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psicostyles · 3 months ago

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DIS IS SO DAMN GOOD FUCK ME

I need more of them and more and more. I love it smmmm

The Other Man H.S

Summary: Where y/n's husband opens up her marriage and she meets Harry on Tinder...

Warning: Smut, oral (f & m recieving), penetration, dirty talk (degradation & praise), spanking, squirting, I think that's it?

Word count: 13.5k+

Author's note: Hellooo long time no see! It feels like forever since I posted anything and I do apologise for that my brain was taking a hiatus apparently but hopefully I can get back into the groove! This probably needs editing but I hope you like it anywayy.

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“So… do you do this a lot?”

“What do you mean?” You took a sip of your wine, trying to sate the erratic nerves jumping within the walls of your body. Not even a few drinks before you arrived to your date could save you.

“Go on Tinder dates.”

Harry, the man who effortlessly charmed you when your friends encouraged you to swipe right on him seemed as relaxed as ever. He had this calm and sensual aura about him that existed through every little thing he did. His smile, the way he thanked the waitress, the way he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and guided you to the table with a hand on the small of your back. Everything.

It was all a little too charming for your first date back in the game. Part of you even wished it would be a disaster. Then you reminded yourself that there had to be a first date. That you had to reclaim your desirability and get back into the dating scene to find yourself again. It had been three months after all, nearly four since your marriage blew up in your face and everything about your life changed.

You felt like you were ready. Or at least willing to give it a crack.

“You seem a little nervous, that’s why I ask. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Harry spoke up again when you didn’t answer right away.

“You didn’t offend me,” you assured, blushing at the way you got so caught up in the attraction of him, “but is it really that obvious?” You shook your head, laughing softly like the idea of actually being on a date was unfathomable. It was. To you anyway; especially given the fact that the man sitting in front of you wasn’t your husband. “This is my first date in… a while.”

“It’s not obvious.” Harry laughed softly, running his hand through his hair. “But it’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too.”

“You are?” Your eyes widened, “it’s not because I’m married, is it? Because I put it in my profile and-”

“It’s not because you’re married,” He assured, interrupting your clear panic. He found it quite adorable actually. “It’s because I like you and I think you’re beautiful. I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise.”

Oh.

Harry didn’t want to overstep. He had only been chatting with you for a week before meeting in person, but he already liked you, at least from the few bits of information he learnt about you. And you were quite pretty, insanely pretty actually. Harry thought you were attractive from your profile, but seeing you in person only solidified that. It would take some serious differences between you two for him to not want to pursue things.

But this was a first date afterall and he wasn’t going to put pressure on something so fresh. You were clear before even meeting him that you weren’t looking for anything serious and Harry was happy with that. Whatever the outcome of this date, he at least wanted to make sure you had a good time. Even if it meant you two never saw each other again.

“Oh.” You felt your heart hammering in your chest at the compliment. Even his eye contact was making you a jittery mess. Harry made you nervous. Giddy even and you had barely known the man a week. “Thank you.”

Carson still complimented you, even still said he loved you, but nothing really felt the same after he wanted to open your marriage. It was like a wrecking ball to your life. Your heart broke instantly and your self esteem took the biggest hit you had ever experienced. Your own fucking husband asking to open your marriage after nearly three years of being married, six of being in a relationship. How were you supposed to take it?

He gave you those same reasons many guys give when they want to open a relationship; that you just didn’t fulfill his needs sexually anymore and that he needed more to be satisfied. You tried to explain that you’d be willing to explore his fantasies if he just communicated them, especially since he had been the one leading a very vanilla (but good) sex life since you two got married, but he didn’t like that idea.

You came to the conclusion there was someone else. Carson denied it and told you he still loved you, but you couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that this was all some fucked up coverup to excuse cheating. So you said no. Safe to say that didn’t work out because a divorce ultimatum and three months later and you were here, trying to reap the benefits from an open relationship you were too reluctant to explore.

Carson of course was happy to follow the rules you two set and be out nearly every damn night with someone, but you could never bring yourself to do it. You were still hung up on the hurt and pure embarassment you felt being forced to open a marriage you thought was happy. In the end you realised that you deserved the pleasure Carson was getting from someone else. You deserve to be desired and taken out on dates. It didn’t seem fair that only one person was benefitting.

“You’re welcome, love.” Harry smiled, “let’s just not put any pressure on it, okay? No expectations or anything. We’ll just get to know each other and see where the night takes us.”

You liked the sound of that. You liked the sound of him calling you ‘love’ even more.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I like the idea of that.”

“Good.” Harry raised his wine glass in a toast and you couldn’t help but feel a little mesmerised by the sight of his ringed fingers wrapped around the glass. Shaking yourself out of it, you raised yours as well. “To us.” He offered.

“To us.”

The date with Harry went far better than you ever could’ve expected. He was sweet and charming and all the things that drew you to him via text were even better in person. You two had far more in common than you realised and even the things you didn’t only added so much interest to the conversation. He made you laugh harder than you had for months and was the perfect gentleman all night.

You two didn’t sleep together, not that you went into this date wanting to sleep with him anyway because you weren’t really sure what to expect, but you came out of it hoping he’d offer to walk you up to your hotel door and maybe continue walking you right to your bed. Harry didn’t do that of course and instead offered you a kiss on your cheek and an invitation for dinner again next week, but that only made you want him more.

Leading up to the date was so overstimulating and so much all at once that you decided to book a room at the hotel in the same complex as your dinner (which he so kindly paid for), just so you’d have time in a clean environment to process your thoughts afterwards.

Carson was out with his girlfriend April tonight, as that’s what she was to him now, so he wouldn’t be home anyway. But you didn’t want to be getting ready in your own room near the bed you and your husband shared, only to return to it after a date that could’ve been terrible. You wanted something just for you so no matter the outcome and no matter how you felt about it, you had somewhere free from any memories relating to your marriage.

When Harry offered the second date, you told him you’d think about it. He understood, took it like a great guy (the bare minimum, yes, but you were also expecting him to be too good to be true) then waited until you were in the closing doors of the elevator to say goodnight. It didn’t take long after you were clean and in the comfort of a fresh Carson-free bed that you texted Harry to let him know how much you enjoyed the date and that you would like to join him for dinner next week.

He was nice and handsome and you had a really good time with him. The thought of seeing him again made you giddy and you wanted to hang onto that feeling.

Harry: I’m glad it didn’t take you too long to think about it. I had a wonderful night. X

You were practically giggling as you read the text, feeling like a little girl dating a cute guy she liked for the very first time. It was exhilarating. Only one date in and you already understood the appeal Carson was talking about, as much as you wanted to disagree with him.

You: I’m glad. Goodnight Harry x

Harry: Goodnight, love. Sleep well x

“So what did you get up to last night?” Carson asked, “you have a nice night away?”

“I went on a date, actually.” Your back was facing towards him as you unpacked your overnight bag. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the surprise radiating off him.

“Oh, really? With who?” Carson walked around until he was in your eyeline. He was trying not to act surprised, but you could see it even better with him in front of you that he was. His tone didn’t come off judgemental though and if it did you’d have a few things you could throw back at him. He couldn’t really say anything when you had remained silent on all his flings and relationships.

“His name’s Harry. I met him on tinder.” You shrugged, being honest but trying not to appear too excited about the whole thing. Carson didn’t need to know you thought about Harry before you went to sleep, or that you spent a good half an hour on the phone with your friends squealing about your date with him.

“That’s great.” Carson’s reply seemed genuine and he held that kind smile that you fell in love with. “How was it? Did he treat you right?”

“It was really good, actually,” you paused your unpacking and looked at your husband, seeing the kindness in his eyes as he listened attentively to what you were saying. You wished he’d look like that all the time. “He was the perfect gentleman and we’re going on another date next week.”

“He must’ve really liked you then,” he teased.

Carson was just joking and being quite civil about the entire thing, but you still felt that churning in your stomach. It would never feel normal talking about a date with someone else, even if it was your date instead of his now.

“I guess so. It was only one date though.”

“Did you sleep together?” Then came the dreaded question.

You both agreed that you had to disclose when you slept with another person and a condom always had to be used. No details had to be shared and it was preferred that there weren’t any, but for your own health and safety, you had to share it with each other. It only really mattered when you two were having sex with each other, which, with work and Carson’s busy schedule with other people, only happened once a month if that on your scheduled weekend together.

Opening the marriage seemed to completely eradicate that part of your relationship and while you were unsatisfied, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to try and change that. Not with Carson at least.

“No. You know I’d tell you if we did.” You didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, not when this conversation was ruining your once-happy mood.

“I know,” Carson replied softly, moving forward to place his hands on your hips. “I love you, you know that. I hope you find some joy in Harry, or whoever. Whatever makes you happy, y/n. That’s all I want for you.”

That felt like the biggest load of shit ever but you chose not to say that.

So you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to remember when you used to do it and not feel a sense of dread. “I love you too.”

You went on a few dates with Harry. You tried to plan things around when Carson was busy so you wouldn’t be stuck at home thinking about what he was doing and that seemed to do the trick because you hadn’t thought about him once on any of the dates you had with Harry.

Things had progressed to a goodbye kiss then a hello kiss when you decided to be a little brave and greet him with one when he picked you up one Saturday morning. And God Harry just knew how to kiss. Even a peck was delicious. His mouth was so soft and sweet and the way he held your face or your waist while kissing you made your entire body light on fire. The more time you spent with him, the more desperate you were becoming to sleep with him.

But Harry was such a gentleman. You didn’t want anything serious and he knew that and yet he hadn’t made the first move. Kissing you was as far as he got and when things started to get a little heated when you two said goodbye, it would always end far too prematurely for your liking.

In your head, a lot of men just wanted to have sex and most of the time did anything and everything to get there before moving on once their post-nut clarity hit. That’s kind of what you expected from Harry. Someone so good-looking and out of your league could find sex easily so you assumed he’d be eager to sleep with you. That was part of the allure, wasn’t it? To sleep with a married woman? The nasty, scandalous thrill of being with someone that belonged to someone else.

Yet Harry never treated you like that, in fact, he didn’t even bring up your marriage unless you started the conversation. Harry just treated you like someone genuinely interested in getting to know you.

“Can I ask you something?”

It was only your third date. This conversation should’ve come up earlier, maybe even on one of the many text conversations or calls you had, but you were a little caught up in his charm and romance to think about it then and you wanted to see his reaction in person. In the very beginning you weren’t even sure if you’d be seeing him again but now that you were up to date three and he just never brought up the fact that you were married… well you wanted to know why. He knew your marriage was open but you didn’t quite understand why was he okay with it? There had to be a reason, right?

“Of course you can.” He leaned back against the chair and tucked his elbow on the edge of the balcony you two were sitting at. It was a picturesque little cafe overlooking a river and it truly felt like you two were on some romantic holiday. The sun was gorgeous even despite the cold breeze and Harry looked effortlessly handsome.

“Why do you… I don’t know how to put it.” You sat a bit straighter in your chair, fiddling with the rings on your fingers. Your wedding ring. You weren’t sure why you still wore it on your dates with Harry, but it was a habit and you were married. “You never bring up Carson or the fact that I’m married and I want to know why…”

“Why I don’t care?” He asked, finishing off your sentence.

“Yeah…” You nodded, “I guess I just don’t get it. You’re a lot younger than me-”

“I’m 27 and it’s only five years.” He corrected, looking quite amused by your comment. Five years was a big gap when he was younger than you, at least you thought so.

“Still.” You pressed, “You’re young and I’m married. I just don’t understand why you’re choosing to go out with me and not someone else. And the fact that you’re okay with my marriage it just… I don’t know.” You looked away for a moment, needing to break free from his eye contact so you weren’t completely swept up in it. “I’m not sure if I’d be the same. I’m not the same and I’m the one who’s married.”

“I’ve been married before…”

Well, you certainly didn’t expect that.

“What?” Your eyes widened and Harry nearly laughed at how shocked you were.

“I was only 20 at the time and it was stupid to say the least but we were happy and in love and marriage seemed like the answer to all our problems.” He smiled at the memory, tracing his finger around the rim of his water glass as he thought back to that time in his life.

“And it wasn’t?”

“No.” He chuckled, sighing while running a hand through his hair. “Marriage caused more problems than it was worth. Steph and I were broke and both in school. We could barely afford our degrees let alone rent and it just caused so many arguments. Too many arguments. We still loved each other and we made it work but over time… the love faded.” Harry shrugged. This felt like too intense of a conversation for breakfast, but you weren’t really expecting to find out about a marriage.

“Wow…” You breathed. “I’m sorry. Um, how long were you two married?”

“Three years. We were just too young and going through too many changes. In the end, we were more like roommates than husband and wife. Didn’t have sex for the last six months because we were too busy working and emotionally disconnecting from each other.” He looked out to the water, turning back to finish off his point. “Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that shit happens. Relationships aren’t clear-cut. I can tell you’re not just trying to get some exciting thrill by cheating on your husband so as far as I’m concerned it’s just you and me.” Harry bumped his foot against yours under the table, smirking ever so slightly. “If that changes I’m sure you’ll let me know.”

Harry spoke about it in such a respectful way. You imagined it was far messier than he made it out to be, but he didn’t blame Steph or attack her character to make himself the good guy in all of it. It was refreshing and mature. Was it bad that him being married before only made him more attractive?

Maybe it was because you now knew that he understood you.

“That’s a very… refreshing outlook, Harry.”

“Refreshing?” He chuckled, “No. Realistic.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table, nudging your foot again. “And to answer your other question, the reason I’m out with you and not ‘somebody else’ is because I like you. I told you that on our very first date and I’ll say it again. I like you. Simple.”

“You act like things are so easy.” You laughed, blushing at his honesty.

“They can be.” He reached for your hand, threading your fingers together before squeezing. “It feels easy with you.”

Yeah… it did.

To make things worse… or better? his admission only made you more insatiable for him. Nothing he said was remotely casual, but it had also been a long time since you were dating. Aside from Carson, only one other man had touched you, so you didn’t really have a good gauge on navigating new beginnings or sex with a new person. You knew how to please a man but all your skills were honed in on one man.

So when Harry offered to host dinner at his house for your next date, your stomach was a mixture of nerves and pure excitement. You hadn’t been there before, but with his invitation to stay the night, you didn’t really care what his place looked like, just that he had a nice clean bed to fuck you on.

You never thought you’d be in this position, but you also never thought you’d be in an open marriage with a man you imagined building a family with. You didn’t see that happening now, but what you did see was you enjoying yourself and getting to explore another man for the first time in years.

Harry wouldn’t have just invited you to spend the night if he wasn’t interested in sleeping with you. He didn’t fit into the dump-and-run stereotype you created in your head, but he sure as hell wasn’t uninterested in sex. He practically oozed it from his fucking pores.

“Y/n!” Harry beamed, opening the door with a big charming grin. He looked gorgeous and you were taken aback at just how good-looking he was. He told you to dress casually and while he matched the criteria with a pair of jeans and a loose white button-up, he looked anything but casual.

“Hi,” you smiled, stepping inside. You barely made it into the doorway before he grabbed your overnight back from your shoulder, slung it on his and then cupped your face to bring you in for a kiss. You gasped a little into his mouth, humming when you relaxed into it and grabbed onto the sides of his mouth to reciprocate.

It felt so young kissing like this; languid and passionately right in the open doorway of his house where anyone who drove or walked past could see. But you didn’t really care who saw when he was nudging you against the doorway and crowding you with his body. It wasn’t an innocent kiss that’s for sure.

His mouth moved expertly against yours, tongue sliding against the seam of your mouth until it was brushing against yours. He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you flush against him until he was consuming every part of you. It was delirious the way he sucked on your tongue and groaned at the taste of your mouth.

If this was setting the tone for the evening, you could barely wait.

“Did you miss me or something?” You joked, breathing heavily as the kiss broke.

He smiled, nodding while running his thumb over your mouth. He dragged his eyes over your body, taking in your nice fitting jeans and top with the most perfect amount of cleavage he could die. You were radiant. “Very much so.”

God.

“Come in, love. It’s cold out.” Harry stepped out of the way properly this time, closing the door behind you while you looked around his entranceway.

“Shoes off?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Harry walked you straight through to his living area. It was a warm, inviting home with soft lighting and lots of texture. He had a musical influence throughout but in the most tasteful way ever. Posters, vinyls and a gorgeous record player front and centre in his living room. His style was envying and you wished Carson would let you do even half the things Harry had done to his house.

You could see yourself being very comfortable here.

“Your house is gorgeous, Harry.” You complimented, looking around the space in awe.

“Thank you.” He gushed, setting your bag down on one of his armchairs before walking into the kitchen. “I originally hired an interior designer then ended up picking all her opposite choices. I think I did an okay job.”

“I think so.” You agreed, following him to the island bench. The entire house was fragrant. It was a mixture of some citrusy candle, whatever delicious dish was in the oven and his cologne. It was intoxicating. “Ugh and it smells so good in here. What is that?” you practically moaned.

“Alfredo chicken pasta.” Harry mused, grabbing a bottle of red from his wine fridge. “I know you like it. Thought I should try and impress you for our first at home date.”

“So far it’s working. Just need to wait until it’s in my mouth for the final verdict.” You replied, pressing your hip to the bench while looking at him. “Can’t give you a raving review before I’ve tried it, can I?”

If Harry set the tone with the kiss, you set the tone with your words and those flirty eyes of yours. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, nearly audibly moaning at the double entendre. Harry had been holding back on how badly he wanted you since the first date.

There was an instant fire between you. Chemistry he had been wanting to act upon for weeks. But he knew this was the first relationship for you since your husband suggested opening your marriage and he didn’t want to push things. You two spoke about it extensively after the third date when you wanted to clear the air to figure out what Harry got from this.

Harry got pure pleasure. To him it was simple. He enjoyed your company and you seemed genuine in what you told him about your situation, so why wouldn’t he pursue things with you?

“You’re a smart woman.” Harry smirked, pouring the red wine into both wine glasses he had set on the bench before your arrival. “Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?” The way he looked at you nearly had you sweating.

“It’s an age-old saying, after all.” You mused, thanking him once he passed you a glass. “To us?”

“To our first night together.” He clinked his glass against yours, eliciting a smile that had you trying to hide how nervous he truly made you feel. It had been a while since you got butterflies in the presence of a man.

“Now, tell me all about your day. Must’ve been pretty relaxing if you had so much time to get all pretty for me.” He teased, reaching out to pluck at the hem of your shirt.

“Yeah right.” You snorted, jumping straight into all the problems you encountered during your work day.

Dinner went perfect as it usually did. You both laughed and drank and shared a delicious meal. By the time dessert came, Harry had moved from his chair opposite you to sit right beside you, deciding to play a game with the few mini dishes he made. He didn’t really explain why he chose to make multiple options, only that you had to guess what each one is.

You weren’t really going to stop him from feeding you, were you?

“Okay keep your eyes closed.” He prompted, walking over to the table with the long plate housing the mini desserts.

“Okay! Okay they’re closed.” You shuffled in your chair, trying not to sneak a peek even if you wanted to.

“Keep them closed.” He warned again, his arm brushing yours as he set the plate onto the table.

“They are.” You defended.

“How many fingers?” Harry sat right next to you, waving two fingers in front of your face.

“Harry!”

“Okay.” He laughed. Harry grabbed one of the dessert spoons and took a small chunk from the first dessert before bringing it close to your face. “Any guesses?”

“Smells warm.” You guessed, breathing in the delicious cinnamon-or was it caramel? “Caramel?”

“Very good, Angel.” He praised, unintentionally making your breath hitch. That little bit of praise hit you right in the belly, making a swarm of butterflies flutter all over. “Open your mouth.”

Shit. If only he was asking you to open your mouth for something else.

You did as instructed and widened your mouth, rubbing your palms up and down your thighs. He brought the spoon to your mouth, letting you suck it clean before removing it. “Do you have a guess?”

“Mmh.” You hummed softly, savoring the taste of the dessert you had on your first date. “Sticky date pudding?”

“Atta girl!” He cheered. “Well done.”

If he praised you one more time… god you almost felt pathetic at how turned on you were getting. And over food.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You whispered, wanting to look at him.

“Nope. Next one.” He took a spoon from the next dessert and repeated the same movements, holding it in front of your nose so you could smell it first. “What can you smell?”

“Custard maybe? Vanilla?”

“Yeah… on the right track.” He mused, “open up.” Then once again he fed you the spoon.

“Oh that’s so good.” You practically moaned, feeling his thumb brush against your mouth to wipe away a bit of custard. He sucked his thumb clean of it, watching you enjoy the dessert. Your moans of appreciation were hitting him harder than he thought they would but he just couldn’t help himself. You were moaning over something he made. He could only imagine what you’d sound like moaning over his cock or his mouth. “Is it… like a custard croissant cake or pudding? Whatever you call it.”

“You know your desserts. I’m impressed.”

“We had it on our second date, Harry.” And that’s when it clicked. “Are these desserts we’ve had on our dates?”

“Maybe. Depends if you can guess the last one. Now open up pretty girl.” At his last instruction you opened your mouth and your eyes at the same time, looking right at him. “Heyy. That’s cheating.” He complained, feeding it to you.

There was something erotic about the way you sucked that spoon clean, even going as far as plucking it from Harry’s fingers so you could get all the chocolate from it. “I knew it was chocolate pudding before you even fed it to me.” You whispered, looking down at the nicely plated dish. “Did you really make dishes we’ve had on our dates?”

“Maybe.” He repeated, scanning his eyes along your side profile. “Too much?”

