You had never experienced an aura quite like his. One that had a physical pull that ensnared everyone in wonder and adoration. He was that kind of person who you wanted to like you. His acceptance was an unworldly honor. He saw everyone, truly saw them, and listened intently to everything they had to say. Appreciated and welcomed anyone without judgement. His incandescence was unique and out of this world and you bathed in it whenever he was around. Like you orbited around him and he ensured you were in sync with him, like two threads entwining together until they were one.
Harry liked eye contact. A lot. Whether he was having a conversation at dinner or had his head between someone's thighs. Eye contact was important. He wasn't a cocky person, which he'd been told was a shock as most young men who start out early in his industry as he did usually become so egotistical they'd think it's a personality trait. Harry had met many people like this, in fact, he found people actually behaved like this especially around him. Always trying to out-do him or prove to him they were important.
He liked to think he'd stayed grounded, although he was often enthralled in the extravagant aspects of his life, he was never shallow enough to fall headfirst into a pot of partying every night, having the fame buys everything mindset, buying excessive amounts of estates as many of those around him did. He'd secured a few expensive hobbies and matured quite a lot since he'd first started out in the band all those years ago.
And with his first single album and a movie debut under his belt, his drive and taste for more only ripened every day. He had solidified a great group of friends, he was keeping an even balance between work, family, and friends. He jumped between L.A and London most of the time, which kept him satisfied with the contrast of the two cities. He liked the familiarity and comfort of London. It was where he spent most of this new life, where most of his friends were and his favorite house sat on the soil in North London.
But Los Angeles.... Los Angeles excited him. She was different, flowing with open people and open opportunities. She was his mistress.
He was in London for now, finding it rewarding to hear his friend's congratulations and praise on how he was doing career-wise. He was thriving, just finished with tour, and had a few performances peppered throughout the next few weeks before he planned to escape to L.A for a while. He needed some sun, for his skin to tan and to drink endless cocktails and maybe start seeing someone, something casual.
He needed to get lost in something for a while to numb his mind, to quiet down the incessant noise that came with restlessness. He knew he needed a break but his fingers itched to pick up a guitar and create. He had become such a private person he used his music to express his pain, his love, his longing.
He was attending a gallery opening in Chelsea when he first saw you. And he could feel how warm and genuine you were from across the room and he knew he had to get your attention. You were surrounded by a large group of viewers, talking about a painting and he was entranced by the way your lips moved when you talked, caressing every word, how when you smiled it pulled at something in his chest.
You donned an oversized tan plaid blazer with matching pants. When he spotted a tight-fitting black crop top that offered the smooth line of your stomach he just about keeled over. As soon as he eyed the tall black pumps adorning your feet he knocked back his glass of champagne in one gulp with a following grimace.
He dotted around the gallery, spouting greetings to everyone, praising the artists and the curators for their work. His eyes seldom left you all night, peeking over and trying not to be disheartened when he found you busy every fucking time he looked. He had downed more champagne but remained in tune with events around him, staying aware and listening to artists explain their pieces with a depth and emotion he admired. He felt the same when he discussed his album.
"H! You made it! How's it going? Had a good night?" His friend Evan who owned the gallery with his partner approached him with a hug which he returned, begrudgingly peeling his gaze away from you to focus on his mate.
"Hey, how are ya? Love the place mate, you've done a bloody good job. Got my eye on a few pieces."
"Oh great, you can just leave your info with Tom and he'll be able to secure them for you. Hey, a bunch of us are headed to a lounge down the road for drinks. Welcome to join if you're down."
"Yeah bro, of course. Would be good to have a proper catch up. Who else is coming?"
"Uh," his friend scratched his brow and scanned the room. "Just a few from the gallery. Celebrate the opening and that."
Harry scanned his mental calendar and while he planned to head home after this and invite one of his female friends over to relieve some stress, he found himself saying, "I'll be there. We leaving soon, then?"
His friend nodded, "I just need to do a round of thanks and we'll be off. I'll come grab you."
Harry clapped his mates shoulder in thanks and looked over to you again. He wondered if you were coming to the bar with the rest of the group or if you were going home or headed somewhere else entirely. He wondered if you were single, if you had a sexual partner or maybe a long term boyfriend and also wondered if you knew that you had him by the throat. A vice grip that was only strengthening and he was terrified, intrigued and aroused all at once.
