the most basic required public speaking course and did not plan to take any other communication class, but she nodded her head in agreement with his proposition and mumbled out, “That would be great.”

Harry could tell by the lack of enthusiasm in her response, and by the way her shoulders slumped forward and her nose scrunched up that she didn’t actually mean it. It was more that she was trying to be polite than anything, and he thinks that maybe if he were her, his reaction would be the same. He used to be a people pleaser too, and at first it was a harmless personality trait that slowly morphed into something that was no longer harmless, he was absolutely taken advantage of (covering shifts for coworkers when he didn’t want to, staying out too late with friends because they wanted to even though his warm bed was calling) and became a difficult thing to shake.

He glanced down at his watch, reading the time carefully. It hadn’t felt like 15 minutes of interacting with her until he realized just how long his, now numb, shoulder was pressed against the door frame. “It’s probably time you head out, hm?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, finding her voice. She knew they hadn’t been talking for too long, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Not that she was itching to stay and grade papers. No matter how mindless the activity was, she did want to go home. It was at that moment she realized the question she wanted to ask him hadn’t come up yet, and it was the first thing she wanted to ask when she heard the shuffling of footsteps as he wrapped up his last class of the day. “I have about thirty tests left to grade. How can I let Mallory know?”

He wasn’t looking at her as she spoke, but she knew that she had his undivided attention. With hesitation, she gulped as she watched his long fingers rake down his throat, his index and middle finger touching the skin ever so gently, just avoiding his Adam's apple. It only took a couple steps for him before his long legs were at his desk in the office, and he was sifting through the disorganized pile he must have dumped on there in between classes. “Why don’t you just leave her a little note that she can read when she comes in tomorrow morning? Should be fine.”

It didn’t take too long for her to grab a blank piece of paper from the second drawer. She scribbled out a note as quickly as possible, letting Mallory know how far she got the day before and thanking her for picking up where she left off. As soon as she was done writing the note, she began gathering her things. Y/N was more than ready to get back to her flat, have a small discussion with her flatmate (who also happened to be her best friend), and climb into the comfort of her bed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly.

He gave her one of those sweet smiles that he must have kept tucked away in his utility belt of charm, and waved her a simple goodbye.

She thought of him the whole way home even though she tried not to.

___________

“So how was it?” Her roommate and best friend from her undergraduate days, Niall, asked from the other side of the kitchen. She had been home for a total of ten minutes and he was already interrogating her, but she didn’t expect anything less from him. With a short glance over to where she stood at the counter, he gave his attention back to the refrigerator where he was rummaging to find the strawberry kiwi flavored juice he loved so much.

“It was fine,” she shrugged her shoulders. As soon as she started speaking, his eyes fixated back toward her as his hand finally grasped the strawberry kiwi juice he was looking for. Instead of holding eye contact, she let her gaze flicker to the floor.

Eye contact was one of Y/N’s telling traits; Niall knew that when she couldn’t hold eye contact with him, she was either lying or holding out on giving him information. A smirk danced across his lips as he shut the fridge, then leaned his body against it slowly. “You’re either lying or holding out on me. Which is it?”

“Holding out on you,” amusement twirled throughout her eyes, and her lips curved to match the same smirk Niall was giving her.

“Won’t you tell me?” He clutched his chest, feigning heart pain as if she had stabbed him by telling him she was holding out.

“He’s really…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say appropriately. It felt wrong to say it out loud. She wasn’t concerned that Niall would judge her, but if she was being honest, she was judging herself for being so attracted to the professor she was supposed to be working for. She decided to put it as bluntly as possible, “Attractive.”

In a matter of seconds, Niall’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, teeth showing and all. It wasn’t common for Y/N to talk about when she found someone attractive. She always kept to herself. In fact, she kept to herself so much that when Niall invited her out with his other friends, he was always a little worried that she was feeling overwhelmed. It’s not that she couldn’t take care of herself or regulate her own emotions, she absolutely could and he knew that, but he always worried that she was forcing herself to be around his friends just because she wanted Niall to know she cared about spending time with him. “Is he now?”

“Yes,” her smile turned into a sheepish one, her ears feeling hot right at the tips.

“Have you told him that you suck at abnormal psychology?” Niall didn’t mean this in a mean way, he knew Y/N was struggling with her abnormal psych class because she had come home on multiple occasions, kicked her shoes off, buried her face into the couch cushion and screamed at the top of her lungs. When Niall asked her why she was being so dramatic, she told him that she was failing her first class, and even he was slightly taken aback by the news. Y/N had better grades than anyone he knew.

“That’s not the plan anymore,” she explained, her fingers rubbing against the countertop just enough to feel the smooth coating. She was waiting for him to scold her. She was actually anticipating it on the car ride when she decided that she absolutely, for certain, was not going to tell Professor Styles—Harry— that she was failing her abnormal psychology class. When the opportunity came for her to TA, she had talked about it with Niall. He knew she was a naturally shy being, but he explained that if she was still struggling in a couple weeks when the TA position started, she could tell the professor and maybe they would offer her some extra help or some extra worksheets that would get her back on track.

“What do you mean?” Niall furrowed his eyebrows, taking a swig of the strawberry kiwi juice he had forgotten he was holding in his hand.

She simply shrugged her shoulders up and down, staring at her pink polkadot socks as she wiggled her toes to distract herself.

“Why? Because you think he’s attractive?” Niall tried to understand, pressing the topic further. If she didn’t want to give him anymore information regarding it then he would stop pestering her, but his job as her best friend was to pester her anyway.

She simply nodded, still not looking up.

“Sheesh, Y/N.” Niall brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and pressed it together in order to relieve some of the tension building in his head. He wasn’t going to tell her it was a bad idea or shame her for finding him attractive. Hell, he was putting himself in her shoes and decided that if he found one of his professor’s attractive, he would probably leave out information like that too.

“I know,” was all she said, a tinge of shame ringing in her tone but he waved her off.

“So,” he said, not wanting her to feel too badly, “Indian for dinner?”

She gazed back up at him, a grin shining in his direction as she said, “You know me so well.”

________

Days had passed of Y/N working in the office located in Harry’s classroom. They didn’t talk very much, but sometimes he would come into the office and sit with her. While he did work on his computer and she graded papers, he would make small talk. He would ask her things about why she chose to major in psychology, what undergraduate school she went to, where she was from. Normal things like that. Sometimes she wanted to ask him questions too, but she could never work up the courage to until today (it only took her a few weeks).

“Do you have a favorite color?” It was the most mundane question she could ask him, but she was actually asking for a reason. Typically, she graded the papers in the red pen Mallory left behind, because it was cohesive with Mallory’s work.

“I like green. Why do you ask?” He glanced up from his laptop, closing the lid just slightly so he could get a better view of her face.

“I grade with a red pen. I was wondering if there was a preference you had,” she suddenly felt childish for asking, and was mentally banging her head against the wall.

“You can keep grading with red. That color is better for grading anyway.” His eyes tore from her and he was back to scrolling through something on his laptop. Her eyes remained fixated on him, and she wanted to keep the conversation going, but there was no way she would have been able to work up the courage to speak to him again. Like he was reading her thoughts, he looked back at her and concluded with, “Thanks for asking, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl.

Her heart nearly exploded in her chest.

After that day, her and Harry spent a lot of time talking. Possibly too much time talking.

___________

Mallory decided that since she and Y/N both TA’d for Harry, it was an unspoken rule that they should start sitting together in Professor Smith’s class. The day after Mallory met Y/N, she packed her bag up from the other side of the classroom, and moved to the back desk in the seat parallel to Y/N.

Their seats already weren’t too far away, even though Mallory originally sat on the opposite side. Actually, Y/N hadn’t ever realized before but the classroom was small, sterile, and unwelcoming. It wasn’t the way Harry’s classroom was set up with paintings hanging on the wall, informative sheets placed on a vintage waist level bookcase that was filled with leatherback classics. Professor Smith’s class was that of a doctor’s office. No color except gray, tile that constantly smelt of lemon floor cleaner. Y/N didn’t always catch the fine details, but when comparing Professor Smith’s class to Harry’s, she realized just how much Harry went out of his way to make the environment feel like home.

So Y/N was a little grateful when Mallory took a seat beside her, the atmosphere feeling a little less cold and dark. They would work together on in-class projects, and Y/N realized that Mallory was really, really good at understanding the fundamentals to abnormal psychology. She was actually really grateful she met Mallory, because the more Mallory helped her, the better her grades were looking. She still wasn’t passing the class at a satisfactory level, but she was definitely getting better.

Mallory liked to talk a lot, which was good, because Y/N liked to listen. She never had much to say, but Mallory always did. Like today, for example, she was telling Y/N that she and her boyfriend were going to some dive bar on the East side with tickets to a comedy show on Friday, and she really wanted Y/N to come. Her other friend and her friend’s boyfriend bailed, but Mallory had already purchased two extra tickets for the comedy show and she would hate for them to be wasted. Y/N was hesitant at first, but she decided there was no harm in going. She liked Mallory a lot, and she was excited to meet Mallory’s boyfriend because she had heard so much about him.

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend? If you don’t then we’re going to have that one extra ticket,” Mallory explained.

Her boyfriend? When had Y/N ever said that she had a boyfriend? Mallory wasn’t the type of person to assume either, so she tried to replay the past conversations in her head dating back to when Mallory and her first started conversing about a month and a half ago. They had talked about all kinds of things, but Y/N had never mentioned a boyfriend. As if the puzzle pieces clicked together, she realized just how often she talked about Niall when she felt she had something interesting enough to add to the conversation.

“Do you mean Niall?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows raised just a smidge.

“Yes,” Mallory confirmed, confusion laced in her tone and present on her features. “Is he not your boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N started to laugh, the kind of laugh that made your nose scrunch. Niall was handsome, sure, but they would only ever be best friends. They definitely were not each other’s types. Y/N had seen Niall’s type at nights when he would escort her to small gatherings to play board games. The girls (sometimes even guys, she thinks, though she’s never asked) would be twirling their hair in the corner as he charmed them with that dazzling smile. “Niall is my best friend! He’s also my roommate which might be why you’re confused. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Mallory said, a smile spreading across her face as she clapped her hands together. “Well, why don’t you bring him then if he’s your best friend. I would love to meet him!”

“I think…” Y/N trailed off, trying to think if this is something Niall would say yes to. He was such a social butterfly, he usually never said no to going out, so she didn’t see why agreeing for him would be a problem. “I think that would be a lovely idea.”

When Y/N got home that night, she asked Niall and to no surprise of her own, he excitedly agreed and said he was excited to meet Mallory.

___________

Harry dismissed his class early that day. Mallory didn’t show up to grade papers in the morning because she had a doctor's appointment she already arranged with Harry. He decided that since there was not much left on the chapter his class was going over, he would help Y/N grade the test his class took two days ago since she was grading by herself.

He popped his head through the door to tell Y/N that he dismissed class early and was going to step out for a few minutes. She gave him a nod in confirmation and heard his heels click as he walked out of the classroom.

Just like he said, he was back in a few minutes but with two coffees in hand. She eyed the coffee with the whipped cream on top, and a devilish smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling. Was that other coffee for her? If so, how did he know she liked whipped cream on the top?

“I got us a treat,” he set the two coffees down on her desk and pushed the one with whipped cream, then grabbed his swivel chair that was tucked into the desk he normally sat at in the office and placed it directly next to hers. When he sat, he was so close that she could feel his knee brush against hers.

“Thank you,” she expressed her gratitude and picked up the coffee, eyeing the whipped cream once more. “How did you know I liked whipped cream?”

He paused and looked at her. The look on his face was teetering on the edge of wariness, like he didn’t want to say anything to cross the fine line of a boundary they had constructed. As he searched for the right words to say, he drank in her appearance and she couldn’t help but want to melt away as his eyes danced from her own eyes then back down to her lips then back up to her eyes. “When you come in looking especially tired, you always have a coffee with you, and every single time you’ve had a coffee with you, it has whipped cream on the top.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. Did he notice her that often? Surely he didn’t notice her the way that she’s noticed him. She notices how his tongue darts out and swiftly moved across his bottom lip when he’s concentrated, how he clicks his pen to the beat of the song when they’re playing music in the office, and how he rakes his forefinger and middle finger up and down his throat when he’s really listening to what she has to say.

“I was thinking that we could share this answer key,” he tapped the answer key she had toward the top of the desk, “To grade these papers together. It’s Friday night, I’m sure you wanna get out of here a little early.”

She decided that he was maybe the most thoughtful person she had ever met. There was absolutely no reason that he needed to help her, he could have let her do it all on her own. He didn’t need to get her a coffee either. Maybe she just wasn’t so used to random acts of kindness, or maybe it was the fact that every single day, her attraction to him grew and grew like a plant flourishing in the sunlight. “Did you want me to make a copy?”

“What? Am I sitting too close to you?” He teased, brushing his leg up against hers. She sucked in a small gasp as she felt his knee against hers once more, and maybe it was because she was so touch starved, but she wanted him to do it again and again and again.

“No, no. Not at all,” Y/N said a little too frantically. A little too eagerly.

“Hush, pet. I’m just kidding with you.” Harry spoke softly, letting her know that he was only teasing her.

They worked in silence for a little while until Y/N rested her back against the chair. She was beginning to cramp up from the way she was sitting. Her fingers were beginning to hurt with each stroke of the pen. Her eyes were getting a little blurry from looking at the same thing over and over again, so she used her left hand (the one that wasn’t cramping up) and grabbed her coffee, taking a swig and underestimating the strength of her left hand, causing whipped cream to coat her upper lip.

Harry laughed gently, then used his fingers to wipe the whip cream off her mouth. He grabbed her lips in between his fingers, then wiped the whipped cream onto his pants. She shuddered softly, almost unnoticeably when she felt his fingers so gently across her lips. Though this was not professor and TA behavior she would deem normal, he said nothing about it, and she was beginning to think that maybe she was overthinking the whole thing because she found him so attractive. With one swift sentence, he pulled her from her thoughts.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked her, making subtle conversation as his pen marked a few things on the test he was grading. Like Y/N, Harry wondered what Y/N did in her free time although he never found a way to weasel that into their conversations. While their conversations were mostly made up of random tidbits of their lives, he had never figured out how to ask how she would spend her weekends.