No. Fuck, you were about ready to jump his bones.

“No.” You shook your head and set the spoon down. “This is… this is really thoughtful. Thank you.”

It was romantic. Everything about this date was romantic.

“You’re welcome.” Harry murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth. A playful smile emerged on his mouth and you could just tell something was up.

“What?” You chuckled.

“You’ve got something here.” He reached out to cup your face, swiping your mouth clean like he did before. “See? Must’ve liked the chocolate pudding.”

Before he had a chance to lick it clean himself, you grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth. His lips parted and his eyes darkened as he watched you wrap your lips around it, sucking on it gently.

“It’s good…” you whispered, eyes fluttering when he cupped your jaw. The heat rising in the room was almost unbearable. Every second felt like an hour, every flick of his eyes between your own and your mouth like a century. The touch of his pinky grazing your neck had you shivering and all you wanted-no, craved was his mouth on yours. You bit your lip, releasing it with a pop before breathing out a soft laugh. “So are you going to kiss me or-”

You couldn’t say another word because Harry had already slid his hand back to thread through your hair and pulled you right in for a kiss. You whimpered as your lips met in a soft kiss. It started gently, but as the seconds went by and your hands ended up in his hair, it was getting hot and heavy.

“Harry…” you sighed, breaking when you needed to breathe.

“God I love kissing you.” He murmured, tipping your head back so he could kiss along your jaw towards your neck.

“I…” you swallowed thickly while rubbing your hands down his neck towards his shirt buttons. You were desperate to see more of his skin. To feel more of it. “I want you.”

Harry paused, breathing heavily while pulling back to look at you. His lips were already swollen; all pink and yummy looking and his eyes had this dark look in them. It was a look you were sure you had given him countless times. When your heavy kisses got cut short or when you were forced to say goodnight when you really wanted to invite him in. You were sure you were giving it to him now.

“I want you. Really fucking bad.” He admitted, reaching to push your hair back from your face. “I just don’t want to rush you, baby. I didn’t invite you over expecting anything and-shit.” Harry’s eyes widened as you bit the bullet and ripped your shirt off before putting it down on your lap.

You were everything he imagined you’d be. No. You were better. Gorgeous in every way and in one of the prettiest bras he had ever seen. You could’ve worn anything though and he still would’ve thought that. But Jesus.

“You’re not rushing me.” You whispered, “but I am wearing matching underwear so you can rush that if you want to…”

Harry swooped in again, holding your face in both hands to kiss you. “I want to.” He practically moaned, “but I’m not rushing anything with you. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Good.” You smiled softly, sliding your palms over his chest before undoing the top button. “Good.” You barely whispered the word before kissing him again.

Harry pulled you closer by your hips, nudging your shirt to the ground so your legs thread into each other. He ran his hands over your torso, your waist and your arms while you worked on unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was warm and soft and you were addicted to the feeling of his chest hairs against your hands.

He undid your pants, draping the zipper down before making the executive decision to stand up and force you up as well with his hands on your hips. Your pants and top fell to the floor with ease and he was quick to push the dessert plate and cutlery out of the way so he could pick you up and set you on the edge of the table.

He was obsessed with how your body felt in his hands and under his lips and he wanted to explore every inch of you. He let his mouth trail along your collarbones and neck, down to the clevage spilling from your bra. You were so soft and sweet, so plush in his hands. Harry never wanted this to end and it had barely started. He hadn’t even tasted you yet…

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, y/n.” Harry breathed, taking a moment to just look at you. He reached in to kiss you gently while massaging your thighs, sliding his fingers so close to the edge of your underwear without brushing them at all. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. That was when you caught sight of the twinking diamond on your ring finger. The reminder that despite all verbal permission given by your husband as per your arrangement, you were still going to sleep with another man while married. “Can I ask a favour, though. Before we… do anything?”

“Of course.” He urged, eyes softening. “Anything. What is it?”

His gaze was so soft… so endearing. Harry showed more care for what you were saying than your husband did in the months he was off dating other people. Probably for months before that too.

You breathed out heavily, heart thumping in your ears as you pulled your ring finger off and played with it in your hands. “Will you put this in your pocket? I don’t want it on for this. I just want it to be you and me.”

“I’ll keep it safe.” Harry promised, holding his palm flat for you to put the ring on. “Even if you wore it, it would still be you and me, y/n.” He assured, sliding the ring into the tiny pocket at the front of his jeans.

“It wouldn’t.” You whispered, smiling softly while reaching forward to kiss him again. “It is now, though.”

Harry moaned into the kiss, pulling you closer to him so he had better access to you. Then he went back to just touching you. Caressing you. He palmed at your breasts and your thighs and your belly… everywhere he could.

Carson knew how to make you cum, but Harry didn’t and that was almost better. He didn’t skip through to the end, to what he knew would work. No, Harry took his sweet time running his hands and his mouth over your body, trying to figure out what you liked best. He wanted to memorise the little jerks or squeezes of your thighs the prettiest soft whimpers if he touched you just so.

Harry loved the first time he slept with someone knew. It was a new experience and an entirely new set of likes and dislikes for him to explore. And after you dressed up so nice for him and wore what would’ve had to be the sexiest lingerie he had ever seen, Harry couldn’t have been more excited. He had been waiting for this since the moment he met you face to face.

“What do you like?” Harry breathed, smoothing his hands over your stomach up towards your breasts. They slipped under the cups of your bra to push it above your nipples so he could pinch them in both hands. “Tell me. Please.” He was almost desperate, needing to know how he could please you.

“I like what you’re doing now. I like…” You swallowed, whimpering ever so slightly when he pinched your right nipple a little harder, “I like when you look at me…”

“What else?” Harry murmured, keeping his eyes laced with yours as he dipped down to tug at your nipple with his teeth instead. He soothed the ache with his tongue; all hot and slick. All you could think about was his tongue being somewhere else. Getting head was a rare commodity in your house. Carson was quite decent at it, actually, but it was one of those things where it took forever for you to cum. You both worked demanding jobs so when you got time or needed release, it was usually something quick to get the job done.

But god, you’d kill to be eaten out.

“Fuck…” you gasped, running a hand through his soft hair. While you were nervous about sleeping with a new man, there was one thing marriage life did prepare you for; saying what you wanted. You had no problems telling Harry exactly what you liked. “I like dirty talk too. I like to be praised…” you had to pause when he sucked on your nipple again, releasing it with a pop that had you shivering when the air hit the wetness left behind by his tongue. “Degraded too…”

“Yeah?” Harry cocked his head, smirking like you just unlocked something evil in him. “Anything you don’t like to be called?”

“Stupid. I don’t like being called a bitch, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl,” Harry assured, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your pretty underwear and sliding them side to side against your skin. Harry would’ve loved to get you completely bare for him, but there was something so sexy about fucking you while you were wearing the lingerie. You wore it for a reason, it would be a shame to let it lay on the floor for the entire night, especially when you looked so fucking good at it. “Tell me more. I want to know what I can do to you.”

“It’s too easy if I give you all the answers, Harry. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” You teased, sitting up from the table so you could run your palms all over his chest and up to around his neck.

He was just glorious. All tanned and muscular with littered hairs that made him look so much more manly. You could only imagine what his pecs would look like all sweaty while he fucked you. You hoped he’d hover over your head so you could lick at his chest and tug at that sinful cross necklace between your teeth.

“Can I tell you what I want to do?” He proposed, hooking one finger on the underside of your underwear this time, moving it towards your mound but not down enough to feel how wet you had grown for him. He was so close to dipping his fingers into your crease. So close to being able to please you.

“Please…” You breathed, eager and so damn desperate for anything.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing this,” he snapped at the fabric, maintaining direct eye contact with you. Oh, Jesus. Between his eye contact and his sultry tone, you were going dizzy at how direct he was being. You loved it. “Then I want to strip you naked and watch you bounce on my cock. Forwards… backwards.” He groaned at the thought and grabbed onto your ass, firmly pulling you closer to the edge of the dining table until his lips brushed with yours. You could feel the hard length of his cock press against your pussy, promising you that it would be deep inside you by the end of the night.

“I want to make your ass red so when you go home to your husband, he’ll know I fucked you better than he ever could.”

It was another promise, that Harry would indeed fuck you better than Carson ever could.

“But first…” Harry bucked his hips against yours, keeping his grip on your hips tight so you couldn’t wiggle away at his directed grinds over your clit. He kissed you gingerly, watching your eyes haze over as you whimpered softly. Between his cock and his words, your head was spinning. “I need to taste you. I’ve thought about nothing else but having my face between your thighs for weeks now.”

Harry grabbed your hands from behind his neck and pressed them down to the table on either side of your hips, bumping his nose with yours. “Do you like the idea of any of that, darling?”

You nodded eagerly, loving the sound of all of it. “Uhuh. All of it…” you inhaled a sharp breath, loving the feeling of his hands moving to knead at your inner thighs, “There is one thing though. Something I want.”

“Tell me.” He murmured, eyes wide and eager. He just couldn’t keep his hands off you. He was grabbing your thighs and your hips, craving the warmth of your body.

“I want your cock in my mouth. I’ve been thinking about that since our first date.”

Harry smirked and you could feel the way his cock jerked right against you. It was big. You wanted to choke on it.

“That can be arranged.”

He reached in to kiss you again, groaning like a starved man while wrapping his palm around the back of your neck to guide you back down against the table. When you were flat he stood back up and stripped his shirt off fully, leaving him completely shirtless.

Then he did something unexpected. With a shit-eating grin on his face he pulled up the chair he kicked away earlier and sat on it, shuffling close to the table like he was getting ready to eat a three-course meal. You were going to make fun of him for it, but you didn’t really get a chance when he slung your legs over his shoulder and nuzzled his nose right into the crotch of your underwear.

“Jesus.” He moaned, eyes fluttering closed. Your jaw went completely slack at what you were witnessing. Never had a man looked so fucking hungry to eat you out. He was practically delirious and all he had done was inhale how sweet you were. Harry was looking forward to having your scent all over him. “You smell so fucking good, y/n.” He looked up at you again, hooking the very tip of his finger into the crotch of your underwear and sliding it up and down along your crease. “But do you taste as good as you smell?”

You nearly whined like some pathetic puppy, but you had to keep that inside as you didn’t want to appear too eager. Too easy. Truthfully, you were easy though. Harry was able to turn you on easier and quicker than you ever thought. And all over a little dirty talk and a slight obsession with eating you out.

“Why don’t you find out?” You hiked yourself up on your elbows, bringing your feet off his shoulders and onto the edge of the table so you were spread wider for him.

“Oh I will,” he pulled your underwear to the side, breath hitching at the first sight of your bare pussy. “You’re so gorgeous, y/n. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long… long time.”

When his mouth finally grazed your clit, you fell back against the table. You couldn’t hold yourself up even if you wanted to, not when he started eating you out like a damn starved animal. Harry moaned like you were the best thing he ever tasted and touched everywhere. He wasn’t clit happy or labia happy and he certainly didn’t miss-interpret one part of your anatomy for another.

“Fuck Harry… oh God.” You whined, pulling at his hair with both hands before suddenly letting go because you hadn’t asked if you could. You didn’t even know if he liked it. “Do you-” You could barely breathe let alone talk. “Can I pull your hair? Is it okay?”

“God, yes. As hard as you want,�� Harry moaned like the idea of his hair being pulled was orgasmic. “Don’t stop, y/n. I promise.” He grabbed your hand and guided it back to his hair, giving you a reassuring nod before going back to your clit.

Harry knew exactly what he was doing. How to tease, how to take advantage of your entire body to make you feel good. He kissed and nipped over your thighs and used his hands to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples. It was all so wet and sloppy and you felt like your entire body was on fire.

“God you taste… shit-” Harry broke for air, spitting directly over your pussy then spreading it around with two fingers, “you taste so fucking good, y/n.” He used one of those wet fingers and slid it inside you, pumping it a few times while slurping against your clit again. “Never thought a pussy could be so sweet… ‘m addicted.”

He slid his second finger in easily, fucking you with both digits so good your arousal was echoing around the room. His high ceilings did wonders of making sound travel. Even with all the rugs and soft furnishing, the softest moan sounded so much louder. And you were anything but soft. Your noises were loud and unforgiving and every single one of them was going straight to his cock.

It also meant you heard every groan Harry made. Every single sound of pleasure he was feeling just eating you out. It was possibly one of the sexiest things you had ever experienced. A man with his head buried between your thighs moaning and being so fucking enthusiastic because he gained genuine pleasure out of it. He liked it. Harry ate you out like it was his favourite thing on planet earth.

“You okay? You good?” He checked in on you, looking up at your gaped mouth and thrown-back head. You only moaned in response so Harry reached for your hand and threaded your fingers, squeezing them to get your attention. “Hey. Look at me.” He nudged, not happy with your lack of response.

You forced yourself to look down at him, nearly shaking at how intense his eye contact was. His (now) three fingers were still steadily fucking into you, but he had taken a much-needed break from using his mouth to check on you. “Good?”

“Yes. So so good. So good.” You nodded eagerly, trying to guide his face back to you with the hand still in his hair. “Just-please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He grinned, cocking his head ever so slightly. “Is it that good, baby? Do I suck your pretty clit so good that you need it?”

“Yes... Oh yes...”

“I need it too.” He admitted, dipping back in to swirl his tongue around his fingers, right where your poor needy hole was dripping with arousal. “You just taste so fucking good, y/n. I’d have you on my face every night if I could.”

You seemed to like that idea because he could feel you clench around his fingers, knees bumping into each other so his face was wedged between your thighs. Your underwear were a complete mess too; all soaked and creamy. Harry wanted to wring them with his teeth and suck them dry, but with the real thing pressed right against his nose, he didn’t have to.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Letting me eat your cunt every night? Every morning, even? Would you let me wake you up with my head between your thighs? Let me eat you for a midnight snack. Because I would.” Harry moaned as he wedged his mouth over your clit again, kissing and licking at it, spitting at it so it was even wetter. You were practically a sobbing mess above him too and that only encouraged him to say whatever he wanted.

“Y/n, I’d worship you and this pretty pussy.”

He slid his fingers out just long enough to smack them against your clit. It was gentle at first and he quickly soothed the sharp sting with his tongue. But he felt the way you jerked around his head, how your hips lifted off the table to get more.

“Is it okay?” He breathed, looking up for an answer. This time, you were already looking right at him. You had been from the moment he left your aching cunt empty and needy because you wanted to see what he’d do. And what a sight. You were sure you’d never forget the image of him smacking your clit then making out with it like a starved man. It was ridiculous.

Harry Styles’ mouth would kill you one day. You knew it would.

“More than okay.” You nodded, bringing your intertwined fingers up to your breast so his large hand would squeeze against your nipple. “Do it again.”

He followed your request quickly and spanked over your pussy again, this time a little harder and with more surface area of his fingers. You gasped out a moan, back lurching off the table as they hit your swollen clit. He quickly soothed the burn with his tongue, this time blowing on your sensitive skin for a moment before languidly tracing swirls over your clit.

“Again. Harder.” You gurgled out, clenching your fist into his hair when he smacked your clit again. Harder. He slid those three fingers right back into you again, curling and fucking them roughly right against your g-spot. “Oh God… Harry!”

“Oh, you’re such a good little slut letting me spank you like this. Right over your little clit too, hm? Who knew such a pretty girl would like such dirty things.”

The dirty talk… you were going to pass out.

“You’re taking it so well, y/n” He cooed, pulling his fingers out to spank you again before they returned deep into your pussy. It was dizzying. The way he spanked you then fucked you then spanked you again like some quick endless loop. He was careful not to hit you too many times, but whatever he was doing was making you reach your orgasm faster than any other oral you had received.

“‘M gonna cum, Harry. Please just…” You pulled his face back to your clit, urging him closer with your hand.

Harry didn’t argue and did what you seemed to like the most; those three fingers stroking right against your g-spot, one hand on your breast and his mouth sucking right over your clit. It seemed to do the trick too because not even ten seconds later, you were practically lurching off the table while crying out his name through a squirting orgasm. Your hand cemented him to your pussy so he could happily collect as much of your release right in his mouth.

When you started to calm down, Harry softened his movements and pulled his fingers out of you. He licked them clean then pressed soft kisses all over your thighs and mound, even right on either side of your clit.

“You’re such a good girl, darling. Did so well for me.” Harry praised, squeezing your hand and keeping his eyes on your face as you panted and looked up at the ceiling.

“God that was…” You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweaty hair from your forehead so you could look down at him.

“What?” He nudged, smirking while kissing your inner thigh. “Good? Is that the word you’re looking for?”

“Your ego’s too big for your own good.” You laughed softly, sitting up so you could guide his mouth to yours. Harry was still smiling into the kiss until he relaxed into it. That’s when it turned heated again. The taste of your pussy and his mouth; your mouth too… it was all too much. “But yeah…” you sighed, “it was good.”

He stood up from his chair so you weren’t hunched down to kiss him and the moment you had access to his jeans, you started working on undoing them. Harry hissed into the kiss when you applied pressure to his hard bulge and he had to break free just to breathe at how sensitive he was. His cock felt harder than ever before. He didn’t think he had ever been this turned on and sore in his entire life.

This chemistry with you… it was otherworldly. Supernatural almost. A compelling pull like his cells were trying to fuse with yours.

And you were married. He had to push that thought out of his head because only a few weeks into this and he was already considering asking you to leave your husband.

“I need you, baby.” He panted, grabbing your hips tightly as you pushed his jeans and boxers down his thighs to free his cock. “Shit-”

You wrapped your hand around his cock while he helped you get them off the rest of the way. You couldn’t help but look down between you, needing to see how pretty he was. And pretty he was. Long and decently thick, so heavy in your hand. You knew he’d fill you up so good he’d have you seeing stars. Two fingers were usually enough to prep you for sex, sometimes even one depending on how turned on you were.

You were glad he chose three.

“Your cock is so pretty, Harry.” You complimented, squeezing your palm around him. Your eyes filtered between your working hand and his face, obsessed with how hooded his eyes became just from your hand. “So big too… I need you inside me. ‘M so empty.”

Harry didn’t quite realise when you said you liked dirty talk that you liked it both ways, but he rather enjoyed the filth spilling from your mouth. He found it cute that you could barely string words together when he was pleasuring you, but like this? It was the biggest fucking turn-on.

“Bend me over the table…” You begged softly, nipping at his jaw until you reached the shell of his ear. His cock was oozing precum down over your hand. He liked what you were saying. “Please. Make me squirt again…”

“Come here.”

Harry pulled you off the table and with a rough hand, spun you around to bend you over the table. You squealed as he spanked your ass without thought, spreading your cheeks wide to spit down over you. He planned to fulfil his promise of fucking you with this lingerie on and now that he was looking at your pretty holes bent over with the tiny string of lace tucked to the side… he couldn’t have been more excited.

“You’re just so hot, y/n.” Harry groaned, spanking your other cheek just to watch your ass jiggle. “So goddamn hot.”

“I’m hotter with a cock in me.”

Your mouth earned you another spank, this time directly over your sensitive cunt. You squealed and jumped in place, but Harry easily soothed the ache with a friendly grind of his cock against your clit. Your knees buckled at the direct stimulation but Harry made sure you kept still by pressing his hand to your lower back.

“I need to get a condom,” he murmured to himself, suddenly remembering the dreaded protection right when his cock was so close to being inside you.

“Hurry.” You gasped, forehead pressed to the table.

“I will. I will.”

Harry fished the condom from his jeans pocket, placed there earlier in the evening in hopes of sleeping with you tonight. It was a just-in-case for something spur of the moment, though he didn’t start the night plotting a way to get you in his bed. He was glad now that he put that condom in there just in case, especially when you were waiting for him.

Once the condom was on, he was right back in position. A hand on the small of your back and the other guiding the head of his cock to your entrance. Harry didn’t wait or tease, he just pressed right into you slowly and deliberately.

“Shit-”

“Oh goddd…”

Your curses echoed at the same time, both as desperate as each other. Harry just stretched you so perfectly, on the cusp of too much and the best type of full possible. It helped that you were so damn wet, so turned on that he was easily able to push inside you.

“God, baby. You're so tight.” Harry hissed, reaching forward to press a kiss to the middle of your back. You couldn’t even respond to his compliment when your body was still getting accustomed to a new man. A new cock. All you could do was moan and claw at the table, clenching around him. “Hey. You okay?” Harry checked, sweeping your hair back so he could see your face.

“Uhuh. Just… shit.” You whimpered, squeezing around him again. He cursed at how tight you were and collected your hair in a loose hold around his fist.

“Y’sure?” He mused, pressing a kiss right in between your shoulder blades. “You’re trembling beneath me, darling.”

“Fuck me.” You begged. He was so deep in your belly and it was torturous having him so far inside you and not moving at all. “Please Harry just-”

He didn’t need to be convinced any further. Not with how sweet you sounded and how wet you were around him. You were a fucking dream and that only became more apparent as Harry started thrusting into you. He started with a slow but steady grind, fucking you with hard pressure like he was trying to memorise every inch of your pussy.

“God baby. You feel so good.” Harry moaned, building up the speed with a good grip on your hips. He hooked his thumb into the small lace string of your underwear, pulling it to the side so he could watch his cock disappear into your wet cunt. And you were so wet. Your arousal coating his length and turning creamy the longer he fucked you. It was obscene.

