You and Harry practically stumbled out of the bathroom together after you removed your panties and balled them up, stuffing them into his pocket and then giggling when he pretended to collapse into the sink from rapture. He threw his arms around your waist from behind and walked you outside, his face buried into your neck as he mumbled dirty secrets into your ear such as "still feel your pussy all around me" and "want you to bend me over the couch when we get home".
It was easy for you to pass Harry off as tipsy to everyone at the party, his cheeks rosy and his eyes glassy, his hands always finding a way to touch your body; your hair, your neck, your waist or your ass, his mouth on your ear or your shoulder. It seemed like he couldn't care less who was watching and his number one priority for the day had drastically shifted after your little tryst in the bathroom.
He pulled you down into his lap in one of the folding wooden chairs while you chatted with his friends, his hips quietly rocking back and forth when no one was watching to massage the toy against his prostate, his breath panting quietly in your ear coupled with almost nonexistent whimpers and whispers of your name.
You were certain your cheeks were practically as red as his but the burn of the sun was a good mask of distraction to hide behind. Few things have come as close to being that hot in your lifetime; the idea of Harry at the edge of pleasure for hours and the constant reminder of what you would be doing as soon as you got home loomed in the forefront of both of your minds. Plus the fact that it was a secret between the two of you escalated the provocative arousal to an off-the-chart level.
You knew it was time to go after he polished off another two mimosas, spinning you on his lap so that you were straddling him, his face snuggling into your throat as his words vibrated his chest, "take me home, Ace," a roll of his hips coupled with his breath hitching, "my pants are soaked. M'so crazy about you. Please... done waiting."
You climbed off of his lap and you both circled the party saying your goodbyes, Harry's eyes glued to your legs and the soft brush of your fingers through your hair as he hugged his acquaintances. When you tossed him a glance and poked your tongue into your cheek to imitate a blowjob, his fingers formed a 'V' and swiped around his mouth as he stuck his tongue flat out inconspicuously. You both smiled evilly to one another, nodding your head in the direction of his car before slinking out.
You passed the threshold of his front door with your arms wrapped around each other in an endless tangle, your tongues sweeping together in rough currents and clothing being tossed in a trail as you careened through his living room. You pushed him over the back of your favorite cognac leather armchair that was usually reserved for late night cuddles or early morning crosswords, the sight of his trembling body and begging prose making your stomach swim.
His toy was replaced with your favorite strap on, fucking into him slowly at first and adjusting your movement based on his pleas of "faster" or "god, fuck me, Ace" or sometimes just a simple whimper of "please". His hands quivered and his knees buckled, his fist pumped his cock as you stroked inside of him and he praised and praised until his words became meaningless, his face dropped into his free palm and drool slipping from the corner of his mouth at the sheer, incomparable pleasure you offered him.
His entire body was swallowed whole by his orgasm, the pressure of the dildo on his prostate expelling a full-body release in a flood of waves that pulled him under and forced him to white knuckle the couch for fear of crumbling to the floor. He sobbed and cried viciously, his entire being a quaking leaf as his limbs gave out and his mind drew completely blank aside from the random glint or sparkle of light.
You leaned against him for solidarity and assistance, your arms slipping under his to keep his frame upright as his hands found yours and held tightly, mumbling that he has never been deeper in love before in his entire life and that he cherished every living square inch of you.
Once he was reacquainted with his bearings, he picked you up and threw you onto his couch, his cock spent although still hard as he fucked you to your end. Your limbs wrapped around one another in a loyal labyrinth as you both panted into the humid air of his living room, a comfortable pile of mush as you both drifted to sleep with him still inside of you.
After dozing for most of the late afternoon, you showered together and both slipped on Harry's button downs to paint in his studio until you were ready for sleep once again. You piled together in his bed, thoroughly holistically taxed, kissing until you were physically unable to and then promising to meet on the beach as you slid into a slumber threaded with crashing bioluminescent waves and white sand.
.
