As he breathes in the smell, she giggles when his soft curls tickle her skin and he presses another kiss, mouth opening as he licks over the flesh, sucking it into his mouth before he lets go when he feels her shiver. “Are you cold?” His hand finds hers, “Let’s go inside, baby.”

The warmth of the cottage hits their cold skin as they stand side by side, toeing off their boots in silence. There’s a faint smell of burning wood and coffee invading their firm bubble of personal space as Harry guides them to the spacious bed, and he sighs at the white, crumpled sheets that look as if they’re still warm. He watches with a smile as she crawls into bed, and once she’s comfortable, Harry takes it upon himself to jump into it which earns him a slap on his chest.

“I’m starving.”

“Mmm, I’ll feed you,” he aligns their bodies together, and her feet find their place between Harry’s hairy legs.

Humming, she travels her fingers up to his neck, “Are we talking about food, or your dick?” She brings her hand higher and pinches his earlobe, and he lets out a hiss.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m hungry. Not horny.”

Harry reaches for her hand on his ear and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss where her ring rests. “Spotted dick?”

“I don’t even like spotted dick– no, don’t even start. It’s too early for penis jokes.”

“Never too early for some dick, baby,” he gets closer, nuzzling their noses together and he breathes her in, “You smell lovely.”

“Yeah? It’s sweat and body lotion.”

“Y’don’t smell sweaty to me, sweetheart,” he mutters, lips traveling to the corner of her mouth and he presses a kiss there. He kisses and kisses, plump lips soft against her skin, and when he reaches her neck, he presses another kiss there but this time it echoes through the room. “I love love you.”

“I love love you too...ouch! No teeth.”

“All right, sorry, I’ll leave you alone and go back to my horses,” he begins pulling away but her hands find his shoulders, pressing him into her to prevent him from getting up.

“Don’t leave. I want to cuddle some more before we check out.”

He gets comfortable in the bed, resting his back against the pillows and pulls her close to his chest. A grin appears on his face when she sighs, pressing her back against his chest harder as she tries to find a more comfortable position.

“Can you play with my hair?” She mumbles, tilting her head back to look at him.

He grins even wider, soaring, and begins massaging her scalp gently.

“I like this.”

She hums and wiggles her bottom in order to find a more comfortable position and her bum makes contact with Harry’s bare cock under his robe.

He lets out a hiss, “I changed my mind, I don’t like this– stop moving your arse for god’s sake!”

“I’m not doing it on purpose, am I?” She lets out a groan, “Can you part your legs wider? This feels wrong.”

“Well, it >is wrong when you keep kneading my dick with your arse. Oi, stop it!”

“Oh my god, you’re such a teenager. I’m not trying to knead your dick, come on, part them beefy thighs.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry retracts her fingers from her hair, watching as she tries to find a better position. “Fuck– my balls! Your asscheek! On my balls!”

With a cackle, she stops and moves away, taking her place on her side of the bed with crossed arms. Her hair’s artfully disheveled, thanks to Harry’s fingers, and he reaches to pinch her nipple over the thick robe.

“Argh, not my tits, they’re sore!”

“What about my balls! God, I can’t even feel my dick anymore,” he slides his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath, pouting when he notices her still laughing. “Stop laughing. Stop it.”

“C’mere,” she motions him to come closer and he does, of course he does, and she presses their foreheads together again. “I love you. You’re a drama queen but I love you.”

“If I’m a drama queen, what does that make you, then?”

“I’m the girl of your dreams, baby.”

“Psh. As if.”

“I am. You told me so. Like…” she darts her tongue out and licks the tip of his nose, making his eyes widen, “...last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

His mouth tugs into a half-smile and he leans forward to press a kiss to her nose, the smile widening when she sighs and tries to get closer and closer, nuzzling into him like a kitten. “I don’t recall.”

Harry would be busy on his tour, one which has broken records with ticket sales that YN didn’t know could exist and she was so proud of him. She would be busy with rehearsals, and sorting out everything for her tour and she would be okay. At this point, they had spent so much time together that YN thought Harry would be happy to have a break from her, but it seemed as though it was the complete opposite. She hoped spending a week together before they were both thrown into their tours at full force would at least make the rest of their time apart slightly easier.

“I know, I know,” He mumbles into her neck, finally pulling his head away so that she can look at him again, “I’m going to miss you so much, baby.”

“I’m going to miss you too, you know that,” YN mumbles against his lips, “But it’s only going to be for three weeks and then I’ll be with you.”

YN placed another kiss on his lips, running her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck one last time to make up for the lack of it for the next few weeks. She was going to miss him more than anything. Whilst YN was ready for the time apart and had prepared, she knew that it was going to be different with her support system gone. She had a different support system to focus on now – and that was her music.

“Harry, it’s time,” It was Jeff that called his name from behind her, and Harry groaned immediately.

Harry dropped his head to her shoulder again, and she wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him even closer to her if that was possible. There wasn’t even an inch of space between them at this point.

“I love you so much,” YN mumbled against his neck, feeling as though she wanted to cry but she wasn’t going to let herself.

“I love you too,” He pulled back and placed one more kiss on her lips, “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” She smiles, prying his arms off her one last time, “Now go, before Jeff has both of our heads."

Harry pouts but listens to her, placing another final kiss on her cheek before making his way towards the bus. YN turned so that she could watch the bus drive away. Harry sat down next to Jeff, a pout on his lips as he did so. YN just beamed a smile at him and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes not leaving his.

As the bus started and drove away, YN waved and blew Harry kisses until the bus had turned out of the parking lot, and she could no longer see it.

There wasn’t time for YN to be sad though, as she had to leave to get to a meeting with Leroy about her tour, and then go and meet her new band in the afternoon and begin to rehearse for the tour. These were how her days looked for the foreseeable future, full of different things to do and not a single second in the day to think about anything else.

The drive to Leroy’s was quick, and YN spent the entire time in silence. In her head, she was going over potential setlists for her tour, and also potential outfits that she could wear (all centred around her cowboy boots of course) and also what she was going to make herself for dinner (food was a priority after all).

With all of those thoughts swirling around her head, and not a single one of Harry pushing to the surface, she had managed to drive to Leroy’s office without a single worry in her head. She was a little early, but that was better than being late, so she packed up her bag and made her way inside.

Throwing a smile to Agatha on the desk, she made her way towards the elevator and up to Leroy’s office. The last time she came here for a meeting, she was late because she was throwing back pills in the bathroom. Now, her mind was clear, and she was in control of herself, and it felt good.

YN may be sober now, but she was still the same badass. Therefore, when YN made it to Leroy’s office she didn’t knock and instead, she just walked in. Leroy was on the phone, and his eyes widened when he saw YN making her way into the room and sitting down across from him.

“I’ll, uh, have to go,” Leroy mutters into the receiver, “My next meeting is here… yeah, I love you. See you tonight.”

YN smiles, crossing one of her legs over the other, “Wife, or mistress?”

“Wife, not that it’s any of your business,” Leroy sighs, another look of shock waving over his face again, “You’re actually on time.”

YN shrugged, “That I am.”

“Who knew that getting you sober was the one thing that would get you on time?” Leroy says with a smile, but YN’s face doesn’t move.

YN was sober, she was. She had fallen a few months ago, but that was the first and last drink that she had. It was. She regretted it immediately and threw the rest of the bottle away. That was when she decided that she wasn’t that person anymore and that when she needed something to lean on, she would lean on her friends her music, and Harry.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t feel guilty about it because she did. She had been sitting on that secret since it happened, but there was no way that she was going to tell any of them about it. She was doing fine right now; she was honestly and truthfully doing fine.

“That’s not the only thing that getting me sober has fixed,” YN shrugged, messing with the hem of her skirt.

“I can see that,” He smiles at her, “You look good, you do.”