Mostly though, he was watching your face. Your cheek pressed to the table, mouth gaped open and eyes screwed shut as you moaned the-fuck the prettiest noises he had ever heard. He had barely shown you his best tricks and you were a mess beneath him. Had your husband really been lacking this entire time? Been leaving you so unsatisfied that a bit of doggy had you unravelling?

He couldn’t bear the thought of you having to take care of yourself because your husband couldn’t do it for you. But maybe that was a good thing. Because then Harry would be there for you. He’d give you pleasure you had never experienced in your life. Over and over again.

Starting with tonight.

“Feel good baby?” Harry cooed, spanking your ass with a rough touch.

“Yeah”

“Yeah?” He repeated, spanking you again on the opposite side. Your whine echoed around the room, as did the sound of the dining table squeaking forward against Harry’s nice floorboards. “Say it, baby. Tell me how I’m doing, hm?”

“So good. God, you fuck me so good.” You moaned, “please- go… go harder. Harder.”

Harry picked up the pace, reaching to wrap your hair around his fist so he could pull your head back. “Moan for me, y/n. Moan my name.” He demanded right in your ear, spanking you twice on the same cheek.

“Harry.” You cried out, feeling him smile in satisfaction at how pretty you took the pain. So he spanked you again and again as you moaned loudly into the air.

“That’s it… Good girl. You’re taking it so well…” Harry gritted out, spanking your ass roughly while tightening his hand in your hair. You whined at the sting of your scalp, nearly sobbing at how fast and hard he was fucking into you. “S’like you were made for me, y/n. Just made for my fucking cock.”

He was fucking you so hard, so fucking good that the table kept etching forward and forward. Harry had to keep readjusting his footing and his grip on your hair. He combed his fingers through your hair and wrapped it around his fist, tugging hard when the table slipped forward again.

But he was persistent and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved.

“Y’sounds so damn pretty moaning my name, baby. Fucking love how sweet you sound.”

His words elicited a moan; a filthy pretty moan only exaggerated when he tugged your hair harder. “You’re so big. So good.” You cried, “loveyourcock.”

You were addicted to the way he fucked you, even just the way he felt stretching you out but keeping completely still. It felt like you could almost reach an orgasm just like this with no clit stimulation at all which never happened. Nowadays it was your vibrator or nothing and now here you were one orgasm down and another so damn close.

Still, you needed your clit touched and you couldn’t really reach it this way.

The table etched forward once more and right as he pulled back to thrust into you again, the table slid forward making him slip out completely. He effortlessly slid himself back into you to continue, but when it happened a second then a third time you couldn’t help but giggle. Even through the deep pleasure and hazy mind, it was funny.

“Fuck.” He cursed when his cock bumped against your ass cheek instead of where he actually wanted to be. He tapped it against your clit before grinding there, watching you squirm and let out a choked gasp through your light laugh.

“I think we may need to switch rooms.” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at him while panting as you desperately tried to catch your breath. He had let go of your hair for a moment, planning on trying to continue until you suggested moving things elsewhere.

Truth be told, Harry jerked one out before you came. He didn’t plan the evening around having sex with you and would’ve been okay if nothing happened at all, but his cock couldn’t control itself around you. Just your presence and your scent could get him hard in no time so he tried to fuck the frustration out before you even got there.

He was glad he did so too because now that he was in the middle of feeling your sweet sweet cunt, he had a lot more stamina going onto his second orgasm. He could have you riding him through two more orgasms before needing to cum himself and fuck did he want to experience you squirting right on his dick.

“I think so.” He breathed through a laugh and ran his hand through his hair, “c’mere.”

“Mh.” You agreed, standing up on shaky legs and sore hips. Harry grabbed you straight away and helped you turn around to face him. He cupped your face with one hand to guide your mouth to his, deepening it effortlessly while tucking his hands under your thighs so you could jump up and wrap your legs around him.

You were slightly shaky in his arms, sensitive as he placed you gently on the floor in front of his bed. He broke the kiss to look at you for a moment, panting heavily while brushing his nose against yours. There was something about the look in his eyes that had you crumbling inside. They were soft and almost loving; so full of yearning and desire that you were almost scared to look back. It was overwhelming.

Harry danced his fingers down your neck and shoulder to your arm where the strap of your bra had fallen. Every touch was making you shiver and only causing that ache between your thighs to grow. You felt empty. Cold without his cock inside you.

“Take this off. I want to see you.” Harry murmured, searching your eyes while waiting for you to nod before he kissed you once more and climbed onto his bed. He shuffled backwards until he was against his headboard, legs wide and cock hard and waiting for you to climb back onto him.

He never stopped looking at you. Never stopped watching even as he wrapped his own hand around his cock and gave himself a few tugs to the sight of your body becoming bare for him. The prettiest of prettiest lingerie on planet Earth couldn’t compare to the sight of a womans naked body. Your bare, naked body. The soft peaks of your breasts and the way they fell naturally without a bra. The dip of your hips and tummy without the confides of lace. It was glorious.

Harry could barely contain himself.

“You’re a vision.” Harry awed, jaw clenching like he was trying to control himself from dragging you onto the bed and pinning you down.

“So are you.” You whispered while crawling towards him on the bed. You let your hands glide up his thighs once you were situated between them, taking the time to look over every inch of his naked body. You were in awe to put it simply and so goddamn attracted to him you were worried sex would never be the same afterwards.

Because it wasn’t just the pleasure. It was the chemistry. The eye contact. The fact you two had a laugh about him thrusting against your ass cheek instead of inside of you because his table couldn’t handle the pressure. The way you could have that laugh just minutes ago and be back to this. The firey eye contact and his trembling thighs underneath your palms.

“Can I have a taste…” You breathed, licking your lips at the sight of his cock up against his stomach. From this angle he looked even bigger than before and knowing he was just inside you… fuck. You could barely breathe. “Please?”

Harry groaned and wrapped his hand loosely around your neck, only applying light pressure right beneath your jaw. “Just a little, y/n. For now the only place I want to come is with you coming around me.”

If only he was bare inside you…

“Okay… just a taste, H.” You nodded, pressing harder against his palm. You wrapped your palm around his cock, loving the sight of his jaw clenching at the touch. “Can I take this off?” You asked, rubbing over his head at the condom.

“Yeah, baby. Take it off.”

Harry was going to lose his fucking mind.

You were quick to pull off the condom then wasted no time in dipping down and licking a fat stripe from balls to tip on the underside of him. Harry groaned and collected your hair in his hand so he could see your face. Your eyes fluttered closed at the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

He was warm and heavy and you could taste yourself right at the base of his cock where your arousal dripped down. You made sure to clean it all up with your tongue, lapping at it while looking at Harry to watch his reaction. He could barely contain himself and with every lick his hand flexed in your hair like he was trying to control himself.

“You can guide me. I like it when I choke.” You murmured, spitting directly onto his tip before sliding it into your mouth to spread it with your tongue.

“God, you’re going to be the end of me.” He groaned, hand tightening in your hair with purpose. Harry reached for your spare hand, intertwining your fingers while pulling your mouth off him for a moment. You were like jelly in his hands, compliant as he instructed you to squeeze his hand once if you were okay and twice if he was too rough or you needed a break. More than happy with that arrangement, you agreed and squeezed his hand in preparation for him to guide your mouth down.

He started to gently maneuver your mouth up and down his length, starting shallow at first before going deeper until he felt the tightness of your throat around him. You choked ever so slightly but squeezed his hand once and enjoyed the feeling of his cock twitch down your throat.

“Look at me…” Harry breathed, forcing your eyes on his. “That’s it… fuck.”

The sight had him gasping and moving your mouth over his cock faster. Your pretty little eyes all glistened with tears… God the sight was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. And the way you just took his cock without complaint and even moaned when you gagged around him… it was like you were made for him.

The feeling of his cock filling your throat was like nothing else. There was just something about choking on a man’s dick that got you all squirmy inside. You had always been a relationship girl and a bit of a ‘late bloomer’ according to those who thought losing your virginity in your early 20s was the biggest sin of the century, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced.

Your first serious relationship exposed you to things you had always wanted to try. A world of kinks and things you weren’t sure you’d like until you tried them, others you were certain you’d hate until you found out you didn’t. You always considered yourself lucky to have a guy introduce you to sex and provide an environment where you could not only lose your virginity, but experiment without any shame or constraints.

Funny how you ended up married to your next serious relationship after him to a guy who had no interest in anything remotely more exciting than a spank and a sporadic hair pull. You loved Carson enough to be happy with vanilla but fulfilling sex. It wasn’t like it didn’t have any passion, because it did, it just didn’t have this.

What Harry managed to provide you on your first night together (a night far from over as well) Carson couldn’t give you in six years of being together. You weren’t sure you could go back to your old sex life. Not now.

“You look so hot like this.” You gasped, pulling off to breathe while jacking him off with your spare hand. Your other was still intertwined with one his and you had no plans of changing that. “I love having your cock in my mouth, Harry…” you moaned, reaching in to lick his length once more. “Feels so good.”

“Jesus.” Harry groaned, tensing his hand in your hair. “You’re doing so well, y/n. Such a good little cock sucker, aren’t you?”

You moaned filthily at his degrade, letting him slide you back down over his cock. Your whole body was on fire. Even with only a little hand holding and hair tugging, you were beyond turned on and empty between your legs. The sight of him was just so beyond sexy, almost too sexy for you to handle.

His chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. With every pant or moan his abs would contract and his thighs would tremble on either side of your shoulders. You wanted to see him cum so bad. You wanted to watch his jaw contract and his mouth part as he moaned your name.

“You’re gonna make me cum, y/n.” He warned in this almost whine of a tone. “Need to cum inside you.”

“I want it in my mouth. Wanna taste you.” You practically pleaded, tapping his tip against your tongue.

“You’re incredible…” Harry groaned, using his hand on your hair to pull you up towards his mouth. He kissed you hungrily, angling your head in the direction he wanted so he could deepen it. “But…” he panted, breaking just to say that one word before kissing you once more, “I need to…” he nibbled on your lip and grabbed onto the back of your thighs, "… feel you around me when I come.”

You whimpered as he dragged you in a straddle and pressed your wet cunt directly over his cock in a slow deliberate grind. Fucking hell. You just wanted to slip him in, to feel him bare inside you until you were full of his cum.

But you couldn’t. And the fact you were half considering letting it happen on your very first sexual experience out of your marriage was insane. It scared you.

“Condom.” You uttered against his mouth, tugging on his hair ever so slightly.

“Yeah. Yeah.” He breathed, barely able to concentrate when you dragged your mouth along his jaw and neck. Harry reached for his bedside table and grabbed another condom from the top drawer, returning quickly to kiss you again while blindly unwrapping it.

But it was like Harry was stuttering. Fumbling to do something as simple as putting a condom on his own cock. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your mouth was so sweet and erotic, nibbling at his bottom lip until all he could think about was how to hold his breath indefinitely so he could kiss you forever.

And you were growing impatient. The few seconds delay in his movements had you so desperate you leaned back to breathe, took the condom from his hand and rolled it down on his cock in one swift motion.

“Fuck me, baby.” This time it was Harry’s time to plead. He wound his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, panting into your open mouth as you guided him to your entrance and dropped down on him once more.

His cock felt so much bigger from this angle and he felt deeper too even though he was just fucking you so hard his dining room table couldn’t handle the force. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t control the loud whine flooding into his mouth when your clit hit his pubic bone. Or maybe it was because this position was far more intimate than being bent over.

“You’re so big… feels bigger like this.” You gasped, lulling your head back while grabbing his shoulders for balance so you could start bouncing on him and getting a good rhythm going.

“I know…” he cooed, squeezing your hips before spanking you quickly. “Show me how much you need it, huh?” Leaning in, Harry ran his mouth along your exposed neck, panting between little bites and licks on your skin, “show me how good m’cock makes you feel.”

"Love your cock," You whined, already feeling the ache in your thighs as you picked up the speed.

Harry wrapped one arm around you and hugged you tighter while pressing the fingers of his spare hand directly to your clit. And with every bounce, every grind, his fingers stimulated right where you needed it the most. You were already so full with him and now he was giving you the cherry on top so you could finish.

"More... more, please. Need it harder."

"Need it harder?" Harry taunted, hiking his legs up on his feet in a wide position on the bed so he had enough stability to thrust up into you. "Like that?" He chuckled at your cry, squeezing your body in his arm so you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

"Yeah... yeah. Fuck!" you practically sobbed, unable to do anything but grab his hair or shoulders and just take how hard he was fucking into you. His legs were strong and while you were a sobbing, breathless mess above him, Harry wasn't losing momentum at all.

He was sweaty and panting but he never stopped thrusting up into you. At least that's what it felt like. While you gave up and begged for more, Harry was more than happy to take over and give you a fucking you'd never forget.

He thrived being in control. You could tell.

"That's it, y/n. You're taking it so fucking well, y'know that. Just sitting there and taking it like the good little slut you are. My fucking slut..." Harry cooed, dipping down to tug at your nipple. "Got me so fucking close, pretty girl. Just need you to come f'me."

Between his words and lips on your breast... his fingers pressed to your clit and the way his cock was bruising your insides, you couldn't hold on any longer.

“God, Harry. ‘M gonna cum” You cried, trying to warn him of the deep churning in your belly and the trembling in your toes.

"Look at me." He demanded, sliding his hand up into your hair to force your head in his direction. Your eyes fluttered open but despite your vision already hazy, you could clearly see the way his eyes were hooded, pupils wide and hungry. "That's it. Look at me while you cum, baby. Let me see how pretty you look."

Harry pressed his forehead to yours, opened mouths panting and brushed against one another. He watched closely when your mouth gaped wide and your eyes struggled to keep open as your orgasm hit. The way your brows furrowed and your entire body trembled on top of him and he could feel his lap and lower belly become soaked in your release.

It was glorious.

"Good girl." He praised, "Fuck. Fuck!" His words turned to mush when he reached his own orgasm and somehow even pulled you tighter against him so he could feel every inch of your soft skin.

Coming down was all open-mouthed kisses and laboured breaths and this distinct feeling that everything had changed. You two could never go back to casual and you most certainly couldn't look at yourself or your husband the same way ever again.

"I feel bad you only came once." You practically pouted, grabbing another spoonful of pudding to feed it to Harry. "It doesn't really seem fair."

What did seem fair, though, was finishing off the dessert neither of you ate after your intense workout. You were quite enjoying feeding a naked Harry delicious sugary puddings and it just felt morally wrong to leave the dessert sitting there when it was the perfect bridge between round one and two.

"Trust me. I'm more than satisfied." Harry chuckled once swallowing the delicious dessert. He dragged his fingers over your hip, loving how his t-shirt fit your frame. It was so casual and sexy. His clothes had never looked better.

"Well, I hope you're not tired because I'm not and I think I'd like to test your 27-year-old stamina." you shrugged casually, eating the last bite of the sticky date pudding.

"Oh really?" Harry raised his brow and gently took the spoon from your fingers to set them down on the plate. "Two orgasms wasn't enough for you?" He teased, moving the plate out of the way so he could cup your face and gently guide you down onto the bed.

"Mh mh." You shook your head with a smile and clasped your hands around the back of his neck while he adjusted your body to hover over you. "I think at least four..." you curled your leg around his hip and dug your heel right into the pudginess of his bum, "and I wouldn't mind a bit more effort put into making my ass red. You did promise that, didn't you?"

"More effort, huh?" He smirked and grabbed onto the underside of your jaw with a firm grip to pin you to the bed. "You've got no idea what you just started, little girl."

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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psicostyles · 3 months ago

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And this is how you start a discography | Happy Birthday Sign Of The Times |

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psicostyles · 3 months ago

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psicostyles · 3 months ago

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fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out.

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar.

Harry Styles.

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him.

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him.

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling.

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night.

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach.

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena.

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice.

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight."

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him.

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him.

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort.

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?"

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting.

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions.

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape.

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?"

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah."

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin.

She gave him a small nod.

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it.

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up.

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her.

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned.

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her.

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?"

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat.

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes.

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me."

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke.

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man.

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right.

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed?

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot.

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage."

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment.

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him.

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?"

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space."

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body.

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage.

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her.

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more.

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot.

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor.

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room.

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night?

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank.

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say?

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more.

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears.

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her.

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close?

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?"

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?"

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry."

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul."

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me."

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?"

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way.

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras."

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?"

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?"

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her.

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you."

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation.

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears.

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?"

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now."

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms.

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god.

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night?

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat.

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror.

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?"

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features.

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling."

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players.

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either.

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet."

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?"

"Why do you say that?"

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon.

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink.

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end."

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything.

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh.

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile.

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?"

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row."

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?"

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky."

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her.

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes.

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks."

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think."

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny."

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation.

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants.

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face.

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist.

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?"

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room.

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone."

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself, "Nice to meet you."

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile.

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice.

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face.

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh.

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?"

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets.

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour."

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about."

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features.

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from.

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it."

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do.

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip.

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly.

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her.

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?"

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go."

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his.

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him.

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room."

"Coming back?"

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not."

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning."

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow.

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning.

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side.

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside.

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television.

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot.

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?"

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit."

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out.

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone.

"ABBA?"

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?"

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen."

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?"

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest.

"Still like me?"

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave.

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach.

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless.

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?"

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter.

"I can show you."

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers.

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips.

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered.

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles.

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders.

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?"

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin.

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy."

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?"

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants.

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips.

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away.

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?"

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least.

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?"

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?"

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side.

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand.

"What do y'want to listen to first?"

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers.

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at.

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?"

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look.

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers.

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more.

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest.

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs.

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks.

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots.

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought.

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins.

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please."

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip.

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor.

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands.

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips.

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud.

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?"

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice.

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan.

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out.

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin.

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?"

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band.

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets.

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties.

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt.

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more.

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?"

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin.

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me."

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted.

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?"

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says."

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?"

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here.

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true."

"Which ones?"

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs. "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy."

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off.

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit.

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?"

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?"

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening.

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby."

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy."

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?"

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss.

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?"

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world.

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before.

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers.

"Y'called me daddy."

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps.

"Say it again, baby."

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?"

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to."

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time.

"Daddy."

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him.

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue.

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck."

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined.

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of.

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?"

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides.

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me."

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?"

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in.

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow.

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—"

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me."

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy."

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command.

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go.

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her.

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings.

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me."

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs.

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips.

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?"

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along.

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you?

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel.

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself.

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me."

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy."

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing.

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit.

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart.

"We-We'll make it fit."

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then.

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach. A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed.

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets.

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined.

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted.

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?"

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

"I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby?

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?"

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad."

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight."

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper.

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth.

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me."

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape.

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world.

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings.

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music.

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted.

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos.

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches.

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky.

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair.

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight.

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way.

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again.

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence.

"What are y'doing this summer?"

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk?

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?"

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?"

Her heart lagged.

"What?"

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want."

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?"

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that."

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together.

"You're that easy?"

"I suppose I am, love."

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

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psicostyles · 3 months ago

Text

THIS IS SO CUTE AND SEXY AND AAAAAAA AT THE SAME TIME I LOVED IT

Truth or Dare | slumber party!h

Summary: Y/n's coworker, Harry, has never been to a slumber party so she decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

A/N: Based off this request. Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,752

Warning: smut

. . .

By her third glass of chardonnay, her stomach was feeling the acid from the wine but she was having such a good time talking to Harry from the operations department that she didn’t care. She’d have another before calling it a night. Just one more glass so she could sit with him a little longer and listen to him talk and watch as he ran his finger along the edge of his pint glass.

He was probably looking at her like he was because he was also three pints of lager in and he was kind so he was holding eye contact to be polite. Certainly, it wasn’t because he found her attractive (though she’d have welcomed that).

The company’s management meeting was long over and everyone else had gone home but Harry and Y/n stayed for another round. They rarely ever got to talk at the office. She’d always wanted to pick his brain about why he decided to move to the US and how, of all companies, he chose to work at Dunn Services.

Y/n laughed on cue as he mentioned something from his childhood with his sister having her friends over to stay the night. He grinned, a healthy row of teeth aimed at her before he looked down and laughed at himself, “In truth? I never did have a sleepover or anything like that.”

“Really? Surely you had friends…”

Harry nodded, “Oh yeah I had a lot of friends. But I never stayed over at anyone’s and they never came over to mine either. Just… I don’t know. Never happened.”

Placing her nearly empty glass down she turned and waved with a smile as the waitress walked by, “Can we get another round, please?”

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked when she faced him, crossing her leg over her knee toward him.

“Taxi. You?”

“Might walk. I’m not far from here.”

Nodding she placed her elbows on the table, “So, I think that you’ve missed out on an integral right of passage, having never had a slumber party. You should definitely remedy that at some point. I highly recommend a fun sleepover. In fact, if you need pointers on what to do during a sleepover, I’m your gal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your go-to during a slumber party?” Harry teased before taking another sip of his beer.

“Well, I think there are like two main components. The first is entertainment and I’m always keen on a good movie, or a dumb one, either way… a movie for sure if I’m picking. Some people like to play board games or whatever, but I like to stuff myself into a pile of blankets and pillows and just lie, or drape,” she spoke using her arms to demonstrate herself draping into pillows. “Occasionally, if the mood is right, I’ll enjoy a little truth or dare.”

“Got it. A movie and maybe if the mood is right, truth or dare. And what’s the second component.”