Y/N was about to tell him that she was seeing a comedy show with Niall and Mallory (and Mallory’s boyfriend of course), but she wasn’t sure if Mallory had told Harry they became quick friends. What if Mallory didn’t want him to know? Y/N couldn’t understand why Mallory would think that way, but just in case, she decided she wouldn’t tell him anything about it. “I don’t think so,” she lied plainly, “What about you? Are you doing anything special?”

Harry casually looked up, clicking the pen a few times before replying. “I am doing something tonight. My friends planned it. If I’m being honest, though, I’m not quite sure what we’re doing. They have told me a few times, but it’s gone over my head. At this point, they’re going to swing by my flat and pick me up just so they are certain I’ll actually show up. Not that I don’t want to see them and don’t care about the plans, I’ve just been so busy.”

“Oh,” Y/N tightens and a sudden realization sweeps through her mind. What if he has a girlfriend? She pushed the thought from her head and buried it, “I’m like that too, I think.”

The sudden realization she tried to bury put her in a somewhat sour mood. Harry notices right away, but he doesn’t ask her why she’s suddenly so adrift from their conversation in an attempt to not push her. If something was bothering her and she wanted to talk about it, she would.

They spent the rest of the time grading papers, and before she left for the night, he told her to have a great weekend, and she told him to have the same, the sullen feeling still weighing on her chest.

___________

The bar was very crowded, very noisy, and not usually Y/N’s scene at all. When her and Niall arrived, she quickly introduced him to Mallory, and Mallory introduced her boyfriend—Josh— to them quickly. The comedy show didn’t last too long, and Y/N could have sworn that Mallory said it was a dive bar when she was trying to convince her to come. The atmosphere was that of a nightclub, as the show finished people shuffled to the dance floor and began dancing.

Mallory grabbed Y/N by the arm and ushered her over to the bar, and Y/N was guessing that she could feel the tension radiating from her. “I think a drink will loosen you up. Do you want a drink?” Mallory asked.

“I don’t drink very often,” Y/N said, unsure of what to order. There is one thing that Y/N does know about drinking, and it is that she hates the taste of alcohol. The bar was crowded, and Mallory shoved in between two people sitting in barstools, making room for Y/N. Her fingers brushed against the counter, feeling a cold liquid under her hand. It took everything in her to not scrunch up her nose as she wiped the mystery liquid against the bottom of her satin dress.

“That’s okay,” Mallory said, “Just ask the bartender what he thinks you’ll like.”

Y/N didn’t know how the bartender would know what she likes if she didn’t even know what she liked herself. Mallory ordered something red, but Y/N didn’t know the name of it. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to get that though, because the smell of vodka coming from Mallory’s drink was strong. Mallory took a strong swig of the drink, not making a face and giving her a thumbs up. It was at that moment that Y/N decided she really liked Mallory’s carefree personality. She really enjoyed Mallory, even if the bar was a little too loud than she would normally like, Y/N decided it was worth it to spend time with Mallory and Niall.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender turned and looked at Y/N after watching Mallory take a sip of her drink to make sure it was made to her satisfaction.

Y/N hesitated, “Something that doesn’t taste like alcohol, I think.”

“I’ve got the perfect drink for you,” he yelled over the music and people talking then reached for a glass from under the counter. He added a few juices to the glass and a steep amount of alcohol. Y/N wasn’t sure if he misheard her and thought she asked for something that did taste like alcohol based on the amount he put it. After the glass was full to the brim, he popped in a little umbrella and slid it over to her. “Let me know if you don’t like it. It’s called Sex on the Beach.”

Sex on the Beach was such a crude name for a beverage, but who was she to judge the name. Maybe it really did taste like sex on the beach. She sipped through the straw and was surprised when it tasted like an assortment of juice and none of the alcohol he had heavily poured into the glass. She murmured a soft thank you, and though he didn’t actually hear her, he knew she was expressing gratitude.

It only took a couple seconds to find out where Niall and Josh had moved. Mallory and Y/N walked over to them with drinks in hand, and even with the one sip Y/N took, she already felt much looser. They found their way to a booth, facing the door.

By the time an hour passed, Y/N and Mallory finished their drinks and Y/N was feeling exceptional. They made their way back to the bar and the bartender winked at her, fixing up another Sex on the Beach and Mallory ordered something different this time.

As they walked back toward the booth, Mallory nudged Y/N with her elbow and pointed toward the door. Y/N watched Harry walk in with a couple of his friends, his eyes locking with hers and then flickering over to Mallory. A grin spread across his face and his hand came up in a slow wave. Mallory quickly waved back and Y/N just stood there, shocked that these were the plans his friends had made with him.

He approached them, leaving his friends to saunter to the bar without him. The three of them exchanged hellos, then he shifted his body to face Y/N. “I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Harry yelled over the music, smoke clouding around the three of them.

“I forgot,” she lied, and Mallory quickly turned her head to look at Y/N as if to say how did you forget when we’ve been talking about it all week.

To Y/N’s misfortune, Mallory said just that. “We’ve been talking about it all week, Y/N. How did you forget?”

Harry’s face sparked with amusement as if she had caught her red handed, her tongue twisting in the shape of the lie that she had so easily told him earlier in the day. Y/N rolled her eyes at Mallory and laughed a little, the alcohol pumping through her veins at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I’ll meet you back at the booth,” Mallory was grinning as she turned her body and walked back over to where Josh and Niall sat, waiting for them to return. Y/N realized that she really needed to explain herself to Mallory, the conversation with Harry probably seemed a little more intimate than it actually was.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” Harry eyed her drink, her Sex on the Beach. Oh, she would love to have that with Harry. Y/N’s tipsy brain was much more scandalous than her sober brain. “Maybe we can talk later.”

Y/N really wanted to spend more time with him. She wanted to sit with him, and meet his friends. It wasn’t going to happen, but she so desperately wanted to. It took a second for her to tear her gaze from his body as he walked away from her and toward the bar to meet his friends. She took this as her cue to not stand in the middle of the dance floor like an idiot and found her way back to the booth where her friends waited for her. Niall looked at her suspiciously but she shrugged her shoulders in response, directing her attention to Josh as he talked about a movie trailer he recently saw and how much he wants to go see the movie in the theater. Y/N knew exactly what movie he was talking about, and said that she wants to see it too, so the four of them made plans to go see the movie next Friday.

Throughout the night, Y/N glanced at Harry and more often than not, they made eye contact with one another. Thirty minutes had passed from the time he walked in the door with his friends, and finally, the last time they locked eye contact, he subtly nodded toward the hall that led to the Billiards room and the bathroom. Immediately, Y/N knew that he was telling her to meet him there.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she said, the drink still in her hand.

Mallory and Josh thought nothing of it, nodding at her to confirm they heard her, but Niall eyed the drink she sported in between her fingers and gave her a knowing look, a twinkle shining in his eye. Oh, he was definitely going to be asking her about this later.

She staggered toward the hallway, moving through the crowd of people, trying not to spill her drink on herself, the floor, or the people near her. As she made her way to the hall, she felt Harry come up behind her, knowing it was him by the minty citrus scent of his cologne.

Y/N flipped around and the hallway was so crowded with people that they didn’t have much room between them. Her back was slightly pressed against the wall, his thigh placed in between her legs, rubbing her gently. She was suddenly hyper aware of how he felt, how he smelled, and how he looked.

He wore jeans that flare at the bottom, a black sweater tucked into the tops of the jeans. The sneakers he had on matched his outfit perfectly, and it took her until this very moment to realize that he was fairly fashionable. His outfits always looked put together, but they weren’t trendy. They were always timeless and fitted to his lean stature.

“I’ve been looking at you all night,” his tone was soft and his eyes searched hers thoroughly. “You look so cute, y’know?”

Harry took the fabric of her satin dress in between his fingers and felt it, his index finger slowly rubbing against the soft part of her thigh.

“Thank you,” was all she managed to squeak out. He dropped the fabric from his fingers, and she wanted to protest because she wanted to feel his fingers against her. She hadn’t realized how much you could crave someone until you’re one Sex on the Beach in, and then the realization that he knew just how much she ogled him in his office kicked in.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight because you didn’t want me to know you were with your boyfriend?” His tone was teasing, but she thought just for a second that’s how he was playing it off. Like he wanted confirmation that wasn’t actually the reason and he was fishing for the information.

She held his gaze momentarily before sputtering out, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She wanted him to know. No, she needed him to know.

“Then who is that blonde bloke you’ve been snuggling up to?” He questioned, knowing she was telling the truth but he wanted to see her squirm just a little bit. She knew it, too. She could tell by the way his voice sounded that he was just messing with her, he wanted a bit of cat and mouse.

“My friend. We’re best friends, actually, and roommates.” Y/N explained, though her brain was a little bit foggy. Not because of the alcohol, no. Actually, she felt like she was sobered up, and needed a little bit more of her drink to get her back to the floaty place she was at when she was sitting in the booth.

He used his right hand to keep himself sturdy, then checked his surroundings and asked her, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. It was loud, but she felt just fine here with him.

The atmosphere was so wild with smoke filtering through the air, that now they really had no room except practically chest to chest as they spoke. The drink he was sporting in his hand was dark tequila on the rocks, and it made so much sense that he could drink hard liquor as is. He exuded that kind of dominance, the kind that says I enjoy the burn in my throat because it feels nice.

The tequila dribbled down her chin, and he used his finger to wipe it up, and as she lowered the drink from her lips, he grazed his index finger over her lips, beckoning for her to open and lick the whiskey she spilled. He didn’t need to coax her, didn’t need to tell her what he wanted, she simply just knew. Her tongue darted out, licking the whiskey from the base of his finger to the tip. He was never really into voyeurism, but he thinks he could take her right here and right now. How did he go from helping her grade papers earlier in the day to pressing her against the wall of a bar with his thigh tense between her legs. They were crossing so many lines, he was crossing so many lines.

“Why are you always cleaning up my face?” She gave him a lazy smile, and her eyes were so innocent.

“Why are you always spilling?” He countered.

He breathed her in, smelling the taste of his whiskey against her lips. He was so close, so close that he could taste her if he really wanted to, so close that she could feel his breath against her face. He decided that he spent too much time thinking about her mouth. About the way her lips parted then closed when she had something to say, but decided not to say anything at all. God, that was so frustrating. He spent so much time thinking about her lips, and the noises that would come from them if he truly could have her that he should just kiss her, right here, right now. “I want to. I really want to,” his voice was low and thick, sultry even.

“Me too,” her voice was small, and once again he was all too aware of the way her legs squeezed his thigh.

Before he could make a choice he couldn’t take back, he pushed himself away, leaving a foot of space between the pair. “You should go back to your friends,” he didn’t want to sound too harsh, so he gently brushed his fingers against his cheek and grasped the glass of tequila with the palm of his hands. “I’ll see you Monday, Y/N.”

Without a word, she made her way back to her friends, feigning the frustration that was building in his chest. For the rest of the night, she glanced in his direction but he never glanced back at her. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought he was making a big mistake.

When they finally got home, Niall didn’t ask her anything like she thought he would and she was grateful.

___________

It started with an ache low in her belly, then slowly spread to her lower back. As she sat in her second hour of Professor Smith’s class, she laid her head against the coolness of the desk. Y/N was trying not to think of her encounter with Harry the Friday before. Nothing had actually happened so it was fine, there was nothing to worry about. Mallory gave her a sympathetic smile, and once more held out the pamprin pills but Y/N shook her head as she had already taken some just an hour before class started.

It was almost like she could feel the color draining from her face, nausea turning in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting her period to come this morning after she had stepped foot on campus. There were no signs as she was greeting ready in the morning. No signs when she stepped out of her apartment. The first sign happened when she was walking from the opposite side of campus to Professor Smith’s class. The dull ache weaseled its way into her lower abdomen, causing subtle pain with each step she took. As she continued to walk, her hand found its way to her abdomen, applying warmth and pressure to rid her of the ache but it wasn’t working.

Quickly, she found a bathroom and slipped into a stall, realizing that her period had come sooner than she was expecting it. With a hurried hand, she rummaged through her bag, pulling out an emergency bottle of pamprin and shuffled the pills past her lips, chugging it down with the water bottle tucked into the side pocket of her backpack.

As soon as she saw Mallory, it was like Mallory could tell she was in an immense amount of pain, because she slung her backpack off of her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of the same pills tucked into a specific pocket of her backpack. Y/N just shook her head, struggling to muster up the words to tell her she had already taken some.

“I think you should leave class a little early. Go to Harry’s class and lay on the couch in the office. There’s no point in staying here, it’s not like you’re able to absorb any of the information while you’re in pain,” Mallory began reasoning with her. As far as she was concerned Mallory didn’t know that Harry and Y/N were so close to kissing at the bar that she could still feel her lips tingling three days later. She didn’t want to go to Harry, and she didn’t want Harry to think she was being dramatic. Y/N wasn’t worried that it would be awkward between her and Harry today, because he was so charming it would have been like Friday never happened, but she was still hesitant. Before she had a chance to think twice another cramp ripped through her, and she was already packing up her backpack and lifting herself from her seat, the dull ache turning into something more sharp and painful as she stood.

It was her intention to slip out the back door, to be as inconspicuous as possible, but her plan to do that was ruined when Professor Smith cleared his throat and called out her name. “Where are you going?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t keen on telling the whole class that her uterus might fall out of her body if she stayed hunched over in an uncomfortable chair, with the coolness of the desk being the only thing that could soothe her, or that the nausea was building with each second and she might be so low on iron that she vomits all over the floor of the classroom.

The words tumbled out of her mouth like a squeal, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well.”