Your high heels clack against the linoleum in the hallway of Harry's practice, your skin-tight skirt coasting up your thighs as you walk with a steaming hot cappuccino in your hand. Harry called you exactly twenty minutes ago, his tone demanding and representative of a mood that doesn't come across too often but when it does, you jump at the opportunity to behave.
You slept in this morning and the ringing phone sliced through a dreamless slumber, your thumb pressing the power button and your voice hoarse with a tired greeting. Harry didn't even bother to say hello back before he was insistent, "the black set from the cabin, that deathly tight navy blue skirt, your tallest stilettos and an extra hot cappuccino with a sprinkle of cinnamon. See you in twenty minutes."
He growled into the phone that he was going on his lunch break soon and that it wasn't acceptable to not see each other for three days. You opened your mouth to explain that you were busy with laundry and house cleaning, work and catching up with friends, saving face with your roommate and soaking in some alone time. Before you could speak a syllable, he snapped back a simple repetition of, "twenty minutes," before the dial tone reverberated in your ear and you were tossing the covers away to get dressed as quick as humanly possible.
His secretary nods at you and it's clear that your presence is expected as you stroll past her, glancing at the waiting room filled with children and young mothers dressed in their most revealing tops before knocking on the doorframe leading to his office.
Harry glances up from his desk and perks the left corner of his mouth up in an alluring smile before glancing at his watch and standing from his chair, "right on time."
Your grin peels slowly as you close and lock the door behind you, approaching him with your arm outstretched to pass off his coffee, "what was so urgent, Dr. Styles?"
He gathers the coffee from your hands, brushing your fingers together and taking a sip to check and see if you've remembered the cinnamon, his throat humming quietly at the familiar taste. His eyes scan your outfit and takes note of your tights and the skirt he asked for before his gaze locks on yours, "three days is unacceptable, pretty."
His glare stays glued to your body as he steps closer to you, sweeping your hair off of your shoulder and then circling behind you. His fingertips catch the hem of your skirt and drag it upwards, his thumbs swiping against your skin to feel to the straps of your garter belt, "mmm, good girl."
His breath is hot against your ear and you're immediately panting, the fingers from his free hand slip into your hair and tangle as he pulls backwards to pitch your chin to the ceiling. His mouth attaches to your neck and sucks harshly, the red spot easily hidden only if you decide to wear your hair down.
He bends you over the edge of his desk, unclipping the straps of your garter belt as you lean, his fingers pushing against your clothed core to feel any wetness that may have gathered there. He bunches your skirt around your waist before slipping your panties down to your ankles and spreading your cheeks with his large palms, his wide tongue enveloping your entire core in one fat stroke.
You know to stay quiet; the image of his full waiting room flashing before your eyes for a moment as you swallow a whimper, his finger disappearing inside of you as you reach for the side of his desk to grip onto tightly. You can hear his trousers unzipping and hitting the floor as he rises behind you, his finger still working you as he kicks your ankles apart and presses his rigid length against your ass, "what do you say?"
You whisper "please" just before he sinks two fingers into your mouth for you to suck, removing them and tracing them up your bare thigh before landing a soft, wet smack to your ass. He uses the moisture from your mouth to pump himself in a tight fist, aligning his tip with your heat before his hand moves to clamp down over your mouth when he drives inside of you all at once.
You pinch your eyes shut as your knees buckle and you whine into his firm palm, his breath hitching in his throat at the feeling of you consuming him before he starts fucking into you in long, smooth strides.
He removes his hand to comb through your hair, untucking your shirt from the waistband of your skirt and gliding it up your back to leave a trail of kisses up your spine, licking between your shoulder blades and blowing a cool breeze against the trail. His fingertips pinch your hips as he picks up the pace, bending down to lean against your back when he croaks, "did you touch yourself?"
You nod and he groans at your confession, nibbling your earlobe as he snakes a hand around to run circles against your sensitivity, "yes. Twice."
He smacks his fingertips against your swell and you squeal quietly in the back of your throat at the pleasing burn, "did you think of me?"
You sigh and lean your head back to rest against his cheek, pushing yourself back on his thickness when he slows down to tease you, "yes," your voice is a hiss, "thought about the toy you had in at brunch."