The power you held was astonishing and you haven't even met yet. He wanted to talk to you but he was tipsy and insanely nervous, which happened usually with girls but he was especially intimidated by you and your cherry lips. By your heels that clicked as you walked, every clack sound signified another nail in his coffin of devotion and fascination of you.
But he never got the chance. You were constantly swamped with guests and he was too polite to go and intrude and admittedly scared that you'd stare him up and down and send him on his way with his tail between his legs. Either that or he'd do all the work and blubber himself into a rant about your outfit and your demeanor. Or the champagne would kick in and he'd lean down and brush his lips against your cheek, tell you he'd thought about your hair wrapped around his fist while he-
"Haz! Let's go!"
His friends called a car around and he clambered into the backseat of the van once he struggled through the throng of paparazzi outside the gallery. It happened so quickly in his tipsy state that he didn't even realise who he was sat next to until he saw a flash of red in his peripheral vision and span his head so quickly it hurt his neck.
Sure enough, you were sat there, your lips that enticing red, hair tousled as you ran your fingers through it and you peered out at the scene outside. Once everyone was settled in the vehicle his mate twisted around in his seat and pointed between the two of you, introducing you to Harry and throwing a warning your way, "watch yourself with this one, sweetie. He's a great lover but he has half the world's population after him."
Your laugh rang out and Harry turned to watch your expression, your lips pulled over your teeth, the crinkles by your eyes, the way you leaned forward and rubbed his friends cheek, chastised the friend for his comment. He cleared his throat to rid his mind of the fact that he was envious of such a simple touch. He looked over to you and combed his brain for something cool or flirty to say to you but he was coming up blank and panicking.
He thought maybe he should try to disregard the lover comment and maybe shake your hand but his fingers were quivering and he ran his hands along his thighs to relax. While he was sat beside you with his heart in his throat and alcohol thrumming in his veins, you chatted with everyone in the van about the success of the night, sweetly oblivious to the man crumbling at the fact that you existed.
He was intrigued to see how the night was going to go now he knew he'd get more of a shot to earn your attention but he was fucked if he couldn't even form a coherent sentence to get you interested in him. He could feel your presence again, that magnetic pull was so intense and he wanted to pin you against the leather of the seat and ask if you felt it too or if his heart just needed medical attention.
The group arrived at the bar and you all soon found yourself at a table in the VIP section being waited on. Harry sat across from you and watched as you scanned the menu and leaned into a girl sat next to you.
"I don't know why I bother looking at the drink list when I know I'm going to get the same thing I always get."
Your voice was heavenly. A perfect balance of sexy and smoky and angelic. Like liquid gold being poured onto hot coals. Sizzling and endearing. He loved the way your lips formed around words, cherry red he wanted to taste. He wondered what your drink was. If you preferred a glass of wine as red as your lips, or a cocktail as sweet as your ambiance, perhaps a cider.
You looked up at him and noted how sparkly his emerald eyes were under the soft warm light of the bar. You offered a soft smile and a shrug, "G&T is my safe place. What looks good to you?"
He couldn't believe you were addressing him so he scrambled to look at the menu to offer something interesting in order to keep the conversation going. He was bathing in your attention and all you had done was asked what he liked to drink. "Uhh.. might just go for a pint." He settled on lamely, throwing the drink list down in faux defeat and you giggled behind a raised hand.
"Shocking. Here's the deal, let's order each others. I need to try something different." Red lips. "Anything you won't drink?"
"I'm pretty easy, just don't like it too sweet. What about you?"
"Oh I'll take anything." Your quip was said in such a casual manner, your lips pursed as your eyes scanned the cocktail section of the menu. Harry, however, was in a mild state of shock. He wasn't sure if you meant it like that, but he was taking it that way and then you looked up at him from underneath your thick eyelashes with a smirk, his dreams were confirmed and granted. Signed, sealed delivered, he's yours.
He ordered you a red coloured cocktail topped off with a cherry that was buried in white foam. You're elated with his choice already as it arrived in front of you while he snarled at the single shot placed in front of him.
"Uh, creative?" He offered, looking at you quizzically while you stared with big doe eyes all innocent and making him rock hard in his pants.