Professor Smith’s expression remained stoic, not showing any sign of annoyance or even sympathy for the girl standing in pain at the back of the class. Not that she was expecting sympathy, although she was definitely not expecting the next words to fly out of his mouth in front of her silent classmates viewing the exchange between them, “Really, you should stay unless you plan on getting another D on the next test.”

Y/N tried not to look as horrified as she felt, avoiding eye contact with Mallory completely. She failed to mention to her new friend that she was flunking Professor Smith’s class out of sheer embarrassment and the idea that it might get back to Harry, which would be mortifying in itself.

“I’ll be fine,” was all she managed to say as she slipped from the back door of the classroom. Y/N managed to keep her tears at bay until she heard the door latch behind her, then let the silent tears create warm streams down her cheeks. In one swift motion, she lifted her hood up, concealing her face from the other students as she walked toward Harry’s classroom.

It wasn’t a far walk, him being in the same department as Smith and all. She contemplated just sitting in a bathroom stall, the sharp pain in her abdomen and lower back was still going strong and the nausea stirring in her belly was still persistent, but the public humiliation she endured was definitely worse. She decided that the couch in the office was the better option, and if she was going to be sad and in pain, she might as well do it comfortably.

The plan she concocted was this: She would walk into the room with her eyes glued to the floor and her hood up, ask Harry if it was okay if she laid down for a moment, and without making eye contact with him, she would quickly walk to the room then bury her face in the cushions.

So that is exactly what she did, barely peeking up from her hood.

“Is it okay if I lay down on the couch in the office?” she asked, internally grateful that the sob building in her throat hasn’t raked its way through her body. Another silent tear slid down her cheek, but because she was looking straight down, it splattered against his desk, causing him to cock an eyebrow that she couldn’t actually see.

It seemed gravity was against her.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” his voice was softer than normal, and she heard the sound of his fingers tapping against the desk.

Without another word, she turned on her heels and bolted toward the office door. Shutting it quickly behind her, she tore off her backpack and curled up into a ball on the couch.

He didn’t even bother knocking like he normally did. Usually his knuckles would tap against the door, signifying he was about to answer. Not necessarily for permission, but just to give her, or Mallory, a heads up that he would be entering.

The door locked behind him, but she didn’t look up as she heard the click of his dress shoes against the tile floor. “What’s going on?” He took a seat at the end of the couch she wasn’t occupying, near her head.

With gentle and delicate fingers, he began to pull her limbs from the ball she had coerced herself into. “Hmmm.. Look at me, darling.”

And how could she not? When he was asking so sweetly? The sound of his voice was like molten chocolate, or honey dripping straight from the pot. He was wearing her favorite shirt. The satin shirt that exposes his tattoos just a little bit. The same shirt he wore the first time she ever met him, when he caught her staring at his chest a little too much that he buttoned another button and gave her a somewhat disapproving but playful look. She thinks maybe if she could just run her hand over his chest she would forget about the terrible day she was having, but that was inappropriate and she shouldn’t think like that.

“Oh, sweet thing you are,” his hand brushed a tear that fell from her cheek, “Come on, sit up for me now.”

She obliged, like she always does. As a child she never took a reprimand well, which must have bled into her adult life because she always did what she was told. It was something Harry picked up on rather quickly, she aimed to please, and the psychologist in him really wanted to get to the bottom of it, but the empath in him never wanted to make her uncomfortable by pointing it out. Sometimes he had to make a mental note that she was so receptive to the people around her, he had to choose his words carefully.

She made a simple noise, between a yelp and a cry before wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “In pain,” was all she said.

He reached over, pulling a couple tissues from the end table next to the couch. Harry wrinkled his nose, realizing that it’s not uncommon for students to shed tears in this office, whether it be a student overwhelmed with the course load, or something else. Typically, he’s able to get to the bottom of it, but now he’s got his TA in here with tears streaming like Niagara Falls, and she only says she’s in pain, except he doesn’t believe that’s the full truth.

Her legs were tucked to the side bunched up, and she leaned on her left arm to support herself up. He didn’t want to pry, or tell her he didn’t think she was being completely honest, because that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead, he decided he wouldn’t treat her like a patient, because that’s not what she was to him. She is a graduate student, and he was in her same position just a little under two years ago. He once told her that he wanted her to call him Harry because she felt more like a colleague than a student, so instead, he would treat her like a friend.

“Let me help you, hm?” His fingers grazed her arm that was supporting her up, his eyes locking with her red rimmed ones. “How can I help?”

And it was almost like she knew if her request crossed a line, he would still grant it because her voice was small but sure when she said, “I just want someone to hold me.”

So, that’s what he did. He pulled her up onto his lap, and grasped her in his arms. Her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he could feel the slow breaths she was taking as the tears finally came to a halt. It was almost like he was holding her back together. If they were crossing lines, he might as well cross one more, “Are you gonna be honest with me now, hm?”

She nodded her head, deciding now was the time to come clean. A weight that was pushing down on her shoulders was about to be lifted and even though she would have a hard time stomaching the embarrassment that came with it, or the look he would give her that might indicate she was stupid, it was time that she just told him. Before Mallory beat her to it, even if she was sure in the deep pit of her gut that Mallory would simply never bring it up.

Y/N lets out a slow, shaky breath before she begins explaining. “I wasn’t feeling too great when I got to school, and during my second hour of abnormal psych, Mallory told me I should come lay down because the pain was getting really intense, so I decided to slip out the backdoor…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him the rest without having to relieve the situation. Some might say she was being a little dramatic, but she had every right to be upset. He stroked her sides as if to tell her “go on” without explicitly saying the words.

“As I was walking out Professor Smith asked where I was going and I told him that I wasn’t feeling too well,” the tears pricked once more, “So he said that I should probably stay if I didn’t want to get a D on another test in front of everyone.”

The smooth stroking against her arm came to a halt, and she realized then that he was probably going to chastise her for leaving class too, but his voice was soft when he said, “He said that to you?”

She nodded, even though she could tell the question was rhetorical. Her eyes fluttered closed again, the tips of her eyelashes gently grazing against the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. That is never something you say to a student, especially in front of such a public audience.” His words flowed out, and she sensed the psychologist in him poking out.

“It was really, really embarrassing.” Y/N mumbled into the crook of his neck, and the feel of her lips against his neck made his body slightly tense up.

“Why didn't you tell me you got a D? I probably could have helped you work something out with him.” He reasoned with her, relaxing once more into the back of the couch. The encounter she was having with him right now was so much different than the encounter she had with him on Friday night, but neither of them brought it up.

She shook her head, nuzzling into him further and even though she knew it was inappropriate, she just wanted to breathe him in. They had already crossed those lines.

He wasn’t having it. He hooked his fingers below her chin, and pulled her face from his neck. “Hm? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I’ve been flunking his tests all semester. There isn’t one test I got a decent grade on… And I was embarrassed, and I felt like a huge fraud sitting in this room, grading tests and not even understanding the content of them. And I just felt stupid. I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”

“I would never think you’re stupid, Y/N. Surely you know that. I just wish you would have told me. There’s still time to turn your grade around, you and I will work together so that you start understanding the concepts. We’ll set up tutoring. Sweetheart, you’re so smart.” She knew he tacked on that last part for a little extra validation.

Now that she’s talked it out, she feels a little silly for letting so many tears spill over it. He was right, she wasn’t stupid. She just needed a little extra help, and he was willing to give it. She suddenly felt all too aware of her presence on his lap, and began to move herself off of it. Her eyes catching his lips as she shifted just a little, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him took over once more. If she could, she would grab his face then and there and plant one on him, but it felt demure and childish to lust in that way, even with Friday night playing in the back of her mind.

As if he could read the thoughts swimming through her brain, he brought his fingers to her lips and gently tugged at the pout. His fingers trailed down her jaw, and caressed an area of her neck. Her breathing began to pick up as her heart thumped against her ribcage. Sure, he would touch her every now and again when she was working alongside him, and as much as she wanted it to be intimate, it was never like this. She was almost halfway off his lap when he brought his lips— so soft, so gentle, and so pink— against her cool ones, leaving a slight tingling sensation behind.

He gently pulled away, a sultry look dancing across his features. She felt the heat on her cheeks as she stared down into his lap, finally shifting herself completely off of his lap. When she looked up at him, she could tell the flush in his cheeks was not the same as the flush in hers. It was more desire than anything.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed with the end of his sentence.

No, no. Y/N didn’t want him to feel that way. He may have been a professor, but he wasn’t actually her professor, and they were so close in age. Surely if they were doing something wrong, it would have felt wrong. Last Friday would have felt wrong too, but it didn’t. If this wasn’t okay then it wouldn’t have felt so right, like his lips were made just for her and only her. “I wanted it.”

“I know you did,” he explained. “It was a vulnerable moment. It can’t happen again.”

She simply nodded in agreement, although she wanted to argue with him, even if it wasn’t in her nature to be so combative. Something washed over her because in that moment, the ache that was stabbing in her lower back didn’t matter, she just wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and tell him that wasn’t fair, but the worst part about it is that he would agree with her. That they had already beat the boundary down with a baseball bat. The moment he slipped his thigh in between her legs and pressed her against the wall of a bar, the boundary had vanished. When he brought his finger to her lips and she licked so slowly, so sensually, the boundary had been gone completely. How can they decide to put it back now? How could she when she finally knew what he tasted like. He knew it wasn’t fair to do that, but it shifted her feelings from sadness over her poor grades and the hostile situation she had just come from to placing her frustration toward him, and that was something he could deal with.

He stood up, a sudden aloofness filling the room. It was almost as if the tension was so thick it was banging on the doors and pushing at the windows to find its way out. Like he could feel its desperation to exit the room, he hooked his finger in the door knob and flung it open, cool air infiltrating the room and brushing over Y/N’s body.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, swiveling the chair near his desk around to face her. She knew he wasn’t talking about the kiss, the ever-so-soft-he-probably-didn't-mean-it-an unfriendly-way-kiss, he was talking about her cramps.

She held her lower belly, his eyes averting from how her hand slipped down her stomach and held, “Better. I think the pamprin is finally kicking in.”

“Good,” he offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and she wanted to pull her eyelashes out if the tension between them was going to cause a drift in their relationship, er? Friendship?

Y/N didn’t know what else to say, she didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already felt for her. Without looking at him directly, she gestured toward her shared desk with Mallory and made a slight shrugging motion with her shoulders. “Since I’m here I should probably just start working on what I’ll be starting in an hour anyway.”

He got up from the chair, and nodded in agreement. The aloofness was beginning to dissipate, as he offered up a grin that finally met his green eyes again. That’s the grin she looked forward to every single afternoon, though she didn't think she would ever be able to work up the courage to tell him. If there is one thing Harry picked up on in the short two months of her assisting him, she worked off of praise. The simplest thing, even just neatly organizing her and Mallory’s pens in a cup was something he would recognize and give her a thumbs up or mumble an appreciative wow, it looks great, Y/N, so that is what he was going to continue to do.

“You’re so efficient,” he praised, “But I don’t want you to start if you’re not feeling completely better yet. Why don’t you just take an hour or so to lay down, hm?”

Even though she wanted to start her work right away, she knew he was right and was only looking out for her, so she mumbled a small “okay” in a very reluctant tone.

He took a few steps in the direction toward the classroom and out of the office before quickly turning around and asking her a question he did not want to forget, “When are you available for tutoring?”

She wanted to tell him to just forget about it, and that she didn’t need his help as the pride twisted and turned in her brain, but she had a strong feeling that he was going to be disappointed in her if she said, forget it, and Y/N didn’t know if she could handle much more disappointment from the people around her in one day.

“Every day after I finish here, I’m free,” her words were small and slow as they fell from her lips.

“That’s perfect, after school we can either sit in here and work or the library, or even my flat if you’re not feeling comfortable in the library,” he listed quite a few options, then finally walked out of the office and shut the door behind him, leaving Y/N to her thoughts.

Her fingers slowly touched her lips, trying to remember the feeling of his lips against hers. She didn’t want to forget any details. His woodsy cologne filled her nostrils, and she could almost see that alluring look swimming in his eyes.

To put it plainly, she just wanted to scream in frustration.

___________

Harry was so screwed and he knew it from the second she stepped foot in the door of his classroom. The way her eyes averted from his and toward the plain wall behind him, the way she marveled at the tattoos that peaked from the tops of shirts (which he realized he would show them off more now, just so he could catch her lingering gaze and watch her quickly look away in embarrassment. Maybe it said something about him, but he loved to watch her become flustered), or the way her hand trembled just barely as she handed him the paper which confirmed she was his assistant that first day.

When he saw her at the bar on Friday night and the way her body responded to him, the way she was just so eager to please, he knew the thoughts he was having weren’t just one-sided. It was hard to get her off of his mind, he hadn’t experienced this kind of attraction in a long while. The psychologist in him tried to reason that it was because it felt somewhat forbidden— even though the school rules didn’t go completely against it, she just couldn’t TA for him anymore or ever take a class with him as her professor— he knew it was much more than that.

She spoke eloquently, her walk was captivating, her smile was innocent, and she just felt good to him. He thinks maybe whoever created the flowers that grew in the crevices of sidewalk, creating beauty in the most absurd places, possibly made her too. She was just like that, a captivating flower amongst the mundane world around her, blooming to the best of her ability and relying on the sunshine that sometimes came and went.

She was just special to him.

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eklovesharry · 2 years

Text

Rich Part 2 H.S

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The morning after and their weekly dinner. Terms are set and a relationship forms. Read Part 1 Here

warning: penetration, oral (f recieving), dirty talk (like to the MAX), choking, spanking, hair pulling, daddy kink (only a little), anal (fingering)

word count: 16k+

author’s note: the time has come and Rich is finally here and she is a longgg one. I promise not to leave such a big gap for part three.... buckle up and Happy Reading x

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Y/n” a voice soothed, a hand gently caressing your cheek to try and get you to wake up.

You were in the middle of one of the most intense dreams of your entire life and you didn’t want it to end. Your bed was the most comfortable it had ever been, and Harry was fucking you so good that you couldn’t possibly entertain whoever was trying to wake you up. If your alarm hadn’t gone off it was too early for you to be awake, anyway.