“Thank you, Leroy, I appreciate that,” She glares at him with a bashful smile across her features, “Now as much as I love talking about me, I think it’s time that we spoke about my next favourite topic – my tour!”

Leroy sighs and shakes his head. If last time was anything to go by, especially because she had given him a list of demands when she was only the opener, he dreaded to think what she was going to ask him for now that it was her tour.

“Well, how about I tell you what we have so far and then you can say your piece,” Kenneth explains and YN nods, knowing that was probably for the best, “So far, we’ve got the staging ready, booked the opener, booked the venues and the hotels for the nights that you aren’t travelling. We’ve got the bus and all the travel sorted.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” YN smiles, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

“Well, whilst you’ve been MIA we’ve had time,” Leroy explains, “Ticket sales have been good, great even. Rolling Stones did you good.”

YN sighs, shaking her head. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the article, not since it came out and especially not since what it caused. She has, however, allowed herself to celebrate Harry’s cover, and article, because that was everything that he needed to kickstart his climb within the industry.

“Yeah, well, everybody seemingly wants to see the recovering addict perform,” YN sighed, shaking her head, “And what’s that thing you always say – any publicity is good publicity?”

“In this case, yeah,” He nods, “If it wasn’t for that article, your ticket sales would be good we all know that but nothing like what they are now.”

YN sighs and nods, “I guess I’ll thank journalist dickhead when I see him next.”

“Don’t worry, if we have control of anything you’ll never have to see that man again.”

“Good, now, my ideas,” She smiles, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the desk, “So, I want separate buses. If the last tour was anything to go by, the band and groupies will want to party, and I don’t want to be anywhere near that. I also want a separate green room. I don’t want to be involved in any of that. I can’t be involved in any of that.”

“I’ll see what I can do, YN,” Leroy nods, sincerity in his voice.

“No, it’s not you ‘seeing’ what you can do, you’ll do it,” She taps her nail on the desk, “I can’t be involved in any of that. I’ve been on the straight and narrow, and I need to stay that way.”

Leroy nods and runs a hand over his face, “Two buses, two green rooms. They’re yours.”

“Good, thank you,” She does give him an appreciative smile now, “I’ve sorted the set list, I did it on the drive over, so I’ll discuss that with the band, I’ve got my costumes in the majority I’ll just need someone to go and pick them up for me.”

“I’ll talk to Agatha,” Leroy nods, “She’ll send someone for you.”

YN nods. Yes, Leroy could be a dickhead sometimes but that was his job. It was times like this when she remembered why he was her manager because underneath that façade of being an absolute prick, he had a good heart, and he did care. If he didn’t care about her, he wouldn’t be spending the agency’s money on things that aren’t a necessity.

“You know, you’re a real sweetheart sometimes.”

“And you’re less of a bitch when you’re not on drugs.”

They share a laugh, and for the first time in a while, she thinks that everything might be okay again.

“The chord progression goes up,” YN sighs, lifting her hand to her forehead, “I don’t know if you know it but you’re going down.”

“It’s just easier that way,” Jackson, YN’s new bassist replies with a shrug as they stand in the middle of the rehearsal room, “It’s easier to go down than it is up, thought you wouldn’t mind that.”

“I do mind that, actually, yeah,” YN nods, crossing her hands over her chest before sighing, “Because it’s my song, and I wrote the progression going up.”

They had been rehearsing for the shows for a week now. YN had been getting to know all of the new members of the band and whilst some, like the pianist Pepper and the drummer Fiona, just got on with the job and listened to what YN had to say, some like the bassist Jackson and the guitarist Felix (who just had to know each other and were friends) wanted to make their lives easy and by doing this in part were not listening to YN.

“Yeah, we know you’ve written all these songs and you want them played a certain way,” Felix sighs, resting his arms across his guitar, “But we’ll be playing them over and over and for our sake, shouldn’t we simplify them slightly?”

“No, we shouldn’t,” YN shakes her head, her gaze fixed firmly on the two friends who were standing there with smug-ass grins on their faces, “We shouldn’t simplify them because if you learnt the songs right, you’d be able to play them over and over again because you’d know them, the right way.”

YN knew that after her conversation with Leroy had gone so well nearly a week ago there was going to be something that would turn it on its head and make life hard for her. Her band, or seemingly half of it, was that. They were just young, stubborn musicians who wanted to be playing for themselves and not for some random girl who was a perfectionist and made them work.

“This is the seventh song we’ve done and they’re all fucking different with their chord progressions, and riffs,” Jackson was the next one to speak up and YN was so close to either socking him in the face or kicking him out of the band.

“Well, who are you? Captain fucking obvious because that’s how songs go, they’re not the same,” YN throws her hands up in the air, taking a heated step towards him, “You are getting paid to play my songs how I want them to be played, and if you, both, have any more complaints then you can fuck right off back from where you came with no pay-check, and no tour.”

Both Jackson and Felix started to stalk towards her, but Pepper and Fiona were up and standing in front of them so that they couldn’t move closer. YN didn’t move in fact, and she didn’t look scared. She just stood there, with her arms crossed and feet planted firmly on the floor. She wasn’t scared of a couple of coked-up twenty-year-olds who were complaining because their job was too hard.

“Guys, let’s just have a break yeah?” Pepper was the first to talk, placing her hand on Jackson's shoulder but he was quick to brush it off, “We’ll all go for a smoke yeah? I’ve got some joints, and we’ll share them around.”

“Yeah, come on,” Fiona did the same to Felix, “Both of you are hitting a low, and need to relax.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “Yeah, you two go and relax and get high and by the time you’re back I hope you’ve pulled your head out of your asses and realised you’ve got a job to do.”

Pepper pushed Jackson out of the room, and Fiona did the same to Felix, but she hung back.

“I’m sorry about them they’re both –”

“Pricks?” YN filled in the blank.

“Yeah, that’s a word for them,” Fiona laughed, walking over, and placing a hand on YN’s arm, “You can join us? We can go away from them but there’s no use wasting a joint.”

YN sighs and shakes her head, “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t –”

“That’s fine,” Fiona smiles, “Well, you know where we are if you need us.”

YN offers Fiona a smile and watches as she walks out. Once she’s left on her own, YN drops down on the sofa at the side of the room and drops her head back. One day YN was going to find a band to play with her that created no problems in her life and helped her rather than insult her.

YN’s eyes had drifted shut, and she was a minute or two away from falling asleep. With the long hours and days that she had been having, as well as struggling to sleep on her own without Harry she hadn’t been sleeping well. Today though, she was so ready for bed, and she knew that the second that her head hit the pillow when she got home, she would be fast asleep.

“Knock, knock,” A very familiar voice knocked her out of her slight slumber, as well as the hit of knuckles on the door frame.

YN’s face broke out into a smile at the sound and sight of Vivienne walking into the room, a bag of food from Ed’s in her clutch. She nearly cried on the spot at that sight.

“Hi Viv,” YN smiled, opening her arms so that Vivienne could drop down and wrap YN in a hug.

“Hi babes,” Vivienne laughs, accepting the hug and then dropping down on the sofa next to her.

YN did feel bad. She had completely forgotten that she had agreed to have dinner with Vivienne at the studio today because it was their last night together. Tomorrow, Vivienne was leaving for the first stop of the tour with Pamela and her band, and whilst YN was so excited and so proud of her, she was going to miss her. At the moment, with YN’s days so stressful she was loving coming home to Vivienne and hearing about her day, and then unloading slightly about her day to Vivienne. She was just going to miss that comfort around her.

“Saw the band outside,” Vivienne says and YN sighs, her eyes widening as she shakes her head, “High as kites.”

“They can get as fucking high as they want as far away from me if it means they stop being pricks,” YN sighs, her head leaning on the sofa.

“That bad?”

“That bad,” YN nodded, sitting up and reaching over to grab the bag from Ed’s, “This is exactly what I need right now.”

