alyssa

⟡ ۫ . ✉️ — 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑠𝑘𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, you were sitting in the back of your chauffeured limo beside your handsome fiancé, en route to the los angeles premiere of his new film. jaafar had worked so incredibly hard to honour his uncle through such a dedicated creative medium, and you couldn't wait to see the final product, along with everyone's reactions. you'd both been excitedly anticipating this night for many months—or rather, throughout the entire process, the four years it had taken to create the movie before it had finally been ready for release.

but the closer it came to the night itself, you noticed you were feeling unusually anxious, and while the feeling was out of the ordinary for you—being so used to public events like these—you knew exactly what had produced the emotion. four weeks ago, jaafar had proposed to you, on what you now considered to be the best day of your life, and not long after, you'd shared the news on instagram with a picture of the gorgeous rock on your finger, and the beautiful landscape he'd chosen as the backdrop to the treasured moment. most of what you saw online were happy, supportive responses to your engagement, but it was very hard to ignore the loud minority—those women hiding behind anonymous accounts to attack you with relentless comments on your looks and your character, simply because they wanted the man you had the privilege of calling your own.

jaafar wasn't yet the huge star you knew he was about to become. he was of course known of by name, and known more closely by fans of the jacksons, but since the film hadn't been released yet, it startled you to see such harsh levels of anonymous aggression. you tried to remind yourself that while indeed the hate was harsh, it really was just a loud minority, and you also reminded yourself that what they were saying wasn't even true anyway, therefore you shouldn't pay it any mind. they loved to say that you were using jaafar for his connections—despite the fact that you very much had more than enough connections and wealth of your own—and they also loved to pick at every supposed 'defect' of your appearance, telling you jaafar wasn't actually in love with you and was just stringing you along. but you knew what they said was bullshit, so why did you still find yourself affected?

you hadn't wanted to tell jaafar about the hate—you felt it was too embarrassing firstly, and secondly you didn't want to burden him with anything like that, conscious that it might make him feel bad. however, he eventually found out anyway, because he saw you scrolling through some comments one night in bed, and he gave you the space to vent to him about how you felt. then, once that emotional catharsis was over, he made the sweetest love to you, telling you how perfect you are, reminding you of all that you deserve. that night, you fell asleep crushed peacefully in his warm embrace, and he had dozed off into his slumber believing he had resolved all your anxieties.

except, that was two weeks ago, and still they nagged at you in the back of your mind. the evening before the premiere, while you were cuddled up on the couch watching tv, you told him again that you were nervous. and just as before, you felt stupid for having to admit it and for burdening him with a worry he clearly couldn't fix for you. but you had always felt so safe with jaafar—he never ever judged you, and that evening he made a promise to try to keep you as relaxed and supported as possible on the night that followed. throughout the event, he would have to answer questions from reporters, meet with his coworkers and his family, but he would do his utmost to keep you protected with his presence.

and now, while you sat with him in the limo, just a few minutes from hollywood boulevard, he made sure you understood that.

you were wearing a white dress adorned with intricate silver beadwork, and the gown hugged your figure perfectly, as it was a dior gown designed specifically for you. a sculpted sweetheart neckline framed your shoulders, and your sheer crystal-embellished sleeves made you feel like you were in an old hollywood movie. your hair and makeup looked perfect, topped with diamond earrings. everything was, at least outwardly, in alignment. beside you, jaafar wore saint laurent, a handsome black suit that you already couldn't wait to get him out of.

as you stared out of the dimmed window, deciding to people-watch to distract yourself, you couldn't decide how you felt. after all, they always say that anxiety and excitement have the same effect on the nervous system, so it's not always easy to tell which is which.

of course, jaafar noticed your emotional disconnect. he'd had his hand on your inner thigh the whole journey, thumb consistently rubbing gentle circles—barely there, but so soothing. he mostly looked ahead, but you'd been quieter than usual—the two of you were normally always laughing and smiling—so he guessed easily that your worries were on your mind, and turned to look at you.