“Go awayy” you groaned, digging your head further into your pillow and hugging it closer to your head. You were lying on your stomach, and you could feel the cool air of air conditioning chilling your bare back.

“Tha’s not very nice, sweetheart” Harry tutted, running his fingers down your spine. “To think I brought you breakfast, then you tell me to go away”

Your eyes opened in an instant, blinking away your sleepiness to find that it wasn’t your bed and you weren’t dreaming. The reality of the situation settled in, and you could feel yourself blushing at the memories of last night, and the fact that you just told Harry to go away like some child.

You pulled the sheets up to cover your chest as you slowly turned over to find Harry sitting beside you on the bed, a tray of coffee and porridge next to him.

“G’morning, love” he smiled, his eyes intense and darkening as he let his eyes drag down your body. They stopped for a touch longer at each of the marks he had created, and flicked back up to your eyes when they met the top of the sheet that was covering your breasts.

“Um, morning” you blushed, wincing as you sat up and being careful not to pull on the sheets too much as you went.

Your body ached all over and the marks Harry made pulsed with every move you made. You hadn’t seen the marks yet, but by how much they hurt, you could tell they were deep bruises. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to hide them from your parents, especially since it’s Summer and your entire wardrobe consists of small clothes, but that’s a problem for another day.

As you shifted in your spot, your pussy pulsed with pain and your thighs practically vibrated with how rough last night was. Honestly though, you loved the ache and it was a reminder of single handedly one of the best nights of your life. You didn’t want to forget a single detail, and the pain made sure that didn’t happen.

Still though, you didn’t want to inflate Harry’s ego any more by showing him how sore you truly were, so you tried to keep your movements smooth. You also didn’t want to accidentally yank the sheets and spill all of Harry’s hard work.

It was so perfectly presented; two white bowls of porridge side by side on a timber tray with an array of chia seeds, strawberries and blueberries on top. The two coffees were in matching white mugs, one black and the other with perfect white foam and chocolate powder.

Your heart warmed at how he knew your coffee order, and how he even went as far as to make you breakfast in the first place. You doubted he ever made food for his other hookups, and by checking his alarm clock it was past the scheduled time that he’d kick them out.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asked, passing you your coffee. You nodded and took a sip.

“Really good” you placed the mug back down on the tray and had another look at the array “This looks really nice, Harry. Thank you” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “But you missed your walk, you didn’t have to do that just to make me breakfast”

“There’s two cups and two bowls isn’t there?” He asked with a raised brow, passing you a bowl and a spoon.

He looked so heavenly you could barely look him in the eye, his hair ruffled from sleep and his chest gloriously bare. The small boxer briefs he wore stretched over his thighs and showed off the tiger thigh tattoo you failed to appreciate last night. You noticed it, but barely because you were too focused on his hard cock to truly appreciate it. You wanted to worship it and run your mouth all over it.

“Yes” you replied with a little clear of your throat, looking up from his tattoo to look him in the eye. There was an evident smirk on his face as he lifted his mug and took a sip of coffee from it, keeping eye contact with you over the rim.

“Well then, I didn’t miss my walk to make you breakfast, I missed it to make us breakfast” he placed the mug back down before picking up his own bowl and taking a spoonful of porridge. You mirrored his motion and hummed at how delicious the food was. You weren’t a porridge girl, and didn’t usually eat until after your walk, but this was surprisingly good, “Food is important, especially breakfast so I’d say this is an equally healthy choice… besides, I couldn’t really make you get up for a walk after last night could I?” He smirked, casually reaching and wiping away a bit of food from the side of your mouth with his thumb.

He brought the same thumb to his mouth and sucked it clean, reminding you of how he licked his fingers clean after fingering you last night. “I-I guess not” you stuttered, looking down at your bowl and trying to control the blush on your cheeks.

You hugged the sheets a little closer to you at how nervous you were getting, and how annoyed you were at yourself for still being this nervous after what happened last night. You thought that you’d feel less flustered around him after sucking him off and having him fuck you in basically every room in the house, but you didn’t. If anything it was worse, and your entire body felt wrecked with nerves.

“And here I thought you’d be a little more comfortable around me after last night…” he hummed, tilting your chin up with a finger so you were forced to look at him. “We gotta work on your shyness sweetheart. I find it so damn adorable but I’d like you to look me in the eye every now and then”

“It’s a little hard when you look at me like that” you admitted, having the sudden urge to slip his fingers into your mouth.

He smiled softly and ran his finger up your jaw until he cupped the side of your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb, “I like looking at you, y/n, especially when you’re all cute and flustered. But, I’d appreciate it if you look at me back, always. Even if you’ve got this cute blush on your cheeks or your mind is thinking all those dirty thoughts it likes to think. Understand?” He murmured, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

You wanted to look away so bad, because his eye contact was so intense it made you went to shrivel up snd disappear into the sheets. But you forced yourself to keep looking at him, nodding in response. “Good” he grinned, “now, any plans for today?”

Harry wanted to get you naked that same night, and three days after he fucked you, he nearly let himself. The craving he had to see your body again, to touch it and taste it was driving him so crazy he could barely get any work done. He sat at that damn computer all day doing nothing, all because he couldn’t stop thinking about the noises you made, how soft your skin was, your taste and how it covered his entire face when he ate you out. He thought about how adorable you were that morning, tucked in his sheets. And how at the same time, you looked so damn sexy and fuckable covered in his love bites he wanted to throw breakfast off the bed and devour you.

Harry was anything but lazy when it came to work, yet he could barely concentrate for days because his mind was hazy and plagued with images of you. On the third day of frankly, obsessing over you, he nearly came home and asked you to stay for an impromptu dinner so he could seduce you and get you bouncing on his cock again.

The marks on your neck had been covered by concealer, but when the neckline of your shirt shifted a little he could still see the others that were deeply bruised. He wanted to lick those bruises clean of their coverage and make you wear them for everyone to see so bad his cock was hardening in his pants just at the thought.

When he actually went to say the words though, he realised that in doing so he’d be showing not only you but the entire neighbourhood that something had changed between you two. His nosey neighbours picked up everything that happened in his house, which is why he was so in routine and particular about his hookups and the aftermath.

By keeping you late another night people would start to talk, and that’s the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t embarrassed about you, god that emotion wasn’t even on the radar when it came to you, but he was worried about your reputation and how this would impact you.

You were the baby of the neighbourhood, not to Harry because he moved in when you were out of high school already, but the baby to everyone else. There were a few kids your age, but Harry quickly learned that you were very well-liked and protected by everyone. No one else got a going-away BBQ, that’s for sure.

Harry feared that if even one person made a guess on what happened between you two, your life would be ruined. The ladies with very unhealthy obsessions with Harry would come after you, and your parents would stop your dog-sitting job and ship you back to University early.

So, to protect you Harry decided that if he was going to fuck you again it would only happen at your weekly dinner and no other times. You couldn’t stay the night again either, because the excuse of ‘accidentally falling asleep on his couch’ could only be used once before it got suspicious. He hated that it had to be this way to be honest because fucking hell he didn’t know if he could wait an entire week before being inside you again. If the first time and that effect on his work said anything, he was already obsessed with you and so pussy whipped it was unhealthy.

Harry also had the best sleep of his life next to you. You smelt amazing and fit so perfectly in his arms he wanted to keep you there forever. But this was to protect your reputation, not his, and you were the more important partner in this relationship.

Relationship. Is that what he was labelling it as?

One night stand didn’t feel like the right term for you. Harry had already decided he wanted to sleep with you again, so technically you were never going to be just a one night stand. But it was more than that. To Harry a one night stand was someone he fucked because he was horny then kicked out the next morning without another thought of who she was. He didn’t feel an emotional connection to her, nor did he remember her name the second she had left his house.

You were never going to be that. You were never going to be someone whose name he forgot, or someone he pushed out of his mind the second he slept with you. ‘Relationship’ though didn’t fit it either. Romance wasn’t ever on the table for Harry and he didn’t plan for that with you either. He was too busy and focused on work, and liked his routine and personal space too much to add another person for that.

He didn’t want someone that came in and disturbed the peace, who left their clothes everywhere and dumped their bag and shoes at the front door. There was a reason he had Archie in his life and not a partner. Dogs could be trained to do their business in one spot and one spot only, they could be told to go to bed and do so and not move until told to. There was less mess, and the most Harry had to deal with was dripping water when Archie decided to drink a gallon and walk all over the house with a sopping beard.

Harry didn’t want to assume that you wanted that either. He knew you and knew how focused you were on your studies. He had never seen you bring someone home to meet the parents, or even arrive home in a boy’s car. Not to say that you didn’t sneak around or do things when he wasn’t there, but if you hadn’t had a boyfriend since Harry knew you then he couldn’t assume you suddenly wanted one now.

At the same time though, he liked you. You were the object of his desires, and had been for a long time. He thought you were cute and sweet and you took care of Archie extremely well. You were intelligent, and when you weren’t blushing at mere eye contact from Harry, spoke so eloquently. He had never enjoyed conversation with someone as much as you. You were fun too, and some of his favourite moments were when he caught you stumbling out of an Uber after a night out.

Sometimes you were with a friend and the two or three of you would be giggling like crazy trying to get to your front door. He got woken up by it once and watched from his window to make sure you made it inside. He didn’t think you ever knew that he saw you, but he was glad because it was nice seeing you feel so comfortable and free.

That was one of the many reasons he was intrigued by you, and he wanted to build a casual relationship with you where you were less of a nervous bunny around him. That didn’t have to be by sleeping with you, but fucking hell he couldn’t help himself. Seeing you every day now that he knew what you looked like naked was the worst torture he had ever experienced.

Still, though, he didn’t know if you’d even want to sleep with him again. You were a smart girl so he knew you’d realise the consequences this would have if it ever got out. That alone may cause you to want to leave it at a ‘one night stand’, and Harry would respect that with no issues.

However, he also knew you had a great time so he hoped you’d want to do it again purely based on the fact that he fucked you so good you could barely walk for days after. He still wasn’t sure, so until the two of you had dinner again he wasn’t going to overstep or be too forward. Better safe than sorry.

He didn’t fuck anyone the entire week after the night you two shared. And that anyone included you. You laid in your bed each night trying to hear sounds of pleasure coming from his room, and waited by your window each morning to try and catch some suburban mum sneaking back home to her kids. But nothing.

No sounds, and no red-faced hookup. Part of you was ecstatic that his dick hadn’t touched anyone since you, and the other part was frustrated that it hadn’t touched you either.

That was the only morning walk he had ever missed because of a hook-up, and you couldn’t help but feel… something over it. He was routined and disciplined, yet for some reason he threw out his entire morning routine by making you breakfast and joining you in bed for an extra half an hour before he left for work. It made you feel special, and that was the last thing you wanted to feel over someone you knew would never sleep with you again.

Yet a whole week had passed, and still there was no one else screaming out his name or sneaking out in the morning. Was that because of you? Because the thought of touching anyone’s penis that wasn’t Harry’s frankly sounded revolting at this point. You had been thinking about him non-stop. Having his cock only made you ten times more cock-starved and horny for him. You hoped he was feeling the same way, which is why he hadn’t found someone else to get off with.

But if he felt the same, why hadn’t he propositioned you again? You felt more at ease the next time you saw him, greeting him when he came home from work then going home like usual. When you were both clothed it was a lot easier to make eye contact like he specifically wanted, but unlike that breakfast you shared, he didn’t flirt with you. Aside from his usual pet names and classic smirks, there was nothing extra, and he didn’t invite you to dinner again.

You didn’t expect it, since you two had been having diners only once a week for as long as you started working, but you thought something would be different. Aside from his fingers brushing against yours when you passed him some mail that got delivered to your house instead of his, he hadn’t even touched you once.

He still greeted you every morning on your walk, and ran his eyes so deliciously up and down your body you wanted to jump him. But he never took it further than that. You had returned to what it was like before you slept together. And fucking hell did it bother you.

His cock was in your mouth, in your pussy. He called you gorgeous and pretty, and so damn delicious he wanted to eat you every day of his life, yet he hadn’t tried to fuck you again, nor did he even tease you about it. He was cocky, and so egotistic yet he didn’t tease you about making you cry over his cock, or gloat about the fact that he had you orgasming like six times.

It was so confusing.

It was nine days of acting like nothing happened before Harry invited you for dinner again. It didn’t matter that it was a Friday night and you had plans with some friends. You changed them in an instant to Saturday and claimed that Harry was working late and needed Archie taken care of longer. They knew that by now Archie was like your own dog, since you had no pets and spent every day with him, and that Harry was insanely hot and paid well for the ‘extra time’. They had no problems changing the plans, as long as you didn’t cancel on them again.

“Morning, love” Harry smirked, taking out a single AirPod so he could listen to your reply. He looked from your feet, up to your bike shorts, to your oversized t-shirt that hid all the still healing marks he made on your body before finally landing on your face, where his eyes lingered a little longer on your lips than usual.

“Morning Harry, morning Archie” you smiled back, keeping eye contact with him as the two of you walked past each other. You frowned when he didn’t say anything else. That moment there where you were in passing was when he’d usually stop you and ask you to stay for dinner, but like every other morning this week he didn’t.

You looked back after a few steps like you usually did, to look at his firm ass and the way his back muscles moved when he picked up the pace to begin his jog. His black tank today showed off his shoulders perfectly, and you were looking forward to seeing them all tense and delicious. But when you did, you were met with his face instead of his back, where he had stopped and turned to face you.

“Y/n, wait!” He called, making you come to a stop and face him properly. Your stomach swirled with nerves as he jogged a few steps back to you, taking out both his AirPods this time. “Would you like to stay for dinner tonight?”

Your heart beat erratically at what should’ve been a normal, innocent interaction. But god your clit was pulsing with the thought that he’d fuck you again, and you were hoping with every fibre in your body that he would. “I’d love to, Harry” you blushed, biting down on your lip.