YN didn’t even hesitate before taking a bite of her chicken sandwich, not caring that she had sauce all around her mouth. Vivienne laughed and passed YN a napkin, allowing her to wipe said sauce from around her mouth.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” YN asked, popping some fries into her mouth after speaking.

“Seven,” Vivienne responded, and YN blew out a deep breath.

“I’ll try and be awake to say goodbye, but I don’t know,” YN shook her head, “I don’t know what time we’ll be finished here and we’re not leaving until they get, I used to know done.”

Vivienne laughed, taking a bite of her burger, “You can’t say that you’re not getting your money’s worth.”

YN joined in with the laughter and shrugged, “They know what they’ve signed up for, and I have no complaints about Pepper and Fiona – they’re great. It’s just the boys, they’re…”

YN sighs and shakes her head, and Vivienne finishes her sentence, “Too fucking full of themselves.”

“Yes!” YN laughs again, running a hand over her face, “They think they’re the fucking shit and have decided that they can play my songs better than the way I’ve written them even though they’re paid to play them the way I want.”

Vivienne shakes her head, “You must have the patience of a saint to deal with that.”

“I do not, or they would still be here and not banished outside,” YN laughed.

“God, I knew Pamela was lucky with her band but every time I meet yours it fucking solidifies it,” Vivienne shakes her, drinking from her milkshake.

YN’s mouth drops open, “Where did you pull that from? Did you get me one?”

“Of course, I did,” Vivienne reached down to a bag that YN hadn’t seen and pulled out another milkshake, a vanilla one that was YN’s favourite, “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“You would be such a shit friend and the fact you got my favourite means you’re the best friend,” YN laughed, taking a sip of her milkshake, “God, I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” Vivienne beams at her friend, “But it’ll not be too long, and you’re seeing lover boy in a week and then you’re jetting for your singsong.”

“Yeah,” YN sighs, running a hand over her face, “Look at us, eh? Busy, busy, busy.”

Vivienne furrowed her eyebrows at the girl, and YN had a slight inclination of what she was trying to say but YN couldn’t bring herself to.

Last week all YN could speak about was how excited she was to see Harry, and a part of her still was. The only thing was, Harry had promised to phone her when he arrived, and she hadn’t received a phone call. She phoned him the next day and he answered, but the conversation was cut short. He said that he’d phone when he had a spare minute, but she hadn’t had a call. She had phoned him, but he hadn’t picked up for a few days after. So far, there hadn’t been any communication between the two and YN was sceptical.

There was a rational part of YN’s brain that knew that he would’ve been busy and getting settled into the tour wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Then, there was the other side of her brain that knew even on tour, there were a few minutes in the day that he could’ve called her, and they could have shared a few minutes of conversation. That was where YN’s scepticism came in.

“He’ll just be busy, babes,” Vivienne placed her hand on YN’s, squeezing her, “You know how much he loves you.”

“I do,” YN nods, “And I’m just stressed, and busy but he’s just busy too.”  

At this point, YN didn’t know if she was just trying to convince herself as much.

YN had just been to the bathroom and then beelined to the kitchen to grab herself a cup of coffee in the studio after another full day there with what felt like a lot and not a lot done at the same time. It had been a week since Vivienne had left for her tour, and it was t-minus 2 days until YN was leaving to go meet Harry on tour.

During this week, YN, and her band (mainly Jackson and Felix) finally managed to make some edgeways. It had taken two weeks of work for them to finally realise that YN wasn’t going to back down from having her songs played properly so they might as well just do as she asks. YN knew that if she was a man, and it was a man trying to make them play their songs properly they would do it with no questions asked. She knew that she wasn’t going to back down, and she was just slightly pissed that it had taken them two weeks to finally realise that.

With her mug of coffee clutched in her hand, she made her way back into the rehearsal room.

Once she saw the sight she was greeted by – YN sighed and dropped her head back.

There were a few rules that YN had made the first day that they had started rehearsals. They were mainly to keep the focus on the music, but it was also to protect her and protect all of the progress that she had made.

Walking into that room, her hot coffee in her hand and tiredness washing over her YN could have done with anything else but seeing Jackson and Felix, sat on the sofa doing a line off of one of their guitar cases. With the rules that YN put in place, and how small this place is it would have taken them two seconds to walk into another room or go outside to do it, but yet here they are –ignoring everything that YN had said.

“Jesus,” YN shakes her head, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Jackson responds, running his fingers against his nose, “Stupid fucking question.”

“I know what you’re doing,” YN crosses her arms over her chest, still clutching her coffee cup in one hand, “My question is why the hell are you doing it?”

“To get fucking high,” Felix laughs, as though it is completely normal, “Why? You want some?”

“No, I don’t fucking want any,” YN shakes her head, “There’s one fucking rule in here and that’s no drugs.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t in the fucking room so why does it matter?” Jackson shrugs.

“It matters because those are the rules,” YN scoffs and shakes her head, “It takes two fucking seconds to leave the room and go somewhere else but you two are too fucking lazy and seem to just not want to listen.”

“It’s because you overdosed, right?” Felix was the one to speak up now, a shit-eating grin on his features, “I read your Stones article. Ended up in rehab, right?”

YN’s entire face dropped. She didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t know if she even wanted to say anything. There was no need for any of this when they were supposed to be working, but as YN had quickly realised from getting sober, what is said when on drugs has no rationale. What was being said was horrible, but they were high, and YN knew that it wasn’t them necessarily who were saying it.

“Uh, YN?” A voice called from over her shoulder.

YN turned to see Rebecca, the receptionist standing at the entrance of the door with a small smile, “Yeah, Rebecca?”

“There’s a phone call for you,” She smiles.

“Thank you,” YN smiles and makes her way towards the door before stopping and turning back to the band, “Just don’t fucking do it in here.”

YN places her coffee cup down and follows Rebecca to the phone, smiling in thanks as she shuts the door behind YN, leaving her alone in the room. YN sits down on the desk, picks the phone up and places it against her ear, saying hello to whoever is on the other side.

“Hey baby,” YN’s body relaxes slightly, as she leans against the wall the desk is pressed against.

“Harry, hi,” Her face breaks out into a beaming smile just at the sound of his voice, “How are you? How have you been?”

“I’m fine baby, just busy,” He sighs into the receiver, and YN can hear slight shuffling, but she just puts it behind her, “How are you? How are the rehearsals going?”

“They’re –” YN hesitates for a second before shaking her head, “It just feels as though every time we take one step forward, we’re also taking about seven steps back.”

“I’m sorry about that baby,” Harry’s voice relaxes her, but also for some reason, it feels as though something isn’t quite right, “But hey, two days and all you’ll have to think about is me.”

YN laughs, “Hundreds of people screaming your name every night isn’t enough, eh? You need me to be obsessed with you too.”

“Well, I’m obsessed with you baby, so I hope you’d be the same,” Harry laughs over the receiver, “I can’t wait to see you, I’m sorry I haven’t phoned that much.”

“I can’t wait to see you either, Harry,” A small smile graces YN’s lips, “Don’t worry about phoning, I know you’ll have been busy, and I just can’t wait to –”

“Harry come on, or we’ll start without you!”

YN’s eyebrows furrow and her head tilts slightly. The voice that interrupted her over the speaker wasn’t one that she recognised. It was female, but it didn’t sound like Sarah or any of the other female members of Harry’s band or the ones that he’s surrounded by.

“Give me a minute, I’m on the phone to YN,” Harry responds to the voice, and it does ease YN slightly.

“Who’s that?” YN asked after she heard the door shut on the other side.

“It’s just Mary,” Harry responds, “She’s the lead singer of the opener.”

“Huh,” YN nods her head. She hadn’t heard much about Harry’s opener, before or even after he had left for tour, “What are they going to start without you?”