Y/n crossed her fingers together and raised her brows as if she were about to say something very important, “Snacks. Beverages. Good ones. Usually just small bites but here’s my list…” She cleared her throat, “Buttered popcorn, and possibly potato chips. Definitely something chocolatey, and maybe something like a cookie or a snack cake. If not potato chips then tortilla chips and if it’s tortilla chips, salsa should also definitely be on the menu.”

Harry held back the laugh in his throat as he nodded, “Wow. Okay. What about like a burger or Chinese food? Would that be allowed?”

Y/n shrugged, “It’s your party. You can do what you want. I’m just telling you what I’d do and what would be a hit with your sleepover buddy.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. Y/n could tell he was getting bashful. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. She watched him for a few seconds before the waitress returned with their drinks.

A quick gulp of wine and she nudged at his shin with her shoe, “You wanna have a slumber party with me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, “What? You mean… Seriously?”

She shrugged, “Why not? Then next time someone asks if you’ve ever had a proper slumber party you can say that you have.”

He laughed loudly, his husky voice was like music to her ears. Pointing at her with his finger he grinned, “Now how I can argue with that? I mean,” he shook his head, a glint in his eye, “Every time someone asks me if I’ve been to a slumber party and I tell them I haven’t, it’s such a disappointment! The look on their faces when they realize my whole childhood was a sham…”

They both laughed, leaning in toward one another, tittering toward the edges of their stools.

Harry tilted his head, “Actually I think it sounds fun. You just name the day and I’ll be there.”

Y/n smiled at him. She knew it was crazy. Having a grown man at her place for a slumber party. Typically adults didn’t have those kinds of sleepovers – it was usually with the intent of something far more salacious. But she’d show him a good time, she thought, raising her glass toward his, “Deal.”

. . .

Y/n had her sofa bed pulled out and piled high with extra blankets and pillows. She had all her favorite snacks plus she ordered cheeseburgers and fries for the guest of the night. It was silly. Truly she hadn’t had a real slumber party in ages, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement that she’d be hanging out with Harry all night. It was possible that her small crush on him was making her feel all giddy but she’d push down that feeling until he gave her any extenuating signals.

Because the truth was that they were both single, young adults and this was such an unlikely scenario. No one would look at this and say Oh how cute of these two grown adults hanging out in bed together for a sleepover. So innocent! No, she knew better. While maybe nothing would actually happen it certainly wouldn’t look innocent.

And of course, she did pick out the perfect pijama set. Something a little more flattering on her body but not too hey I really need to get laid tonight. It was a happy compromise. Cotton shorts and a button-up, matching short-sleeved top. This was just supposed to be a slumber party after all.

Right?

Besides, the little paper invitation she gave him on Monday morning told him to arrive in his sleepwear so she had to look the part. And not to toot her own horn but she made a very cute invitation just for him tucked into a pink envelope with a separate little response card that had space at the bottom for him to mark yes or no if he could come. It was a yes. Obviously.

When Harry finally arrived he was wearing a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. And for some fucking bizarre reason he looked so much hotter than he did when he wore his well-fitted suits at work.

Because goddamn did his shirt somehow just hug his torso in all the right spots and it allowed her to take a good look at all tattoos on his arms that were normally hidden under brushed wool jackets or long-sleeved button-up shirts. She knew he had tattoos. She’d seen him roll up his sleeves a couple of times but she never wanted to be rude and stare for long.

And then the sweatpants, while loose in the legs, fit his waist and hips and…

“You okay?” Harry was still standing in the doorway with his backpack draped over his arm waiting to be invited in.

“Yeah, sorry. Not used to seeing you dressed down like this. Almost unrecognizable.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as Y/n stepped aside to let him in, “Would you like to see my ID? Swear I’m the Harry Styles, the guy you invited over for chips, popcorn, and truth or dare. I’ve even got your invite somewhere in my bag…”

She breathed a laugh through her nose and watched him enter into her space, “Movies too. Oh, and I also ordered cheeseburgers. Remembered that you mentioned that.”

He seemed quite pleased with the burgers as she handed him the bag. She got those small ones, five to an order, “Thanks. Fries too, huh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out three crinkle-cut french fries then stuffed them into his mouth.

“So should we settle in and pick out a movie?” She gestured toward her couch.

Harry had seen the pull-out couch with heaps of pillows and blankets when he walked in. He knew that that would be where they’d be spending most of the evening. It was the glaring thing about the whole slumber party slash sleepover. That they’d be probably sleeping next to one another. As two young, healthy, attractive adults.

“Sure,” he nodded and waited for her to pick which side she was going to take before climbing in next to her, the thin mattress and metal frame giving way gently under his weight before he leaned back against a mountain of pillows, bag of burgers safe in his hands.

Y/n had a few video streaming services at the ready and they settled on a cheesy comedy from the late 90s before Y/n reached over to her coffee table and then lined up all the snacks between them.

They chatted a little, having both seen the movie already. Topics were anything from what their plans were for the rest of the weekend to what they’d eaten for lunch at work. And it was only a little awkward when they both reached into the bowl of M&M’s at the same time, fingers brushing together.

Harry moved his hand away, “Sorry. You go…”

Y/n grinned at him, scooping a handful of candy into her palm, and then sat up, adjusting her seating as she crossed her legs together, “Wanna do truth or dare? Pretend like we’re 15 again having a sleepover. Really get into the whole slumber party vibe, ya know?”

Harry dug out a few M&M’s and let out a chesty laugh, “If I’m 15 again we’re in big trouble.”

Y/n snorted a laugh, “Why? What do you mean?”

He shook his head, a wide grin on his face with deep set dimples carved into each cheek as he turned his head to look at her, “If this were happening when I was 15 I’d already be in the bathroom hyperventilating and probably trying to will away a boner after our hands touched in the M&M’s bowl.”

Y/n guffawed and threw her head back, nearly choking on her bite of chocolatey candies as Harry laughed with her. Honestly, it was the best icebreaker she could have asked for. Things had been kind of clunky between them up until that moment as they were still trying to navigate how to act around one another. And she knew he was teasing but the good belly laugh that she got from Harry’s story was exactly what they needed.

“Okay fine. We’ll just keep going about it as adults then. No fifteen-year-olds here tonight,” Y/n chuckled as she shoveled a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Y/n kept her eyes on him as she chewed her mouthful, “So truth or dare?”

Harry cocked his head at her, “So the mood is right then? For truth or dare?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “The mood?”

“Yeah. You said it over drinks. Remember when you were telling me what the most important components are to a sleepover and you said you liked truth or dare if the mood was right.”

Nodding slowly, she thought back to what she’d said, “Yeah. I guess I did say that. And I mean… I think the mood’s right for a little truth or dare. Movie’s almost over and you just pretty much kicked us off with that truth.” A breathy laugh was pushed from her mouth.

She could tell Harry was mulling on another question as he bit the inside of his cheek, head tilting in agreement, “So that means it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Biting her lip as she pondered, she pressed her back into the soft pillows behind her, “Truth.”

Harry shifted to his side, long legs stretching the length of the mattress as he propped his head up in his hand, a pillow under his arm, “Have you ever kissed a co-worker before?”

Scoffing Y/n moved to her side, mimicking Harry’s position on her side, “No,” she grinned. It was true. She’d never once done anything with any of her coworkers. Having Harry over at her house was the closest she’d ever gotten to doing anything like that. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

His green eyes slid over her features, “Truth.”

She laughed to herself, trying to think of something funny, “How many stuffed animals do you own?”

Licking his lips he nodded, “Think maybe two? Gifts from my niece… Truth or dare?”

“Mmm… dare,” she giggled.

Harry lifted a brow, “Ahhh… feeling bold yeah? Okay… hmm…” He pursed his lips to the side as he considered the dare. “Read to me the last text you sent to anyone. And you have to show me to prove it was the last one. And it can’t be any texts you and me, cause that’s not fair.”

Y/n blinked. She wasn’t exactly sure what her last text was besides Harry. But she was slightly worried because if it was what she was thinking… lifting up her message app she scrolled down to the text thread below Harry’s and it was a text with her sister. Which was what she had been worried about. She gulped, hoping that the things she said about her “coworker” who was coming to stay with her weren’t the last things she and her sister texted about.

Puffing out a breath she covered up all the previous texts to show Harry the last text from her sister – God knows you need it. Sending you good vibes, sis ;)

Harry squinted as he looked at the message and pointed, “That’s to you. The dare was to show me the last text you sent to someone. Let’s see it…”

Feeling her neck heat up she angled the phone away from him and read what she’d sent her sister. And there was no mention of Harry but if he were even halfway decent at picking up clues he might be able to figure out what was being discussed prior.

She shook her head and looked up at him. She couldn’t believe she was about to show him what was on her screen. But a dare was a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

lol I doubt anything will happen but I wouldn’t turn him down. Got condoms just in case 😜 send all your good vibes my way

Harry’s brows squished together as he looked at the text and back to Y/n and then down again at the words on her screen. She saw his throat bob and she knew the look on his face. He fucking knew what that was. He had to know.

She had to look away. She pulled the phone down and killed the screen. The awkwardness between them thick and uncomfortable as she peeked back at him. The edge of his mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, “That’s to your sister?”

Nodding she blew out an exasperated breath, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry grinned as he positioned his knee closer to Y/n, his eyes still on hers, “Dare.”

Swallowing her embarrassment down the best she could she decided to ask him the same, “Now show me the last text you sent anyone besides me.”

Harry’s smartass grin told her all she needed to know. That his last text probably wasn’t nearly as risqué as hers.

And it wasn’t. Not even close.

You can have two pounds for free. I’ve got so many growing I can’t keep up. As long as you come to pick them up on Monday they’re yours.

“I have a bunch of zucchini growing in my garden,” Harry pulled the phone away and laid it down next to his hip. “Got a neighbor who wants some.”

Of course, his last text to anyone was about zucchini. Jesus, she was so far out of her depth.

He was still wearing that shit-eating grin as he said, “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

And the way he said her name, all slow and sexy-like had her insides heating up. Well, maybe she made up the sexy part but he was definitely teasing her. She could just feel it.

“Truth.”

She was sure she’d regret that. Truth or dare. It didn’t matter. She was still reeling from showing him her texts.

“Was that text about me?” Shit-eating grin in place as he asked. Fucker.

Y/n’s eyes grew wide dropping her mouth open in surprise. Of course, he was going to ask that. Of course!

“Oh come on, Harry…” she pleaded.

He lifted his brows and awarded her a larger grin with those cute indents scoring into his cheeks, “Them’s the rules, baby. You chose truth and now you have to be honest.”

Clearing her throat she sat up to her bottom and leaned forward so she didn’t have to look at him as she put her head in her hands and laughed in disbelief, “Jesus. Seriously?”

“Yep. Spill. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. It was about you.”

Keeping her eyes on her lap she waited for a smug remark. Some kind of teasing reply but it was quiet. Slowly she turned to look back at him and he was still lying on his side, head in his palm as he watched her, his eyes fixed to hers.

She shrugged, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at her before cocking his head, “Hold on… Really? That was about me?”

Sighing she rolled her eyes, “Yes. Sorry. I was… it was just funny… it was me joking around with my sister is all.”

He blinked and looked down at the space between them as he nodded, “Okay. I see. So you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Well… I guess… We were joking. Obviously, nothing has to happen. I would never expect that. I…” she breathed out exasperated.

“Obviously nothing has to happen. Did you want it to happen?” His pupils were pinned to hers again.

Opening her mouth she stopped herself for a moment. She knew her answer was yes but she didn’t want to come off like a creep. She hadn’t expected it and assumed it wouldn’t. But the truth remained; she hoped it would happen.

Deflating her posture she laid back to her side to face Harry, tucking a pillow into her chest, “The truth is that I think you’re attractive and I haven’t been with anyone in kind of a long time and… she knows that, my sister. So we were just… it was lighthearted but yeah I mean… without any expectations, cause I would never… I hope you know that. But I did think it would be nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I agree. It would be nice. And just so you know,” he swung his head to look over his shoulder before looking back at her, “I brought condoms as well. You know… just in case.”

She was a bit stunned at that. Was he…

“Dare me to kiss you,” he grinned, irises dropping to her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes.

She laughed, “That’s not how the game works. The rules are you can’t–”

“Fuck the rules. Dare me to kiss you.”

Shaking her head with a wide smile stretched across her face she felt like her skin was pricking as her heartbeat picked up. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Looking back into his eyes she inhaled deeply, “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”

Harry’s smirk was unreal. The way he dragged his gaze over her face and down to her mouth was almost lewd, “Didn’t need to play truth or dare to get me to kiss you, Y/n,” he scooted in, grabbing the pillow she had tucked into her chest and tossing it away before he drew a hand up to her face, “You just needed to ask.”

She held her breath as he closed in slowly until it was as if all the tension in the room had popped and fizzled when his lips met hers.

He was so soft and gentle. Lips winding easily, carefully at first. And then she parted her lips more, kissing him back and letting her mouth press into his bottom lip before their tongues were meshed.

She moved her knee out to stabilize herself and knocked over the bowl of popcorn between them. Laughing into his mouth she gasped as she parted from him but he only reached for her again, placing his palm at the back of her head to pull her mouth back against his with a grunt from his chest as he pushed the bowl away and drove his arm underneath her side to keep her from getting too far.

Harry was softly moaning as his tongue worked its way into her mouth gently. It was clear he’d wanted to kiss her. That he liked it. And that notion made her head spin combined with the feel of his thumb traveling over her jaw. There was not going to be any stopping the momentum that had begun.

Well, except for when the bowl of M&M’s poured out against her leg. She had to push at him. As much as she would have loved to have kept making out, she would not have been able to enjoy melted chocolate on her legs or the bedsheets tucked around the mattress (think of the scrubbing she’d need to do!).

“Sorry,” she panted and looked down at the smashed pieces of popcorn and the chocolate candies strewn between them, “I’ve gotta pick this up. Our body heat will melt all these and it’s gonna be a big mess.”

Harry grinned, “Why don’t we just move this party to your bed for a little bit? Clean up later? The M&M’s won’t melt if we’re not laying on them.”

She laughed, already feeling overwhelmed and overheated from the kiss and now he was suggesting taking it to her bed? This was really happening, wasn’t it? She nodded and they both moved off the sofa sleeper to their feet, Harry following behind Y/n as she led him to her bedroom.

She already had her bedside lamp on. Bed made perfectly, everything tucked in and neat.

She turned to look at him and he stepped against her, palm splaying at her low back, “I dare you to get onto your bed and take your clothes off.”

A small laugh burst from her chest, “Oh, so now we’re just doing dares?”

He nodded, “Making up our own rules for this game. S’more fun this way.”

Letting go of her he watched as she stepped backward toward her bed and began to unbutton her nightshirt until it was shed from her body before she pushed her shorts down her legs. She was left in a pretty white bralette (something soft for bedtime) that stretched around her breasts and a pair of thin cotton panties that matched. She kneed up onto her bed and let her feet dangle off the edge and pointed, “Now I dare you to take off your clothes.”

He peeled his white t-shirt off, his hair mussing in the process. She watched with her lips parted at the gorgeous man stripping before her. Not only was he built exactly like what she dreamed of (tattoos, beefy, muscular, a touch soft, very masculine) but the boner tenting his sweats was hard not to home in on.

Harry stuck his fingers into the waistband and looked up at her, “M’not wearing any underwear, so be warned…”

She swallowed as the material lowered, belly button, happy trail, a bit of dark hair and then he pulled the stretchy waistband away from his body so his cock could push free and she was already clenching at just the sight as he removed his sweatpants, cock full and heavy between his strong thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Harry stepped forward, nudging himself between her knees and she leaned back to look up at him, “I dare you to take off the rest of this. Since I’m completely naked feels only fair.”

She bit her lip and looked down at his girthy dick. He was clearly not shy of his body, standing there like that, cock right in front of her. But why should he be shy when he looked like that?

Scooting back further into the bed she got up to her knees and pulled the bralette off first, feeling the heat of his gaze on her tits as she then slid her panties down her thighs. She wasn’t nearly as confident as Harry was as she quickly pulled at her top blanket and covered herself with a small laugh.

Harry stepped forward, one knee on the mattress before climbing in next to her, nosing at her cheek softly before his lips were connected to hers again. And she melted into him just like before. His mouth was magic or something because before she realized it, he’d pulled the blankets off her body and he had a big palm sliding up her thigh and over her hip, “Don’t cover up. So pretty. Knew you would be.”

She pushed her fingers into his thick wavey hair and felt her side hit the mattress as Harry pulled at her again, mouth still smeared against hers. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching it over his hip as he tucked in closer and it was warm and she could feel it. Feel him against her hip.

His giant hand smoothed against her bottom and up her spine until he was wrapping his long fingers around the back of her neck. Y/n nudged in closer, driving her hips forward until she was practically straddling him. So Harry took that as his cue to move to his back, taking her hips in his hands so she’d follow with him.

It had caught her off guard, the sudden change in position but her lips never stopped moving with his. Their kisses were wet and she could smell their saliva, and a touch of onion even from the burgers he’d eaten.

He guided her hips down, his thick cock hot under her thigh until she felt her pussy drag against warm skin at the base of his dick. A small gasp escaped her mouth as he pulled her up, letting her pussy glide up his length, “So wet already, Y/n…”

She was. It was embarrassing. Every inch of his shaft her pussy dragged against, coated him, wetted his skin. He kept pushing and pulling at her hips, using her slippery pussy like a soft wet toy he could run up and down his length.

Then she felt his fingers move around to her backside, digits sliding against her pussy as he licked into her mouth.

Gently she rolled against him and when she moved herself further down he pushed a fingertip inside, “Go on. Fuck yourself on my finger a little bit,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was filthy. She had no idea. He’d always been so sweet at work. So polite and respectful. But here he was reaching around her ass to get a finger inside of her cunt as she rubbed her pussy over his cock.

She panted into his mouth as she slid down around his finger, her clit smushed into his dick, slippery as she rolled up and down. But then he began to assist as he added another finger and began to fuck into her pussy, letting his digits curve into her the best he could from his angle. Slushy wet, she stopped moving her hips and parted from the kiss as she looked down at him. She could tell she was gushing all over his palm and probably his dick as she moaned.

“S’that feel good. You’re gettin’ my fingers all wet like it feels good.”

Nodding she gasped, “Yeah. Feels so good…”

Harry rutted up against her, his cock still pressed into her clit, and she panted, eyes still searing into his. She didn’t want to look away. She almost couldn’t believe he was in her bed fingering her like that.

“Your turn to dare me to do something. What do you want, Y/n?”

She moaned and closed her eyes. She was certain of what she wanted as she listened to the way his fingers gushed with each plunge into her.

“Fuck… dare you to… put on a condom.”

She popped her eyes open to peer down at him as he slid his fingers out of her, wiping her arousal on her ass, “They right here?” He moved his hand toward her bedside table, a knuckle tapping at the wood.

Climbing off of him she opened the drawer, “Yeah, a whole box. Hold on…”

Reaching over to pull out the condoms she felt Harry’s hands on her hips as he moved to sit up, then his lips were on her back, dotting warm kisses to her shoulder blades as she finally plucked a condom from the fresh box.

She watched him put the condom on and as expected, it didn’t cover his entire length. He was kind of a big guy. Well, maybe there was no kind of about it. Before today she had no idea he was packing like that. Though he always did come off as very confident and sure of himself.

She bit her lip as she watched him toss the wrapper away and then he kneed up to her, arm sliding to her back and carefully lowering her to the bed before spreading her legs apart as he fit himself there, sturdy thighs pushing against her soft ones.

“Gonna tell your sister her good vibes worked?” He smirked down at her, hands scouring her hips and tummy and then kneading softly at her tits.

Y/n laughed and reached a hand down to his knee before he pulled at her, making her thighs drape over his as he inched in closer.

“Hmm?” He was awfully teasing, she thought, grinning at her waiting for an answer.

“Probably,” she spit out in a laugh.

Harry gripped at her thighs, lifting her a bit more to fit her bum over his bent knees and she wanted to scream in embarrassment when she realized he was inspecting her sodden vulva. She’d gotten herself all tidied up for him, should anything like this happen, so at least she had that going for her.

He smoothed his thumb through her pussylips, spreading them apart, and softly blew out a breath, “That is very pretty. Think we get him in there?”

She rolled her eyes as she watched him wrap his palm around his base and lay his fat cock over her mons, the condomed-tip reaching to her belly button, maybe further past, “Well, it’s made for it, so I’m pretty sure–”

“What… your pussy’s made to fit around my cock?” A cocky dimpled smirk gave way to a laugh.

“You know what I meant. It’s meant to… like…” she breathed out a laugh.

“Oh, I know… just fucking with you, Y/n.”

He gazed at her as he reared back, painting his cockhead through her labia, up and down, a soft bump into her clit before he repeated, spreading her soft lips apart as he watched the way his crown smeared her arousal between her creases.

When she moaned and wiggled her hips he pointed himself right at her little muscle, nudging softly forward, opening it up for himself. And she felt that first push, the way his tip fit into her, spreading apart and then stretching to accommodate his circumference.

“Oh god…” she breathed as he slipped in halfway and then pulled back.

“Almost there,” he panted as he kept his eyes on where they were connected, pushing and pulling back until she was swallowing him whole, his cock enveloped in her soft, warm pussy.

When he’d buried in whole, he moaned and watched her face twist up in ecstasy. Her lips were dropped open and her neck stretched long as she grasped onto the forearm of the hand he had gripping her waist.