You let out a giggle, "I'm just fucking with you, that's for me." You swiped the shot and downed it. He's sure he's done for as is but then your nose scrunched up at the after taste and he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in disbelief and tried to calm down his clammy body. "Oh yours is actually coming now." A waiter drops off the actual drink you've picked for him but his eyes are on you.
He growled deep in his throat at you with narrowed eyes, "Not funny. Thought you were serious for a second. You actually trying to get me pissed?" He teased while your fingertip ran along the rim of the glass, the gathering condensation running down to pool at the base.
"How else will I steal you away and have my way with you?" Your words were spoken sultry and a complete shock to his system that he almost choked.
"Jesus," He let out a deep breath into his lap. "Don't think I'd need a minute of persuasion let alone a full-on kidnapping." He braved the words, hating how desperate he sounded but he was so fucking stoked to be on this level with you and so quickly even if it was harmless flirty banter.
You sucked in air through your teeth, "That's unfortunate, then. I've sworn off men right now."
He laughed at your pouted lips and resisted the urge to lean over and pull it between his teeth. "Right now?"
"Yeah, had a breakup about a month back. Just tryna focus on myself a bit." And just like that you had solidified your business so adamantly and he was too respectful to feel let down. He was sure that the pull he felt wasn't nothing. And how fast you two got along wasn't nothing. The chemistry and intensity he felt in the air wasn't strictly sexual. Like your souls were dancing in compatibility.
He realised very quickly that he could just sit there and listen to you talk, get deep with you and ask you if you preferred sunrise or sunset, what your occupation was and if it fulfilled you. If you wanted to travel and if you'd want to travel with him. He'd whisk you away to wherever you wanted to go, which was a shocking thought to him and he stopped it as soon as it entered his mind. Who was this girl, who he'd only just met? She was so flirty and confident and warm and had him clawing at her feet for any kind of crumb of attention. It was vastly unlike him.
He found himself nodding slowly at your confession, internally wondering if that was his intention in his love life as well. So exhausted from relationships and wanting to do some self-reflection. "I admire that. It's good to know your limits and to take care of yourself."
"Exactly. Hope you're taking care of yourself, too."
"'Mmm," he looks up in thought, "Tryin."
"So, tell me what this is." You sniffed tentatively at the drink in front of you.
"Well, we've got vodka," He elongated the word and his voice made your body tingle.
"A great start." You chimed.
"Raspberry liqueur, cranberry... and white chocolate foam. I asked for the cherry on top as a little added excitement." Your thighs pressed together when he winked at the word excitement.
"Why a cherry?" you quizzed, resting your chin in your hand as you gazed at him. You enjoyed being pinned by his stare, his eyes bright and twinkling and you could see the affection in them. He had his attention solely on you and he wanted you to feel it. His energy was directed at you and you could almost feel the rays coming off him, so enthralling and trapping you in his intensity.
He shrugged, removing his sight from your mouth before wetting his lips with his tongue, "I just like the colour. The taste." Your eyes snapped down to the cocktail as your skin flushed. "So," He moved on quickly, sensing maybe that was too far but little did he know your thighs were clenched together and a familiar heat traveled from your throat to your lower stomach. "What fate have you destined for me, love?"
You cleared your throat and managed to push the words out, "For you, Sir," His jaw clenched when you called him that. "I've gone for something quite smokey."
"Oh," His brows rose as his lips pouted. He was intrigued. Sir.
"Rum, bit of syrup." You were slow with your pitch as he picked the drink up and examined it with intense interest, his large fingers wrapped around the glass and you swore under your breath at the size of his hands, how had you only just noticed how massive his hands were? You were in awe of them as his many rings glimmered in the light. "Watermelon, pineapple and... I think lime?"
"Let's see then," He raised his glass and you rushed to pick yours up and clink your glasses together. "Bottoms up."
You both took a tentative sip of your drinks, yours being quite vodka heavy and you bunched your shoulders up but the overall taste was deliciously sweet. He seemed content with his, humming and closing his eyes.
"I'm impressed." You voice and he held his hand out for a high five to which you giggled, meeting his hand in the middle of the air with a clap. "I'm not easy to please, you know."
"Maybe you just need to find someone who knows what you need."
"So it would seem." You slipped the cherry into your mouth and he hissed, resisted the urge to reach under the table and squeeze the tension from his body. "How did I do?" You asked.