“I don’t know,” YN hears rustling, as though he’s running his hand over his face, “I think we’re playing some sort of card game, I don’t know…”

“I don’t want to keep you if they’re waiting for you,” YN smiles, finger running along the edge of the table.

“No, it’s fine baby they can start without me,” He’s quick with his answer, but YN shakes her head.

“No, you need to go and play, and win,” YN laughed, knowing exactly what Harry was like when it comes to games, “I need to get back to rehearsal anyway, and it’s only two days and then I’ll see you.”  

“You will, baby,” YN could hear Harry smiling on the other end of the phone, which made her smile in turn, “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” YN chuckled, “Now go and play whatever it is, and win because we all know you’ll be in a mood if you don’t.”

“You know me too well,” YN just sighed at Harry’s voice, obviously having his attention on something other than her. She knew what it was like she supposed, and how everything on tour heightened senses and the rest of the world just seemed to revolve around their little bubbles, “I love you, baby. I’ll see you in two days.”

“Bye Harry,” The words slip out of YN’s mouth but just as she mutters, “I love you too,” The phone line stops.

YN sighs, putting the phone down and running a hand over her face. With another sigh, she stood up and made her way back into the studio. Pepper and Fiona had shown up at that point, and there wasn’t a drug in sight in the room anymore. Whilst she might have preferred to be able to get this off her chest with Harry, she was happy that he sounded okay, and that he was just as excited as she was to see each other.

Just after YN walked into the room and picked her coffee back up, the boys walked in. They looked significantly more relaxed than they did before her phone conversation, and a part of YN was relieved by that. It meant that YN hoped that their high would last long enough for her to get through a few more songs before she could call it a night – and leave them to do whatever they wanted to do without her being around.

“Shall we run it from the top?” YN asked, watching as for the first time in a long time they all fell into line.

YN would be lying if she said she didn’t in relief at the sight. They would run through the songs; YN would go home, and she would be a step closer to Harry and have a relaxing week with him.

YN nodded at Fiona, watching as the girl tapped her drumsticks together to count them in. The music started, YN opened her mouth, and she sang and just like that – nothing else mattered in the world.

YN walked out of the Pittsburgh airport, sunglasses perched upon her nose and suitcase dragging behind her. The weather had just begun to warm up, as the seasons slipped between spring to summer, the sun was out in full force. It was as though it knew that YN was having a break, ready for her time with Harry and the sun became the one to greet her for that experience.

YN’s eyes bounced from left to right, looking through the taxi rank to see if she could spot Harry. She knew when her flight was getting in, and he said that he’d already planned to be there when she arrived.

Then, there he was.

Her face broke out into a smile, and she picked her bag up so that she could bounce over to him quicker. He was standing with his arms crossed, resting against a yellow taxicab with his sunglasses perched upon his nose. The second that YN stood before him; his face beamed a smile at her. He uncrossed his arms, and YN took that as her cue to drop her bag down onto the sidewalk beside them and threw her arms around his neck, Harry’s immediately resting in the small of her waist. It felt right, it felt safe – and it felt like home.

“Hi, baby,” YN mumbled, immediately placing a litter of chaste kisses upon his lips, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Harry smiled, accepting the flurry of kisses YN pressed against his lips, “You ready?”

YN sighed with a blissful smile upon her lips, “More than ready.”

She moved to pick up her bag, but Harry slipped his arm through hers and grabbed the bag for her. He set off towards the trunk of the cab. He nodded at the driver and bounced back to open the door for YN, “My lady…”

YN giggled and nodded her head at Harry, and stepped into the car, “Why thank you, kind sir.”

YN pushed herself across the back seat of the cab so that Harry could slip in behind her. He threw his arm around her shoulder, the girl slipping underneath with ease. It was as though their movements were in sync, as though they knew exactly how the other was most comfortable and where they wanted to be – as close to each other as possible. YN moved her hand so that it could link with Harry’s free one, and rest them on his thigh, squeezing it until his attention was back on her. She lifted her head in his direction, accepting another chaste kiss upon her lips, and another and a flurry of more until the two of them were in a fit of giggles in the back seat. YN wondered at what point the driver of the cab would realise who they were, and whether or not this would be a headline the next day, but she didn’t care – she was in the arms of the man she loved.

“I think we should scrap the party tonight,” Harry mumbled against her lips, pulling away and resting his head upon hers, “I haven’t seen you in too long, and I have no plans of sharing you tonight.”

YN shook her head, unable to control the laugh that escaped her lips. She slipped her head into the nape of his neck, placing a kiss there, “Whilst I don’t hate that idea, we can’t exactly not show up to a party that is being thrown for us.”

“I think that’s exactly what we should do,” Harry nodded, his lips pouting ever so slightly, “You’ll have your time to catch up this week at some point — I need my time to catch up with you all on my own.”

YN rolled her eyes lightly, but a smile never left her face. She knew what Harry was doing, and she also knew that they would have plenty of time for that before the party started, so there was no need for them to miss it.

“Whilst there are things I can’t wait to do,” YN mumbled against his neck, her teeth grazing the skin ever so slightly, “I can’t wait to see Sarah and Mitch, and what was her name again? The singer in the opener?”

“It’s, uh, Mary,” Harry mumbled, and whilst YN heard the slight shift in his voice, she decided to ignore it, “You’ll get to meet her tomorrow, even if you don’t tonight.”

“Harry,” YN warned, turning to face him with a slight raise of her eyebrow, “We’re not missing it. Don’t want to hear another word about it.”

The cab stopped outside the hotel after around half an hour of driving, and YN would be lying if she said that she wasn’t thankful that she had finally stopped travelling and could rest. The drive hadn’t been that long, but the flight included meant that it had been non-stop all day, and she was truly ready for said rest.

YN’s lips parted in shock when she walked into his hotel room, “Jesus, Harry, is this a hotel room or a house?”

“Only the best for you,” Harry gleamed a smile at YN as he placed her suitcase at the end of the bed, “In all honesty, ticket sales were through the roof and the label only wanted me to have the best of the best.”

“God,” YN sighed, dropping down on the bed that truly felt like a cloud, “I hope I get this treatment.”

Harry dropped down next to her, reaching his hand out to move her hair off her face, “You will. I have no doubts about that.”

YN sighed, sitting up, “Well that makes one of us.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed from his place on the bed. He sat up and moved closer to YN so that he was directly behind her. He rested his head upon her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin there ever so gently.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, running her hand across her forehead, “It’s nothing. I think I’m just tired.”

“You know you can tell me anything,” Harry mumbled, head still pressed against her neck, “Whatever’s worrying you.”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” YN nods, turning her head so that she can place a kiss on his lips, “If it gets too bad, I promise I’ll tell you.”

His hands came to wrap around YN’s waist, pulling her towards him, “We’ve got time to rest before the party.”

YN’s head turned to look at Harry, “I thought you didn’t want to go to the party.”

Harry sighed and offered her a smile, “I suppose it would be rude not to show up to our party, like you said.”

YN just chuckled, leaning forward to place her lips upon Harry’s. It was strange how quickly the two of them had just fallen back into the comfortable familiar space that they often found with each other. YN’s fingers found their rightful place in the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging on the curls that rested there. It was crazy how much she had missed this man whilst they had been apart, but she supposed that was what love is – always wanting to be around the person and missing him when he’s not around.

YN should have been surprised when their kisses were more from more than just a peck, but she wasn’t. Their tongues began moving together in blissful harmony. There were other things that she missed as well as just Harry himself. It was a feeling that she couldn’t find on her own, and she needed him to be with her for it.

YN’s body turned, and her hands slipped around Harry so that they ran up his back. She could feel the curl of Harry’s lips as he smiled against hers, “I thought you said you were tired.” 

“I am,” YN’s lips curled into a smile as well, “But I can rest later.”

“That you can.”