Harry's skin heats at the reminder and he presses his forehead against your temple, squeezing onto his desk as his legs weaken momentarily at your filthy reminder, "oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Ace. You're gonna make me come just thinking about it."
He composes himself and stands up, digging his fingers into your skin as he fucks into you hard and fast, a drop of sweat gleaning down his cheek. Your core grabs at him and he slows down again, pulling in a deep breath of air and centering himself before wrapping a palm around your throat and standing you up, propping one of your knees on his desk for a supremely deep angle.
He stills completely as he whispers in your ear, "don't ever make me wait three days again," and then he thrusts into you until your legs are shaking and your core is sucking on him, your release turning you into liquid as you reach behind you to grip onto the back of his neck and whimper into the heated atmosphere of his office.
Harry keeps you standing with his arms wrapped around your waist, murmuring how beautiful you are into your ear until you pull in a long breath through your nose and turn around to drop to your knees in front of him.
He groans at the sight before him, your hair mussed and your black bra visible through the open placket of your shirt, your cheeks flushed from your fresh climax as you guide his length to the back of your throat. He hisses and weaves his fingers into your hair as his thumb strokes across your cheek, "so fuckin' pretty with my cock in your mouth."
You suction tight and hum at his praise, the vibration spurring his orgasm forward as you lick strokes to his underbelly, circling his bulbous head and taking him all again. Your fingers scratch up his thighs, rolling his balls in your palm and then pushing on his perineum with your thumb.
He gasps and then groans loudly - he registers it's probably too voluminous for the secretive fuck you're trying to accomplish but the sensation is too overwhelming for him to stifle. He tugs on your hair and keeps your head still as he expels on your tongue, his other hand reaching forward to clutch onto his desk as he slumps above you, crying out silently with his eyes half lidded as he tries to keep his gaze focused on you.
You hum appreciatively as you suck him dry, soothing your fingertips against his legs as he comes back to you. His eyes roll back in his head when he sucks in a calming breath, puffing out his cheeks as he exhales and pulls you up to standing, "give me your panties."
You bite your lip and lift your foot to untangle your underwear from the heel of you shoe, stuffing it into his palm with burning cheeks. He moans and connects your mouths, massaging your tongues together and sighing as he pulls away.
He adjusts his clothing, tucking his shirt into his trousers and chews on his bottom lip when he pinches your soaked panties into his pocket. You swallow harshly and get dressed in a hurry when he checks his watch, clearing your throat before stepping forward to press a kiss to his neck, "I'll be over after my shift tonight, baby."
He attaches his mouth to your bottom lip and sucks gently, kissing the tip of your nose and then your forehead, "that's more like it. Wear the pink set to work. I'll be waiting." He kisses your mouth once more, both of your bodies melting into the suddenly languid and passionate embrace, his act dropping in half a second with the reminder that he plays like this just to please you, "love you so much, pretty."
You mumble a fervent "I love you" against his mouth, fixing your hair and smoothing down your skirt as you step out of his office, unsure of whether or not his secretary is smirking at you or if you're just imagining it. You smile at her and look down at your feet, too flustered to make eye contact with anyone in his waiting room. Your thighs and wet center rub together as you walk and you try to imagine Harry working on patients for the rest of the afternoon with your sodden underwear burning a hole in his trouser pocket.
.
Your feet ache as you knock quietly on Harry's door. All of his lights are on and his car is in the driveway, indicating that he is home but not necessarily specifying whether or not he's awake. You knock one more time and wait but when you're met with silence, you twist the key in the lock to step inside and glance around his inert home.
You can make out the sound of the television and the soft flickering glow of the screen as you toe your shoes off and sigh at the sweet relief from their bind. The floorboards creak and then cease when you traipse across his oriental rug, your eyes immediately drawn to his curled body on his leather couch. His legs are snuggled in sweatpants and his torso is draped in a worn white t-shirt with the simple printed image of a face with its tongue darting out.
You smile at his appearance, his hair pushed across his forehead and his eyes, his mouth parted slightly to let quiet snores escape, his jawline prominent and his arms wrapped around a small pillow that he keeps clutched tightly to his chest.
