Harry Styles One Shots

Giving Thanks by @WhoopsHarryStyles

"Ohhhhhh," I whisper excitedly.

"You like football?" Irving directs his question to me, and I nod excitedly.

"My daddy loves watching the games and has no sons; as the eldest, I'm the one who got roped into attending our local high school football games every Friday night in the fall. It's one of my favorite things. The snap of the ball. The crunching of bodies. The 'oofs' and rushes and quarterback sneaks."

"As long as you aren't rooting for the damn Bears, you're welcome to watch," the older man teases. At least I hope he's teasing. I look to Harry for confirmation, but he's got a serious look on his face.

"Oh," I reply, "I just love the game. I'm not a fan of any one team."

Silence descends as everyone in the room halts their conversations to stare at me.

"I meant to say, 'I'm a huge Green Bay fan,'" I jump in quickly, and the tension eases. The chill hasn't passed, though, and I shiver. Harry pulls me closer to him, grabbing a giant throw from the back of the sofa to cover our laps. I curl in next to him, excited about the game, worried that I'll screw up in this first introduction to his adopted family. With a swift kiss to my forehead, Harry returns his attention to the television screen.

Shivering, I pull the throw up around my shoulders, cheering loudly when the quarterback for the Packers is shown on screen. Gotta keep up appearances, I remind myself. Frankly, who wins is unimportant to me. That sounds bizarre, but I know that each team has their own strengths and challenges. The analytical side of me prefers to pay attention to how they each use the skill and talent they have to best the other. It's an intellectual rather than emotional experience for me.

When the timer in my head sounds, I rise to exchange the rolls in the oven, but Jaye waves me off. "You keep watching the game," she says, "I'll take care of it. Besides, I need to get some pickles or chips for noshing."

"Thanks," I mouth to her, settling back into Harry's side. He's removed his arm from my shoulders, and I feel bereft, missing the weight of it. Soon enough, his hand drifts to my thigh, though, tracing lazy circles on the fabric of my sweater dress. The Packers are ahead by two touchdowns, and the family is as focused as ever on the screen as the Bears have the ball on the 12 yard line with a first down.

My skin jumps when Harry eases the soft fabric of my sweater dress up my thigh before he resumes his actions on my bare skin. Quickly, I glance at him, my expression meant to convey the insanity of his move. But his eyes aren't even on me, his attention drawn to the game instead. Or so I think -- until his long, tapered fingers work their way to my inner thigh. What the hell?

Although I'm surprised he's making this kind of move here, I gotta be honest. It's turning me on. Quickly, I glance around the room at the family, making sure no one notices what he's doing. Grateful when I spy them all attuned to the screen, I allow my leg muscles to slacken, providing additional room for my favorite digits to do whatever it is they are doing. Harry takes advantage instantly, his index finger shifting to play over the material of my thong.

Oh, wow. It's getting hot in here. Where just minutes prior, I'd been shivering from the cold, now I'm burning up. Harry removes his hand, and the disappointed sound around the room worries me. How had they known?

But it's only that the Bears have scored, and I missed it. Part of my brain ponders how the Packers offense could have left a hole that size while the rest of me is purely devastated at the absence of Harry's hands on me. The teasing has had the effect of making me wet, and I wiggle on the sofa cushions, trying to create some friction with my thong.

Returning his hand to my thigh, Harry stills my movement. He leans over to me, whispering in my ear, "Stop that. I'll help, but you're drawing too much attention moving around like that."