Slowly he began to thrust, viscous liquid seeping from her pussy and sticking to his shaft. It was filthy. She was so wet that every time he bottomed out there was a splat and a plap sounding between them.

She let out a deep moan and her lips curled up, humid breath escaping her mouth as she felt him driving into her guts. He was taking it easy. Languidly fucking into her with wet claps every time he plunged in.

When her cunt was taking him easier and she was dripping down to her ass he moved in a little harder, faster. Angling himself over her, a palm down on the mattress so he could work into her with more gusto.

“Ah! Harry…” she squeaked at the stronger thrusts and clung onto his lats. He was panting, lips parted and pink, a curl falling over his forehead as he plowed into her splooshing pussy.

“Fuck you’re wet. Pussy is gushing, Y/n…”

Her brows pushed together as she gasped, her body knocked upward every time his hips met hers making her tits bounce. Harry didn’t know where to keep his focus. He loved watching his cock disappear into her hole but he kind of liked being right over her so he could see her face crinkle up every time he bottomed out and then her pretty breasts sway up and down. Or maybe he’d like to fuck her from behind, watch her ass jiggle as he pounded into her.

“Mmm… fuck that’s big!”

Harry groaned, “Yeah? Sure know how to sweet talk a man don’t you, pretty? S’hurt?”

She watched his face, a lusty grin, droopy eyelids as he continued muscling his way in deep.

She hissed when he bucked in, as if he was showing off just how deep he could push in and she coughed out, “Mmm… a little!”

Harry was going to lose his mind with her if she kept squeaking out moans and splatting around his cock like she was but he would be a gentleman and pull back a touch. Slowing down a little he sat up and moved his hand between them, smushing his thumb into her clit, which was so sticky wet even that swished and slid under the pad of his digit.

“Yessss…” she breathed out before murmuring on about how good it felt. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Oh god… please don’t stop… Harry, fuck, yes…”

The clit. The magical little nob that worked wonders as long as the man knew where to find it. Clearly, Harry knew right where it was. Knew how to circle over it, pressing against it just right. Knew how to fuck into her as well. Sliding his length through her vaginal walls, spreading her open, and grazing against her gummy little spot on the inside that had her buzzing and liquifying for him.

He watched her whine and squirm under him, loving how she was so into it. God that was an ego boost, “Like that, Y/n? Gonna come for me? Yeah?”

Her ears were already ringing when she lost herself, gripping around him and crying out as her orgasm washed through her tummy. Harry’s cock made her feel so full, so incredibly stuffed to the brim that it weighed her down and she could hardly move as he bulldozed into her, the pad of his thick thumb smushing fast circles over her throbbing nub.

Fucking her through it he gasped at how she spasmed and milked around him, her pussy trying to siphon his come right through his condom. But Harry wouldn’t come just yet. He had something to prove. Wanted to make a show of his prowess and give her something to tell her sister about.

So when she was finally calmed and her pussy wasn’t clamping around him like a vice grip he slid his hand under her head and kissed her gently, speaking low and soft against her lips, “Gonna have you flip over, okay? Just need a little more yeah?”

When he parted from the kiss she blinked up at him, fluttering lashes and out of breath, “You didn’t come?”

He shook his head, pulling himself out, gently before he placed his hands on her hips, “Not yet. I will soon, though. M’right on the edge. Won’t take me long.”

She rolled to her side as he lifted her hips and helped her get to her tummy. She felt his hands on her ass, squeezing and rubbing each meaty globe in his big palms. Then he was straddling her thighs as he spread her gently and she felt him push his thick tip back into her pussy, sharp and hot. It was tighter, felt a lot fuller like that as he began driving in deep and then pulling out to his tip, before plowing back into the hilt.

His moans grew louder and, even he could admit, sounded quite whiny, pathetic. He was shaking as he watched his dick spread her in half, her soft ass jiggling as he smacked into her, skin patting, his cock leaking precum steadily into his condom.

He hissed when it felt too good. His balls squeezing and his fat dick throbbing inside of her. He thrusted forward, landing a palm down next to her shoulder, his chest pressed into her back as he rutted himself in, tucking his cock through her insides and puffed out a hot groan into her ear, “Fuck you feel good. Gonna make me come, baby…”

She moaned and nodded, “Come for me, Harry…”

He might have held out for another thirty seconds, possibly a minute longer but her breathy words, all sultry and pleading had him pumping into his condom in an instant. He gargled on a moan and squeezed his eyes closed as he buried in and stilled his hips, ass flexing so he could push in further if it were possible.

Y/n felt him crushing her back as he collapsed over her, panted breaths in her ear, cock still throbbing in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She didn’t mind it. Liked his weight on her like that. Enjoyed the way he seemed just as fucked out as she was. She could even feel his heart pounding in his chest against her back.

With a moan, she turned her head and nuzzled her face into her blanket with her eyes closed. She’d fall asleep that way if he couldn’t get up. It was quite warm and comforting. Like a weighted blanket draped over her body. And maybe she did doze off for a bit because when she opened her eyes she felt him moving off of her before he crashed down next to her, the springs in her mattress bouncing under him.

Pushing herself to lie on her side she ran a hand over his chest and he turned to look at her, a dopey smile on his flushed face, “So this is what happens at slumber parties, huh? I’ve really missed out all these years.”

She giggled and nodded into her pillow, “Yep. They’re just like big orgies really. Normally there are more than just two people. It’s how I lost my virginity.”

Harry sputtered a laugh, “Really?”

Y/n couldn’t help but to cackle loudly and roll to her back, the biggest grin on her face, “No, silly. I was teasing.”

He slid a hand over her tummy, “So this isn’t what happens at slumber parties, then?” She could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, “Well, not usually. But I think we made our own rules for this one today.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to give it to you. You throw a hell of a party. I’m certain this is gonna go down as the best sleepover in history.”

. . .

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#fic rec

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psicostyles · 4 months ago

Text

Amen

“Good puppies deserve treats, no?” Harry suggested and though Y/N’s perked up a bit at that, she was still untrusting, one hand still gripping the microfiber cloth she was using and the other balancing her against the counter behind her.

“My last treat wasn’t much of a treat.” She grumbles and Harry hums again low, understanding.

“It may seem like that now,” his voice is low and smooth, but not in the forced way her ex always tried to make his, “But the payoff is much sweeter than if I just let you cum the first time, yeah? You’ll see.” Harry promises, “And you know you can stop this any time you want, correct? All you have to do is say the word.”

Harry is an edging demon and Y/N's (kind of) good at listening

part 1

part 2

(18k+)

iii.

There’s a word for what Y/N’s feeling right now.

She can’t think of what it is, but she knows there’s a pretty word for it. The only way she could describe it is that it’s the same feeling she gets when she goes to a concert and borderline dissociates when the artist comes on stage, struck with the realization that they are a tangible, real person and not just an image on her screen. Or like when she swam with dolphins in secondary school, and the mammals chirped at her, made her feel safe somehow, even let her be lazy and do most of the work swimming when she got tired. Out-of-body, but in the same breath, so present and in the moment that she’s a little overstimulated. So many sensations and feelings occupy her at once that her cells might be filled with sizzling bubbles.

So being in Harry’s flat is kind of like that. Someone she’s idolized for so long inviting her into his space, letting her see how he lives, and how he decorates. Honestly, Y/N had imagined a lot of greys, whites, and blacks; dark colors, cold lighting, and perhaps not the most inviting environment. It had always seemed like he’d only used his flat to sleep and that was it, so she figured he didn’t need to enrich the area with anything in particular. Maybe there wouldn’t even be a bed? Maybe he was a vampire or something and stayed up all night and all day with no need to sleep. Perhaps that’s why he’s so good at cooking, with centuries of practice under his belt. At least, that’s what Y/N had always thought.

And she’s pleasantly surprised to find she couldn’t be more wrong. Everything in Harry’s flat is very. . .warm. At first, it didn’t appear that way: The flat building he lives in is right around the corner, maybe a 10-minute walk in total from the restaurant, but Harry has his car because the weather isn’t pleasant enough to walk in just yet. It’s one of those complexes that just looks expensive from the outside, with balconies on every other floor of the unit encased in what looked like glass railings. The name is written on the top of the building, just beneath the roof, illuminated by a white, glowing light. It’s tall enough that she has to crane her neck up to look at it.

The inside is ritzy as hell, the lobby’s centerpiece an indoor fountain sitting beneath the most elaborate-looking chandelier Y/N has ever seen. She doesn’t get much of a chance to gawk at it because Harry is directing her to the elevator without a single pause in his step. Y/N’s legs burn to try to keep pace with him – for some reason, she has no inkling of a doubt that he would have left her had the elevator come without her at his side.

Part of her expected him to live in the penthouse (because why wouldn’t he?) but they stopped on the 14th floor, and Harry’s flat was the one all the way at the end. Her heart was racing the whole time, wondering what they would do, wondering what it would look like in there. The keypad is a code that unlocks the door and when they stepped in, Y/N – who had been waiting to stick out like a sore thumb here – was instead embraced by the warmth of a furnace that actually works with no threats of failing. Automatically she notes his lighting is very warm and there are more decorations than she would have ever thought. She’d like to go through and scrutinize every single thing on his walls, from the artwork to the photos, but she feels like she needs to follow him after he kicks his shoes off at the door.

The sofa is big and plush; the kind of sofa that you’d take the best naps on when you have a cold, she thinks. There are blankets folded neatly and hanging over the sides of it. Two bookshelves in the wall bracket the TV with slatted wall panels behind it adjacent to the couch, and to the right of that are floor-to-ceiling windows that have an overview of the city in a way Y/N has never truly seen. Because even though his living room screams warmth, it still exhibits a certain amount of wealth to it.

Y/N is still marveling at the setup, and the fact that the walls are painted what seems to be a lighter version of steel blue when Harry clicks his tongue to grab her attention, “What are the big eyes for?” He inquires, and that is just another hint of how well off Harry is – for him to even wonder what Y/N was gaping at just screams that he is used to a lifestyle like this.

“It’s just – wow,” she told him, then motioned toward the door, “You – you saw my flat, didn’t you? What wouldn’t I have big eyes for? All of this is so nice!”

“Thank you,” he hums after a second, “But I think I’d rather your eyes be on me, Puppy. Isn’t that why you came?” Then he tilted his head, blinking at her, “Right?”

She opens her mouth to respond but all that comes out is an, “I. . .” that trails off because Y/N is really good at talking until it comes to speaking with Harry. Then she’s a stumbling, fumbling mess. Still, somewhere in her brain, she manages to get her head moving enough to nod, and agree without having to put it into words. As enticing as it was to see his flat and see how a man who speaks so little of his personal life lives – she came because he asked. Because she thinks that might put his fingers in her mouth again. Because maybe he’ll decide that weeks of edging is just too much and they should probably get things going. . right? According to Niall, Harry is chomping at the bit to get inside of her, so maybe there was a little truth to that. At least that’s what she was hoping.

“Though I was able to defend you today, I still don’t feel as though it absolves me of my mistake,” he continued, loosening the first three buttons of his top. Y/N is suddenly hyperaware that she is wearing absolutely nothing appealing or even remotely cute. Plus she’s in cotton panties that. . .probably have seen better days, with worn elastic that snaps at her hip when she puts them on, and a bralette whose only job is to keep her nipples from greeting everyone without a wire digging into her side. Nothing spectacular or sexy, and she sadly was not of the group of people where anything she wore just turned into something spectacular or sexy. “So I wanted to give you a little treat.”

“A treat?” Y/N perks up a little at it, and it does make Harry smile – a dimpled thing, she’s confused for a second until she realizes that she probably did seem like a dog.

“Yeah Puppy, a treat,” he repeats, “Can you be good for me?”

Y/N nods again, “I’m always good.”

“Always, huh?” Harry motions for her to come closer, “I guess we’ll see about that.”

Y/N ambles closer to him tentatively, stepping around the coffee table until she is standing in front of him. Harry reaches forward, pulling at the bottom of her top so that he wiggles them from the waistband of her trousers. The fabric rumples only a little bit because Harry is relatively neat about it, moving around her body so he untucks it all. His fingers skim and graze her when he does it and even through the material goosebumps and shivers threaten along the trails of everywhere he’s touched. Y/N likes it when he touches her so much, no matter how insignificant the caress.

The tips of his fingers skate along the waistband of the trousers, along her skin beneath the shirt as he finds the button. He pauses here like he’s giving her a chance to stop him, but when she instead just watches with bated breath Harry pops open the button. Drags the zipper down, then tucks his fingers in her belt loops and starts to slide them down. Y/N handles that pretty well, albeit a little lightheaded from holding her breath, she steps out of her trousers and thanks whoever is watching out for her in the universe because she’d just shaved her legs the night prior.

It’s when he reaches up for her underwear that she does have a brief panic, a sudden memory from her ex flickers in the back of her head, and Y/N grabs Harry’s wrist without thinking, “W-wait,” she says suddenly, but Harry is patient with her – doesn’t look annoyed or frustrated by her, which soothes some of the anxiety racing through her veins, “I – do you want me to shower first?”

The thing is, Y/N was lucky if her ex ever wanted to be face-to-face with her cunt for even a second. He was one of those guys who fully expected blowies, but didn’t like going down on her because “it just didn’t do anything for him” and. . .well, Y/N had let it slide. She didn’t need to be eaten out – it’s something that she’d always wanted for sure but had decided it wasn’t worth it. Especially when he always made a big deal about it the couple of times he had tried it for her, he’d have her shower beforehand, but then complain that she tasted like soap, and he’d flick his tongue maybe four or five times before saying he just “couldn’t wait to be inside of her”. So she stopped asking and he never offered.

Y/N doesn’t necessarily think Harry is trying to eat her out, probably, but for a moment she wonders if her ex was always so weird about showers because he thought she smelled bad. Or maybe she tasted bad? She wasn’t sure – she’d smelled and tasted herself before and it was okay, but it was coming from her body, so she didn’t know if that affected it. Niall had assured her that her ex was just an idiot, and had offered to sniff her panties or something to make her feel better, but she snorted and hit his shoulder instead. Now she was kind of wishing she took him up on the offer.

Harry doesn’t look disgusted with her though, and he’s on his knees in front of her after helping her out of her bottoms. He doesn’t look relieved that she brought up a shower either, like maybe he’d been wanting to ask but didn’t want to seem rude (which would have been hard to believe from Harry because he has never worried about seeming rude ever). Confusion is what seeps from his gaze, brows knitted, mouth in a small frown.

“Why would I want that?”

Her face feels hot, as it always does when she’s with him, and she feels another sense of alarm fill her chest. Oh god, he’s going to think she was just expecting him to eat her out! Which she totally wasn’t, but if her bottom half is naked she expects that he was going to do something with her cunt and that memory of her ex ambushed her brain like a leopard.

“Oh, I didn’t mean – like I wasn’t suggesting that you have to – just – I mean, my ex would –”

Harry’s thumbs dig into her thighs, where they sit, his fingers still curled up in the waistband of her panties, “I’m going to eat your pussy,” he says bluntly, and Y/N thinks she could have passed out just from that, “And when I do it, I want to taste you, not soap. So Puppy, I’m going to take these panties off and you’ll sit on the sofa for me, and unless you don’t want that, then you’ll do what I say. Okay?”

With the same eyes, she’s sure she walked into his flat with Y/N agrees, swallowing thickly when he slips her panties off her legs in a slow, careful drag. He guides her to the couch, has her sit down, and situates himself between her legs. Then promptly yanks her to the edge of it, so her bum sort of felt like it was one wrong move from toppling over. Y/N squeals at the change in position, how easily he’s able to maneuver her how he wants, pushing her thighs up until Y/N gets the hint to curl her hands beneath her knees.

How exposed she is kind of makes her want to crawl under a rock. There was no build-up, really because Harry is constantly keeping her on her toes. She certainly didn’t think much more would happen tonight than her sucking on his fingers again and maybe finally getting to dry hump him, but this is great too. Really, really great – like more than great. There were still nerves there, a welt of anxiety sitting in her chest that he might not like it, or she’ll find out she does taste or smell bad and her ex had just been kind(-ish) enough not to say anything outright.

Harry was close enough that she could feel the sigh he let out from his mouth, washing over her while his fingers started below her knee and drew intricate designs down it. Along the skin, skims and grazes that make the muscles twitch. The visual of her mentor, the man who only a few months ago she could barely ask a question without having to spend two hours working up the courage, with his mouth right next to her pussy –- was kind of crazy. Another surreal moment, where she has to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t passed out on the kitchen floor at work with Harry trying to fan her awake, or in her bed having another horny nightmare where Hazelnut sits on her chest and tries to suffocate her before the good part.

He slides his fingers down all the way to her pussy, spreading her lips apart. This is something she doesn’t think anyone has ever done to her before, looking at it the way he’s doing, like he’s got all the time in the world. It’s a rather intimate thing to do, right? Everyone she’s ever slept with kind of just skips to sticking it inside of her, and it’s usually dark or under the blankets so they aren’t really drinking it in the way Harry’s doing. He blinks slowly, kind of like a cat, then purses his lips and blows a stream of air over her.

Y/N can’t help the way she throbs in response to it, clenching around nothing, and his stream is interrupted by a small chuckle, “Yeah?” He hums, “Aren’t you naughty, having your pussy in my face like this? You want my tongue?”

“Yes,” she tells him, “Yes please.”

Harry hums, “Tell me when you’re about to cum.”

If someone had told Y/N even twenty minutes ago (when she was well aware that she’d be going to Harry’s flat) that this would be the position they were in, she wouldn’t have believed it at all. Maybe Harry was feeling as desperate for her as she was for him, to skip what she thought would be weeks more of teasing. Or maybe he really did just feel bad about not believing her all those weeks ago when that prick lied about her hair being in the food.

Whatever the reasoning, Y/N wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The first pass of his tongue is silky, pressing between her folds carefully, lightly. Y/N throbs against his tongue immediately, her toes curling, and the grip behind her knee tightens. This was – a lot already. His mouth was warm and wet against her, the way he kept her pulled open made her feel extra sensitive, and the fact that it was Harry made her dizzy.

The second pass of his tongue, he hums against her, then gets a little closer. With his first lick his tongue was stretched out, so she could see what was happening, but now his lips close around her more. And with the third lick, his lips are fixed around her, like he needed to be pressed tight. Then his hum sounds a little more like a moan, and it vibrates through her – her knees click together. In any other position, her thighs would have squeezed tightly around his head, but she can’t like this, and her heavy breaths turn to whiny sounds. He slips his hands to rest on the back of her thighs, no longer holding her open but sucking over her folds while he lathers his tongue up and down, swirling it near her clit.

His nose digs into her mound, the skin soft from where she’d waxed and his fingers dig deep into her flesh. Y/N had not taken Harry as someone who would be as into it as he was, but he seemed more than pleased to be where he was. Flicking the engorged button with his tongue, pulling it between his pursed lips to suckle at it in short bursts only to let go and drag his teeth against her skin. Y/N has never felt anything like this before, “A-ah,” she cries and ruts her hips into his face, “That’s – fuck,” words escape her, she doesn’t even know what she’s going to say. Should she praise him, would he like that? Or maybe her inability to form sentences and her whining were enough.

After she ruts into his face, he pulls her down impossibly closer to his mouth, his fingers digging into her bum to pull her further. Harry grabs for her hand – or at least that’s what Y/N thinks is happening – and she locks her fingers with his, slotting them between each other, knuckle to knuckle. It feels like he laughs against her before he pops away for a second, strands of spit and her juices stringing from her lips to his, “Cute,” he laughs, “Wanna hold my hand?”

She misses his mouth on her, and responds with a frown, “I thought – I – isn’t that why you gave me yours?”

Harry doesn’t stop smiling, and honestly, if she’d known all she would have to do was take her pants off for him to smile this much then she would have walked into the kitchen without pants a year ago. He doesn’t respond to her, only fixes his lips back around her and starts licking again. Her orgasm builds fast once he’s reattached his mouth, and Y/N feels herself throbbing against him already. There’s nothing she can do to stop her hips from moving, riding against his tongue while he licks her, “I’m close,” she mewls, shuddering, the grip on the back of her knees getting tighter, “That’s – right there, please, m’g’na cum, m’gna cum.”

And just before she does – when she’s right on the edge, where only a couple more seconds and a few more flicks of his tongue would have pushed her there. . .

Harry pulls away.

It looks sinful, really, and filthy. His lips are wet and red, and his chin is glistening too; his face is flushed, and it crawls down his neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt. Y/N would gush over it more if he hadn’t just done what he did.

No wonder he’d been smiling so much – he knew what he was about to do, and it was downright demonic. A horny nightmare come to life.

“No!” She cries out, “Why – why didn’t you let me finish?”

“Good pets don’t do anything they aren’t told to, right?” He drags his fingers along her thigh again, “I never told you to cum, Sweetheart.”

Y/N should have known he would be evil. Harry has given her no indication that he wouldn’t be operating with a cruel framework in bed. Distantly she remembers Niall telling her that he edged one of his exes for weeks, and she fears that she’s the next target. Especially when he ignores her whining and huffing by fixing his lips back around her cunt and running his tongue softly up her folds, enough to make her gasp but nowhere near as intensely as he was doing it before. He still held her hand, letting her squeeze it tightly, but his opposite arm came to circle her waist. She wonders why until he presses a sucking kiss over her clit and her hips jump forward – or try to, at least, but he holds her down easily.

She gets closer quicker this time, her toes curling, and part of her wonders if she should keep it from him. If she should just cum, see what happens – it couldn’t be that bad, right? In the smut she’s read, she has always wondered why they don’t just cum anyway, or touch themselves and lie about it, it never made any sense to her. If you want to cum that badly, then just do it, right?