YN giggled as Harry’s hands moved down her body, gripping the lacey material of her tank top and pulling it over her body in one quick motion. She had forgone a bra that morning, mainly for comfort on the flight but she would be lying if she said there wasn’t the thought of easy access for a situation such as this one. Harry’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sight, as though he was a boy again and seeing his first pair of tits. 

“You’ve seen them before,” YN giggled, watching as his eyes jumped from her chest to her eyes and then back down to her chest again.

Harry just beamed a smile at her, “And it’s like Christmas every time.”

He dropped his head down to her neck, placing kisses along the skin until it met her chest before they landed directly on the plush skin of her breast. His teeth grazed her nipple, tugging at the peak lightly to elicit a hiss from her lips. He knew exactly what buttons on her body to push, and whilst she sometimes hated it, she loved it at the same time.

“No teasing,” YN spoke breathlessly once Harry had released her nipple, her hands resting against his cheeks to pull his head back up to him, “I don’t have the energy for teasing.”

“Another time,” Harry nodded, and YN breathed a sigh of relief when he obliged her request.

He pulled his shirt over his head in one quick motion. Whilst he was doing that, YN made a quick move to take her pants off, throwing them upon the pile of clothes that was collecting at the side of the bed. She watched as Harry pulled his trousers, and underwear off at the same time – those too landing upon the pile. He dropped back on the bed, resting against the headrest and allowing YN to climb over and straddle his waist.

“Wanna ride you,” YN mumbled against Harry’s lips, “Need to be close to you.”

“I’m here,” Harry nodded, “Take what you want.”

YN rested one of her hands on his shoulder, using it to steady herself as she lined herself up with his cock. His hands found their rightful place upon her waist, helping her to comfortably drop down onto his cock at whatever pace she needed to. YN moaned against Harry’s cheek as she accommodated his full size, feeling that comfort and fullness that she hadn’t since Harry had left.

“So full,” YN mumbled against his cheek, “Feels so good and deep.”

The pace that YN and Harry had decided upon was slow, but it was deep. The pleasure that it provided was too much for both of them. Harry’s hips bucked up to YN’s to match her pace, their lips meeting and never disconnecting from each other’s apart to allow a moan to slip past.

“Can feel you squeezing me,” Harry mumbled into her lips, “Getting yourself off on my cock.”

“Missed this, missed you,” YN moaned, her lips parting as his hips bucked deeper in her.

Harry’s hand slipped down between their bodies, his thumb resting upon her clit and beginning to circle the little nub. YN gasped into Harry’s mouth once more, unable to hold back from the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling. It was everything together, moving all at once that caused her to tighten around Harry’s cock once more, her orgasm washing over her soon after. Harry followed not too closely behind, his grip on YN’s wait tightening as he did so.

“How did I last so long without you?” Harry mumbled, his head falling onto her shoulder, “Think you should be with me, forever.”

YN just chuckled, using Harry’s shoulder to lift herself off of him. She whimpered slightly at the loss of contact, but Harry was there to stabilise her once she had done.

“I’m here now,” YN dropped down on the plush bed again with a smile. Harry leaned over to place a soft peck on his lips, moving her head to rest upon his shoulder, “God, I do need that rest now.”

“We’ve got time,” Harry nodded, placing a kiss on YN’s hairline, “Can have a quick snooze now, if you fancy?”

YN nodded, snuggling into Harry’s body. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, dropping into dreamland ever so quickly just by knowing that Harry was there with her. Harry didn’t move the entire time that she was asleep, knowing that she needed it more than he needed his arm. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t drop off at some point, waking to the sound of YN fluttering around the room.

“This is a nice wake-up call,” He beamed a smile at her from the bed, watching as she sat at the vanity with only a towel wrapped around her body.

YN just giggled, “You slept right through my shower. Seems like I wasn’t the only one who needed rest.”

Harry stood up from the bed, bare feet padding across the carpet until he was behind her, “Haven’t slept the best this tour, seems like I needed you in my bed.”

YN huffed a laugh, “In more ways than one, I presume. Now, shower. We can’t be late.”

“We can,” Harry nodded, head resting on her shoulder, “If we have to go, we can at least be late.”

YN groaned and pushed Harry in the direction of the bathroom, “Shower.”

Harry groaned once more but did as she said and stepped into the bathroom. YN took her time, doing her hair until it was sitting perfectly, and until her makeup looked flawless. The dress that she decided to wear hugged her body in all the right places, the sleeves stopping at her elbow where they extended into a bell shape. It was a light iridescent fabric, and once YN had placed her bangles on her wrists and her cowboy boots were on her feet she truly felt excited, and ready to party.

“God,” Harry whistled as he walked out of the shower, his towel resting low on his waist, “Are you sure we have to go?”

“Yes,” YN continues to fasten her earrings, “Get dressed.”

Harry dropped the towel, walking over to grab his clothes, “Positive?”

YN groaned, pushing past Harry, and opening the wardrobe to grab the clothes she wanted him to wear. She threw the jeans at him, as well as the vest and shirt that she loved ever so much. He just smiled at her, slipping his underwear on.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry smiled, and YN couldn’t help the flush that covered her cheeks.

“Thank you,” She placed a chaste kiss on his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

By the time that YN and Harry had walked into the room where the party was being held, it was already in full swing. Harry’s arm was securely wrapped around YN’s waist, and hers around his. It didn’t last very long though, as the second that YN saw Sarah in the distance her face was beaming out into a smile, and she was deserting Harry and making her way over there.

“Oh it’s been too long,” YN smiled as she wrapped her arms around Sarah.

“It’s Harry’s fault,” Sarah sighed with a shake of her head, “He’s kept you all to himself.”

YN rolled her eyes, “It took some convincing to even come today, basically had to force him out of the room.”

Sarah laughed and pointed towards the drinks table, saying that she was going to get them a drink. YN sighed and nodded, saying that she’d wait here. Her eyes danced around the room, obviously trying to find Harry. She found him standing in the corner of the room, a bottle of beer grasped tightly in his hand, talking to a blonde girl with a smile on his face.

Sarah returned with a bottle of cola in her hand for YN and a beer in her hand for herself. YN smiled at her, but her eyes returned to Harry and the girl across the room.

“Thank you,” YN nodded, taking a sip, “Who’s that Harry’s talking to?”

Sarah’s eyes followed the direction that YN was pointing in, “Oh that’s Mary, Harry’s probably told you about her.”

“He has,” YN nodded, pointing her head back in Mary’s direction, “Introduce me?”

Sarah widened her eyes but nodded, walking towards the pair. YN cleared her throat the second that they stood in front of them, interrupting whatever conversation they were having.

“Mary, this is YN,” Sarah nodded.

YN smiled and wrapped her arm around Harry’s waist, “Harry’s girlfriend.”

“No, it’s, uh, so nice to meet you!” The girl beamed, the British accent shocking YN slightly, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

It was then that YN saw it. The constantly shaking hands, the blown pupils and the fidgeting with her nose were everything that YN needed to know.

“Vivienne’s having a good time,” YN nodded as she walked back into Harry’s dressing room after finishing up her phone call with Vivienne, “I tried to ask about the tour, but it was Pamela this and Pamela that."

Harry nodded, opening his arm out to YN so that she could drop beneath it, “She’s in love, leave her be.”

“I am, don’t worry,” YN laughed, bringing her feet up so that she could curl up with him, “I’m sure I was just the same. It was probably always Harry this and Harry that.”

Harry just shook his head, pressing a kiss to her hairline. He was dressed and ready for the show, and Mary’s band was already on stage for their set so she knew that it wasn’t going to be long before Harry would be whisked up onto stage.

“The break’s not too long away, right?” Harry asked, finger messing with the frill on YN’s shirt, “Then she’s coming to see you, right?”

“Yeah,” YN nodded, absentmindedly running her finger across the material of his trousers, “She won’t tell me much, I’ll probably have to pry it out of her.”

Harry just laughed, “Or you could just wait for her to tell you herself?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” YN grimaced with a shake of her head.