A familiar line is drawing your attention to the television where The Bodyguard plays faintly and your heart skips a beat at the thought of him using the movie to comfort himself in your absence. You sweep your hair out of your face and pull it into a makeshift ponytail before falling to your knees beside him, your chest swelling with ardor at the cuddly scene before you.
You comb your fingers through his hair and he stirs when you scratch your fingers into his scalp. Your fingers weave through his before tugging the pillow from his grasp and he frowns as he reaches into thin air but then is met with your warm skin.
He peels one eye open and breathes in deeply when he's greeted with the image of you, your stomach knotting when he groans the word "Ace" before rubbing his eyes and sitting up slowly, "pretty. My pretty, just get here?"
You nod and climb into his lap and receive a soft hum, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him, his lips pliant, moldable and delicious as he folds his fingers into your hair and lowers you down to the cushions to hover his body on top of yours. You can feel his length bulking behind the thick cotton of his sweatpants and you're reminded of your first sexual encounter with him in this very spot and those pants, "couldn't get you off my mind... all spread out on top of my desk... how fucking innocent and dirty you looked leaving my office like a filthy madonna."
You kiss him and wrap your legs around his waist, hitching his hips to yours, "I think your secretary knew."
He tilts your chin up and rests his weight on top of you, rocking his hips against you and sighing into your skin, "mmm, she'll recover." His lips attach to the base of your throat and immediately pool moisture in your panties when his tongue darts out between his lips to trace a circle as he sucks and nibbles your neck, "me on the other hand..." He lifts his sleepy gaze to yours, "don't think I ever will."
Your chest rises and falls with aroused panting, your eyes flicking back and forth between his and then down to his mouth, "me neither. I'm a goner."
He hums and then smiles, a soft laugh escaping from his chest with a mild huff of air as he climbs off of you and stretches his arms to the ceiling, "mm, bed? You gotta be up at seven to make me eggs."
You laugh and swing your foot at his crotch but he jumps out of the way and holds both of his middle fingers up at you, his toothy grin taking up residence across his face. You sit up and reach your hands out to him, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer. He intertwines your digits and plops down beside you, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and yawning loudly before licking his lips, "wha's it? Can't we go lay down, little pretty? I'm half asleep."
You push him against the back of his couch and straddle his lap, planting kisses all over his neck and throat, his jaw and his chin, the scratchy stubble reminding you of how it brushed your cheek while he was fucking you over his desk today, "hey baby?"
He hums in response, thoroughly enjoying your treatment as his hands untuck your shirt from the waistband of your pants and disappear up the back, "yeah baby?" His fingertips graze over the band of your bra and he can tell by the feel of it that you remembered to wear the pink set like he asked you.
You shiver at the redundant use of the nickname and the feeling of his fingertips toying with your lingerie, "I really like being with you all the time. Do you?" You sit back and smooth your hands up and down his chest a few times before dipping them under the hem at the bottom and continuing your exploration against his bare skin.
He hums and nods, unbuttoning your shirt and slipping it off your shoulders, sucking in a breath of air at the sight of your heavy tits nestled in cotton candy pink lace. He leans forward and attaches his wet mouth to your collarbone, his fingers threading through your hair and pinching the back of your neck as he pulls you close to him again.
You whine when his palm finds your breast and squeezes slowly, rolling his hips up into yours and grazing his teeth over your skin, "mmm... well..." You moan when his tongue snakes out to taste you before sucking, his fingers pulling away the flimsy cup of your bra to roll your nipple between his fingers, "shit. My lease is up on my apartment in a month and," you gasp when he pinches your bud, "was wondering if I should re-sign or if there's another place that would be fun to live...?"
Harry's head is a blurry haze, his eyes mere slits and his tongue gliding out to lick his lips as he leans his head back to look at you. When he realizes what you're hinting at, his heart explodes in fireworks and his stomach collects the shrapnel. He stares at you in silence, unsure of if he should blurt out an answer or allow you to continue.