"hey," he whispered, squeezing your thigh softly. you felt the squeeze, but the whisper went unnoticed, and your system registered the touch itself as mere unconscious movement on jaafar's part, so you remained in your own world, still gazing out of the window.

"baby," he said a little louder.

you turned your head, raising your brows. "yeah, j?"

"how are you feeling?" jaafar asked sincerely, his soft eyes searching yours.

you took a deep breath, but the exhale came out strained. "i'm good. just, uh... thinking about all those people that are gonna be out there." you chuckled to yourself, looking down at your freshly manicured nails and the ring that adorned that particular finger on your left hand.

"that's never bothered you before," he smiled. "i've always been the shy one."

you looked at him again, wordlessly returning a small smile.

"it's still bothering you?" jaafar asked gently. "you're still worried what they might say?"

another difficult breath. how stupid for you to feel this way.

"well..." you started. "it's just... i think that from now on everything's just gonna be heightened, you know? every time a male celebrity blows up on the internet, the woman they're with gets slaughtered."

jaafar bit his lip, hating that you had to feel that way, but also hesitant to agree with your so certain prospect that he would become the next it boy on the internet. you always made him very aware of how attractive he was, but he was naturally shy, therefore admitting to it and believing that he could ever be the object of millions of women's desires didn't come as such an obvious possibility to him.

"okay, listen to me," he lowered his tone and took your hand, maintaining eye contact, "if that does happen, it has no impact on you unless you let it. you're the strongest woman i know, and i also know that you're worth way more than any of these trolls on the internet."

you opened your mouth to respond, although you weren't sure what exactly you meant to say.

"do you understand me?" he asked, running his thumb over your knuckles.

god, he looked so beautiful.

"yeah," you nodded. "i really don't know why i care. it's so not like me. and i also don't want it to seem like there's any part of me that doesn't want you to succeed—like as if i'm 'dreading' your fame because of what it might do to me."

"no, i know that's not what you're thinking," he assured, and at that you felt a little more relieved.

"i'll probably be fine after tonight," you sighed. "i guess i just struggle to enjoy myself when there's something on my mind, even if i try to push it away. and when we get home tonight, you need to lock away my phone and hold me hostage, seriously." you chuckled softly. "i cannot read anything about myself, at least not before tomorrow."

"alright, i'm on board with that plan," jaafar nodded, that beautiful smile lighting up his face once again. "and..." he leaned to whisper in your ear, "if you find yourself out there tonight thinking about what they might say, just remember who had my dick for three hours straight last night."

your mouth flew open in surprise, giggling at his words. "j..."

"and," he kissed your cheek, continuing to whisper, "remember who's gonna get it all night tonight..." a kiss to your jaw... "for however long she wants..." another cheek kiss, while you struggled to contain your bashful blush... "and in as many positions as she wants."

then he held your jaw and angled your face, kissing your lips softly. "yeah? you hear me?" he raised his brows, a light smirk playing on his pretty features.

your giddy expression satisfied him enough. you were his girl—always—and it didn't matter what anyone else said because you were always going to be the one getting that dick every night.

"i do hear you," you grinned, "loud and clear."

"good." he pecked your lips again, and wrapped an arm around your waist. "now, if you feel even the slightest bit anxious, hold my hand, alright baby?"

you nodded.

"in fact, no—forget that. as long as you're beside me, i'm gonna be holding you in one way or another." he squeezed your thigh again. "does that make you feel a little better?"