"Smashed it. I love anything with rum. 'S good, wanna try?"
You swapped drinks and trial your choices and you're bringing your shoulders up in distaste with a scrunched face while he let out a loud cackle at your reaction.
"Hah!"
"Ugh! It's the fact that it's rum and caramelised and fruity." You defended.
"You picked it!" He took a gulp, humming in delight, exaggerating his reaction to make you laugh, he was rewarded with a soft giggle. He decided making you laugh was his new favourite hobby. If he couldn't have you underneath him, hearing the sexy sound was the next best thing. "You're just a big baby." He scoffed while you took multiple sips from your vodka concoction to rid the taste of that rum.
"No, I'll drink anything. That, however, is something else." You glared at the offending drink but then saw his hand again and briefly imagined it sliding up your leg or wrapped around your throat with the cool of his rings kissing your skin and you quickly took another swig of your beverage. You hoped he couldn't see your chest giving you away as you took deep shaky breaths to cool yourself as the thought kept flashing in your mind.
He wanted to get to know you. He was so intrigued by you and the chemistry you both clearly felt as he had picked up on your reactions to his obvious flirting earlier. He had to switch tactics, as he heard loud and clear you weren't interested in seeing someone but he felt this connection too rare to give up.
Plus he wasn't opposed to having female friends or thinking friendship wasn't on the table once sex clearly wasn't on offer. He knew that was childish and honestly favoured a unique feeling like what he'd been experiencing all night over a very short-but very fantastic- high that sex gave him. He wanted to be in your life in any way you would allow it. To be your friend. He was giving himself to you, giving you the control because he was open to anything you'd offer. You were the one who had to take the wheel.
"What do you do for work?" He started there.
"I help plan and run events."
"Like, any event or..."
"More in the art and entertainment world."
"What so you just plan it and show up to make sure it goes well?"
"Yeah, make sure it runs smoothly, look after guests, secure potential clients, that sorta thing."
"So you've worked with Evan before, yeah?" Harry nodded towards the gallery owner who was standing up and yelling along with the music in a drunken haze while his partner tried to coerce him back to his seat.
You squirmed under his gaze as he threw questions at you like rapid fire. "I've known Evan for years, opened a couple of his galleries with him."
He was severely aroused, sensing how steady your head was and how you clearly cared about your job but the pink flush in your cheeks was distracting his efforts to remain P.G. Your mutual friend sauntered over, as if he'd heard you mention him, very intoxicated and wrapped his arms around you.
"Harry! Isn't she a looker?" He grabbed your chin and displayed you to Harry and you swore his eyes flashed something telling but it happened so quickly you almost missed it because you were distracted with trying to hide your own emotions and your friend was almost on top of you at this point. "What are you two love birds talking about down here?"
Harry grabbed the friends hand and guided him off of your lap, "Just getting acquainted, can't believe you hid such a lovely lady from me all these years." He laughed to make it seem like he was joking but he wasn't and was genuinely accusing his friend of purposely keeping you from him even though that was ridiculous and extremely unlikely.
"Be kind to her, please. Or she'll kick your ass." His friend slurred and Harry looked at you with a quirked eyebrow.
"I'm stronger than I look," You shrugged. A waiter dropped off a tray of shots at the table which draws the friend back to his seat and you're downing the rest of your drink before grabbing a couple of the glasses with some lime and salt provided.
"You always make a habit of mixing your drinks?" Harry pestered with faux judgement.
"What can I say? I'm a woman of variety. Now salt up, if I'm on this journey, you're coming with me."
Coming with me his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath with closed eyes. "You're gonna be the death of me, love."
"Well, at least you can't say you had a boring life."
And with finished drinks and a few extra shots under both of your belts, you conversed for a while more. Harry found himself sat next to you, your knees brushing as he wiggled his leg every so often.
He pulled on his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger when he was listening to you, he talked with his hands, his widespread digits adding emphasis to his words while his many rings glistened and gleamed in the light, his lips moved beautifully when he spoke, pink and plump and moist because he kept licking them.