He smirked and nodded, reaching out to brush the little strands you left out of your ponytail behind your ear. “Good, I’ve missed talking to you. Been too long since we had a proper… chat” his hand curved the side of your cheek to your chin where he tipped it up ever so slightly.

Something told you that ‘chat’ wasn’t really a chat, but you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself because Harry did actually love to chat. His hand touching your cheek was the only physical contact you’d had since that night and you were reeling at the feeling. You wanted to nuzzle into it and slip his fingers into your mouth, then get on your knees and do the same with his cock.

“Mmh, I’ve, I’ve missed it too” you replied softly, touching his hand as he dropped away from your face.

“I know sweet girl” he grinned, putting his airpods back in. “Have a good walk” you barely had a chance to reply before he was turning away and urging Archie to follow as he started jogging. You were frozen in place for a moment, dazed by his sudden flirting with you again before you finally shook it off and turned around to resume your walk.

You were wet the rest of the walk. Well, the rest of the day really. You decided to spend it by swimming in his pool, making yourself come in his pool house shower after shaving and trimming everything then taking Archie for a walk late in the afternoon when it was a bit cooler.

The walk ended up lasting longer than you initially planned, deciding to take him to the dog park then stop by the smoothie place where they happened to serve puppachino’s. You were in an exceptionally good mood after Harry’s invite, so today was a bit of a treat yourself day.

By the time you got back it was 5pm and you weren’t expecting Harry for another few hours. It was perfect because you wanted to cool down a little and change before he came home. Your last hookup was spontaneous, but this time you had time to prepare and you wanted to look a little nicer than you bike shorts and oversized t-shirt.

When you turned the corner and approached his house, though, you did a double take when you saw his car in the drive away. The sun hadn’t set and it was way too early for him to be home so your first thought was that something had happened, like a family emergency that made him leave work early.

The thought frightened you a little, so you rushed inside the house. “Harry?” You called, letting Archie off his lead the second you were through the front door. The house smelt delicious, like garlic and herbs and you weren’t expecting it at all. You had never smelt Harry’s house smell like cooking before, but you were 99% sure that’s what it was. The takeaway you ordered never smelt like this, nor did it fill the entire house.

“In here, love!” He yelled back. His voice came from the kitchen, so you walked in there and found him standing at the stove with his back turned to you. He had changed from his work clothes into a pair of white summer shorts and a matching white t-shirt. He looked so gorgeous and you hadn’t even seen his face yet.

“There’s my boy, have a good walk Arch?” Harry cooed, bent at the waist to give Archie scratches. “You did, huh? Always love your walks with y/n, don’t you?” He continued with animation in his voice, Archie’s wagging fast at the tone he used. Once Archie was satisfied he trotted to his water bowl a couple steps away from where Harry was standing. He went to wash his hands as soon as he had finished with Archie.

“I didn’t expect you home so soon… or in the kitchen” you said with surprise evident in your tone. There was low music playing and various ingredients arranged on the kitchen counter. Like everything else Harry did, it was all structured with each ingredient pre cut and in separate bowls. Your method of cooking was a lot messier, and you were sure Harry would have a heart attack if he ever witnessed it.

“Thought I’d come home earlier than usual and cook for a change. You don’t mind, do you?” He asked before turning around and finally making eye contact with you, during his hands with a hand towel.

The air got knocked out of your lungs at how intense it was, and it felt like the tension had already risen in the room just from it alone. His head was slightly tipped down as he set the towel down and reached for the bowl of shallots, causing him to look up through his brows. You wanted to climb on top of him so bad it was ridiculous.

“Of… of course not.” You gulped, leaning against the door jamb so you wouldn’t collapse onto the floor. He turned back to the pan to stir through the shallots, “I was worried something happened. You’re never home this early”

Harry’s head snapped to you so fast you thought it would fall off, eyes widening for a second before a smirk grew on his lips. “You were worried about me?”

“Yes” you whispered, watching as he stepped to the bench and pressed his palms to the top of the island. He cocked his head a little and dragged his eyes lazily over your body, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a pop before he spoke.

“That’s so… sweet of you, didn’t know you cared about me that much”

Harry was only teasing you when he said that, trying to hide how much he actually loved that you worried over him. He worried over you too, hence why he needed a play by play of what you did every day. He found himself thinking about you often, even before you two slept together but he could never bring himself to text you throughout the day about something non-Archie related. Maybe now it would be different.

Harry hated texting though, a stereotypical sign of his age perhaps. He wasn’t that old, and no one would guess that he was pushing 40 based on looks alone, but he was still old fashioned when it came to phones. He had the latest one of course, as did he upgrade it and his other devices bi-yearly, but you’d never find him texting someone on it. So if he were to check in with you, he’d call you over texting you. Your voice was so pretty anyway, and it was especially gorgeous screaming out his name.

“Well you are Archie’s dad, and my boss so I should care at least a little bit” you breathed, walking slowly to the bench so you were opposite him.

“Archie’s dad and your boss, huh?” He raised a brow, “is that all I am to you?” His smirk dropped from his face and his tone was so serious your eyes widened in fear of misinterpreting your relationship and possibly hurting his feelings. He was almost challenging you with his words, and the way his eyes darkened as he looked at you.

“Well, I-uhm” you stuttered, gripping onto the edge of the bench and looking away from him. You weren’t really sure what to say. What was he to you?

“Just teasing you, baby” he grinned with a chuckle, patting a spot on the bench in front of him “now c’mere sweetheart, be my taste tester then you can open some wine” he turned just to pat the island bench behind him with his hand before he faced the stove again.

You felt frozen in place against the bench, feeling suffocated by that entire interaction. Everything Harry was and did shook your body to its very core, and it was hard not to stutter and feel nervous around him. It was such a 180 from how he had been treating you the entire week too. He had gone from barely acknowledging that you slept together to now outwardly teasing you about your relationship. “Okay” you replied after gaining control of your body again.

You moved slowly around the other side of the bench, feeling slightly less heated now that Harry’s back was turned to you. But god what a nice back it was, it truly made you want to climb him like a tree especially when he looked so gorgeous in the kitchen. Who knew doing something so mundane like cooking could be so damn sexy, but fucking hell you were getting wet just watching it.

You helped yourself up onto the bench, swinging your feet a little as you waited for Harry. He had tossed the shallots into the pan; some sort of olive oil and garlic sauce with spaghetti sitting in a saucepan on the burner beside and was giving it a good stir.

He grabbed a spoon and scooped some of the sauce, turning to face you while holding it over his hand as he blew on it to cool it down. “Be careful, love. ‘S hot” he guided the spoon to your mouth, his hand following underneath so none would drip onto you. His eyes were on you the entire time, watching you taste it for the first time and trying to gauge your reaction. It was one of those moments that made you want to look away because of its intensity, but you kept your eyes on his because that’s what he asked.

“Mhmm” you hummed, taking a careful sip from the spoon and wrapping your hand around his wrist as you did. Your eyes widened at how delicious it was, “oh wow, that’s amazing!” You beamed.

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb as he ate the remainder of the sauce from the spoon. Your hand drew away from his wrist as he put the spoon back into the sink.

“Yes, absolutely! What’s in it?” You replied with an eager nod, your voice stuttering a little from his touch on your mouth. You held onto the edge of the bench as you watched him turn back to the pan and put the heat on low.

“‘S simple really, just some oil, garlic, some herbs. Nothing too fancy” he shrugged with his back turned to you. “Can you grab some wine please, darling? There’s some in the wine fridge”

Darling. That was a new one. It made your insides quiver with need as you slid off the bench and went to the wine fridge in his walk-in pantry. “It definitely doesn’t taste simple, I didn’t even know you could cook… now what wine did you want?” You asked, looking at the wide collection of wine he had.

“‘Course I can cook. You win a woman through her stomach… then her pussy. But I find a decent meal goes a long way, food can be very seductive” his voice was low and tantalising and you could feel his gaze on you from where he stood at the stove. But he never made any attempts to move closer and just kept working away at whatever he was doing.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him and catch his gaze, your entire body had froze and your breath got caught in your throat. He wasn’t even outwardly saying that that’s what he wanted, to seduce you, but fucking hell his words still sent shivers up your spin and caused need to drip into your underwear.

You gripped into the handles of the wine fridge and closed your eyes as you tried to figure out your next move. You didn’t even know how to respond without making a fool of yourself, but you wanted to fuck him again so bad you could cry.

“I’ve, I’ve never thought of food as being seductive before” you breathed, not moving an inch from where you were stood.

“No? Never been turned on by the sight of someone cooking for you? Never by a particular taste or smell or someone feeding you or pouring you wine?” It sounded like he was genuinely asking, but you couldn’t help but feel like he was teasing you at the same time.

Despite Harry being the only man you were romantically connected to make you food, you knew exactly what he meant. Just seeing him in the kitchen made you horny, and having him guide the spoon to your mouth had your clit pulsing with need. Beyond that too, his cologne made you wet the second you got a whiff of it, so his question went past food also. You couldn’t exactly tell him that though, so you went with the safer option.

“No” you replied softly, finally turning your head to look at him. He had stopped cooking and was leaning against the bench with his hip. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was staring right at you. “I’m picking white wine,” you said suddenly, simply for the excuse of looking away from him. It was too much, and made you too nervous. If you were going to have even one normal conversation you needed to avoid that intense eye contact he liked to deliver as much as possible.

You grabbed the first white you saw and brought it back to him, setting it on the bench. “White goes with pasta, doesn’t it? Not really a wine drinker but it looks nice” you rambled, feeling your entire body heat up as the room filled with tension. You turned and opened the overhead cabinet on the right of the stove, so Harry was right next to you.

He had been observing your nervous babbles intently and it was making your stomach swirl with butterflies. You couldn't read him and you weren't sure where the conversation was going to go. Despite your best efforts in trying to keep eye contact with him, you couldn't. You were looking at the cupboard in front of you like Harry didn't exist.

Before you could grab a glass his hand darted out and pressed the door closed. "The fact that you said no saddens me, love" he pressed the side of his body to yours, slipping his hand down from the door and to your hand.

"Why?" you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed. You were glad he didn't let you grab glasses yet because you were positive you'd have already dropped them both on the floor. The body heat was making you sweat, and his aftershave was so strong you could feel it in your bones. It was delicious and so sexy your mouth was salivating.

"Because..." he trailed off, sliding his fingertips ever so gently up the front of your arm, “Food can be one of the sexiest things, it allures to all the senses and the fact that you haven't experienced it like that is sad…” his fingers moved along your shoulders, swiping the hair from your ponytail behind your back so he had access to your neck.

“Smell is an obvious one. The scent of food can be the difference between someone wanting to eat it… to devour it, or wanting to throw it away” his voice was a low murmur as he traced a path up your neck to your jaw, angling your head to the side so he could dip his head down and take a deep inhale if your scent. “God, you smell amazing” he groaned.

You let out a deep exhale at the feeling of his nose brushing up against your neck and his hand on your jaw. Your entire body was getting ready for him to fuck you, but you weren’t sure how long you’d have to wait. You couldn’t wait long if you were being honest, and even though the food he made smelt and tasted delicious, you weren’t remotely hungry for it. You were hungry for something else entirely.

"T-thank you" you whispered, barely uttering the words as he slowly angled himself so he was pressed to your back instead of your side, effectively pinning you to the cabinetry.

You kept your eyes closed as he pressed the gentlest kiss to your skin, running his other hand up your other arm. "You're welcome, darling" he chuckled, “Taste is another obvious one…” he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you away from the bench, guiding you towards the dining table as he spoke. “how something as simple as chilli or truffle can completely change a dish. When sweet and tangy flavours oppose each other and create a sinful combination on your tongue. How just thinking about a particular flavour can get your mouth watering and your body excited for a taste" his voice was smooth and velvety as he kept his lips brushed against your ear.

He was so gentle and you were practically trembling against him. You were sure he could feel it, but there was nothing you could do about it. You were also sure he wasn't even talking about the pasta he had prepared by how seductive he sounded, and if he was... well he needed to make an audiobook so you could use it when you touched yourself.

He pulled out the chair that was facing the island bench and motioned for you to sit down. Archie followed the two of you and sat down beside your chair. You sat down in it and let him push it in for you after, making eye contact with him as his hand tilted your chin up.

"Are you following?"

"Yes" you replied gently, giving a small nod of your head. Your thighs clenched when he smirked at you, squeezing your chin.

"Good. Now be a good girl and stay here f’me” He let go and walked back to the stove where the pasta was ready to be plated up.

You heard Archie let out a little snort and lay flat under your chair, seemingly knowing that food was about to come to the table. His favourite spot was the kitchen or dining table. You were too busy staring at Harry to even notice Archie wiggling until he was comfortably under your chair, watching as he went to the glass cupboard first and took out two glasses, placing them on the bench and opening the wine before he said anything else.

“Then there's sight, but it may not be in the way you think” he poured some in both glasses, “Yes a pretty dish can excite you, and something presented well may appear more appetising-“ he smoothly walked to you and placed them both on the table, “here you go darling”

“Um, thank you” you replied, your mind going in circles at how he was working his way through the kitchen and talking so… detailed about food. Detailed wasn’t the right word, but whatever he was saying was making you unbearably wiggly in your seat. You took a sip of wine to try and dull it, just like you did last time you had dinner together.

“You’re welcome” he smiled down at you, “now as I was saying, yes, a pretty dish can excite you, but nothing compares to seeing your favourite meal.” He walked back to the kitchen and pulled out two plates on the island bench, “That meal can be the most gorgeous thing in the world” he poured the pasta into the pan and began mixing the spaghetti and oil sauce together “…detailed and within layers upon layers that need to be unwrapped” he paused and brought the pan around so he was facing you again and set it down. His eyes met yours as he plated the pasta with a pair of tongs “or simple and bare and yet it’ll still arouse the same excitement. The rush in your stomach, the salivation in your mouth… well nothing can get you so worked up than seeing a… meal that you love to eat”

His words were low and slow and his eyes were dragging across your body in a way that sent heat wherever he looked. “Do you have a dish like that?”