"yes," you smiled and kissed him, already feeling a lot better, actually.

you had now arrived at your destination, the vehicle coming to a halt. your chauffeur stepped out and walked around to open the door for the two of you. it was you who stepped out first, and jaafar followed, helping guide your gown as you stood up. it flowed into an ethereal train that swept across the carpet.

immediately, you were met with flashing lights, cameras everywhere from every angle, shouts of your name and of jaafar's from paparazzi and from fans. you were a star in front of the camera, and behind you your man couldn't hide the wide smile on his face because he knew it too.

while you'd been feeling so anxious beforehand, now that you were in the spotlight again—the object of each camera flash—you effortlessly brought your natural confidence to the forefront. hand in hand with jaafar, diamond ring displayed to the excitement of those with the cameras and microphones, you walked across the red carpet with pride. you posed for what felt like a million pictures, some with jaafar and some solo, relishing in the glam of it all.

and for the duration, jaafar would not leave you untouched. he held your waist for the photos, held your hand whenever you walked, and when you both stood aside after the initial photos, he treated you like a princess, forgetting about all the people around, and the people he needed to be talking to.

you were both standing out of the way of the paparazzi's cameras, though still very much in direct view of all the fans recording. you had the fans in mind as you stood there, and so did jaafar, but he was thinking about how their videos would be the perfect opportunity to display publicly how much he adored you, to say a big fuck you to anyone who actually believed you weren't the light of his life.

you both couldn't stop smiling and blushing as you looked at each other, as he wrapped an arm around your waist protectively and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. "my baby..."

"j, people are looking," you blushed, resting your wrists on his shoulders, but really you loved being treated like a princess in public by the man who was so reserved and shy with everyone else.

"yeah, they are," he repeated unfazed, pressing a kiss to your nose. "let them look, angel." then he started pressing quick, ticklish kisses from your forehead to your chin as you giggled in his arms.

you sighed happily, and he only smiled wider. "you're fucking beautiful, sweetheart... there's nobody like you."

the two of you were lost in your own world, fully aware of the extremely public space you were in but uncaring all the same.

you were disrupted eventually by a woman's voice, a reporter from variety who called you both over. you hadn't expected a dual interview tonight, being that the premiere was of jaafar's movie, which you had nothing to do with, but at the same time it was hardly surprising that some reporters would prioritise couple talk over anything of relevance to the film itself.

"hello, mr jackson and soon-to-be mrs jackson!" the reporter grinned, directing her gaze to your ring, as you expected.

jaafar had his arm tight around your waist, rubbing those soothing circles over your hip through your dress. he smiled brightly at the mention of the name mrs jackson, and so did you.

"you both look great tonight, and i must say [Y/N] that dress looks incredible on you."

"oh, thank you so much!" you beamed. you truly did look insane.

"goes perfectly with that rock on your finger. the star of the show," the lady said, gesturing for you to show it to the camera, and you had no shame in doing so.

"yes, thank you, but the real star is this man right here," you smiled, leaning your head on jaafar's shoulder for a moment.

he laughed, pulling you in closer and fighting the urge to kiss you, because that wouldn't be appropriate for an interview. "my number one fan."

"you two are a truly beautiful couple. [Y/N], i imagine you're very proud of jaafar tonight. how have you enjoyed watching the process of your fiancé honouring michael's legacy in this way?"

"oh, it's been a blessing to watch." you turned to him briefly with a proud smile. "i am incredibly proud, i can't even explain. we started dating around the time he first got the role, and i remember clearly how hesitant he was in the beginning to take on something with so much importance—"

"yeah, the pressure was an immensely difficult thing to deal with, especially in the beginning," jaafar added.

"so to see first-hand how much he's grown during the process of filming this movie, how he has succeeded in embodying michael better than anyone could... it's the most beautiful thing to witness."

"oh, that's very sweet of you," jaafar murmured playfully.

the reporter continued. "jaafar, we are all eagerly anticipating tonight's premiere, and i think we can all agree that it will most likely be the biggest movie of the year. i expect your whole family will be just as proud, and you already have your fiancé's seal of approval," she smiled.

"yeah," he chuckled. "i'm really looking forward to everybody seeing the movie. i put a crazy amount of effort into this role—it's probably the most important thing i'll ever do—so i really hope i represented my uncle in the way he deserves."

you held his hand that was still resting on your hip and squeezed it comfortingly.