It was then that YN felt Harry’s fingers move from the frill of her shirt to the soft skin of her stomach. She could tell what kind of a mood he was in (despite what they had done that morning, soft and slow wrapped in the covers from the bed) and found it even more so when his fingers slipped beneath the material of her skirt.

“We don’t have time for that,” YN mumbled, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip as his teeth started to graze the nape of her neck.

It was no use though, for Harry already was slipping his hand underneath her body to pull her onto his lap. Once his lips were upon hers, it was as though nothing was going to stop them. She was drunk off him, and nothing was going to stop them.

His hands rested firmly upon her ass, his fingers digging into the flesh eliciting a moan from YN’s lips. YN sighed against Harry, rocking her hips towards his. She hadn’t a single idea of how long they had been making out like a bunch of horny teenagers.

“Harry!” The door burst open, and Harry and YN’s lips disconnected to see who it was that interrupted them, "You should see it out there it’s… oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” YN offered the girl a smile, clambering off Harry’s lap, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I forgot you were here if truth be told,” Mary spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It did cause YN’s eyebrows to furrow at the girl, “I’m just so used to walking in here.”

YN furrowed her eyebrows once more and turned to look at Harry, but he wasn’t looking in her direction at all. YN watched as Mary walked into the room and dropped down on the sofa across from them. It was hot on stage, but the sweat that was dropping off her body was more than just the heat from the stage that was causing her to sweat in such a way.

YN’s suspicions were once again confirmed when the girl pulled a small bag out of the trouser pocket and tipped the contents onto the table in front of them. YN’s heart started to beat quickly, and she reached over to grab Harry’s hand.

“Uh, Mary,” Harry spoke, leaning forward in his seat slightly, “Do you think, that, maybe you could do that somewhere else?”

Marry let out a laugh, but that dropped when she saw the serious expression on Harry’s face, “Are you being serious? You’ve never had an issue before.”

“I know, and now I do,” He shrugged, and then stood up, “Think it’s time for me to get out there.”

He leaned down to place a kiss on YN’s lips, “Smash it, I love you.”

“Love you too,” He walked towards the door, “You’re coming to watch, yeah?”

“Course I am, give me a second.”

YN waited until the door had shut behind him when she turned to Mary, who had just finished her line. Mary wiped her nose, turning to look at YN who was still facing her.

“Do you want some?” Mary asked and YN shook her head.

“No, I don’t,” YN sighed standing up, “Are you coming to watch Harry?”

“Never miss it,” Mary nodded, “I’ll be there in a second!”

YN sighed and walked out of the room, moving towards the side of the stage. She smiled at Jeff who was already there, and watched as Harry did what he did best. Their shared love of music, and the way that it brought them and so many people closer together. Seeing him dance and sing his heart out and have all of those people singing along with him –caused her heart to grow even more for the man on the stage.

“It’s insane that he can do what he does,” Mary spoke from the side of her, “He’s just amazing.”

YN offered Mary a smile and nodded her head, ready to turn her attention back to Harry but then she saw Mary, and she saw the look that the girl was giving Harry as she moved on the stage. It was a familiar look, but YN couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was that was familiar. Then when she turned to look at Harry she realised what it was.

It was the look that YN had given Harry every time that she had seen him on stage, the one that for herself manifested in her love for him. YN couldn’t stop whatever feelings the other girl was manifesting for Harry, and she couldn’t control what would happen, but she could love Harry as much as she could.

All she had to do was hope that was enough.

“How come you’ve got a private jet?” YN asked nudging Harry who was sitting in the seat next to her with her elbow, “I feel as though you’ve got everything this time.”

“You’re just jealous,” Harry responded, sliding down into the seat further, “You just wish that you’d asked for a private jet.”

YN just huffed, settling further down in her own seat. Sarah and Mitch just laughed from their seats across from the couple, watching as Harry tried to wrap his arm around YN but she pulled away with a pout on her face.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Sarah shook her head, “It’s small and cramped and you can hear everything that everyone is saying.”

That became ever so obvious when the four of them dropped silent, and everything that was being said at the front of the plane seemed to get louder.  YN tipped her head down the centre aisle to see a few of the other members of the band, as well as the opening act. Although YN couldn’t see exactly who was in the middle of the group, she had an incline that Mary would be one of those present.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” YN nods, grimacing slightly, “I think I’d lose my head if I was stuck on a plane with just my band.”

“You’d have Leroy, yeah?” Harry mumbles, dropping his head down onto YN’s shoulder.

“Yes, I would have Leroy, but I don’t think even he’d be the best company that I’ve ever had,” YN shrugs, moving her arm slightly so that Harry could get even more comfortable.

“He seems alright from what I’ve seen,” Sarah shrugs.

YN groans, “He is, he’s okay. He’s just forty and I think he’s potentially going through a midlife crisis and that isn’t exactly where I’m at in my life.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh at her words, and it’s at that point that they realise that Harry’s already fallen asleep. It hadn’t taken him long. YN gently kicks her bag over to Sarah, asking if she can take a photo of the two of them. YN smiles as Sarah points the polaroid in her and Harry’s direction, the man already beginning to drool on her shoulder – but she didn’t mind.

Sarah passed the printed photo to YN, smiling as she watched the girl shake the print a few times before smiling at the sight. YN was smiling in the photo, but it seemed as though Sarah had managed to capture YN as she had turned to look at Harry’s sleeping form. It was a beautiful photo, and it would be one that YN would cherish forever.

“Can I ask you both something?” YN asked after a minute or so, her eyes dropping to Harry just to ensure that the man was still asleep. It was then that YN realised that Mitch had also fallen asleep, and it was just her and Sarah left awake, “Or, can I ask you something, Sarah?”

“Of course, you can,” Sarah responded quickly, as if it was the easiest response in the world.

YN sighed, her eyes resting upon the photo that she had left face-up on the table in front of them, “How is he? Genuinely.”

“Harry?” Sarah asked, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as YN nodded, “He seems fine to me.”

YN nodded, “It’s just… I mean, we didn’t talk much before I came out and it just feels… possibly, as though he’s hiding something.”

Sarah shook her head, “I highly doubt it, YN. That boy can’t keep secrets for shit. When he first started seeing you, Mitch and I could tell that something was off with him, but he kept denying it and denying it until he said that someone was joining us in the studio the next day.”

“And it was me,” YN smiled, remembering that day.

She had been nervous when Harry had asked her to come into the studio with him. She knew the band and had already met them many times before (being on tour with them and everything) but, seeing as though she left that tour in a less than desirable way she was nervous to see them all again. The nerves also came being in the studio with them, and whilst yes she performed in front of them every night – being in a studio with them was a completely different experience. It was way more raw, and exposed and vulnerable.

But, despite all of YN’s worries and her concerns none of it mattered. None of it mattered because the second that she walked into that studio; they all accepted her with open arms. It was as though none of them judged her or thought less of her due to what happened and instead, they all just cared about her well-being, and also any of the ideas that she may have.

“I wouldn’t worry, YN,” Sarah shook her head, “I think you would know if you had anything to worry about.”

YN had hoped that would ease her mind.

There was a part of her that knew that from Harry’s side, she had nothing to worry about. She knew that he was in love with her, and she was with him and there was no reason for her to dispute that ever. The thing that worried YN was that she knew that Mary harnessed some of those feelings for Harry, and she had no reason not to act on them. Whilst to some people, being in a relationship would be reason enough not to try something with a person –unfortunately, YN knew better when it came to some musicians.

At the same time though, she could be worrying herself for no reason and she had no reason to judge Mary at this point as she didn’t know the girl. But there was something in the back of her mind nagging her that she should trust her gut and trust her instincts.

She just hoped that her instincts were wrong.