But before she could even fully commit to that, on the very border mere seconds from tipping into her orgasm like diving headfirst into a volcano – Harry pulled away again. The look he gives her this time is less mirthful. It was something different. . .something she’s seen before, like when she once minced onions instead of brunoising them. Maybe a little less severe than that time, because she remembers getting yelled at for it, but there’s a disappointed gleam that she hadn’t seen from him in a while. It makes something quirk in her chest, a frown already melting over her mouth.

“I thought you said you were going to be good?” He inquired, using one hand to spread her open, undoubtedly watching her hole twitch and wink at him, like she was grasping at the orgasm that slipped through her fingers – beckoning his tongue back, “You were about to cum again, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she nods, “I was really close.”

Harry hums, “You’re supposed to tell me when you’re that close, yeah? Were you trying to be naughty? Cum all over my tongue with this filthy pussy?” He leans in and lays the flat of his tongue over her hole where she’s slick, dripping from his spit and her juices. Her hips try to buck again but Harry keeps her still, and he’s so strong she barely budges which is just. . .so hot for some reason. Y/N kind of wants him to lay on top of her, manhandle her however he wants and keep her in that position, even when her muscles ache from it, “I’ll have to train you more than I originally thought.”

“Please?” She tried, and Harry has never been someone to fall for any amount of her poor puppy dog eyes, but he’s also never been 10 centimeters from her pussy either. There was still hope that maybe that was the kind of change necessary for him to take pity on her when she pouted her lip and blinked widely at him, “I really, really want to cum, please.”

This makes Harry laugh which. . .honestly, might have been more menacing than if he scowled at her. He leans forward, slurps her clit into his mouth, and tongues over it just enough to start working her up again. Was it really that easy? Y/N thought there was hope, sure, but she’d been certain the hope was at the same percentage of your chance of pulling the card you want in a GACHA game without spending money. Maybe Harry would be sweeter with her than she thought? Maybe this was him teaching her how he liked to be begged?

She doesn’t know, and if she’s going to be real, she doesn’t care much either. Not when he’s licking at her the way he is, alternating between quick flicks of his tongue, and these deep, warm, wide presses between her folds. Y/N does better at keeping her hips from moving but her orgasm approaches fast, warranting her squeezing his hand tightly, her breath coming out in a shudder. He doesn’t try to hold back his drool; instead, he lets everything pool out against her, a warm bath that sends her spiraling in the best way. Y/N’s more mindful this time – she’ll tell him that she’s close because obviously, he could tell – and maybe she’d get rewarded for being good.

“I – again,” she swallows hard, “I’m close again, Harry, I’m g’na –” her thighs tense up, she can hear her heart thudding in her ears, and feel her pulse everywhere. It’s so good, and she still can’t get over the fact that it’s Harry between her legs, looking up at her through glazed eyes, her thighs closing in around his head, pressing into his cheeks and –

“No, no, no!” Y/N is almost frustrated to tears when he pulls away again, and she can only recognize her features pulled into something of sheer distress. Harry’s chin is shiny with his spit and what she was leaking onto him, as he kisses along the inside of her thighs, his lips soft and wet, but his teeth mean when they dig into the flesh. The pain is brief but she still squeezes his hand tightly, “Why do you keep doing that?” She inquired, exasperated, and it made Harry chuckle against her skin.

“I think once my new puppy has been properly trained, then she’ll get to cum,” he slips his arm from around her waist, and his fingers from the notches between hers, but grazes his nails along her belly, a small smile hinting at his lips when she flinched from it (she’s more ticklish than she cares to admit), “How does that sound?”

Y/N’s orgasm has completely receded, leaving her wet and sticky for no reason.

“Horrible,” she replied.

Harry only laughed, removing himself from between her legs, finding the underwear she had on, and helping loop them around her ankle. Y/N can’t look him in the eye because obviously she can’t, after all of that, and he allows it for now. while she hikes the fabric over her bum, shuddering at the cold, wet, very unsexy feeling of it pressed against her again. Her heart is still all over the place, racing, and thudding, overexcited and embarrassed, stuck between crawling its way up her throat or hiding behind her ribcage.

He finds her bottoms and hands them to her, “I’ll call an Uber,” Y/N only says it out loud so that Harry doesn’t think she misunderstood what this was. To save them both from the humiliation ritual that is someone trying to suggest you leave after sex. Before she and her ex actually became official, he would not so subtly yawn really loud, stretch his arms out, mention how he needed to wake up early the next day, and ask if she would be okay getting home alone or if she needed him to call her a ride. And somehow Y/N was always embarrassed, even though she didn’t want to spend the night at his flat because his taste in decor was shit and the vibes were horrible in comparison to her cute flat. Still, the fact that he thought, that she thought, that she would be staying – was enough to make her start scrambling out of the bed as soon as they finished messing around.

(Sure, once feelings managed to develop between them he started getting clingy and wanting to cuddle, but the stress of those first few months would forever be ingrained into her.)

So no, she wasn’t expecting Harry to offer her the sofa for the night, or beckon her to go snuggle up with him in his bed. Honestly, she wasn’t even expecting him to walk her to the door if he didn’t want to. Altogether, she didn’t know what to expect from Harry, so she’d made herself comfortable with expecting nothing relatively quickly.

But Harry scoffs as soon as she says it, running his thumb over his bottom lip, “I’m driving you home,” he tells her, shaking his head, “How many lousy lays have you had, Puppy? I’m starting to get sad.”

. . .

“You’re jumpy today,” Adam commented as he shuffled behind Y/N, squeezing between her and Niall to get to the sink. He wasn’t lying – she was rather jumpy today; all he’d done was barely graze her shoulder to let her know he was coming up behind her and she startled, like a cat accosted by a loud sound. A couple of people in the kitchen had noticed her unusually unsettled demeanor today, but most had chalked it up to the general anxiety everyone feels when their Spring menu comes out. There’s no room for mistakes, even on the first day, and Harry – while relatively mild-tempered for the last month or so – is still a perfectionist. Nothing short of flawless would leave this kitchen.

Then there was earlier, Niall had started talking when she didn’t realize he walked up to her while she was bent down for the flour, and jumped, thunking her head underneath the counter. Niall immediately cupped his palm over the back of her head, somewhere between laughing and worried, inquiring if she was okay as he guided her back to stand, “Oh I know that knocked your brain around a little. Quick, I’ll reorient you – if your deluded bestie says the waiter who served him at dinner last night was lowkey in love with him because of the eyes he was making the whole time, what would your response be?”

“When’s the wedding?” Y/N offered and Niall grinned.

“She’s fine,” he patted her arm, then looked across the kitchen – Y/N turned her head slightly to see Harry and Adam watching from afar. One of them with concern overwriting his previously laughing face and the other staring impassively, with the smallest, tiniest, barest hint of what might be a smug little smile. It was one of those blink and you’ll miss it kind of things because in the next second his face had no hint of anything at all.

And after that, she all but yelped when she rounded the corner in the storage room to find Harry in there as well. He must have snuck in after her because she hadn’t heard the door open again. There must’ve been an ingredient he forgot to tell her is what she figured, as she praised herself for not dropping a gallon of chicken stock from her full arms down onto her foot. For as imposing as Harry’s presence is, he has the keen ability to float around like a mouse in the walls of a mansion. It’s what makes her wonder how much he sees and hears without her realizing since she doesn’t always know he’s around until he makes his presence known.

Unlike the others, Harry merely hummed without comment on it. Instead, he muttered something along the lines of, “Don’t drop anything on your way to the kitchen,” before reaching down to grab the San Marzano tomatoes.

The reason she’s so jumpy is Harry, and he must know that which is why he isn’t overly concerned about it. As of late, if there’s even the slightest change in Y/N’s baseline he found a subtle way to comment on it, but there is no need to when he knows precisely what has her in a tizzy. On top of that, he finds it funny too – at least that’s how he acted this morning.

It had been a week since Harry had invited Y/N over to his flat. A week since he yanked her to the edge of the sofa and cruelly edged her with his tongue, before driving her home. A week since he told her, “Don’t touch yourself unless I tell you to,” before she got out of his car, the hum of the engine and the blast of heat through his vents did nothing to cover up the borderline distressed, “Huh?” that left her mouth. A week since she had listened to him for some reason, and ignored every urge she had to slip her fingers beneath her waistband and finish what he started.

Seriously, Y/N had never been interested in edging before. Had barely been interested in this type of dynamic beyond the occasional smutty story or poorly produced porn with a little bit of build-up acting. So this was very new to her, being told what to do as far as masturbating was concerned. Despite the novelty of it, it did feel like second nature to just do whatever Harry told her to do. Maybe if it was her ex telling her not to touch herself, she would have told him to go fuck himself instead, but with Harry. . .albeit reluctantly, she agreed to it.

Y/N just hadn’t realized how much that would bleed into her normal life. She’s always been someone who gets off semi-regularly, even if it was just a quick one before bed, or if she wanted to ease some of the tension in her bones before going in. It became a little more frequent once Harry had started stuffing his fingers in her mouth and plaguing her horny nightmares, so to go from having an orgasm at least once every one or two days, to going cold turkey was a lot. Especially when the only thing that has been replaying in her head is Harry eating her out. That wasn’t even in the back of her mind, it was actually right at the forefront, making sure to linger and loom when she should be focusing on anything else.

Doing her laundry? Bam! – Harry digging his teeth into her thigh. Buying cat food? Bam! – Harry licking so deeply into her that the tip of his tongue slips inside. Sauteing onions? Bam! – Harry pulling away with an evil glisten to his eyes and his fingers laced between her own.

It’s on a constant, inflating rotation in her head, tormenting her with every waking moment. That’s why she’s so fucking jumpy – every time someone touches her or says her name while she’s thinking about it, it feels like she’s been caught with her hand down her pants or something. Some days are worse than others; when there’s a clear memory of her wet dream once she wakes up, always leaves her a little more pent up. This morning, in particular, she woke up with the sticky insides of her thighs and the impression of a dream Harry fucking into her dented along her eyelids. Y/N can admit that she reached her hands down on impulse, but her fingers had barely made contact with her slit before Harry’s words tumbled back into her head. The skin is scorching beneath her touch, and her clit begs for any amount of attention that isn’t just the fabric of her underwear. Instead, she forces her hand away from her pussy with an extraneous amount of effort, tilts her face into the pillow, and sighs.

There’s a part of her that just wants to listen. To know what it’s like to do as he says and get rewarded for it in a way that’s not just a low hum, or a tender stroke to her cooking ego. To feel his fingers in her mouth again, his hands on her body, his lips on her skin – to know that he thought she deserved it, his well-trained puppy. Y/N wants to be good for him so he keeps making her feel good; part of her wonders if he maybe would have let her cum last time had she not been trying to cum without telling him. Probably not but there’s still a part of her that couldn’t help but think that had she been perfect for him, he would have taken mercy on her.

So just about everyone comments on how jumpy Y/N is except for Harry because he must know exactly the reason. As always though, during work hours he keeps it relatively casual, without discussion of their dynamic or what they might do outside of it. He doesn’t even actually message her regularly either, or contact her much beyond one text suggesting she come through the front doors rather than the back because they hadn’t salted the sidewalk in the alleyways yet.

That might be what drives her craziest though – part of her thinks she might have just hallucinated the whole thing in a horny-induced haze. At least until after shift, when Adam and Niall have finally trailed out behind one another, leaving Y/N and Harry to finish the final wipedown.

There’s the clean-up that the whole staff does for closing, the secondary clean-up that Harry, Adam, Y/N, and Niall participate in, and then there’s the tertiary clean-up that Y/N and Harry do. It seems a little intense, and Y/N isn’t sure that hospitals are even this serious about disinfecting, but this is something that Harry finds unnegotiable. Y/N wishes everyone were as serious about it as Harry was, considering they are prepping food for people, the baseline should be as extensive as this, but he is one of few. They are a health inspector’s dream though and it’s always a quick visit when they come.

So on this tertiary wipe down it’s just her, Harry, and Y/N’s all-consuming want suffocating her. Y/N thinks she might be the only one who feels the tension between each other when they’re alone because Harry ambles about the kitchen, as relaxed as ever. Y/N still believes she could jump right out of her body, and like a Pavlovian response, being alone with him has started to make arousal pool low and deep in her belly. Which is stupid, because it’s not even like they do something each time that they’re alone.

When Y/N is wiping down the burner, Harry’s voice appears from her side, along with a firm grip on her side that makes her jump even worse than she had been all day, “You make it a little obvious that you’re on edge.” Where his fingers lay on her hip, his touch scorching through the fabric, searing onto her skin. The way her heart increases reminds her of a joke she’s been seeing online a lot (by “seeing online” she means Niall sending her around 20 videos a day to fulfill his quota making sure she’s in the know) – how her nervous system couldn’t necessarily tell the difference between one thing in the other. As far as Y/N’s fight-or-flight is concerned, she could either be near her mentor who’s mercilessly edging her, or on the back of a Land Cruiser with a leopard chasing behind it. A flush runs through her body, somehow cold and warm, and the thud of her heart threatens to rattle her ribcage to pieces.

“Oh,” Y/N replies lamely, turning to face him more, “Really?”

Harry’s thumb carefully strokes along her hip, still searing through the clothes, “Mhm,” he hums and she swallows thickly – he looks good today. He always looks good, but for some reason, he’s even more appealing right now – maybe because it felt like she was starving for it, for something, anything. To finally have him in such a filthy way only for it to be snatched from under her on the same night would call for a fanfic of their relationship to be tagged ‘Hurt/No Comfort’ if you asked her. “It’s cute, how badly you need it. Tells me that you’re listening well though, aren’t you?”

“Listening and suffering,” she allows herself to complain, brows furrowed, trying not to allow his gaze to bewitch her. His hair is getting longer, she could tell even though he gels it back because, by the end of the day, the hairs beside his ears start to curl up. Y/N also wonders if he’s using a new skincare product because his cheeks have looked so smooth and soft lately, and his face has just seemed brighter. Either he splurged on a luxury brand or just the act of torturing Y/N is enough to rejuvenate him. Even his eyes seem a little more luminous, glowing, like seriously they’re reaching Bella finally turning into a vampire in Twilight levels of looking generally healthy and good. Is he sucking the life force from her? Maybe she and Niall weren’t that far off with him trying to prep her into stew.

The remark makes him smile, and even if she sees it a little more often now, each one still stirs her up inside.

“My last treat wasn’t much of a treat.” She grumbles and Harry hums again, low, understanding.

Y/N knew that. She knew that if this was too much for her, Harry would actually take pity on her, she thinks – or maybe he just meant that they would stop everything altogether. So actually, Y/N didn’t know anything for sure, she just knows that she doesn’t feel pressured. Not once had he ever indicated that if they didn’t continue with something like this, then Y/N would be assed out of a mentorship. All she knew for sure was that Harry didn’t give her any slimy vibes like that, and for now, that’s all she needed to know, even if some other things were uncertain.

A little part of her (a large part of her, actually) wants to press her nose into the chest of his shirt and nuzzle there. Harry’s always been the type that you could tell was built, even if you never saw him shirtless – which she had, briefly, and she knew for a fact that every muscle in his body looked biteable. An image flickers in her head, of Harry fucking her from the back, with his arm looped around her neck and his bicep within ‘inviting teeth’ range and she feels a trickle drip into her underwear.

“I want to keep going,” she reassures him, nodding, “Even if you’re mean about it, I want to – I want to show you I’m good.”

“Even if I’m mean, huh?” He repeats, mirthfully, then adds, “I haven’t even shown you mean yet, Sweetheart.”

It’s the first nickname he’s used apart from ‘puppy’ and it seriously makes her head spin, even if it was meant to come off as condescending. She shivers – Y/N wants his fingers in her mouth again, but she doesn’t know how to articulate it – doesn’t want to ask, but just knows that she needs it or she’ll combust. Honestly, she’d prefer his prick but he’s still being stingy about showing her and she knew better than to request something like that right now. Especially when she has a feeling that down the road, that will be one of the ‘treats’ that she gets, maybe – if she’s really a good puppy for him. Should she start barking? Wait – she should ask Niall to buy that collar and add a bell or something. Or is that more of a kitten thing? Is Harry into all types of pet play or just calling her a puppy? Also, did that mean he saw her more like an overexcited, panting dog rather than a demure, needy kitten, because how is she supposed to feel about that –

“Your brain is too loud,” he tells her, sliding one of his hands from her side, and then hovering two fingers over her mouth. Could he read minds? It’s something Y/N should be more concerned about but she splits her lips and lays her tongue out for him to rest his fingers, waiting patiently for him to tell her to keep going. He likes that she remembers, she thinks, because he gives an approving sound in the back of his throat, “You can suck.”

It’s such a heady feeling, having her mouth full of him. Even though she’s had him nose-deep in her pussy, this still has the same effect on her; the same intense, all-encompassing arousal that zips through her vessels. Arguably worse than before now that she knew these fingers would be filling her other places too. And the thought of Harry having two fingers in her mouth and maybe two fingers inside of her at the same time is just – wow.

“If I were going to show you how mean I could be, then I’d take you to my office right now,” he began, his words sounding honeyed, despite the context (Y/N just likes to hear him talk), his voice sweet enough to lick off his tongue and get a cavity, “I’d have you sit on the desk and edge yourself in front of me. Fill yourself up with your fingers, rub at that needy button, all while you whined for my tongue, whined for me to make you cum. I’d sit between your legs, keep your thighs spread, and if I saw that your greedy little hole squeezing around your knuckles I’d take your wrist and pull them right out.” Y/N moans around his fingers, at first just from his words, then from the way he slots his thigh between hers and Y/N’s hips giving an aborted thrust. The friction is enough to make her eyes roll back, and she rocks her hips again off habit. Harry doesn’t say anything, doesn’t scold her, just keeps talking, “Even when you whimper and whine like a poor little puppy, I’d hold your wrist until you stopped throbbing and then I’d cover your eyes, and make you listen to me fuck my hand.”

The sound that leaves Y/N is guttural, when he tenses his thigh, makes the muscle firmer for her to grind against. Humping his legs like this is really not helping the puppy allegations in the slightest – neither is the drool pooling around his fingers and dripping down her chin – but it’s hard to care right now. Not when she grinds down, spreading the slick that had been dripping out of her against her panties, mushing it back into her slit. It makes everything slippery, warm, and messy, and Y/N likes messy right now. Wants it messier, even – wants Harry to spit on her cunt then make her rub against his bare thigh. She wants to feel how warm his skin is, how wet it would get beneath her, feeling the fine hairs on his leg, squeezing around him.

Y/N has never been much of a grinder – she tried if she ever wanted to do something a little different masturbating. Pillows, bunched-up blankets, the edge of her mattress – but nothing ever felt as good as she wanted it to. Her legs always got tired, and the urge to cum never propelled her through the burn enough that she kept going. If anything, she might get tired and decide to stop trying altogether.

But this is so different. It might be the fact she hadn’t cum in a week, it might be the fingers in her mouth, it might be that it’s Harry, and he’s close to her, and smells so fucking good, even after being in a kitchen with food all day. Maybe it’s everything about this moment that makes it feel so good she doesn’t care about the ache in her thighs or the sliver of her brain that feels humiliated to be rutting against him like an actual animal. If he’d let her cum like this, then she’d take it – she’d make sure to cum pretty for him too; stare into his eyes, moan, and suck on his fingers like she wishes she’d be sucking on his prick.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he sighs, his thumb caresses her jaw where it sits outside of her mouth, as she sucks and licks and whines, “I bet you look so pretty when you cum.”

Okay, he seriously might read minds, but she doesn’t even care about that. She wants to cum – she needs to, and maybe if she seems desperate enough, he’ll let her. The speed of Y/N’s hips increases, and she wonders if he can feel her throbbing through their layers of clothes. Her eyes squeeze shut, warmth pooling through her abdomen, she nods even though she knew her baseline cumming is not very pretty, but when she puts the effort into making it pretty then it was. She could be pretty for him, so pretty for him, and so good, and so wet, that he would barely have to stretch her he could just slip right in and –

“No!” Y/N whines around his fingers when his thigh is pulled away, trying to follow him but Harry presses against her hip bone and keeps her still against the counter. As pitiful as it is, when she opened her eyes this time they were glassy, tears threatening her waterline. The thing was, Y/N is always easy to get watery-eyed but when she is in the right headspace, she can stop them from happening. It’s how she was so good at keeping her tears at bay when Harry would yell at her before. But that was with thorough preparation and intense concentration, neither of which she had at this moment, as he slid his fingers from her mouth.

Harry seems. . .pleased, like some horny demon that feeds off edged-induced tears. He pouts his lip at her, and while it’s definitely in a mocking way, she still lets herself be comforted by the way he pets her, still caressing her jaw with his thumb while he cradles her face in his hand, “Poor Puppy, you were close, weren’t you?” He already knew the answer to that, but she nodded anyway, and a small tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Y/N half expects him to lick it up but he’s not feeling that devious yet, she supposes, “We’re almost there, yeah? Just wait a little longer and I’ll make you cum.”

The conviction and sincerity in his voice are what make her believe him, and do bring a little relief, even though she doesn’t know what almost there means. Almost there in another week? In two weeks? In three? Would it be tomorrow? Would he feel pity for her later tonight and message her that she could cum? She isn’t sure, but she still feels like she’s a little floaty, lightheaded, and so desperate that another little tear leaks out. Y/N’s frustrated but so turned on that she could probably scream about it. Harry looks like he knows every single thing she’s feeling.