You had half a mind to ask him if he was drawing attention to his mouth on purpose. Part of you knew his answer would be something cheeky, he'd take the chance to tease you about staring in the first place. You were officially too intoxicated to be ashamed. You finally let your eyes slide down his body, admiring his white suit with a crisp light blue shirt underneath that was unbuttoned halfway and saw his exposed chest and a scattering of tattoos, the birds on his chest, the antennas of his butterfly peeking out. You resisted the urge to run your hands along his skin.
You topics varied. He spoke of his tour and gave you little secrets and insights to jokes he shared with his band on stage, his backstage antics and flipped through his camera roll and showed you pictures he'd taken that he'd found funny, his humour was something else. He talked about his favourite hobbies- he liked to collect vintage cars and guitars, he was an old soul.
He liked fashion and experimenting with different patterns and silhouettes and would wear extremely expensive clothing but then would wear the same pair of worn vans until they were in tatters and falling apart.
"My band made me drink this warm wine stuff in Japan," He explained a series of photos of him drinking from a small cup and grimacing. He told you about L.A, and asked if you'd ever been. You were well-traveled with your job, jetting all over the world to help with events in the industry and happened to frequent L.A a decent amount and it made his stomach clench and his heart yearn with promise.
He somehow ended up with his arm around the back of your chair and had to curl his hand into a fist so he didn't start playing with your hair. "What's your plan for the rest of your night?"
"Mmm..." Your eyes were locked onto his mouth, "Probably just head home and sleep. Have a ton of work to catch up on this weekend."
He nodded, quick to hide his disappointment that you weren't going to invite him over even though he knew from very early on that was never an option. "Can I see you again? We can grab coffee or go for dinner or I can cook something." He was rambling, clawing onto your presence while he still had it, willing more opportunities to be lucky enough to be in it again.
You laughed softly at his desperation, his eyes pleading and lips pouting. "Sure, gimme your phone." You held your hand out for his device which he unlocked before he handed it to you. His screensaver was a picture with him and two women on either side of him and you looked up with a raised brow and gentle smile.
"My mum and sister."
"They're beautiful."
"They're my life."
You typed your number into his contacts but didn't bother to text yourself, knowing he'd contact you at some point so you handed it back and gathered your things.
"It was great to meet you, Harry."
He stood, "You as well, love. You sorted for a ride home?"
You smiled at his politeness, "There's a million cabs out there, I'm sorted."
He smirked at you and opened his arms invitingly. You stepped into his embrace and sighed at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you, his hugs were much like his demeanor; warm, gooey and made you feel something deep in your chest you couldn't place but it was heavenly, you were floating in a euphoric dreamland.
As you said your goodbyes to the rest of the group, you could feel his eyes on you, a hot, velvet dreamy stare that tingled in your spine and made your core clench with want. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thoughts of you would haunt him and he'd think about doing all the things he'd refrained from doing all night.
Stripping your blazer from your shoulders, making you laugh, making you come, wrapping his hands in your hair, around your neck, kissing his way slowly down your body, feel your thighs shake on either side of his head. Cherry lips. Sir. He was done for. He knew he had to have you in his life, in any sense. In the sense you allowed yourself to be.
And as you looked back at him once more before exiting onto the street, he knew you felt the same way. Every time he blinked, he saw flashes of the red that adorned your lips and his head snapped back on his neck in defeat. He had to know you, your aura, your companionship.
When his back hit his silk sheets later that night, he imagined a million different ways to win you over. A fierce, headstrong woman. With confidence he envied and a flirty personality that mirrored his. He was well and truly enamoured with you.
He concocted an abundance of scenarios that ended with the two of you spending time together; cooking, reading, dancing, fucking, driving to the middle of nowhere and pulling over so you could ride him in his front seat, taking you to his favourite restaurants, taking you on his kitchen counter, bringing you to events and sneaking into dark hallways to make you come on his tongue.
He felt so much exhilaration because as intense as his fantasies were, he knew nothing his brain could ever conjure up would be as blissful as the real thing. And that was the most thrilling thing about you yet.
_______
Hello all!
Nice to meet you! This is my first fanfiction so vote and comment x
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and if so let me know your thoughts!
I am aware this is quite a long chapter so if you prefer them shorter or as is just tell me!
I'm so excited to be sharing this story, it's been sitting in my mind for so long so I thought it time to put it into words. I'll be posting the next chapter VERY SOON because I'm already obsessed with these two. ❤️