"i can't imagine how difficult it must have been, but i bet it feels very satisfying now that all the hard work has paid off," the reporter replied.

"yeah, definitely. although, i do have part two to focus on now," he laughed, "so the hard work isn't over yet."

"oh yes—this film only covers the first half of his life, correct?"

"yes, there's way too much to fit into just one movie, so there will be a part two. that's in early development right now."

"well, you'll certainly be busy for a while longer then?"

"yeah, i will be. we don't know how long it's gonna take, but we're looking forward to getting started."

"alright, thank you for talking to us today—i wish you both a great night," she grinned. "you look like you can't keep your hands off of each other."

the two of you exchanged a glance and laughed, a little shyly, but still remained effectively cuddled up together.

"thank you," you both said in unison, before walking away to head in the direction of the rest of the cast. they all greeted you and jaafar, and then you both went over to say hello to all the members of his family that had attended. whenever jaafar was stood by you, he had his arm linked into yours, always checking in on you to make sure you were feeling okay, but he had already succeeded in relaxing you. now you could enjoy the night as you wished, feeling peaceful in the certain knowledge that you were going to be marrying the man who was about to deliver the most phenomenal talent to the world.

if you had to deal with more jealous fangirls, then so be it. you and jaafar would laugh at the nonsense they spouted, and you'd each pity them for leading such sad lives. because of course you wanted the whole world to talk about jaafar jeremiah jackson, your baby—your one true love. he deserved the adoration, even if it also came with a few negatives.

as you walked out of the theatre with him that night, you shed a tear reflective of your immense pride, and cuddled him so close during your ride home. then when you got back to your hotel, he gave it to you so good all night just like he promised, and set a camera up so that you could watch his display of affection back if ever you felt any doubt or worry again...

He is your husband. The one you vowed to love forever, the one you’re tied to the rest of your life. Yet, he feels like he’s a million miles away, completely out of your reach.

And yet, you still crave him. 

You had a plan going into this marriage. Do your part, be the pretty wife, the armcandy he can parade around with, keep yourself out of trouble and bring the best out of this impossible situation of being the wife of one of the city’s most feared men and it all worked out at first. The mansion is big enough to not run into each other for days, he was out there, doing everything you didn’t want to know about and you could go your own way, reading in the enormous library room, swimming in the crystal clear pool or gardening in the seemingly never ending backyard that stretches behind the main building. You could practically do anything, had everything you asked for in the blink of an eye and it all went according to your plan at first, but then…

Your real wife duties started and were forced to spend time with Harry and… fell for him. 

It’s almost ridiculous to you, going against best judgement and falling for the one man you’re supposed to keep at arm’s length, because he is dangerous, a feared business man and an even more formidable mob boss you’re practically a prisoner to. But the more time you spent with him, attending events, accompanying him to dinners or appearing by his side in his club, you got to see more of him. More of the charming man who actually cares for the people closest to him, who might be considered morally grey, but actually fights for whatever he believes in and what matters to him. A man who is closed off, often labelled as cold and ruthless, but he is actually… someone you easily fell for. 

The only man you can never have even if he’s your husband, what an awfully unfortunate situation. 

You’ve kept your desires for him at bay. A fire has been burning inside you, but you didn’t let it show, you swallowed everything and anything that tried to bubble out of you, but tonight you just couldn’t control yourself. 

You attended some kind of gala tonight, you’ve stopped caring about the events a while ago, you just go and fulfill your duty. Everything was going well, seemingly Harry has been in a light mood, even making jokes, seemingly paying more attention to you. But then when you left his side to go to the restroom you returned to finding him with a tall blonde woman who could easily be a model with her legs for days, full breasts that sat so perky behind the deep cut of her dress and perfect smile she eagerly flashed at your husband. 

Jealousy blinded you in a second and you acted before you could even think twice. A guy walked up to you right in time, offering you a flute of champagne and you gladly took it, then let him shamelessly flirt with you to the point where his hand was getting dangerously close to your ass. Your little scene was cut short when Harry showed up with a not too pleased look on his face, practically killing the guy with his eyes as he dragged me away and out of the building, ending the night for us without a word. 