The second that YN stepped into her and Harry’s hotel room, she made a beeline for the shower. Harry trailed behind her, but they didn’t say a word to each other. Her conversation with Sarah and her doubts were spiralling around her head.

With a sigh, YN reached into the shower to turn the water on, taking a second or so to allow the water to warm up before she stripped and stepped inside. It always felt night to wash travel off of her body, and that was no different now that she was in a private jet instead of just a normal plane. The shower allowed for YN to wash the flight off of her, but also allowed her body to relax from all of the thoughts that had been circling in her brain.

She had just begun to shampoo her hair when the door opened, revealing Harry’s body ready to get into the shower with her.

“Can I join you?” He asked, a soft expression on his face rather than what she expected it to have.

YN nodded her head, “Help me shampoo?”

Harry smiled but nodded, stepping into the shower, and closing the door behind him. He wasted no time in slipping his hands through her already soapy hair and began to massage her scalp, just as she had been doing but it felt so much better when he was doing it.

The fact that Harry was so close to her, and yet she felt as though there were things that they both were hiding from each other. It was difficult, and her brain was struggling to handle that fact. The last time she felt like this, she would turn to drugs, alcohol, or anything just to numb the feelings that she was having. And yet, she couldn’t do that now. She wouldn’t do that now.

Instead, as Harry continued to run his fingers through her hair the only way that she could express what she was feeling was by crying. It started as one tear slipping down her cheek until multiple were and then her shoulders started to shake. Harry’s hands stopped running through her hair, and that was when she knew that he had noticed her crying.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry’s hands grasped her shoulders, turning her around so that she was facing him. The water began to run over her head, and she closed her eyes so that none of the shampoo would go into her eyes. The crying didn’t necessarily help with that, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the crying either, “I don’t know, I’m fine I think.”

“Well, you’re not,” Harry pointed out with a small smile on his face, his thumb coming to rest on the soft skin of her cheek, “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just tell me how I can help.”

That only made YN cry more. The fact that Harry was so understanding of her, and seemed to know exactly what she needed even when she didn’t even know herself.

“It’s nothing, I swear,” YN pouted slightly, “I think I’m just sad that I’m leaving in a few days.”

“YN,” Harry shook his head, moving closer to her to wrap his arms around her body. YN slipped hers around his waist, pushing her body as close as she could to his.

If she didn’t feel comfortable enough at this moment to say how she truly felt, she knew that she could say something else. It wasn’t a lie either, because there was a nagging in her head that worried about how both of them would respond to being apart again. She hadn’t even thought about her tour the entire time that she had been here, and that thought was slowly creeping up to the forefront of her mind as well.

“I’m sorry,” She shook her head, “I don’t know, I think I’m maybe just nervous about my tour and leaving you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Harry shook his head, placing a kiss to her forehead, “I feel the same way.”

YN’s heart broke at the fact that Harry was feeling this way too. She supposed that he didn’t have the same feelings regarding Mary that she did, but that didn’t matter. She was struggling with the idea of leaving him with no control over the situation, and also toying with the stress of being without him.

It was a struggle that neither both of them would have to do alone though, and that was the bliss of it she supposed.

“Hey, we’ll call at every opportunity,” Harry nods, dipping his head so that he caught her eye-line, “I promise I’ll be better.”

“You’re perfect,” YN shook her head, “As long as we do this together, we’ll be fine.”

Harry dipped his head down once more to place his lips onto hers, and she accepted the kiss with no hesitation. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, a small smile crossing her face as she did.

“I have an idea,” Harry spoke, his head resting upon hers, “But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

“What is it?” YN lifted her head up, the water still cascading over her shoulders.

“I want you to come on stage tonight,” He spoke, looking down at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes, “I want to sing Cherry, with you – just us.”

YN began to cry again, but it wasn’t due to any sadness, but it was just the overwhelming amount of love that she felt for the man in her arms.

“I’d love nothing more.”

“We’re starting in Nevada,” YN spoke, her fingernail tapping against the glass of water she had in her hand as she spoke to Jeff, “Then it’s three months, I think, maybe four and then we’re finishing in L.A. Troubadour actually.”

“God, that’s amazing YN,” Jeff shook his head, a proud and truly glad expression on his face, “Let me know the date and I’ll see if Harry’s free.”

YN’s face broke out into a smile, “I’ll get Leroy to send the details over, I’d love to have him come out.”

“I’m sure he’d love it too.”

Harry and YN had already spoken about whether or not he was going to join her for her last show, and seeing as though his tour would be long done and he’d be back at home in L.A, it made sense. There was the panic that came over YN’s body at Harry’s request of flying his mother out so she could meet YN and see them perform. YN had never been in a relationship such as this one before, one that felt as though it was going to last and to the point where meeting parents was actually on the cards. But, she wasn’t going to say that to Harry when he had been so excited over the prospect.

“Speaking of Harry,” Jeff sighed, checking his watch, “He should be here. Mary finished five minutes or so ago.”

“Oh,” YN looked around the room and saw Sarah and Mitch and other members of the band but no Harry, “He’s probably in his dressing room, I’ll go get him.”

YN placed her glass down on the table and walked out of the room. Harry’s dressing room was just down the hall, and she had been in there with him earlier but she could tell that he needed a moment so she decided the best thing to do was make herself scarce. It didn’t upset her that he needed his space, God knows she’s the same before she performs but it was strange that he wasn’t with the rest of the band when they were supposed to be going on stage soon.

Not thinking that anything would be amis, YN opened the door and walked into the room and then her heart dropped.

Harry was sitting on the sofa, with Mary straddled across his lap and their faces pressed together. YN must have gasped, because both of them turned to her. Harry immediately threw Mary off his lap, but it seemed that all three of them were frozen in shock.

YN’s eyes started to glass over, “Jeff is, uh, looking for you.”

Without another word YN turned and walked out of the room, ignoring Harry’s calls of her name from behind her. She walked towards the green room but before she could step inside, Sarah threw the door open.

“Oh,” Sarah jumped slightly at YN being stood outside the door, “Are you okay?”

The girl’s expression dropped at the shocked look on YN’s, “I’m fine. Is it time?”

“Yeah, we’re just ready to go,” Sarah’s attention was taking by Harry and Mary walking towards them from behind YN, and even though she wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away from this entire thing, she had made a promise to perform with them, and it would look strange if she didn’t uphold that promise.

It was also a good way of ensuring that YN didn’t do something that she would regret in the future.

“Let’s get this show on the road then,” YN nodded and turned and walked away from the group without another word.

When Harry began performing, it was obvious that something was amiss. He wasn’t his usual chatty self, and there were few times that YN thought that he was going to cry. YN tried with everything in her might not to cry, because she wasn’t going to give Mary (who was standing just a few feet away from her) that satisfaction. The girl, even though she might have been involved in one of the worst things that had ever happened to YN seemed to have not a single feeling about the situation. But YN also knew that when someone was using heavy drugs, just as Mary was emotions and reality didn’t exactly work the same as a normal person would.

That angered YN more than she expected it to.

She hadn’t even realised how much time had passed until a microphone was being thrust into her hand, and she realised that Harry was speaking to the crowd.

“Now,” He held his hands out to quieten the crowd as much he could, “I have a very special guest coming out tonight to sing this next song with me. She’s… she’s my world, she’s my everything and I love her so much. So, can you all make some noise for YN YLN!”

Exhaling a breath, YN walked out onto the stage. It was crazy to her that the second she found herself on stage and she heard the crowd chanting her name – all of her worries seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The music started, and she turned to look at Harry, but he was staring straight ahead as though he was trying everything in his power not to look at her. It broke YN’s heart.

