Harry's head often finds itself wedged in the gutter when certain things have the potential to be taken in a different, more suggestive way. He doesn't exactly go out of his way to find dirty innuendos in people's conversations, his mind just willingly takes him there before an innocent thought can come first.
Oftentimes, Harry will try to hide his amusement at the dirty thought; purse his lips and bow his head to hide his growing grin and mischievous eyes. But there are also times where Harry doesn't bother biting his tongue and giggles like a relentless schoolboy who doesn't know a thing about sex.
But Harry knows all the things about sex. It's never been a secret that he's well experienced in that department, though often stays quiet when the topic rises through casual conversation with friends. Harry is private about a lot of things when it comes to keeping his personal life out of the public eye and he often takes the same approach when it comes to discussing past sexual partners with his mates after a few drinks.
Tonight isn't much different. Everyone is back in the studio and after a long day of Harry's angelic voice and Mitch shredding the guitar. You joined them almost four hours ago after work and since your arrival, the little studio has only grown hotter and hotter and you're borderline sweltering.
You've all had a couple of drinks (not that they were allowed in the studios) and your cheeks have been burning from the effects of the alcohol for over an hour. You're laying on the floor, knees bent and feet flat as you pat the beat to Harry's song on your stomach. Harry sits on the sofa beside you, flared trousers and that yellow t-shirt. He's gazing down at you, a lazy grin on his lips and brows slightly raised as he nods to the beat.
You're about to reach the best part, the beat that sets your body in blazes of fire when the music is abruptly switched off and you're sitting up with furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. Sarah stands at the doorway, plastic carrier bag in her hand and a golden grin on her lips.
She empties the contents of the bag on the end of the sofa, six red and blue popsicles bouncing off each other. You squeal in delight, your heart fluttering in the excitement of finally having something to cool your heated state down.
You waste no time to tear the wrapper from a cherry flavoured lolly, your fingers gripping the end of the stick as you bring it to your lips. Harry grimaces as he watches everyone do the same, squirming at how the icy treat already begins to melt in the stuffy air of the little studio booth.
Harry eyes the spare one up but decides against it. The last thing he wants is a sticky hand and a brain freeze. He decides he'll just sweat it out. But as he turns back to you, your eyes are fluttering closed and your lips are stretched deliciously around the lolly as you sink your mouth down on it until your lips close again around the base.
His throat feels dry and he can feel himself struggling in his loose pants. Harry watches you slowly pull back off it, a soft hum sounding through your chest as a wet kissy noise punctures his ears and your eyes flutter open again-soaked, pink tongue darting over your swollen lips.
His mind is reeling, his cock stiffening and oozing. What the fuck? Harry's always adored you as a person. A bubbly personality and a radiant smile. You've always been a close friend of his, someone he often confided in and could trust and vent to. And he's always found you attractive, but never once has he looked at you like this and he doesn't know what to do.
Your eyes are hooded and somewhat heavy and he knows it's from the effects of the alcohol but that dirty part of him is wondering if that's what you'd look like fucked out on his cock. Oh, God... what's gotten into him? Harry can't shake the thoughts from his head, though. The more he tries, the stronger they are, the clearer he can see his little fantasy play out in front of him.
You're on your knees, just inches from where he sits. Your hair is a mess and your skin is dotted with a sheen layer of sweat and fuck does he want to taste you. Your lips are swollen from the icy treat and it drips down your thumb just a little. You're caught in conversation with Sarah but you dip your head down and your undoubtedly skilled tongue laps up the juice.
Harry just about loses it, standing abruptly and leaving the studio booth. He ignores everyone's calls, only one thing on his mind: you. His cock is growing harder with every rushed step he takes and as he bursts into the bathroom, he tugs his pants down and slides the bolt across the lock.
His back is pressed against it, head thrown back and his hand is around his cock like lightning speed. Heavy breaths flutter through his chest as he squeezes his generous length. He feels dirty, sinful. He shouldn't be getting off to the thought of you sucking his cock like you sucked the lolly, but he is and the wrongness of it all makes it even more exciting.
Harry's eyes flutter closed, shaky breaths slipping past his lonely lips. His lashes lay delicately across his cheekbones and his ringed fingers send chills up his spine. He reaches his thumb around to his tip, smearing his arousal across his head and jutting his hips defiantly into his fist.
"Fuck, love," he rasps, and behind his closed lids, he can see you on your knees for him, pretty lashes fluttering as you stare up at him with your dainty hand wrapped around his throbbing dick. He feels himself twitch in his hand at the sight. His imagination has always got away with him.
"So pretty f' me, baby. Such a good girl," he sighs breathlessly, chest heaving and beads of salty sweat begin to dot across his tattooed skin. He sees you smirk up at him, a sinister glimmer in those innocent eyes. He can feel your tongue smooth across his shaft before your lips curl around his head. He can feel you sink down on him, the velvety feeling of your soaked cheeks as they hollow around his length, feel his tip nudging softly against the back of your throat.
"Fuck," he drawls out, spare hand clenching into a fist and his head rolls back again. He wants to reach for your hair, to grab a handful and tug, force your face further down his thick cock but you're not there. He pumps himself faster, adding a generous squeeze to his base as he twists expertly, imagining the way you'd rub what you couldn't fit in that heavenly mouth of yours.
"Good girl, baby. Keep sucking fo' me, jus' like tha'," Harry's dick is throbbing, head pinky-purple and his knees are jittering. His tip is leaking uncontrollably, his cock soaked from his own arousal and he wishes to fucking God it was your spit or the arousal from your pussy instead. His jaw falls slack at the thought.
Now he can't get your pussy out of his head. Can't stop picturing your swollen lips and pulsing clit. The image is so fucking vivid; the idea of him peeling your thighs apart and inhaling your sweet scent, spreading a finger through your soft folds and swirling his digit around your arousal, spreading the wetness all over your cunt.
Harry's pace picks up and he can feel a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He keeps going, faster and faster. He can imagine teasing your little hole, wrapping his lips around your nub and sucking the sweet moans out of you, fucking a finger in your tight cunt and curling against that spot he knows would have your toes curling.
Harry can see it all, your full breasts bouncing, nipples pearling and chest heaving. He can see you throwing your head back, your jaw-dropping slack and filthy fucking moans slipping from that sinful tongue. He can almost feel how tight your pussy is, how wet and warm it feels around him. He can hear the sounds drumming through his ears; your cunt squelching with every thrust as you suckle his fingers into your warm mouth.
He can imagine you begging him for more, desperate and eager. "Need your cock, baby. Harder, Harry. Fuck, baby!" His cock spasms in his tight grip, his face reddening as the veins in his forehead and neck begin to pop. Harry's a grunting mess as he chases his high, can see you back on your knees again, grinning up at him as you milk him for everything he has.
His vision is white, eyes closed but he can still see that devil face with the halo over your head, wrapped around those red horns. "Ugh, fuck," he cries out, falling back against the door and he cums, long and hard; thick ribbons of white arousal, his knees buckling as he gasps for breath through his high.
In his mind, he's come all over your face and you're licking it all up, jaw wide and tongue awaiting a taste impatiently. But when he opens his eyes, his hand and fingers are soaked in his salty arousal and he's fucked, trying to ease his breathing as he blinks away the white spots of pleasure and focuses back on what's real.
His cock softens in his hold, arm aching and as he releases his dick, his fingers stretch and strings of his pleasure is found laced between his fingers. Harry sighs out a fucked laugh and does nothing to bite back the smile that makes its way on his face.
Guess he ended up with a sticky hand after all.