“Uhm, I don’t know really” you stuttered, taking another sip of wine and avoiding eye contact by looking down at it after you had put it down on the table. He brought the plates to the table along with some cutlery and placed them in front of you.

“Maybe the next sense will spark something for you then” he slid into the chair beside you and took a sip of wine. “Touch.” He breathed, running his finger around the rim, “the warmth of something fresh from the oven. The mix of crunchy and smooth… something juicy and wet on your tongue and lips.” His eyes flicked up to yours, “The feeling of something slippery dripping down your chin and the back of your throat, something that coats your mouth and stains your lips”

You were holding onto your wine glass so hard you thought it would break and your entire body was tense. There was no way he was talking about food, literal food that gave you nutrients and filled your stomach. Something slippery dripping down your chin? All that reminded you of was when he ate you out like a feral man and lifted his face to show your arousal coating the entire thing.

The memory of his face glistening with your essence and the way he groaned as he licked his lips had your core tightening. You were starving for his cock and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing in a bid to be filled up by it.

The pasta in front of you smelt absolutely heavenly, and you hadn’t eaten since lunch so you should’ve been hungry. But your stomach wasn’t growling, it was your pussy that was fluttering and dripping for stimulation. It needed a mouth or fingers, or cock to be satisfied but you weren’t exceptionally bold nor did you actually know if Harry wanted to sleep with you or if he was just teasing you for the hell of it,

“Are you still talking about pasta?” You breathed, looking at him with widened eyes. He hadn’t touched his pasta either, maybe because of the garlic, or maybe because he was hungrier for you than the food. You hoped it was a bit of both.

“Of course I am” he wasn’t “what else would I be talking about?” He smirked, grabbing his fork and twirling the pasta around it.

“N-nothing" you gulped, taking a large sip of wine and picking up your fork to avoid eye contact.

You heard his fork clank as he dropped it down onto his plate. The sound made you jolt a little but you still didn't look at him until he gripped your chin and turned your head to face him. Your eyes went from his ring-clad fingers up to meet his eyes, finding him looking at you so intensely.

"What did I say about eye contact?" he rose his brow and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. Your body seemed to automatically turn to face him, your knees bumping his as you gripped the edge of the chair with both hands.

"Uhm" you breathed, trying not to look away from him, "That you wanted me to look at you?"

"And?… What else did I say?” His eyes flickered between your eyes then down to your lips, his thumb dragging your lip down just enough for the very tip of his thumb to slip inside. It was barely halfway down his nail, but you couldn’t stop thinking about sliding the entire thing into your mouth.

Between that and this food conversation which already had you unbearably horny you could barely remember the conversation from last week. ‘Eye contact’, that’s all your brain could come up with.

“I’m… I’m not sure” you let out a shuddered breath and looked up to his eyes from where you had been fixating on his hands.

“God, you’re so adorable. Always get so nervous around me, huh?” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as his hand slipping lower until it was wrapped snuggly around your neck.

He had never met someone like you; so intimidated and flustered when all he did was look at you. The pretty blush coating your cheeks told him enough about your state. That and the way your thighs were practically trembling at how hard you had them tensed together.

Your own hand darted out to clasp around his wrist, your back arching slightly into the touch. It wasn’t a reflex in a way that you wanted him to stop, it was more in the way of wanting him to keep his hand around your throat forever. “I’ll remind you this once but if you forget again there may be some consequences, understand?”

You nodded, your breath shuddered at the thought of ‘consequences’. Whatever that meant. “Good. I told you that I want you to keep looking at me even when your mind is racing and full of filthy thoughts… so why did you look away when I asked you that question before?” his hand flexed around your throat, and as he spoke his voice dropped to a murmur and his face was coming closer and closer to yours.

You weren’t sure if you were moving closer or he was, but you could smell the wine on his breath, and it made your mouth dry up. Your mouth and throat felt so dry that only his saliva could fix it, and God you craved his mouth so bad you could’ve cried. The entire night had just been you thinking about his cock or being wet over it, and you needed something to quench the thirst.

“You know why, Harry” you replied, your voice coming out in a whine as you moved closer this time, trying to reach for his lips in a way he wouldn’t notice. You looked down at them and noted how kissable they looked, so red and plump and soft. He had the prettiest face you had ever seen and if you weren’t so horny for him you may have felt a bit self-conscious about your own.

He noticed though, just like he noticed everything that you did. So you did want this, but having you stare at his lips wasn’t enough. He needed your words and he needed to outline exactly what this was and how it would work if it was going to continue. He had you figured out pretty well, but if on the off chance you wanted something more than just sex with him this couldn’t happen.

“Why? Because I make you nervous? Or was it because you were thinking about something other than food” he chuckled and shook his head again, leaning closer so his nose brushed against yours. Your hand fell from his wrist to his knee, digging your fingers into it at how close he was. He let out the smallest sigh and looked down before meeting your eyes again and smirking.

“You’ve had my cock in your mouth and you had no issues beggin’ me to come on your face, yet a little conversation and you’re blushing like a teenager and can barely look at me…” his other hand came up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear, scanning your face like he was trying to figure something out.

The second ‘cock’ came out his mouth your body shuddered, and you were suddenly hit with the realisation that he was bringing up what happened last week.

This was the first time he had even acknowledged that he fucked you and it made your body buzz. Part of you thought that after he had just been teasing you and drawing you along to get you horny he’d turn around and tell you that he had a great time but it couldn’t happen again because you were too young or he didn’t fuck people twice. Some bullshit guy excuse.

He made you extremely nervous, that was a given. But at the same time it was irritating how he was building up so much suspense and tension without actually letting you know if he wanted to do it again. It would make sense that he wouldn’t, considering all the issues around it, and maybe you shouldn’t want to either because if it ever got around you’d be utterly fucked.

You found that you didn’t care one bit, though. This was one Summer out of the many you came home for, then you’d be going back to uni and work with just a memory of all the things you did on your break. Fucking Harry for the Summer sounded like the perfect plan, and something you wanted despite the consequences. If anything the repercussions made it more worth while.

You didn’t want a relationship so you never put yourself in a situation where that was a potential outcome. You and Harry physically couldn’t be together like that so romance just wasn’t an option. The age was too complicated, as was his relationship with your neighbourhood and family.

Besides, aside from the breakfast he made you (which you had concluded was a glitch in the matrix), Harry would’ve had to be one of the most emotionally unavailable men you had ever witnessed and was basically the poster child for man whore’s with zero fucks. He didn’t care what other people thought, and his routine was so strict he didn’t have space for another person. That’s what you thought anyway.

Men as rich as him had wives and children or sugar babies to spoil and spend their money on. Harry had Archie and hadn’t made any efforts to have a romantic partner since you had known him. You doubted that would change because of some university student who happened to look after his dog. Still though, even if it wasn’t romantic you didn’t want to wind up in a situation where he fucked you and pretended it never happened before he fucked you again.

You deserved basic respect, and treating you like one of his one night stands wasn’t going to give you that. The past week had been so confusing; not knowing what he was thinking or how he wanted to go forward and you never wanted that to happen again. Boys did that, not a grown man like Harry.

Despite the age difference, you still knew what you deserved, and you weren’t some horny rabbit that couldn’t control herself before setting terms. The only issue was that mentally you felt confident in your needs and wants, but physically saying it to Harry and getting the words out was going to be hard. When you were focused on pleasing him it was easier to say what you wanted, and he was right in saying that having his cock in your mouth made you more confident.

Maybe that’s what you needed; to be on your knees before him again.

Your face heated up at his words and you looked away for a second, proving his exact point. You licked your bottom lip to try and rehydrate it which drew his eyes there. He pulled his head back so there was a decent gap between your faces and mirrored the action, licking his own lips.

"You’re right Harry, when you tease me and look at me like that I get nervous…” you looked back at him and began sliding your hand up his knee. He inhaled a sharp breath and looked down at your hand, watching as it went higher and higher. “but when I had your cock in my mouth I wasn’t nervous at all… I liked pleasing you and watching you feel good” your voice grew quieter and had the slightest stutter as you stopped when you got to the top of his leg, right where his tiger tattoo was hidden underneath his shorts.

Harry could already feel himself growing harder for you. When he thought he could read you, you suddenly did a 180 on him and came out with something that shook him to his core. Hearing the word ‘cock’ come out of your mouth was pornographic, especially in that pretty voice of yours that made him feral for you. His mind saw you on your knees before him again, and the thought almost had him groaning out loud and pulling you off his chair to get under the table.

One thing’s for sure though, he wasn’t letting you make him come first again. He never did it because he liked when his partner came first. Making himself come before you was selfish and Harry was anything but a selfish lover. In the business world and his day to day life he only thought of himself, that much was true, but in the bedroom nothing turned him on more than the taste of an orgasm on his tongue and the view of seeing your head thrown back as you cried out his name. It was like the sweetest reward watching you come, and he had a craving of it since you walked through the door.

Having you make him come first was a heat of a moment thing, because who could resist a pretty girl begging for them to come on her face. But he was determined to make up for it.

“Is that what’ll fix this shyness then, sweetheart? Less talking and having m’cock in your mouth again?” He cooed, cocking his head and flexing his hand around your neck to angle it up ever so slightly.

“Maybe… is that what you want?” You breathed, letting your other hand fall to his other knee. You didn’t slide it up just yet, because you told yourself you wouldn’t do anything without setting terms. You were still building up the courage, but maybe Harry would start the conversation first and you wouldn’t have to.

His eyes looked between both of yours, then he suddenly drew back from you and leaned in his chair. The action made you retreat your hands and lean back in yours as well, grabbing onto your wine glass for something to hold.

“Don’t play dumb. You’re a smart girl so I think you know what I want” he tutted, his eyes scanning you head to toe as he picked up his wine and took a sip.

The air shifted, almost like his words were meant to turn up the heat but rather sent a cold ice bucket flying into the air. This was your opportunity, and you could play coy and tease him and get on your knees but you had been trying to find a way to convey your needs and this was it.

“Partly, but not really, Harry. You…” you let out a sigh and looked at your lap, before forcing yourself to look up at him as you spoke “you ignored the fact that we slept together the entire week, and I would’ve been happy to do the same if you didn’t plan this whole dinner and speak about how seductive food is, and now just bring up me sucking you off.” You took a sip of wine for courage. “I can tell you’re attracted to me, but I don’t know if you’re doing all this shit and teasing me just to turn around and put me down-”

“I wouldn’t do that” he interrupted, the suddenness of his words making your body freeze. “Listen to me, sweetheart…” he cupped your face and leaned forward so you were forced to keep your eyes on him the entire time. “I don’t want to hurt you, nor will I ever attempt to hurt you” his eyes searched within your own, flicking between them, “I didn’t do all this tonight just to send you home and move on like nothing happened. I thought about leaving it at a one night stand for maybe two seconds before deciding that I needed you again. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to given the circumstances…”

“I want to” you interrupted this time, his eyes widening at the boldness of your actions. “But that’s all I want, sex…” your eyes looked down at his lips and you found yourself leaning closer and closer. The tension was slowly rising again, and your hand found itself on his knee, “no strings, no feelings… just pure fucking” your voice dropped to a murmur as your noses bumped together.

Your heart felt like it was beating 100km an hour and you could feel it in your ears and throat, but you were proud of yourself for setting boundaries. Once they were set the rest could flow, and god you wanted it to flow. You wanted it to flow so naturally his cock ended up in all three holes by the end of the night.

Once again, Harry didn’t expect any of that. He was, however, happy and even slightly chuffed that his assumption about you was correct. You did only want sex and that made this entire situation easier to handle. You both could do your usual routine and your greetings at your daily walks and when he got home from work, then have your weekly dinner which either started or ended in him deep inside you.

It was perfect, and fucking hell was he ready to get started. The thought of having access to you every week made his cock harden in his shorts, though he was already growing when your hand landed on his thigh again.

“Archie, go to bed” he demanded, watching as Archie slowly and begrudgingly got out from the table and took himself upstairs. He didn’t seem happy about missing out on crumbs from your dinner (that he couldn’t eat anyway), but with the tension rising so fast and thick neither of you noticed. “Anything else?” he asked, licking his lips and itching to pounce.

“Don’t pretend it didn’t happen”

“Never again” he didn’t elaborate because he didn’t feel the need to. He could do that later if he wanted, for now all he wanted was to feel your lips on his.

He set his glass down on the table before his hand darted out and wrapped around your neck, pulling you the small distance separating you until your lips met. You let out the most pitiful whine when they touched, your hand sliding up to grab his upper thigh as the other cupped his face. Your hand slipped higher and back to wound into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue very quickly sliding into your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue against yours was something you had been craving the whole week. It was borderline sick, tracing the seam of your lips before sliding against yours and making your saliva mix together. Your mouths were sweet from wine and had the tiniest twinge of garlic from when you tried the sauce.

You shifted further into your chair so your legs were slotted together, and you were as close as you could possibly be with how you were sitting. But it wasn’t enough. You were still so unbearably horny you could feel your arousal soak your underwear, and probably further into your workout shorts. You needed to be touched or to touch him, and all this talk about his cock had you hungry for it.

“Harry, please” you panted as you forced yourself to break the kiss. You didn’t want to, hell it was the last thing you possibly could’ve wanted, but you needed him to do something else. His spare hand was sitting on his thigh, and he made no attempt to touch you other than grabbing your throat.

“Love when you beg for me, don’t even know what you want, huh?” He teased, cocking his head before he pressed his mouth to yours again.

You moaned into it, your lips already feeling raw and bruised as he alternated between nibbling down on them and soothing them with his tongue. The hand around your neck slid down between your cleavage across to your hip. He grabbed onto your hips with both hands and guided you upwards. You followed his guide and stood up while keeping your mouth attached to his, your hands finding their places on his shoulders.

You thought he’d stand up after you and guide you upstairs where he could rip your clothes off. Instead, you were moved between his legs and pressed to the table. You heard a crash of glass as he carelessly shoved his plate and wine glass to the side, the glass toppling over and rolling off the table before smashing on the floor.