You poke the spot where his dimple typically brightens his face, "aside from here of course." Harry smiles and the attractive little dent appears; you smile back and rub the tips of your noses together, your hand roaming down to his center for a light squeeze, "or here."
He pants against your lips and presses his pelvis into your hand, "ah... no..." Your eyebrow quirks along your forehead and you sit back to observe him, tilting your head to the side and preparing yourself for rejection. Your stomach twists with nausea as your eyes roam his face nervously, your fingers reaching down to adjust your bra to hide your nipple as you chew on your bottom lip. You were certain your cute and seductive way of asking would land you a new roommate and a new housing situation without a question, but now you're wishing his house with fill with water and drown you.
He rubs his chin and the side of his nose with his knuckle, "no idea," he scratches his scalp and brushes his hair from his forehead, "oh! Maybe... on the street? I've a cardboard box I could loan you for a bit."
Your face stays neutral as you swat at him, his hand reaches out to grip your forearm, his fingers wrapping fully around your limb as he brings your wrist to his mouth to leave a romantic kiss to the delicate skin there. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes as a bid to not be angry with him, but when he sees your narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, he knows that it'll take a bit more prodding to lighten you back up from his shitty joke.
You squeal when he tosses you down into the cushions and hovers above you with a grin while you squirm to get loose and raise your voice, "you are-!"
He holds your limbs still and shushes you until you've quieted your hassling, "pretty. Pretty, pretty, pretty. Shh..." He kisses your forehead and cheeks, hushing you softly with a smile that he's inept at taming, "shh, you hear me?" He wraps his fingers around your wrists and presses your arms into the cushion beside your shoulders, making certain his eyes are burning into yours, "I want to live with you. I've been too much of a wuss to ask you... been thinking about it for weeks. C'mon. Move in with me?"
You close your eyes and turn your head away from him, embarrassed by his teasing and bursting with goosebumps at his determined question. Your face and body soften when his curls tickle your jaw and ear, his lips caressing your neck without attaching before they sweep up your throat and to your ear.
He bares his teeth and tugs on your earlobe before delicately tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue, "pretty baby?" His voice is dusty and smoky, seductive and enchanting, "I want your clothes to be in my closet and your shampoo in my shower. I want your favorite mug next to mine in the cabinet and your car in my driveway. I want my bed to be our bed and I want you there every single night. Please? Do I have to beg? I won't have it any other way."
You finally bring your eyes to his and smirk, your wrist wiggling free of his hold and tangling into his hair as you grip the growing locks in a tender fist, "yup." You push gently and he obeys as he starts to slide down your body with his mouth grazing over your stomach on the way, "start begging."
He groans and tugs your pants to your ankles, flinging them across the room and eyeing the pink panties he asked you to wear to work today before pulling them aside and locking his gaze on your face. His tone switches to airy and imploring as he gives you just what you've asked for, "please Ace." He closes his eyes and savors you with a solid taste up your center that peaks an arch into your back, "I'll make you come a hundred thousand times if that's what it takes."
He attaches his mouth to your swell and sucks before licking another ribbon from bottom to top, "make you come on my tongue every single morning," he moans and hums before dipping a finger inside of you, "tell you I love you every fucking night and make you the happiest person alive."
You plant your feet on the couch and weave your other fingers into his hair, holding him in place as you whine at his persistent approach, both punishing him for teasing you about something that was gallant to bring up in the first place and also enjoying the work of his immodest tongue. You suck air in through your teeth and roll your hips against his mouth, "mmm, Harry... fuck. More."
He holds his tongue flat against your sensitivity as a fortress of pressure as he adds another two fingers and drives them in and out, his free hand spreading across your stomach to keep you still as your legs tremble beside his ears. He pulls his mouth away and pants into your heat, his eyes flicking from your core to your stomach, your tits and your face.
"Please, baby," he's practically whimpering, "please. Need you here... 've gotta have you. I miss you every second you're not around, m'so... so, so fuckin' crazy for you. Obsessed. Always on my mind." His fingers continue to work you as his tone snaps to a growl, "now give me your come and move the fuck in."