“What’s wrong? I can’t have a little fun?” you smugly asked as you walked to the car that was already waiting for you. “It’s not like he could hurt me or something, we had dozens of people around us,” you huffed and Harry’s jaw ticked. 

“You know nothing,” he spat and that was it. The conversation was over. 

Now as you watch the lights pass by the window of the car you deal with a mixture of feelings and thoughts. He is mad because you put yourself in danger, familiarizing with a random guy on your own. He told you before that being his wife comes hand-in-hand with safety hazards, that you’d become a target and you have to be careful. You always listened to him, up until tonight when the jealousy completely blew your mind and had you acting reckless.

And the worst thing? The cherry on top of your rage? That it’s your jeopardized safety that set him off, not the flirting. Because you want him to want you the same way you feel about him, with the same intensity you’ve been burning for weeks now. 

But that’s not happening. You might be husband and wife, but you’ll never be more than just the title. 

You turn to look at him, but he is just staring out the window with an unreadable expression, but even now, he looks so…

The car parks in front of the mansion and even though you can tell he is pissed, more than ever, he still rounds the car and opens the door for you, helping you out so you don’t trip in your long dress and high heels. The momentary touch of his palm against your elbow just sparks even more heat inside you and it feels like pure torture. 

You walk inside in excruciating silence, the tension feels like it could pop any moment. Once you’re in the spacious hall, you stop by the door while he keeps walking ahead and before you could think twice, you speak up.

“Are you regretting marrying me?”

Harry stops, but doesn’t turn, you watch his broad shoulders stiffen. 

“I’m not what you imagined, right? Not the perfect little obedient facade you need as your wife.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His tone has a warning in it, but it just riles you up even more. 

“Maybe you should have married that blondie, I’m sure she’d be a better wife than me.”

“Y/N, stop,” he snaps, finally turning around. “Don’t…” He lifts a finger pointing at you, but then curls his hand into a fist, dropping back to his side. It seems like he is struggling, his usual controlled self is crumbling in front of your eyes. 

“Don’t what? Don’t remind you of what you could have if you weren’t tied to me?”

Your throat tightens and eyes water, even though you’re fully dressed, in a sense it feels like you’re standing naked in front of him, speaking your thoughts for the first time you’ve met him, but you can’t keep it down any longer. 

He takes a few steps closer, but stops way too far away from you. 

“You’re dancing in a dangerous territory, Y/N.”

“Why? Are you gonna hurt me?” Now you’re just provoking him, you’re curious to see a side of him you haven’t, one that loses control, one that’s real and raw and unseen by anyone before. 

He huffs, it almost sounds like a laugh, but his face doesn’t match it. He shakes his head and turns around with the intention of walking away, but you’re not ready to end whatever this is just yet. 

“Must be hard, finding someone when you have a wife,” you push some more, wanting to get a rise of him, but what you get is far more. 

He whips around and closes the distance between the two of you with just about two long strides. One hand comes to grip your upper arm, it’s firm but not painful and his face is so close, your noses almost brush together. Your breath hitches at the sudden closeness and the fire you see in his eyes. 

“What’s hard is watching another man lay a hand on you and make you laugh when I want to be the only one you ever even think about.”

With eyes shot wide, you stare back at him, lips parted in complete disbelief. Did you hear him right or did you just imagine it? You can’t tell for sure, the rapid beating of your heart making you dizzy, or maybe it’s his words that have you going insane. 

His hand lets go of you and he takes a step back, like he is sobering up, realising what he said. He takes a deep breath shaking his head as he slowly turns away once again. 

“Stop putting yourself in danger,” he then says, quietly, reserved, like he is closing back again. 

“I won’t stop,” you answer, still frozen in your spot. Harry stops, but doesn’t face you, so you continue: “I won’t stop if this is the reaction I get from you.”