“I’ll drive you home after you drink some water,” he tells her, after a little while, “Okay?”

. . .

Harry is very tender with her, in his very Harry way, when he drives her home that night.

He warms the car up before she gets outside, makes sure she drinks a full bottle of water before they make it to her flat, and asks her what music she wants to listen to on the way there. Y/N thinks if they were a little closer, he might have offered to walk her to her door, but instead, he tells her to let him know when she gets inside.

“You were good today,” he tells her, “Both in cooking and being cute tonight.”

Y/N feels all warm and fizzy when she walks up to her flat like there are champagne bubbles in her vessels. Hazelnut greets her at the door with a scream and she picks her up, cuddling her close to her chest. For now, the cat allows it, because she’s hoping this will lead to an extra dinner or treat since she’s being so sweet (that’s Y/N’s fault, she definitely created a monster). Once she messages Harry, she gets a response almost instantly – he must not have left yet.

Let me know if you need anything. Have a good night.

. . .

“Okay, realistically if we were in the omegaverse then I would be an Alpha.”

Y/N thinks that even though it’s noon, it’s probably entirely too early for Niall to be bringing up the omegaverse. It was something he’d discovered relatively recently after stumbling across it online and he’s been obsessed ever since, sending her quizzes like “What omegaverse secondary gender are you” and “How would your slick taste if you were an omega?”. Then he’d bring it up periodically when the brain worms were a little too hard to ignore and he had to theorize about their lives with heats and ruts, and the injustice he knew omegas would probably face in their day-to-day (he’s very passionate).

Still. . .what is she going to do? Not entertain it? She couldn’t ignore it, not only because he would just continue talking about it whether she was responding or not, but for the very fact that he made such outlandish, flawed, baseless statements like I would be an Alpha.

“Ni, I know we thrive off delusion, but that’s even too far for me,” Y/N is poking her fork through slices of pineapple and praying the stringy bits don’t get stuck between her teeth all day or she might go crazy, “You? An Alpha?”

Niall seemed legitimately offended, mouth falling open, “What? I so would be! I took like five different quizzes and all of them said it. And my scent would be like pine needles and teakwood. Ooh, actually, I want my scent to be something a little different – like chocolate, but it’s rich, so it omits the omega-ness of it. My ruts are semi-regular and very mild.”

Y/N shakes her head, swallowing the pineapple in her mouth, “There’s no way. You’re definitely an omega, I’ve seen your room, you literally have a nest of blankets on your bed. You would smell like caramel and honey, and you have intense heats, every two months, so someone needs to help you through them,” she pokes another pineapple piece, “And you’re like obsessed with being full in real life, so omega you is a knot-loving-size-queen.”

“Wow, you think only omegas can like nesting and being full? You would be an omegaverse traditionalist,” he scoffs, “Unlike you, I know there’s a whole subsection of omegaverse with non-traditional dynamics so nesting and being full are in! It's a new wave! Get with it.” He peels the tomato off his sandwich (that he orders, but the sandwich shop guy has it in his head that Niall loves tomatoes even though Niall has never ordered a tomato on a sandwich in his life, but he can’t be arsed to correct him), “I’ll accept the caramel and honey though, it would make me more inviting to others. You however, are like – super omega vibes. Don’t even fight me on it,” he puts a hand up to stop her, when she opens her mouth to dispute him off habit, “You smell like peaches though, but honeyed peaches so we both have honey and we’re besties because of it. You take suppressants to regulate your heat but they’re pretty normal, nothing too crazy. Definitely a size queen,” he rolls his eyes, “And you need someone there to cook for you because you’ll try to survive off granola bars and half-drunk water bottles, Ugh, I’m getting mad at you just thinking about it.”

Y/N scoffs, “Hold on, what makes you think you’d be an alpha then, Mr. New Wave?”

“Obviously my huge dic–”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Adam appears, ambling in, “Why is Niall talking about his dick? I thought Y/N banned all ball talk from you during lunch break.”

Niall is not even remotely pressed when he answers, “We’re talking omegaverse dynamics. You’d be a beta, Adam.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Y/N nods, “Total beta.”

Adam’s brows furrowed, “Why does it feel like I’m getting insulted?”

“Probably because you are,” Harry ducks his head in, two containers in his hand, and heads toward the microwave.

“Noo, they’re like super necessary if we’re talking pack dynamics. Someone has to keep a cool head while everyone else is heat-crazed and shit. You’re a total peacemaker in real life,” Niall explains, “Plus you add the variety! If there were only alphas and omegas in the world, it would be insane.”

Y/N adds, “You know, some verses even have betas going through pseudo-heats.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Harry turns away from the microwave, “What are you talking about?”

Adam frowns, “They’re saying I’m a beta, Harry, but honestly I feel like I’d be an omega, right?”

Harry’s brows furrow, “Excuse me?”

“Harry would be an alpha,” Niall states fearlessly.

“Well, yeah,” Y/N and Adam say it simultaneously, but Adam is the only one to go on and say, “I don’t even think that’s debatable, right? He just gives off energy.”

Harry sighs, “This is why I don’t eat in here,” and the moment feels very much like when they went out for dinner that one time. Y/N thinks it’d be fun to do it again. Maybe they could go back out for Korean barbeque and Harry could cook for her again because truthfully, she liked being doted on at dinner, even if it meant he was stuffing her for stew Hansel and Gretal style.

As she’s reminiscing, a container is carefully placed in front of her. She blinks at it, confused, then looks to the side to see Harry reaching back into the microwave for the second container he brought, “Wait, what? Is this – ?”

“Mhm,” he hums before she can answer, “Tomato Barley soup with roasted chickpeas. It may be added to the Spring menu, depending on reception,” he turns to face them again, and Harry locks his gaze with her, “You can share with Niall. Tell me what you think later.”

Harry takes his food and leaves, presumably to eat in his office, while Adam reaches over for the tomatoes that Niall isn’t going to eat. Niall makes eye contact with Y/N next, then nods his head firmly, “Yeah, see? You’d definitely need someone to feed you during your heat. Very omega of you.”

Adam nodded, “Agreed,” he bit into the tomato, murmured something under his breath about them using too much vinaigrette, then looked at Y/N, “Babe, there’s a new movie and I think you’d like the main guy – do you wanna come see it with me?”

“Yes,” Y/N agreed, tentatively taking a sip of the soup and it’s good, of course, because everything Harry makes is good but it feels extra special that he singled her out to try it. Even if he said she could share with Niall, he only brought two containers: one for him and one for her. It tastes especially delicious for that reason alone, “What is it about?”

“Yeah, you fucker, and why can’t I go?” Niall interjected.

Adam scoffed, “I asked if you wanted to go too, but you said you hated rom-coms and they weren’t as good as they used to be.”

“Well, both of those things are true but I can’t handle the FOMO so I’m coming too.”

Adam grinned, like this had been his plan all along, “And there can’t be just three of us, so Harry has to go!” He seemed excited, “I’ll tell him I already bought the tickets.”

“Are you sure he’ll come too?” Y/N inquires, “He doesn’t strike me as a rom-com kind of guy.”

“Please,” Adam snorted, “He loves them. Even if he didn’t, he’d come since you’re going.”

. . .

Y/N never knows what to wear to the movie theater. No matter what the weather is outside, the inside of the theater is ungodly cold, enough that it’s hard to focus on the movie and not how she’s shivering out of her bones. Which wouldn’t be a problem if the temperature outside was still icy and snowy like it had been, but this week had been suspiciously sunny and warm for late February. She presumes it’s the fake out that they always experience before another strike of brutal winter weather, but instead of awaiting the cold, she embraces the warmth as much as she can.

The problem is, the weather was warm enough to wear shorts during the day; the sun was staying out longer and there was just something about that that made it necessary for Y/N to start stripping off unnecessary layers. So she had worn shorts, soft linen that rumpled in the breeze, and a long sleeve to try and find a happy medium. But one step into the theater she knew she’d made a dire mistake.

“Don’t worry about it,” Niall assured her, “Just ask Harry if you can sit in his lap and warm up there.”

“Shut up Ni.”

Y/N had been debriefing Niall on each edging episode (the last one in the kitchen having happened only three days prior) because. . .well, of course she was. And it has led Niall further into this rabbit hole of believing that Harry is obsessed with her and she could do no wrong in his eyes. Even Y/N isn’t that deluded yet, so she brushes him off, because there’s absolutely no way Harry would be cool with her crawling into his lap during the movie. Maybe if they were at his home, and even then, she’s sure he’d say something like “Good dogs wait to be invited up on the couch” or something to that effect.

Adam and Harry came together, so they were waiting for them at the front, just before the ticketing person would scan them through. As always, Adam grins at them like a proud mentor ready to take his ducklings to see a movie while Harry seems as impassive as always. He’s wearing a hoodie today, and it looks big, soft, and warm. Ideally, she would just crawl right up under the bottom and snuggle up there, suffocating against his body. That’s what she wants to do right now at least.

“I hope you’re strategically hiding a blanket somewhere,” Adam says when they get close enough, “You’re g’na be freezing in there, Ladybug.”

“Ladybug?” Niall furrowed his brows.

“I’m trying something new, Ball Smasher.”

“Ball Smasher is NOT going to be my nickname when she is Ladybug.”

They’ve become a spectacle within t-minus 3 seconds but Y/N doesn’t really think anything of it. Instead, she turns to Harry, and smiles gently, awkwardly a little but that isn’t new, “Hi Harry.”

“Hi Ladybug,” he replied, teasing, “You have a lot of nicknames don’t you?”

Her face feels warm. Harry is probably referring to how he calls her Puppy, or at least that’s what she’s guessing, and the sneaky glint in his gaze suggests that he is that fiendish to do it right now. The other two are arguing over the nickname Ball Smasher though so neither of them notice, and the college student scanning their tickets looks like they’d rather be anywhere than where they were.

Y/N for sure thought Harry would be scolding her for the theater food she was about to consume, but he didn't. Actually, when she’s unsure whether she should get pretzel bites or nachos, Harry suggests she gets both, then slides his card over before she can pay (so Niall demands Adam pay for his too). And when he’s the only person who doesn’t need to have a wee before the movie, he lets Y/N slide her purse onto his forearm and holds her food. When Adam tries to pawn off their food on him too, Harry levels him with a stare, “There’s a free bench over there,” he nods his head, “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

All four seats are grouped, and Y/N had been wondering how they would sit. In seats J1, J2, J3, and J4, they order it by Harry on the far left, Y/N beside him, Niall next to her, and then on Niall’s side sits Adam. She’s a little stressed because that means she’s the only one who can really speak comfortably to Harry, but she doesn’t even know if he does that. Y/N is someone who, try as she might, cannot help but make little comments throughout the movie. If the film is particularly crazy and she and Niall are on one, then they’ve practically got a constant stream of thought going, so they just hope and pray that nobody is near them in the theater. It’s why if they can’t wait until it’s on streaming services, then they need to go when most people have already seen it.

Harry seems like someone who would absolutely hate that shit. So she feels a little tense at his side, even when he sets up the table for them to share. It’s interesting to see Harry eat nachos and greasy pretzels when she typically only sees him eat refined meals or things he’s cooked. Harry doesn’t seem to mind it though – doing as the Romans do in Rome, is probably how he sees it. As the previews start, Harry shuffles a little closer to her, leaning over the armrest, whispering just low enough for her to hear while Niall already animatedly chirps at Adam what he thinks of the plot.

“Act as you normally do, Puppy. Don’t change because I’m here.”

Y/N is staring at him with eyes that are probably begging him to tell her if he reads minds or not, because what the fuck? How many times is he going to be right on the nose about what is going on in her head? And quell any doubt or worry that is swimming around in there?

She nods, blinking at him just as she bites down into a pretzel. Harry leans back into his seat and turns toward the screen.

It is actually. . .not as scary as she was imagining. Y/N kept picturing Harry leaning over when she laughed at something with Niall to tell her to shut the hell up, or he’d kick her out of the movie himself. An outlandish thing, because Harry would probably just quietly stew and glare at her every so often to let her know his disapproval and then scold her for it later. Harry doesn’t seem to mind their little bits of chatter here and there and even leans over to mutter things to her below his breath. The theater is relatively empty apart from a couple a couple of rows ahead of them, so they don’t have to worry much about that.

The main actor is. . .really cute. Cuter than most male leads in rom-coms, Y/N feels like, and it absolutely makes sense why the main actress is obsessed with him as she is. He’s covered in tattoos, his hair is long, and he’s kind of grumpy, but he is so intensely sweet with the female lead that Y/N is low-key smitten as well. It’s one of those movies that makes you feel giddy, and even the resident rom-com hater Niall thought it was cute. Grabbed her wrist and squeezed it when the male lead smiled for the first time, dimpled and cute, and even Harry gasped when the female lead kissed someone else. It’s all over the place, the story is crazy.

At some point, the temperature in the theater is really starting to get to her. She stretched the shirt she was wearing out as much as she could to hide her knees up under it, but it didn’t do much. Y/N had almost resigned to her destiny of leaving with frozen bones when suddenly the screen blacked out. Actually, everything is blacked out, and she’s confused why Niall hasn’t yelled in outrage until realizing she’s the only person that anything changed for. Once her head pops out from the neckhole of the hoodie that Harry had been wearing, but when she looks over, he’s not looking at her. Instead, he’s fixing his rumpled undershirt, before leaning back in the seat, goosebumps pebbling his arms.

“Harry?”

“Wear it,” he tells her, “I can’t focus with how cold you are.”

It doesn’t make much sense, but Y/N takes it. She slides her arms into the hoodie and appreciates the warmth that envelopes her, from the thick material and the way Harry’s body has been heating it. It smells good, like him, and reminds her of his flat. Warm and cozy, vanilla scented; she tries to be inconspicuous about dipping her nose underneath the neckline and taking a deep breath. Maybe she could get away with keeping it for a while if she pretended to forget it was his.

“Thank you.” She murmurs and Harry nods.

The movie ends, and they all hate the ending, especially Niall because, “I do not give a single shit if it’s his dream job, they were supposed to be together.” He’s outraged, huffing, “It’s such a cop-out! They were planting seeds for a sequel since the moment they suggested he had a dark past in a gang and then didn’t delve deeper into it.”

“Yeah, I kept waiting for him to turn around and run back to her,” Adam grumbled, wiping at his eyes which he claims are only misty from leaving the dark theater and entering a bright hallway, “Stupid. I hate when there’s unresolved plotlines too.”

Y/N would probably be more worked up over it if she wasn’t so happy and warm in Harry’s hoodie. She keeps dipping her nose into it, taking little, greedy inhales just in case he decides he wants it back. They get to the parking lot to split off, and Harry doesn’t say anything about it. Only tips his head toward them, “I had fun,” he tells them, “If you ever take me to a movie that doesn’t end with the main duo getting together though, I’ll have something to say.”

“See you two at work,” Niall waves, already linking arms with Y/N and pivoting them toward the direction of his car. He lowers his voice, and dips closer to her ear, “Okay Alpha has chosen omega mate, he gave you the hoodie for his nest.”

“Enough,” Y/N pulls the sleeves of the hoodie over her palms, “But like. . .if we were in the omegaverse, do you think Harry would have a huge knot or. . .”

“I knew you were a size queen.”

. . .

There’s a lot of buzz in the kitchen.

They have famous people come relatively often to their restaurant because Harry is who he is, the food is good, and there’s always a general feeling of opulence that lingers in the air. ‘If you have money, you eat there’ kind of thing; for birthdays, job promotions, movie deals, and award wins – if it’s something to celebrate, then people like to come here. So every so often there will be a random politician who’s been making headlines lately, a seasoned model who just walked the runway in a garment worth 50,000, maybe an actor who is set to win an Oscar, or a musical artist who just won their first music award.

The amount of kitchen chatter about it depended on the person. The politician might not get much hype, but the actor definitely had a lot of people buzzing and chittering, nervous and excited, wondering if their food would make a good enough impression for them to come back. Even Adam gets caught up in it sometimes, all giggles and laughing, joking about how he’s going to take the copy of their receipt and sell the signature online.

Today it’s a little different because the person everyone is chattering about – is another chef. His name is Young-Jae, a Korean chef relatively new to the scene but making big strides and headlines in the culinary world lately, and just recently won a place on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants. He’s been the talk of the culinary world lately, in the same way that Harry typically is, so everyone is buzzing, excited from the moment he called last week to make the reservation.

With who he was, Y/N expected Harry to be making the plate. Not that she didn’t think she could, but typically with high-profile people they have the chefs who’ve already established themselves prepare their meals. So when Harry brings the meal ticket with his name and table number, Y/N is startled.

“Oh?” Y/N tilted her head, “Me?”

Harry stared at her, “. . .Yes.” He furrowed his brows, “You’re covering this section, why wouldn’t it be you?”

“Just – he’s like a big deal right?” Y/N scratched her bicep, “Isn’t that like – shouldn’t you do that?”

Harry sighed, “You’re going to cook this plate. You are a competent, strong chef and if I didn’t believe that you could do it then I wouldn’t have suggested it. Now,” he patted the ticket, “I don’t know why all of you are so worked up about him, you are all also chefs. Get to work.”

So, Y/N gets to work. She’s nervous as fuck, because despite what Harry’s saying he isn’t just any chef, he’s like. . .really good. Y/N knows that when Harry visits other restaurants the staff is just as nervous, from what Y/N’s heard of old friends from culinary school and Niall’s endless grapevine of gossip. Unless you’re a culinary god, chefs get nervous to cook for other chefs, because they know how intensely they’ll scrutinize a dish.

Y/N tries to be precise in every dish that she makes, but she tries extra hard for this. Red mullet with chili and garlic, she’s only made it a handful of times before but each time Harry has tried it and given her the angry face and an acknowledging hum. So it gives her a little bit of a needed confidence boost, even though while she’s flipping the cut of fish on the pan, she’s definitely trembling. Harry looms over her every once in a while, but she thinks it's more for her benefit than his own. After a couple of times of her looking up, eyes darting around trying to find him and then locking with him from across the kitchen, he tends to just come to stay beside her.

In the end, she feels happy with the plate. Lightheaded, like she might pass out, but still pretty happy. She sends it out then waits anxiously to be called out there and upbraided for sending out a shitty plate or something. Niall even said it looks like she’s waiting for them to call her out and have her march off the plank on a ship. Y/N tries to be normal and relaxed, but she’s already jumpy and tense from being keyed up with no orgasms for the last couple of weeks, and now this. It’s been a while since she’d been this stressed over a plate.

“Y/N,” the waitress comes up to her after 15 minutes, looking slightly on edge, “Um, Chef Young-Jae wants to speak to you.”

She feels like she’s going to pass out. Harry, who had been tasting the coq au vin that Niall was making, looked up and over, tossing the spoon into the sink. He seems like his hackles are raised, everyone in the kitchen has gone from chattering the usual kitchen chatter to going intensely quiet. Oh god, what are they gonna do to her out there? Was it bad? Did he hate it? Why did the waitress look so concerned? Did he seem angry out there?

Harry doesn’t mention that he’s going with her, but when she looks to her right and sees him, she feels a little more calm. If there is legitimately something wrong with the dish she doesn’t think he’ll yell at her like he used to, but then at least he’ll be there too. . .maybe, hopefully, teach her how to not make the same mistake in the future. Maybe he’ll even comfort her a little bit? That would be nice.

Young-Jae is waiting patiently; he doesn’t seem to be angry but he doesn’t seem to be overjoyed either. Y/N’s heart is thudding a thousand beats a minute, swallowing hard because. . .he’s hot. Like, incredibly good-looking, cameras do not do him nearly enough justice. When she gets closer to the table, he turns his gaze onto hers, and she seriously thinks she is either going to start floating on the spot or she’s going to launch herself out of the window he’s sitting beside.

“Hello,” he greeted her, and his voice was soft – he didn’t sound mad?“Are you the one who made this meal?”

She swallowed hard, nodding, her hands clasped in front of herself which could not scream I am not confident right now – more than it already was, “Yes Sir,” she told him, “It was me. Was it. . .to your liking?”

“Was it to my liking?” Young-Jae held his chin, his index finger right beneath his nose, and Y/N is certain that he was about to say something like fuck no, I hated that shit! “It was the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Y/N’s eyes, from where she’d cast them down to the floor in front of her, dart up. They’re wide, blinking, “Wait, pardon me?”

Young-Jae grins, nodding his head, “I could tell there was a lot of. . care, put into this. I have eaten a lot of goatfish but this by far has been my absolute favorite. Your technique is next to perfect, the flavor is unlike anything I’ve tasted before, I’m. . .I’m absolutely enthralled.”

“Holy shit,” she speaks without thinking, then covers her mouth, “Oh – oh my god, I’m sorry I’m just so surprised I – thank you! Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

“Of course,” he is actually really fucking cute, especially now that he’s complimenting her, “I always like to compliment whoever prepared my meal when it speaks to me and this one truly did. How long have you been here?”

She feels frazzled, “I – well, I started here a year and – I think 6 or 7 months ago?” She motioned to Harry, who still stood at her side, in a much less defensive position than he had been prior, now just his typical guarded self, “He’s my mentor.”

Youngjae gives another big smile, and what the fuck, he has a dimple too! His hand was covering it before, but now he rests them in front of himself, “I should have known that you were the one to teach her,” he holds his hand out, “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Styles. You have taught her very well.”