He sucks your knot into his mouth severely then switches his fingers and his tongue, sinking his entire tongue into your core and rubbing your bud in circles with his thumb until you're squeezing your legs against his head and crying out with an eruption of unruly indulgence.
He licks you through your high and moans in consolation and arousal, his eyes slipping shut to taste your release on his tongue and to feel you pulsing in repose. He urges his cock to stifle itself as he rocks his hips into the couch, reaching up to roll your nipples between his fingers as you soften in his grasp.
He climbs up your body and admires your glowing and pacified face, his fingers dragging through your hair as he kisses your relaxed mouth with a soft hum of appreciation. He swipes his thumb up the bridge of your nose and across your forehead, basking in the heat of your supple body in respite, "my absolute fuckin' favorite. What do you say? Need me to go again?"
You laugh and hold your middle finger up in his face, "okay you win, I'll move in." Harry cheers quietly and kisses you again, smiling so wide that he finds it difficult to reign in his happiness to shape his mouth against yours. The realization of your soon-to-be situation settles with him when he imagines you tip-toeing into his bedroom after every single nightshift to slide into bed with him, waking up together every morning and the remedying and dizzying feeling of Sundays together becoming your ever present reality.
Exactly three weeks later, you're standing in the middle of your empty bedroom. Most of your belongings have been brought to Harry's house in stacks of boxes over the course of several days, your furniture tucked into storage or in his basement if needed further down the road.
Your roommate had given you a lot of shit in jest when you broke the news to him; complaining that if he knew one of his hookups was going to steal you away from him, he would have never brought him home. You promised to spend as much time with him as possible, reminding him that you were moving across the city and not across the globe.
Your roommate gave Harry a lot of shit as well; telling him that love is for suckers and asking him how he could even love someone who farts in their sleep. You screamed and smacked him in the head repeatedly with an oven mitt until he wrestled it from your fingers and shoved it down your pants. Harry stood against the kitchen counter and laughed to himself quietly at your exchange, reminiscing on months prior when you two had a similar shuffle in that very spot after you ran into each other at the grocery store.
Your roommate has left the apartment for the day because he claims he can't physically watch you move your belongings from your apartment and that he'd rather come home drunk at two in the morning to find the fullness of the space slowly chipped away.
You step forward and run your fingers along the chipped white paint on your windowsill, peering down at Harry's car parked on the street and remembering when he threw rocks at your window to confess his feelings for you half a year ago. Your chest tightens with tears - you should be feeling overjoyed that you're moving into a house where you're comfortable, with a person whom you're completely lost in love, but the truth is that transitions are always difficult and bittersweet whether the culmination is desirable or not.
The journey from point A to point B is savagely beautiful and it's helpful to remind yourself that point B is merely the diving board that you'll be jumping from to splash deep and swim forth into new horizons. Moving forward feels fantastic; you held Harry's hand through evolution just months ago and neither of you are faltering or stumbling. You're clutching each other's palms tightly and running together into the unknown - it's heavy and bright, abundant and wild and the sensations surging through your skin are unrivaled.
A set of heavenly lips connect with the back of your neck and you smile to yourself when two arms circle your waist, "I can't wait to wake up to you every single morning." He spins you in his grasp and pinches your waist before sliding his hands up the back of your shirt, "should we... what's the opposite of 'christen'?"
You smile and your tummy flutters when you notice that he's more interested in your mouth than your eyes, "mmm... 'consummate'?"
He nods and slips his eyes shut before flickering his gaze to yours, "yeah." He sighs against your lips and kisses you, "smart little pretty. Let's consummate the fuck out of this relationship and then get you home."
He seals his lips to yours with a quiet moan, stripping the both of you from your clothing before pulling you onto his lap on your well-loved wooden floor. He leans against the angled wall below your bay windows, taking you passionately with his knees bent and his heels rooted to the ground to pull you close to his chest, his toes curling with pleasure as you both reach a deliberate and drowsy high.
He kisses every inch of your neck and chest to bring you both down, and then you're startled by his hand clapping against your ass with a squeeze as he mutters into your ear, "you're all mine now."
The epilogue is next :X
Love you guys.
Xx Mama