He glances at you over his shoulder, as if making sure you meant what you said and you try your best to hold his gaze. 

“I didn’t do it to risk my safety,” you admit. “I did it out of jealousy. I saw you with that tall, blonde woman and… I got jealous.”

Slowly, he turns around and starts walking back, stopping right in front of you, his face is still unreadable, but something has changed in his expression. His eyes slide down your body, down to the tip of your toes then back up, they stop on your lips, linger for a heartbeat before returning to your gaze and you read his look clearly for the first time. 

Do you mean it? Do you actually mean it? His eyes ask and you tip your chin up as your answer. 

I do.

He exhales deeply and takes a step back. Panic settles in you that he is about to ignore it, ignore you and you’re on the verge of begging, but then he speaks up. 

“Go to your bedroom, take your shoes off and wait for me.”

His voice is even, controlled, but you see the fire in his eyes. With a small nod you do as he told you. You’re panting by the time you step into your bedroom, chest heaving from the desire that’s burning through your veins, eager to find out what’s about to happen. Kicking your heels off you stand by the end of your bed, back straight, hands by your side, obediently waiting for him. When you hear his steps approaching your room you swallow and stare at the door that gently opens. 

He walks in, he has gotten rid of his own dress shoes, padding across the room barefoot, his suit jacket is also gone, the sleeves of his crispy white shirt now rolled up. He looks delicious, you’ve been thinking about running your hands through his hair all evening and the way his tattoos peek out from under the white fabric is just making you insane. 

Harry stops right in front of you and you feel a pull towards him, your body is aching to be touched by him, but you stay still. He runs his gaze down your body again and you catch his tongue wetting his lips before he looks you in the eyes. 

He takes another step, this time he is so close his front presses against yours and your lips part with a sigh when he reaches up and cups your cheek in one hand. He tilts his head to the side, like he is curiously examining your reaction to his touch, runs his thumb across your lower lip and then pushes it slightly into your mouth, surprising you for a second, but you’re quick to recover, closing your lips around it and sucking it gently while looking him in the eyes. 

He grunts and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve heard from him, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and you almost protest, but then he kisses you and you have nothing to complain about.

It’s rough and demanding, there’s nothing exploratory about it, it doesn’t feel like a first time, you move so perfectly together like you were made for this, for each other. His hand moves down to your jaw, angling your head so he has perfect access to you and his other hand slides to your waist, pulling you tight against him, though you’re eager to get closer as well, get under his skin if possible. 

“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth before pulling back just enough so he can look at you. His gaze rakes over your features that radiate desire right now. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

“Take me,” you reply, probably a tad bit too fast, but you can’t control yourself any longer. “I’m yours,” you add, out of breath and desperate for practically anything he is willing to give you. 

He exhales sharply, his fingers digging deeper into your waist at your words before his hands fall from you and he steps back. Once again, panic bursts through your veins that he is about to end it, but you’re quick to learn that he has other plans.

“Take your dress off.” His voice is low and demanding, but his face doesn’t twitch, he doesn’t even blink and he’s oozing power that has you weak in the knees. 

Keeping eye-contact you pull the straps of your dress off your shoulders, the soft fabric bunches around your waist, leaving your upper body fully naked. The back of the dress has such a low cut you couldn’t wear a bra underneath. You don’t have to look down to know your nipples are pebbled and you could lie to yourself and say that it’s because of the cold, but it’s obviously because of Harry’s hungry look he is eyeing your chest with. 

You push the dress past your hips and it pools around your feet so now you’re standing in front of him in nothing but a black lace thong. His jaw ticks several times as he takes you in, like you’re a masterpiece that deserves to be admired and you swear you can feel the burning of his gaze as it travels up and down your body over and over again. Arousal starts pooling between your legs and he hasn’t even touched you. 

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about you like this?”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words and you’re aching to finally be touched by him, but he is still just standing there, watching you. You wet your lips and draw a deep breath. 