“I know,” Harry gives him a brief smile and shakes his hand firmly, “I’m glad you enjoyed her dish.”

When he turns back to her, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. In his wallet, he takes out what looks like an old dentist appointment reminder card and flips it over, scribbling his number on the back, “I would love for you to come visit my restaurant, whenever you can. If you’re interested in Korean cuisine, please come. I can teach you some recipes of my own.”

“Oh, thank you,” she takes the card, gripping it tightly, smiling brightly, “Thank you so much! This is – wow, this means a lot. I hope you come to visit us again soon.”

Young-Jae’s teeth are really nice too, and that dimple again – maybe she has a thing for dimples, “Of course, I will.”

The thing is – Y/N is on cloud nine! Only a handful of times had she been called out to speak with a guest and typically it wasn’t for a series of compliments and then an offer to visit their restaurant and learn their craft. Especially by someone so amicable – she wouldn’t have thought that he was as big as he is, had she not known exactly who he was. He felt easy to talk to, and he was cute, and he liked her fish! She’s so giddy, it is written all over her face as she and Harry step back into the kitchen, everyone eying her wearily at first before she spoke.

“He was super nice!”

There was an array of questions being thrown at her, like what did he say? How did he act? Was he as friendly as everyone always says he is? Did he like the food? Is he coming back? All things Y/N could have answered relatively quickly without disrupting the work flow but Harry cleared his throat before she could even begin.

“Ask her these questions on your own time,” he ordered, “Right now, you’re on my time. Get back to work.”

Niall, who Y/N knew had probably stealthily slid out of the kitchen to listen (Adam was stirring his coq au vin, so he presumed he told him to keep watch over it), “Someone is jeallllous,” he whispers in her ear, snickering, “His ears are red.” Y/N looked over, where Harry was stepping into his office, and Niall was right – his ears were bright red. She only catches them for a moment before the door is clicked shut and he’s hidden himself away. “Ugh, I live for this drama.”

There was no way Harry was jealous – he must have just walked past the steam of a pan or something. She’s seen his ears get red because of that before. But not once has Harry ever given her the indication that he could feel something like jealousy when it involved Y/N. Hell, he doesn’t even act like he’s possessive of her or anything! So she couldn’t imagine that he felt any amount of envy in her interaction with another chef. He deals with her interacting with Adam just fine, and he seemed perfectly nice to Young-Jae as well. Honestly, Harry seems like the type of person who believes emotions like jealousy are beneath him; immature and pathetic. Even if she accused him as a joke, she’s certain he’d unintentionally hurt her feelings by questioning what he had to be jealous of. Y/N is like. . probably a dime a dozen to him. Any woman would let him edge her, let him call her puppy, they’d probably roll over and bark too, and he’d be just as happy. . .

. . Okay, so she just made herself kind of sad with that thought, but she isn’t going to dwell on it. This feels good; an important chef who isn’t just her mentor who knows she cries when he’s mean to her now thinks that her food is delicious. He stood nothing to gain from telling her and stood nothing to gain from offering to teach her. He was just doing it to be nice, and that tickled Y/N right to the marrow.

The rest of the day goes by like a dream. Harry eventually returns from his office and helps her with the first fish en papillote order they got since it was added to the menu. Just to refresh her on some of the things, since they hadn’t practiced making it for a couple of weeks now. He doesn’t seem to be acting out of the ordinary at all, just the same old Harry – she would say he was being quiet, but quiet is just his baseline so that doesn’t tell her much either.

They cook, they clean up, and the others start dispersing, Niall winks at her when he heads out the door because he’s Niall and always assumes she’s going to get lucky.

After she has scrubbed the stove, she turns to toss the rags in the hamper and Harry is to her immediate left, “Ah!” She yelps, taking a step back, “Oh, wow, you’re so quiet on your feet sometimes!”

“I’m taking you home tonight.” He told her, but then added a gentle, “Okay?”

Y/N’s brows raised – she hadn’t been expecting an invite tonight. Normally, his invitations are only extended when they don’t have work the next day but she guesses since they have a later start anyway, he doesn’t mind. Whatever his reasoning may be, Y/N knew she was either going to cum tonight or be tortured, but. . .the potential of maybe cumming is enough that she agrees without even a glimmer of a second thought.

. . .

Things feel a little tense.

The drive to Harry’s flat is quiet, but that isn’t unusual. It’s more so the vibes that he’s giving off; whatever is diffusing from his skin is something that doesn’t seem elated by any means, or even horny for that matter. She didn’t know what it was, but it was something that left the air around them sticky with it. Like someone was trying to pour honey into her lungs, each breath she took felt more unsettled.

By the time they were walking up to his elevator, Y/N had convinced herself that he was about to call all of this off. He invited her over but he never actually told her what for, and didn’t allude to anything suggestive. Maybe he wanted her at his flat so he could let her down easily? That she wasn’t what he was looking for, and that they played around a few times but those times weren’t enough for him to want to keep going, or fuck her. Maybe he found someone much better suited to the dynamic than she was. Someone better, more experienced, didn’t whine and complain about not getting to cum.

Sticky like honey in her lungs turns to sticky like tar. She’d understand if he did want to call it off. Y/N would be sad, for sure – she liked these pockets of intimacy that they shared. Liked that he was so open with her this way, all the things he would say, how he’d praise her. She even liked it when he degraded her, said things that felt humiliating, and stole her orgasms from right under her nose. But again, at the end of the day, Y/N is one of a million, rather than one in a million. So many people covet after him, he could spend this extra time with, and sleep with anyone he wanted. Why would he trouble himself with his mentee?

Y/N slouches into his flat, bracing herself for a conversation that she didn’t want to have at all. She just hoped he was kind of nice about it – maybe he’d give her tomorrow off if she cried. It would be hard to see him so soon after being rejected, so –

“Are you okay with kissing?”

Y/N blinks at him, “Huh?”

Harry takes a step closer to her, away from his door where she had been kicking off her shoes a bit to the side in the foyer, “Kissing,” he repeats, “We haven’t yet. Do you like it?”

“Oh – yes,” she agreed, “I do like it. A lot, actually but I thought – I thought you didn’t want to do that with me?”

He pauses, standing right before her, “Did I ever tell you I didn’t want to kiss you?”

“Well, no but –”

Her words are stolen from her by Harry’s mouth.

This was a surprise; from going to theorizing that he was about to end whatever this dynamic was between them, to his lips pressed against hers is a bit of a whirlwind. Enough that it takes her brain a few seconds to catch up, registering that Harry is kissing her in the first three seconds, and then finally responding to the movement of his mouth in the next two. Y/N can’t remember the last time she was properly kissed – she doesn’t count the drunk ones she and Niall share at all. She means a real, honest-to-god kiss, from someone interested in sleeping with her. His lips are soft where they slot between hers; her upper lip is tucked between both of his and with each push of his mouth to hers he sucks on it gently.

Harry’s hands hold her face, positioning her head just how he wants it. He tilts and guides her as he starts to deepen it, introducing his tongue with a little, sweet flicker against the seam of her mouth. Y/N opens up for him without hesitation, and Harry wastes no time slipping it in. At first, he’s surprisingly tentative with how he strokes their tongues together. It’s soft, careful, like he’s introducing them to each other, and had Y/N been in a different state of mind, she’d probably indulge in a sweet, sort of shy kiss like this.

But as it stands, all she has to do is smell Harry and she’s keyed up to 100. Plus, she’s just so ecstatic that this conversation wasn’t him ending things. So her fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and grip it tight, pressing forward and kissing him deeper. For once, she’s the one to catch him off guard, a sweet, new sound leaving him, humming from the back of his throat. His fingers slide from her face to her throat, and one hand trails to the back of her head while the other slips to her hip. He holds her tightly, slips his fingers into her hair, and grips it firmly. Gone is the shy kiss he’d been giving her almost instantly. Now he’s sucking on her lips, licking her tongue, pulling that between puckered lips, and sucking at it gently.

It gets messy, and Y/N’s already moaning but when he shoves his thigh between her legs again and she’s able to grind down on him, the moans turn more wanton and needy. Harry tries to pull away for a breath and she chases after him blindly, trying to find his mouth again, only stopped by the grip he has on her hair.

“No, please, please,” she begs, “Keep kissing me, please – kiss me how you eat me out, spit in my mouth, I want it –”

“Filthy fucking tongue,” he murmurs, “Open you’re mouth.” Y/N opens wide for him and stretches her tongue out for him. Harry spits into her mouth, then pushes his tongue back against hers, swirling it around, feeding it back into her mouth but the second kiss doesn’t last long at all. This time he withdraws and nips at her bottom lip, looking at her with lidded eyes, “Want to know how I know you’ve been a good girl for me? How I know you haven’t touched yourself?” He inquired and Y/N waited for him to answer, humming softly in question, “Because each time we do this, you get more and more depraved and needy. It’s seriously fucking cute seeing a puppy behave so well.”

Harry guides her to his room, setting her in front of the bed, “Keep being good for me, yeah? And I’ll make you cum.” Y/N thinks her heart skips a beat, pure excitement trapezing through her, “Take off your clothes Pup – all of them.”

She wiggles out of her bottoms and nearly rips the buttons of her top trying to rush out of them. Harry chuckles warmly at her display, watching as she gets down to her bra and underwear. Y/N only hesitates for a couple of seconds with her bra, trying to remember if this was the first time Harry has seen her tits or not. Now is as good a time as any, she supposes, so she unclips the bra and lets it slide off her arms. Her underwear is next, and she kicks out of it, though she can feel how her juices clung to the fabric.

Harry urges her onto the bed, climbing in after her. He has a hand on either knee and spreads her open, cooing when he looks down at her, “What a messy little pussy,” he murmurs, before sitting back on his heels, his knees digging into the mattress below him. Harry maneuvers her easily enough, that her bum and lower back rest on the slant of his thighs, and she grabs the back of her knees, keeping herself open for them, “I still want you to tell me when you’re about to cum, okay?”

She already feels breathless, the position leaves her feeling extra vulnerable and exposed, but Harry keeps looking at her cunt like he wants to bury his face in it so it feels worth it.

First, Harry takes the pad of his thumb and strokes down her slit. He rubs it against her hole for a little while, just barely any pressure, like he’s playing with what’s leaking from her. Every so often he’ll pull his thumb away a little bit, watch as it clings to his finger before he goes back to rubbing over it. The move makes her pulse around nothing, clenching and squeezing – he gives a breathless laugh, “Just begging for me to fill it up,” he murmured, and she doesn’t know if it was to her or himself. Scared to break the trance she’s in, she says nothing, just watching intensely as he slid his index finger from the top of her slit, down to her hole.

He sinks it in slow, steady, like it’s his first time every fucking her with it. Y/N mewls, tensing her core muscles so that she doesn't react and tries to buck into him. Nothing was going to stop her from cumming today, especially not a jerk of her muscles. So she’s patient as she could be when he sinks one down to the knuckle, lets her stretch around it, accommodate him.

Then he pushes into her g-spot and her eyes nearly roll back.

“I can – I can do another,” she tells him, “I promise – I promise I can do another, you don’t have to – you don’t have to be slow with me, I like when it burns a little.”

Harry doesn’t respond, and at first she thinks he isn’t going to listen to her, but then when he pulls his index finger back, he wiggles his middle finger beside it. His fingers are long and big so this stretch is a little more, but nothing horrible. Her hands are getting clammy from where they sit beneath her knees, so she repositions them, but it makes her spread out a little further for him. It makes his view better too, she guesses, because he coos again, “Look how hungry she is,” he murmurs, “Sucking my fingers right in. Your poor pussy is just begging to be fucked, Puppy,” he wiggles in a third, drools down so that she’s even slippery with his spit and Y/N’s eyes flutter closed.

The noise that leaves her is whiny as she tells him, “I’m gonna cum,” her hands dig into the flesh of her thigh, and she shakes with the strength its taking her not to try fucking his fingers, “I – if you keep moving I’ll cum.”

Harry stills his fingers inside of her and she can feel the stretch even more intensely when he isn’t moving, “Hmm, I’ll give you a choice, Sweetheart,” Y/N honestly doesn’t know if she is in the position to be making any choices right now, but she forces herself to open her eyes that she hadn’t realized she shut. He stays still waiting for the little twitches and pulsations of her pussy to subside as her orgasm ebbs away, “You can either cum for the first time since we’ve started, from my mouth and fingers,” he slowly loops his thumb around her clit, reminding her how engorged it already is, begging to be touched, “Or you can cum from my cock. I’ll let you decide.”

It really isn’t much of a decision that has to be made.

“Your cock,” she answers, “Oh please, please – I need that, I need you, I wanna feel it I’ve been – I’ve been thinking about it for so long,” she pouts her lip, “Dreaming about it but I can’t even see it in my dreams, it’s so annoying. Want it so bad, I can take it – I can handle – Puppy can handle more, please.”

Harry makes a sound close to a growly kind of groan, “Fuck,” he slips his fingers out of her, then reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with the speed and dexterity of a man who could chop 20 carrots in one minute. The dark wash of his trousers always made it difficult to make out his bulge, but when he slipped those down, she saw a pair of grey briefs that hid absolutely nothing (not even the wet spot he’d leaked into them).

He’s big – fucking, mouthwateringly big, and when he reaches below the waistband and pulls his cock from beneath the fabric, Y/N could have gasped. It’s big and it’s pretty; the head is flushed red and glistening with precum, pearly as it hits the light, the shaft is smooth, the skin looks soft and the only bump is a pretty, long vein that runs down the left side of it. His balls sit nice and nestled, looking swollen and full. Harry strokes himself once then squeezes at the base, shivering with it.

“I didn’t touch myself either,” he admits to her, reaching toward the nightstand and pulling the drawer open. He reveals a condom and lube, tearing into the foil with deft fingers, “I’ve been edging myself with you, yeah?”

For some reason that makes all of this hotter. There’s a sweat building up at Y/N’s nape and probably a sheen on her forehead, though she’s doing relatively little work. Everything feels warm, like he’d cranked the heater on to 90 degrees and then they ran in place, in his room, over his vent. Y/N watches him slip the condom on, then pop the cap of the lube, drizzling it over his shaft with one hand while he spreads it out with the other. Normally Y/N would argue that she was wet enough that he wouldn’t need it, but with the size of him, she wouldn’t be complaining.

Harry presses the tip against her but doesn’t press in at first. He pauses, stuffs a pillow beneath her bum, and then scoots closer. It makes the angle better for them, so when he starts to ease the head inside of her, he’s got a better view of what’s going on.

The stretch is a lot, even for just the tip. Her toes curl hard as her walls make way for him, and he presses more inside of her, slowly, inch-by-inch with his gaze trained on her face, looking for any signs of discomfort or any hint that she might want to stop. Y/N is certain that there is no indication anywhere on her face that she wants to stop, even when she feels so full that she’s certain the tip might be nudging at her throat. Her walls fight to squeeze but he keeps her so spread open that they can only try their best.

Harry keeps her pinned at the hips, but he stretches over her body. At some point, he lost his shirt so they were pressed together skin-to-skin for the first time and Y/N revels in it. He’s warm, but he isn’t sweaty yet, and his skin feels soft when she carefully starts to touch him. Her fingers skate along his shoulders, pressing into the broad muscle, feeling totally encompassed by him and his body. Harry’s big and beefy, because for some reason a chef needs to have a body fit to wrestle with. He could move her and pin her however he wanted, and she’d have to stay there until he decided he was finished, and she loved the thought of that more than she imagined.

He distracts her with kisses. Nothing as filthy as the first, but soft, long presses of their mouths while he gives her ample time to stretch around him. It was good – it almost felt like she was cockwarming him which was a fun thought. One she didn’t know if she’d ever get to indulge in, so she indulges in it for the few minutes that she can right now.

The first roll of his hips is so subtle, Y/N almost doesn’t realize that it happened. She probably wouldn’t have if not for the moan squeezed out of Harry’s chest, when the kisses fall off and he tips his face down into her neck. The next roll is a little more intense, much more noticeable, and when Y/N isn’t wincing in pain or crying out, Harry does more. Each fuck of his hips is accompanied by the squelch of her pussy, how slick she was, and the soft sound of Harry moaning. It was nice to hear that he was just as worked up as she had been – that he’d been edging himself too, the whole time.

Harry sets a steady pace as he feels the waters out, and he’s at just the right angle that he rubs up against her g-spot with each stroke. It’s too good – mind-numbingly so. Harry has his grip on her hips and starts to pull her down to meet him each time, decreasing the amount of time it takes for him to bottom out. Y/N’s legs loop around his waist, “Can I help?” She asks, “Can I move – can I move mine?”

He chuckles again, and it vibrates through her whole body, “Sure, Puppy,” he murmured, “Whatever you want. You’ve been so good, you deserve it.”

It’s not much help, but Y/N is glad to not be forcing her muscles still when all they wanted to do was meet each one of his thrusts. His fingers dug into her flesh, leaving grape-sized indents as he snapped his hips into her. Y/N can feel him throbbing through the condom every once in a while when he goes particularly deep. A sheen of sweat starts to glisten over his skin, and his hair is falling out of the gel that had kept it all prim and proper. Unruly curls start to emerge from beneath it and Y/N is obsessed already. She needs to see them freshly washed, with his hair fluffy, and his cheeks flushed from the heat of his shower.

Harry leaves one hand on her hips, but the other he reaches to her face, and cradles her cheek with it. With the pad of his thumb, he strokes her bottom lip and a shudder runs down her spine when she realizes what he’s about to do. Sinking two fingers into her mouth, Y/N sucks at them greedily, even pressing forward to take them deeper. Harry pets her tongue and she drools around his knuckles much quicker this time, already having trouble swallowing the spit in her mouth.

“Just need something in this sweet little mouth all the time, huh, Puppy?” He murmured, “Might have to get you a chew toy.”

There is something about it. How degrading it is, how if anyone else heard him saying that it would be humiliating, how Harry says it with such conviction like he knows her and what she needs better than she even does. All of it together sends her spiraling, but a random bead of panic starts to slither through her veins. Her fingers grip his biceps, digging into them, “I’m – Harry,” her eyes feel wide and wild, she’s speaking around his fingers until he pulls them out enough for her to hear him clearer, “I’m going to cum if you don’t stop, I’ll – I’ll cum –” and somewhere in her head she remembers Harry telling her she could, but to go so long without it – it almost doesn’t feel real that he was going to let her. Was it a trick? An elaborate ploy? Was he going to pull out of her again? Or maybe ruin her orgasm?

Harry seems like he understands, nodding his head and shushing her, “I know, baby,” he murmurs, collecting her hands by the wrists and stretching them above her head, pinning them there with only one of his. He fucks into her a little quicker, his face closer to hers, their noses pressed into each other, “It’s okay, you did so good. Such a good girl, you can cum for me, yeah? Cum all pretty for me, I can’t wait to feel it.”

Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever understood in stories when they said their vision blurred or their hearing fuzzed out. She’s had good orgasms but not earth-shattering ones by any means – not from her exes or herself. Something that took the tension out of her muscles but then she was able to come back from relatively calmly.

This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. The sound she makes is guttural, deep from her belly as she arches into him as much as she can in this position. Her legs are twisted so tightly around his hips that she’s surprised he can keep moving while he fucks her through it, but he does. Tears beaded up in her eyes and slipped down her temples before she could try to do anything to stop them. Her eyes are squeezed shut as the pleasure, white-hot and staticky, slices through her. And the force of her orgasm alone, plus the sudden addition of Harry’s fingers to her swollen clit, pushes Harry’s cock out of her. She hears herself squirt more than she sees it, both the sound and Harry’s pleased reaction to it.

He slows his fingers down, rubbing over her whole pussy instead while she twitched and trembled, whining and oversensitive as she started to come down from it. Somewhere she was able to muster enough strength to lift her wrist, now that Harry wasn’t holding onto them anymore, and reach between them. Harry had already slipped the condom off, and Y/N wrapped her fingers around his shaft, but Harry must have known that she wasn’t going to be a ton of help right then. So he loops his fingers over hers and fucks their hands, moving them up and down over his cock only a couple of times before he’s starting to cum too. It’s loud, and pretty how his mouth falls open, his skin flushed down his neck a rosy red. There’s so much of it, white and scorching as it shoots from the tip, all over her belly, one shot going as far as her breasts, and a lot of it oozing and pooling over their fingers together.

Y/N is floating – like seriously, she feels like she might be levitating right now. She’s exhausted and sensitive all over, only able to watch as Harry reaches back into his nightstand for baby wipes. Despite his gentle warning, “It’s going to be cold, Sweetheart.” She still jumps when it touches her skin, carefully cleaning up all the cum he’d emptied onto her. He uses two to get it off of her, then crumples them up and tosses them in the waste bin, before collapsing beside her.

“I’ll –” she starts, trying to find the words, “I can leave soon if you – if you want me to.”

Harry, in a move more tender and soft than she would expect from him, holds out his arm.

“What I want you to do is come closer,” he explained, “I’m not sending you away after that. Let’s come down together, and if you want to go then you can, but for now, we’ll stay right here.”

Y/N wiggled closer to him, then paused, checked to see if that was too close and when he stared at her with his arms still held out, she wiggled even closer. All the way until she was pressed up against his body, back to skin-to-skin, as he envelopes her in his arms. Y/N nestles herself close, hiding her face in the area where his neck and chest meet, and he doesn’t seem to mind it.

“We’ll stay just like this,” he promises, “For as long as we need to.”

Content and safe, Y/N starts to fall asleep almost instantly.

#fic rec

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