“Harry” you gasped, gripping his shoulders as he ghosted his lips along your jaw.

“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it” he soothed, standing up and lifting you onto the table before wrapping your ponytail around his fist and roughly tugging your head back.

Having a ponytail was possibly the best idea you had ever had, and Harry was going to make very good use of it the entire night. You let out a gasp at the shoot of pain that travelled through your scalp, one that had your back arching so your chest could press against his.

“Was… was it expensive?” you asked, your eyes closed as he savagely licked a stripe up your neck. You had on a thin layer of coverage to hide your healing bruises and he wanted to get rid of it completely so he could see his handy work. They had faded significantly since Harry made them, and he was determined to deepen them again.

“Don’t worry about it” he roughly tugged your ponytail as a warning before letting it go and grabbing onto the bottom of your t-shirt. You lifted your arms up as he tugged up your shirt, pulling it off your body and throwing it somewhere behind him.

You leaned back on your hands while he scanned your body, taking a quick look over your chest before deciding that he hated your sports bra. That was quickly stripped from your body too, leaving you just in your workout shorts that had ridden up and exposed your entire legs.

The way he looked at you made your entire body heat up. You loved it and it made you feel powerful, but at the same time it made you a quivering mess and your face was turning redder and redder the longer he stared. His eyes were dark and the expression on his face so intense as his eyes darted around the marks still dotting your skin. They were deeper near your breasts, the thinner and more sensitive skin there making the bruises still sting to the touch.

“Really did a number on you, didn’t I darling” he murmured cupping your breast and running his thumb over your nipple. You let out a sigh of pleasure and let your head lull back, looking right at his face as his eyes were fixated on your breasts. He mindlessly started playing with your nipple, gripping onto your hip, and pulling you closer to the edge of the table.

“I like them” you replied, trailing your foot up the back of his thigh. He was standing right between your legs, making them wide around his hips and unable to squeeze tight even if you wanted to.

“Yeah? You like when I mark you up?” he asked, making direct eye contact with you as he leaned down and took your nipple between his teeth. His hands palmed up the side of your body, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and underwear in one go, moving side to side along your skin in a teasing motion.

The thought of being completely naked in front of him while he was clothed had your heart and pussy pulsing, and you were close to just undressing yourself to get it done quicker. The quicker you were naked the quicker you were orgasming.

You whined softly and nodded “mhmm”, sliding your hand through his hair and gripping onto the strands as he sucked on your nipple gently, swirling his tongue around the bud. Your back arched into his touch, your grip becoming tighter as the pressure became greater and greater until his sucks were harsh and painful.

“God, you sound so fucking pretty when you moan like that” he groaned, switching to your other tit. He untucked his fingers from your shorts and slid his hands down, palms flat until he met your thighs. He squeezed and massaged them as he licked and sucked on your breasts, brushing his fingers against the junction where your thighs met your pussy.

You were panting in the air and gasping, the mixture of his tongue and his hands massaging your legs so expertly you could’ve cried. You weren’t sure if you could be teased any more, but you also knew that you didn’t want to take control of the situation, and you liked the way Harry drew everything out until you were all squirmy and begging.

His hands met your ankles as his mouth slipped off your nipple and began peppering kisses across your breasts. He kept you distracted with his tongue as he tugged your runners and socks off and dropped them on the floor without care. By the time his hands had massaged up your legs again and met your thighs, you barely even realised that your feet were now bare.

“Lift up” he instructed, his fingers tucked into the waistband of your shorts and underwear again.

Using your hands flat on the table behind you, you lifted your hips up and watched as he effortlessly pulled your shorts and underwear off in one go, stepping towards your feet to remove them completely. You went to slam your legs closed in a bid to feel slightly less exposed before him, but he stepped in before you could, his hands grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart.

When you were both naked it was different, but this felt so exposed, and you didn’t know if you found it erotic or nerve wracking. It was probably a bit of both, but there was more than one reason you were trying to close your legs.

“Ah” he tutted, shaking his head. “That’s not very nice, love” he sat back down in his chair and scooter it closer like he was preparing to eat a three course meal then went to hook your legs over his shoulders before you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he rose a brow and kept his hands gripping your thighs, still not letting you close them but not making any attempts to put them over his shoulders either.

“Harry I-I went on a walk before and I haven’t showered” you admitted quietly, looking up at the ceiling as your face beat red. “I might… I might smell” you couldn’t look at him, and your body was practically trembling in his hands at the admission.

It’s Summer and the Australian sun is unforgiving. You were sweating the entire walk and since you didn’t get to shower and change you were worried about his head going anywhere near you. You showered earlier in the day, so you knew you were clean, but the fear of him getting his nose near your pussy and finding it unpleasant was causing you severe anxiety.

“Excuse me?” he was gobsmacked. He reached up and grabbed your face, turning it so you were forced to look at him. You still tried to avoid eye contact, but he shook your face to make you look in his direction. The look on his face was absolutely horrified, and that only made your fears worsen “Is that the only reason you don’t want me to eat you out?”

“Yes” you whispered.

He let out a scoff and let go of your face, going back to hooking your thighs over his shoulders. “Harry” you protested.

“Y/n, if you think a little sweat or your scent is going to stop me from eating out your pussy you are severely mistaken. Nothing, and I mean this quite literally, nothing, could stop me.”

“oh…fuck” you cursed, practically feeling your arousal drip out of you at his words. Harry was someone that you needed to stop underestimating when it came to sex. You were still a bit nervous about it, but when he smirked and pressed a kiss to your inner knee, you felt yourself relax further and further into his touch.

“Now just relax and let me eat your pretty. Fucking. Pussy” he said between kisses, too impatient to tease you further than just kissing a line down your thigh. Last time he had nibbled and taken his time the entire way down, but this time, especially after knowing how self-conscious you seemed to be feeling, he was just desperate to have you make a mess of his face.

Once his lips had met the junction of your thigh he turned and took a filthy deep breath, his eyes closed and nose bumping against your clit and making you gasp as he shamelessly breathed you in. “Fucking perfect, so fucking sweet I could come just like this” he praised, looking up at you before placing an open-mouthed kiss to your clit.

You had been so turned on your clit was painfully sensitive. Just the small kiss had you moaning and gripping onto his hair to pull him closer. He chuckled and kissed you again, swiping his tongue from your entrance to clit before following with another open-mouthed kiss. “See, pretty girl, feels good, doesn’t it?”

You couldn’t answer, only nodding and pulling him closer as he wrapped his mouth around your clit, completely engulfing it and suckling on it. The way he worked his mouth was obscene, building and alternating pressure between soft little sucks and sharp pulls that had your back arching and your hips working to meet his touch.

He had his hands wrapped around your thighs, not restricting any movement so you were able to hump up and grind against his mouth as he sucked at your clit. Harry fucking loved it, and you were getting wetter and wetter by the second. Your taste and scent and those little sounds of yours were like a sick and twisted concoction that had his cock aching and plumping up inside his shorts.

He was regretting not undressing when he got you naked because of the restriction around his cock, but in the moment, he was way too excited to think about himself.

The entire week was filled of memories of your mouth around him, but at this point he was too hard and too desperate to be inside you to even think about being inside of your mouth.He would’ve rather fucked you and came inside you then had you wrap your pretty lips around him to get him hard for a round two, than do it in the opposite order like last time.

Harry nudged his mouth down to slurp at your entrance, sucking harshly to practically drink your arousal as well as stimulate the nerves right there. There was a reason the first press of fingers or a cock into your entrance always felt the best, and it was because of the nerves and sensitivity around your hole. He pushed his tongue past your entrance and delivered shallow thrusts, your moans growing louder and whinier and telling him exactly just how much you liked it.

He wasn’t stimulating your clit or your g-spot yet your whole body was spasming with pleasure. Then right as you were adjusting into it, he switched it up again and moved his mouth back up to your clit. He grazed it with his teeth this time, pulling your labia apart so he could slide the edge of his teeth right against your bud.

The feeling made you cry out and buck your hips up, tugging at his hair as he smirked against you and used his tongue to flick over your clit and soothe it. “Feel good, honey… god you taste so fucking good” he groaned against your clit, barely taking his lips off it to speak.

“Yes… ohh yes Harry, use your fingers, please” you panted, unable to keep your eyes open any longer and tilting your head back. Your arm was buckling and barely holding your upper body up, and you could already feel your orgasm bubbling inside you even though Harry hadn’t been going down on you for that long.

He followed your request without a word, circling two fingers to your entrance and sliding them in without warning. The stretch had you whining out loudly, your arm dropping so you were now propped up on your elbow instead. There was something about the pitch of your whine when his fingers entered you that had Harry going feral, pulling you closer to the edge so your ass was off the table and being supported by him.

His face was so far in your pussy, licking and sucking to collect as much arousal as possible that it was soaked, his nose and cheeks slick. He hooked his fingers right into your g-spot, a spot he had memorised from last time and found without effort, and made sure to stimulate that area hard and fast.

Your thighs began quivering and he could tell you were close. This only spurred him on further, his fingers digging hard into your thigh and delivering the perfect amount of pain that you were after. He groaned and moaned so appreciatively into your pussy it had your entire body heating up with this desire to pleasure him back.

It still amazed you that a man like Harry existed; someone so focused on your pleasure while simultaneously getting off on it at the same time. It was like your pleasure spurred his, and that only made you enjoy the experience more.

There was something about the way he was hooking his fingers in you that had the swirl in your belly rise differently. It was hot and pulsing and nothing like what a usual orgasm felt like. There was an element to it that was the same, the toe-curling build-up of pleasure, but other than that nothing felt the same. Your body was unbearably hot and the pressure building in your clit and stomach felt like something uncontrollable was coming.

You were going to squirt.

It had happened once before, when you were so damn horny you had a vibrating dildo inside you and your favourite vibrator practically glued to your clit. The sensations were so overwhelming you exploded like a damn and sprayed your entire bed over and over again until you managed to get the dildo out of you.

It was a surreal experience, one that you had tried to replicate for years and yet you never could. Now though, you knew it was going to happen. Your legs wrapped around his head, and you barely had the chance to warn Harry with a “Imgonnasquirt!” that sounded more like a scream before you completely exploded.

The hot sensations of pleasure rushed over you in waves had you lying flat on the table as your orgasm squirted out of you. It was a little bit at first, something that shook Harry to his core and had his eyes widening at what just happened. “Fucking hell”

When it finally clicked that he made you squirt he worked his fingers faster, rubbing your clit with his other hand so he could watch when he made it happen again. The second release was bigger and followed with more squirts closer apart. He groaned out loud at the sight and stuck his tongue out to try and catch as much as he could, selfishly keeping a savage pace with his fingers to get more and more out of you.

“Harry” you whimpered, pushing his head away from you as you melted into the table. Your thighs were shaking as he pulled his fingers out and pushed you back up, so your ass was back on the table.

“God baby. Did such a fucking good job… can’t believe you squirted f’me” he praised, gently putting your legs off his shoulders while massaging your thighs. He pressed kisses to your knees as he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. The sight of you naked laying on his dining table was one he wanted to tattoo in his mind and on his body so he never forgot it.

“Fucking hell” you breathed through a chuckle, haphazardly pushing away the bits of hair that stuck to your forehead.

“You good, love? Need anything?” Harry asked gently, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see and slowly sat up, his eyes watching you intently as you leaned forward and cupped the sides of his neck, kissing him deeply. You could taste your juices on his mouth, but that only made you kiss him harder, kitten kicking his lips as you broke away. “Take me upstairs.”

There was a pause as he stared at you, then wordlessly he scooped you up and pressed his lips to yours again. His mouth was hungry, and he was gripping on your ass like he was never going to see it again. You made it upstairs and into his bedroom before you knew it and were placed onto his bed with care. You let your knees close together so you didn’t feel completely exposed and shuffled up the bed so your head could lay on the pillows if you wanted to.

Harry pulled away and got up to close his bedroom door before turning back at you and pulling his shirt off, deciding that using the buttons would take too long. “Once a week”

“Once a week?” you questioned, leaning back on your hands.

“We fuck once a week, every week” he replied, like it was a set time slot that he set aside just to fuck you.

You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound slightly choked as he dropped his shorts and boxers in one go. His cock bopped up, standing straight out at the weight of its length. You could feel your pussy clench in excitement, knowing that you were about to have him inside you. Everything about his body was perfect. Perfectly chiselled, perfectly soft and plump, perfectly tattooed and a cock perfectly pretty.

“Is this your way of scheduling me in?” you breathed, making eye contact with him as he kneeled on the bed, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and giving it a few tugs “What will I be on your calendar, ‘Archie’s grooming?’” you giggled again, your heart beating faster at the cheeky smile that erupted on his mouth as he crawled closer to you.

Harry spread your legs and kneeled between them, placing his hands on either side of your head so he could hover over you. You were forced to drop down into your elbows in this position and soon after lied flat on your back.

“Who knew you had such a cheeky mouth” he smirked, kissing you deeply. You moaned and hooked your leg around his hips, sliding your fingers into his hair and gripping the soft locks. Harry’s hair was usually perfectly styled, and you loved nothing more than making it all messy and unruly. Pushing down with your leg, his cock pressed to your slit, nestling into your folds, and making you both simultaneously moan into each other’s mouths.

“Wanna be on top” you spoke against his lips, your words rushed and desperate.

“Yeah? Wanna bounce on my cock for me?” he teased, your lips bumping against each other as he wrapped his hand around your neck and squeezed, pecking you once more. “Show me what you got then, darling”

He got off you and landed beside you, laying with his head on his pillows. He reached to his bedside table and grabbed a condom, tearing the wrapper in preparation. “What if I want it more than once a week?” you asked innocently, stealing it from him before swinging your leg over his hips. You settled on his thighs as you removed the condom out of the packet.

Harry looked at you with a raised brow and tucked his hands up beneath his head, letting you take a bit of control. The fact that you wanted to put the condom on for him was so fucking sexy it made him want to kiss you until neither of you could breathe, but he’d never admit that to you.