“I asked you a question, Y/N,” he says, dominance dripping from his tone. “Do you have any idea?”

“No,” you breathe out, voice almost trembling. 

“Every fucking day since I laid my eyes on you. Every fucking hour even when you’re not around. I think about you. I think about your eyes, your lips, your curves, I think about fucking you on every possible surface of this house and I think about…”

His voice dies, like he is struggling to speak his mind which is a surprising switch up after the confidence he just demonstrated. He swallows and squares his shoulders. 

Harry steps closer, one hand working on the fly of his pants and then he reaches in, palming himself through his underwear, while he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up a bit. He brushes his knuckles against the side of your face, down your neck and collarbone, over your breast and nipple, his touch is so soft, so feather-like, it’s playing with your senses. Then slowly, like he has all the time in the world, he cups your breast, your hard nipple pushing against his warm palm as he squeezes you. He leans in, lips brushing against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you.

“Get on your knees,” he orders and he is back to his controlled self. 

You drop down to your knees so fast, the rug harshly rubs against your knees. You keep your eyes on him and as he finishes undoing his pants you almost whimper from the passion that’s burning inside you. 

“Look at you, so pretty, so hungry for me,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face, then he uses both his hands to push his pants and underwear down, taking his cock out. He gives himself a few lazy strokes while you gasp seeing how big and hard he is. The urge to touch him is growing impossible to resist, but something is telling you that you have to wait for him to give you permission, so you keep yourself still. 

“Do you want to be good for me?” he asks, still stroking himself, but not touching you. 

“Yes,” you nod eagerly. 

“I can do what I want with you?” He tilts his head to the side, watching you curiously. 

“Anything.”

“Good,” he hums, satisfied. “Then I’m going to fuck your mouth first and then I’m going to fuck your pussy so hard you’ll never want to be fucked by anyone else. How does that sound, Y/N?”

“Yes please!” It comes out more like a whine, you know if you saw yourself you might find your enthusiasm ridiculous, but you couldn’t care less. You want him. You need him. 

“Such a good wife,” he grins, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head, the other one still holding his cock. “C’mere, let me fill that pretty mouth of yours.”

You finally let yourself touch him, hands coming up to his thighs to help yourself holding up as he guides your head forward, lips opening and welcoming his head. 

He groans in satisfaction as you suck on it, tasting him, twirling your tongue around it before moving further, taking more of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so…” His head falls back with a moan when his tip touches the back of your throat. His hand is still on your head, slightly pushing on it, but you don’t need much encouragement, you’re ready to take and give everything he is offering. 

You start bobbing your head, back and forth, ignoring how your jaw starts hurting quite fast, one hand on his thigh, the other one moving on its own, sliding up his stomach under his shirt, looking for more contact with his heated skin. You feel his muscles move under your palm as he starts thrusting forward, meeting your movements 

“Yes, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he breathes out, his free hand grabbing yours on his torso, giving it a squeeze before he grabs your head with both his hands. You squirm from his words, especially from being called baby, your walls desperately contracting around nothing, but you’re convinced you could come just from his reactions. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now and you’ll take it,” he says and then starts using more of his power, moving your head faster while his thrusts go deeper. 

Your eyes start watering and your gag reflex starts, but you don’t want him to stop, not even when your saliva is dripping past your lips and down your chin. Both your hands are on his hips now to help keep yourself up, your knees are burning, but you ignore the pain. After a particularly deep thrust Harry curses under his breath and pulls back, his cock sliding out of your mouth. You gasp for air, but don’t have much time to recover, he pulls you back up to your feet and kisses you hard and messy. He doesn’t care that you had his cock in your mouth just seconds ago or that your lips are smeared with a mixture of your saliva and his precum, he kisses you just as passionately as the first time. 

His self-control snaps now, his hands are all over you, palming your breasts, playing with your nipples, gripping your hips and ass as he blindly walks you back until your legs meet the end of the bed. He pushes you down so you sit on the mattress and watch him get rid of his shirt, pants and underwear, your hands fisting the sheets underneath you. 