“Don’t you call him baby/ we’re not talking lately/ don’t you call him what you used to call me,” Harry started to sing, and even though YN tried not to she couldn’t help but be captivated by him, “I, I confess I can tell that you are your best/ I’m selfish so I’m hating it,”

YN lifted her microphone up to her lips, trying to compose herself before she started singing , “I’ve noticed that there’s a piece of me in how you dress/ I take it as a compliment,” YN took a breath, “Don’t you call me baby/ We’re not talking lately/ He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

Once she had finished singing, she turned to look at Harry who was this time staring right at her. He had angled his body in her direction, and she did the same for him. Now, it didn’t matter how many other people were on stage with them, or how many people were in the audience listening to them. It was as though they were the only two people on the stage.

And it broke YN’s heart.

“I, I just miss/ I just miss your accent and your friends/ Do you know I still talk to them?” YN closed her eyes, listening to Harry and everything that he was singing at her. His voice broke, but he managed to recover quicker than YN would have been able to.

“You know he takes me walking round his parents’ gallery,” YN could feel the tears starting to collect in her eyes, and she saw that the same were collecting in Harry’s.

“Don’t you call him [me] baby/ We’re not talking lately,” Everything that was wanting to be said between the two of them was being spoken to each other just by the looks in their eyes. The hurt, the betrayal, the regret. To an outsider, this must have been the oddest experience and yet one that spoke the loudest words.

 “Don’t you call him what you used to call me.,” The two of them finish at the same time and there was silence, “He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

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@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

"Seriously? That's where we're going with this?" Harry asked, finally looking away from where he was chopping vegetables for dinner. "I say it's not the right time to get a dog and you think it's because I'm not committed? Really, Y/n."

He looked down pointedly at himself. Harry stood in the kitchen in an apron that said, Kiss the Cook! You got it for him as a gag gift on his birthday last year since he was always in the kitchen, but he ended up loving it. Naturally, he also demanded you kissed the cook whenever you helped him out with cooking.

You knew what he was trying to say without voicing it, that was committed to you no matter which way you tried to spin it to win the argument. And you knew that, you were just a little annoyed that you and Harry couldn't get on the same page like you normally were.

You and Harry continued to bicker back and forth about the pros and cons of getting a dog together. Harry insisted he wasn't against it, just not now, but you'd done too much research and you knew now was the time, or you would never get around to it.

"You always do this," you said.

"Do what?"

"Try and table a conversation only to never come back to it. Just have a backbone and say you don't want a dog instead of hiding and avoiding it."

Rolling his eyes Harry ran a tired hand over his face. "You know what? Fine, you're right. I don't want a dog."

"But why?"

"Y/n, we travel all the time. We can't train a puppy when we're—"

Harry paused, his eyes finally opening after removing his hand from his face, his eyes settled on you, a mix of emotions quickly running across his face.

"When we're what?" you asked innocently, trying not to smile.

Still not answering, your boyfriend opened and closed his mouth as if his brain was short-circuiting. "You—You just—That's cheating."

"What do you mean?" you said, no longer trying to hide your smirk as Harry stepped closer to you, his eyes not meeting yours at all. They were focused solely on your chest, where you'd conveniently lifted your shirt to expose your breasts.

Coming out of his stupor but still not meeting your gaze, he said, "You don't get to—to use your tits against me!"

"Why, is it working?"

Harry shook his head in utter disbelief, his eyes almost completely glazed over. Whether he liked it or not, you won this round.

"Yes—No—I mean...What were we arguing about again?"

Chuckling softly, you cupped his cheek with your hand. "We were deciding on whether or not we should get a dog."

"Oh. Right. Whatever you want, baby."

"Really?"

You thought this would soften your boyfriend, push him in the right direction, but you didn't think he'd cave so quickly. Harry was already leading you toward the stairs, clearly ready to leave the argument behind.

"Course. Come convince me some more upstairs."

*.*

"Seriously? You're still on that stupid thing?"

Harry barely glanced your way before looking back at the TV, his thumbs moving furiously over his game controller. He mumbled his greeting, too engrossed in his game to acknowledge your presence.

Your boyfriend wasn't typically the video game type, only ever using his gaming console occasionally. That was until a few weeks ago when one of his friends got him hooked on some new game and now he played it nonstop. You didn't really care if Harry played video games, but this had become a fixation. It had been ages since you and him went to bed together at the same time, or gone on a date,, or had sex.

You'd been thoroughly replaced by some game.

"H, have you even gotten up from the couch since I left?"

The response Harry gave you was abysmal, only sparking your irritation more. You'd left him in that exact position hours ago to run errands, and he was still there. You doubt he'd so much as gotten up to eat since you'd been gone.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"That sounds great, baby," Harry said, his eyes still glued to his game.

You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. "I will not be second to a video game," you muttered before inching closer to the TV. With a sigh, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and lifted it up, taking the bralette you wore with you.

Harry didn't notice at first, which was really going to piss you off, but his eyes snagged on your naked chest as he switched positions on the couch. His whole body stilled as he took you in, his rapidly moving thumbs coming to a halt on his controller.

"Are you done playing now?" you asked, your brows raising expectantly.

—— “What’s the time?” Y/N repeated. Harry grumbled his response, “8pm”, which caused her eyes to widen, scrambling out of the bathroom while wrapping a dry towel around her body. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m supposed to be there by 8:30!”

“You’re leaving?” Harry’s usual deep voice turned shrill with his question. “You won’t even stay to have dinner with me?”

The pout on his lips was enough for Y/N to sigh sadly, “Don’t make me feel guilty, it’s not my fault that I have plans. You called me over cause you said there was an emergency, which was a lie by the way.”

He tried to hide a proud grin from splintering his cheeks which was soon to be wiped off.

“Besides, you’ve done this so many times. At least I came over for a bit, yeah?”

“B-but this is the only time I got to see you this past week,” He followed her to his bedroom, ruffling a towel over his shaggy curls.

Y/N gave him a side-eye as she fixed her shirt, “Who’s fault is that, H? Is it mine? Because all I’ve been doing the past couple of days was to wait for you to make time for me,”

Harry rolled his eyes at her change of attitude, “You’re being so bitchy!” He threw the damp fabric on the bed, not caring about the lingering scent that it may leave behind on his duvet. “What is this—you getting back at me or summat? ‘Cause I can do without you. Go be with your stupid boyfriend,”

She gathered her belongings littering his room, huffing a heavy breath, “Fuck you, Harry. I’m trying to tell you how shitty of a friend you’ve been since you started seeing Ruby and you won’t even listen!"

Double footsteps trudged down the staircase as Y/N continued speaking, “Have fun eating dinner alone—or maybe you can call Ruby, yeah? Since you seem to always want to be around her,”

As Y/N slipped her feet into her sneakers, Harry couldn’t help but let the word vomit splatter the tense atmosphere.

“Little Miss Perfect, always being righteous and doing everything right,” He crossed his arms over just chest, bulging biceps resting on the wall near the closet.

“Can you stop bringing up the past all the time? Goddammit, this is why I hate being around you sometimes,” He muttered the last part underneath his breath. However, their close proximity, the silence, and Y/N’s strained ear made it echo in her brain.

And it seemed that Harry regretted it as soon as he saw the look on his best friend’s face. “Y/N—I didn’t. . . mean that. I uh–,”

Y/N stood up from her crouched position, not caring if one shoelace was tied tighter than the other, scoffing her irritation at his face. “Fuck you,” She repeated, flipping him off as she grasped the cold knob of the front door.

It seemed that her words were gas to a flame, flaring up anger within him and scorching the small piece of conscience that he had renounced.

“Y’know what? Fine. I’ll jus’ call Ruby over and we’ll have fun and eat dinner together. We’ll fuck all night and you can go t’that stupid boyfriend of yours. I don’t want to see you right now,” Harry spat his words out, eyes narrowing at the edges as he stared her down before spinning on his heels.

“Yeah, real mature, Harry,” Y/N swung the hinges of the door open, “Sometimes I wonder if I’m best friends with a five-year-old instead of a twenty-two-old,”

“Show yourself out,” ——-

Let me know what you thought!

____