“More than once a week? You that horny over my cock already, darling?” he raised a brow.

You shrugged and spat in your hand, wrapping it around his cock and squeezing just to tease him before slowly jerking upwards. He shifted underneath you and let out a ragged breath, his jaw clenching at the feeling.

“Maybe… maybe I just like knowing I’ve got somewhere to go when it’s late at night and I’ve got an itch to scratch” you shrugged, focusing your attention on his head, and swiping your thumb over his slit to collect the bead of precum that had collected there. He let out a groan and felt his eyes grow droopy at how amazing it felt to have you touch him again.

You had barely done anything, and he was ready to explode. It didn’t help that he could still smell your release on his face and in his nose, and the scent alone was only making his cock ache even more. He’d probably smell it for days, the scent caught in the stubble on his chin and his nose hairs. Harry was in half a mind to just never wash his face again so he could have the smell of your pussy on him forever, but even he knew that was too far.

The way Harry had to force himself not to savagely take control and fuck you without this damn condom was so undeniably feral he didn’t know what to think. The thought of you being horny and masturbating had his mind going feral. Knowing you would’ve wanted him to be the one to relieve it was a boost to his ego, and he felt this need to give in and do whatever you wanted.

But he was smarter than that and wouldn’t change his plan.

“It’s better like this, only at our weekly dinner so no one is suspicious about you staying late” he replied, keeping one hand under his head, and squeezing your hip with the other. He could barely speak with the way you were touching him, and his eyes were fixated on the softness of your breasts and stomach, your slick dripping folds that he couldn’t want to have surrounding his cock.

“It sounds like you already thought of this plan before tonight began” you raised a brow and finally stopped jerking his cock, grabbing the condom, and sliding it down his length.

You loved touching Harry. Even just putting the condom on was giving you some sort of sick satisfaction. The way he tried to hide his sensitivity through sound but showed it in other ways. The way his thighs tensed underneath you, how his bottom lip got caught in his teeth and his hand squeezed your hip tighter when the condom was fully sheathed on him.

If given the opportunity to quit your degree and spend all your time studying what made Harry tick, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I did. If I had it my way, I’d have skipped work and fucked you right after our breakfast last week, then twice a day every day after that” he admitted, grabbing onto his cock, and holding it up for you. You placed your hands flat on his abs for balance and lifted up so you were hovered over him, sighing out when he slid the head of his cock through your folds and tapped it against your clit.

“Then everyone really would’ve been suspicious about their favourite neighbour being home from wor-ughh” you groaned, feeling Harry’s tip nudge against your entrance and press there. The pressure felt so good, so you dropped your hips to slide the head into you. “All the lonely housewives would’ve made chicken soup for you”

He grabbed your hip harder and slapped your ass with the other, pulling you down without warning so he was halfway into you. He knew it would take time before he was balls deep in you, but he also knew that just like last time you’d take it all like a good girl and be begging for more in no time.

The cry you let out when he pulled you down made him smirk, a growl vibrating at the back of his throat as he looked up at your screwed expression. “Too. Much. Talking. We can talk about scheduling later for now I think it’s time you be a good girl for me and ride m’cock”

It was like his cock made you dumb, well and truly dumb. All you could do was moan out something incoherent before slowly lifting your hips and dropping them back down. “That’s it, nice and slow darling… know I’m big for you” He used his hands on his hips to guide you up and down, your arousal dripping down already.

You dug your nails into his abs, continuing to move up and down with Harry’s guidance until with a few more thrusts he was balls deep inside of you. When your pelvis met his and your clit grazed the groomed hairs at the base of his cock, you let out the prettiest whine and began grinding in that same spot instead of going up and down.

“Fuck, baby” he groaned, keeping his eyes trained on where the two of you were joined.

“Mhgg, feels so fucking good” you moaned, tipping your head back with your eyes closed.

Without even looking you grabbed Harry’s hand and brought it to your clit, his fingers working immediately in circular motions. Instead of leaning forward you placed your hands on each of his thighs behind you and used that for balance to fuck yourself on him, bouncing up and down and feeling your g-spot stimulated with every single thrust.

“Ride me so good sweetheart, like your pussy was made for me” he gasped, the sight of his cock disappearing into your pussy one of the best things he had ever seen.

He was honestly amazed at how fast you were riding him, bouncing on him like it was your job. Other women he had slept with lasted barely a minute on top before Harry had to take over. He didn’t mind taking over, if anything he preferred it because he liked being the one in charge. But having you on top of him bouncing for so long without any hint of tiredness was so beyond sexy he couldn’t get over it.

Your age may have had something to do with it. Good knees, and a more active lifestyle was more likely in someone in their 20s. He’d admit that he hadn’t slept with someone your age since he was your age, but he found himself thinking that he possibly couldn’t go back to anything else.

It felt like you had ruined sex for him, because truly nothing was ever going to look and feel as good as it did with you. Your tits bouncing aggressively with every bounce and your head all the way tipped back as you searched for your own pleasure. Yes, it made Harry felt good, but it was clear that you were fucking him for your own gain, and fucking hell it would’ve had to be the hottest thing.

It was like you came alive during sex, your shyness and blushing slowly disappearing until you were confident in what you wanted. He knew you were at that point now. Bantering with him and taking control was something you’d never do so confidently in a normal setting.

He couldn’t, however, take not looking into your eyes anymore. Those pretty little sex eyes of yours that got all droopy and tired when he fucked you good, god he loved it.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around you, causing you to cease your movements as he grabbed onto your ponytail and pulled your head back down. Your eyes opened to meet his and you wrapped your arms around his neck, staring deep into his eyes. He angled his head up to you, your noses grazing against each other as you started grinding down on him again.

There was something so mind-altering about staring right in Harry's eyes, especially when you were connected like this and attached everywhere you could be. They were dark with blown iris’ and everything about his facial expression read 'fucked'. His hair was a mess and slightly stuck to his forehead, and the way he looked right into your eyes was so intense you had to fight the urge to look away.

Just looking at him had your breathing increasing and that pit of pleasure building up in your stomach again. With every grind and swivel of your hips, your clit rubbed against his pelvis, perfectly stimulating you both inside and out.

“Harry…” you whimpered, "I think I'm gonna come again" your fingers gripped onto the hair at the back of his head, your hips grinding faster in search of your orgasm. You were growing tired quickly, but with your high so close you could taste it you didn’t let your sore muscles get in the way.

"Yeah? Can feel you squeezing around me… just fucking love Daddy's don’t you? Such a little cock whore for me, huh?” He teased, wrapping your ponytail around his fist so he had a better grip on your head. He didn’t want your head tipping back when you came, he wanted to see your face screw up and he wanted you to look at him as it happened.

His words had you nodding quickly, your thighs tensing as your orgasm approached faster and faster. “Yes… fuck, yes. Love it, love it so much Daddy” you kissed him just long enough for it to not be considered a peck anymore.

“I know, you take me so fucking well, darling. Like your pussy was made for m’cock” he grunted, unable to help himself from bucking up into you the best he could with how he was seated.

“Harry… god, I’m coming… I’m coming” your mouth dropped open as you moaned out loud, your whole body tense to try and keep your eyes open as your pussy pulsed around his cock. Harry took the initiative to slide his hand between your bodies and rub circles on your clit to prolong your orgasm, knowing that there was no way you could grind yourself onto him.

“Fuck baby, squeezing me so. Tight.”

He drew you out until your eyes were fluttering shut and your whines felt more like protests. Watching you come like that while you were staring deep in his eyes was like nothing else he had ever experienced, and it made his cock ache for release inside you.

Harry knew he wouldn't last long, but at this point, all he could think about was getting you to come around him one more time. He barely gave you a chance to fully recover before kissing you sloppily and supporting your back with his hands as he pushed you back and lowered you to the bed with his cock still deep inside of you.

He hovered over you with his forearms on either side of your head so he could kiss you again before he pulled back and sat on his knees. He slowly pulled out of you before turning you over onto your stomach with gentle words of assurance and praise leaving his mouth.

"Please Daddy" you sighed, the name slipping out naturally. Now that it had been introduced your mind couldn't get rid of it, and all you could think about was screaming it out as you came again. You felt so empty without his cock, and despite orgasming twice you still hadn't felt the full force of Harry's cock yet.

You wanted him to fuck you so hard into the mattress you cried.

“I know… I know, darling” he murmured, sensing the desperation in your tone at the loss of his cock. He adjusted so he was back kneeling in between your parted legs, watching as you propped up your upper body on your forearms.

He gripped your ass in both his hands, kneading your cheeks before pulling them apart to get a good look at your holes. Your pussy was so puffy and swollen he could barely contain himself. Your inner thighs were coated in your cream, as were your lips. If it weren't for the fact that Harry's cock was so painfully hard, he would've eaten you out for the second time.

There really was nothing like seeing your favourite meal presented before you, all bare and ready to eat.

You squirmed beneath him, making him smirk and spank one side before gripping it again. He kept your cheeks spread and guided himself to your entrance, watching as your pussy swallowed him when he thrust into you in one go. Your forehead dropped down to the mattress as you let out a choked moan, his pace growing incredibly hard and fast almost immediately.

You both seemed to be waiting for this, for Harry to take control and fuck you into utter oblivion. The feeling of him fucking into you so hard and fast had you unable to control the sounds you were making, your cries muffled by the bedding.

“Atta girl, take it. Fucking take my cock” he squeezed your ass and spanked it on both side, loving the way you cried out at the pain. The feeling of your ass in his hands had him spreading your cheeks again, watching his cock come out of your entrance with more cream and arousal the more he fucked you.

His eyes drifted upwards, to your third hole which seemed so empty in comparison to how stuffed your pussy was. It may have been too soon, considering this was only the second time you had slept together, but he couldn’t stop thinking about sliding a finger in your ass, even just the tip to add that sensation for you. He knew you’d be seeing stars if he went near there.

“Can I try something here, darling?” He asked, sliding two fingers near your entrance and collecting your arousal on his fingertips before trailing them upwards and circling one around your ass.

You nodded against the bed, raising your hips to show just how much you truly wanted it “please”. You had never done anal before, but it was something you were curious to try. Something told you that Harry had plenty of experience in it too and that both made you excited and nervous about it.

"Knew you'd be a good girl for me, sweetheart. Always so good for Daddy... can't believe I got so lucky" he praised, flattening his hand on your ass and slipping just the tip of his finger past your tight rim of muscles. It was barely past his nail, but it had your head throwing back and your body wiggling beneath him for more.

It wasn't painful, but it was an overwhelming full feeling that you hadn't quite experienced before. His thrusts hadn't slowed down, and despite the fact that your clit hadn't been touched once, just the feeling of both your holes filled had you wanting to come already. "More Daddy, please" you begged, fisting the blankets in your hands as he slid the finger deeper inside your ass. “Yes, oh god yes”

“Fucking love being filled in both your holes don't you, darling" he chuckled, being able to thrust his finger in and out with ease now that you were accustomed to it. The sensation of being so full everywhere had your mind going blank and it felt like time didn't exist.

"Want another?" he cooed, placing his palm flat beside your head so he was hovering over you. You nodded and tipped your head back to rest against his shoulder.

"Please" Without warning he slipped a second finger into your ass, your arousal making it easy for him to slide right into you. It slipped in easily, but unlike the first, it burned as your rim of muscles stretched around his two fingers. Your mouth dropped back open as you cried out into the air, his cock and his fingers both thrusting into your body at the same pace.

You couldn't breathe or think or open your eyes. The only thing you were aware of was Harry. Harry and 'Daddy' were circling around your mind like you were cock drunk.

"One day it's gonna be my cock in your ass baby, already know you're gonna take it so fucking well f'me... fucking hell I'm close... can't get over how good you feel" he groaned in your ear, his mouth dropping to bite down gently on your shoulder.

"I'm... I'm" you could barely talk, and while you were trying to tell him you were going to come you just couldn't say it. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure and just Harry that all you could do was moan.

"I know, can feel you squeezing around me. Let go when you're ready baby, god I'm so fucking close. Gonna come so hard because of you" he kissed your shoulder before his forehead dropped down onto it, sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth as his abs twisted up.

Harry came without warning, letting out the loudest 'fuck' you had ever heard as his body shook above you. The rush of warmth you felt inside you as his come filled his condom triggered your own orgasm, tears leaking out of your eyes at how intense it was.

It was a white-hot pleasure and sent ringing in your ears that had your upper body dropping down and your face digging into the duvet. You fisted the duvet while your legs shook, your stomach feeling so tight with the waves of pleasure flooding your body.

Harry stilled above you, not pulling out just yet but gently taking his fingers out of your ass so he could properly support his body and not completely crush you. No words were exchanged for a good five minutes, the two of you just laying there panting with him basically on top of you, his head buried in your neck.

"That was so good" he groaned into your neck, not wanting to move from his spot on top of you, but gently pulling his cock out to relieve you from the pressure.

"Fuckk" you whimpered, your pussy pulsing at the emptiness you now felt.

"Are you okay?" he asked, reluctantly getting off you and landing on the bed beside you.

He quickly pulled the condom off and tied the end before you could notice, grabbing a tissue from his bedside table and wrapping it in it. His closest bin was in his bathroom, but he didn't want to leave you just yet so he reminded himself to throw it out properly later and settled with putting it on the top of the table.

"Mhmm" you replied, turning your head from where it was buried in the duvet and looking at him. Your mascara had smudged under your eyes, so Harry reached out and ran his thumb under your eye, trying to clean it up a little.

"Hungry? There's a great garlic pasta waiting downstairs for us" he grinned, making you let out a small laugh.

"Yes, I'm also very sticky though" you admitted, shifting your thighs and feeling the stickiness coating your thighs.

"How do you feel about a shower, then?" he offered, dancing his fingers along your spine.

"Together?" you asked with a blush on your cheeks, the idea of something so domestic and loving making you feel all giggly inside.

He smiled and leaned in to give you a sweet kiss on your lips, deepening it ever so slightly like he couldn't get enough of you. "'course, can't let you stand up all on your own, can I?"

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