“Climb back,” he nods, leisurely holding his cock in his hand, his length still drenched in your saliva. You do as he said, sliding further up the bed, eyes fixated on him. “Open your legs.”

Parting your knees wide you lean back onto your elbows. His gaze draws down to your pussy that’s still covered in the last piece of clothing you’re wearing. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed, like a predator and you’re the prey he intends feasting on tonight. He plants his hands on either side of your hips and lowers himself, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, moving lower until he is kissing your cunt through the lace. 

“Gotta have a taste first,” he murmurs against the fabric before biting you, taking the lace between his teeth and tugging on it and then he finishes the job with his hands, practically ripping it off you, throwing it behind him.

At first he runs his thumb between your folds, your arousal coating it generously and he looks you in the eyes as he sucks it clean, making you whimper. 

“Mhm, you taste like you’re mine. My beautiful wife.”

You breathe out his name as his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy, sucking on your clit just a tad bit harder than you were expecting, but it’s bringing you some blissful pain. Out of instinct, your hands grab onto his hair, but then you hesitantly pull back as if you just did something wrong. Harry however reaches up, grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back, urging you to continue. 

“Pull on my hair as much as you want, I’m yours as well, Y/N. Have been since our wedding.”

You can’t help but whimper at his words, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he keeps eating you out like a starved man. It’s mindblowing how well he knows what you want and need, as if he could read your thoughts. 

You’re on the verge of your orgasm when he pulls back, a protesting moan slipping past your lips as he climbs up your body. 

“I need you to come on my cock for the first time, baby. I promise you can come on my tongue later as many times as you want,” he tells you with a wicked grin before kissing you, the taste of you still thick on his lips. 

You slow down, just for a little bit, sloppily kissing and rolling around in bed, but then the urgency and passion spikes again quite fast once he starts moving his hips, his cock teasing you right where you need him the most. 

You roll around until you’re on your back again and he is on top of you. He holds himself up, staring down at you with an expression that comes off as full of… awe. Like he can’t believe what’s happening and you want to tell him you feel the same way, that it’s everything you’ve been thinking about since the day you met him, but forming coherent words is just not possible for you right now. Instead, you grab him by the neck and pull him down for another long kiss. 

When the need for him grows unbearable you break your lips apart and wiggle to the side, reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, grabbing a condom you’re thankful to have, it would be devastating to stop now. 

“Put it on,” he softly tells you, holding himself up above you, watching you open the wrapper and roll it on his cock that feels rock hard by now. He drops his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna fuck you like this is my only chance fucking you.”

You open your mouth to tell him it’s not, that it cannot be the only time, but he shakes his head with an airy laugh.

“I know it’s not my only chance, I can’t accept never fucking you again, but I’ll pretend for a bit.”

Biting your lower lip you nod, hands wandering his sides and then plastering to his back as he reaches between your bodies, takes the base of his cock and lines him up at your entrance. 

“Look at me,” he orders when the tip enters you, pulling a gasp from you. Your gazes meet and he burns a hole into you with his eyes as he pushes into you, fully, rolling his hips a bit as if he is trying to wedge even deeper. He is stretching you, filling you up fully, like he was made to be inside you. 

You get only a few moments to adjust before he starts moving and he draws be entirely every time only to slam into you to the hilt over and over again, knocking the air out of you with each thrust. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and he shows you no mercy as you claw at his back, he pulls your legs up, making him more room between your thighs. It’s all so consuming, the weight of him, the force of his thrusts, the sound of his pants and grunts in your ear, the way your front presses against him when you arch your back, skin melting together. 

Suddenly his arms curl around you, he flips the two of you over without ever sliding out of you and in a heartbeat you’re sitting on top of him, his cock reaching yet another angle inside you. Planting your hands on his chest you start riding him without hesitation, rolling your lips, moving up and down, back and forth. Harry’s fingers dig into your thighs and he starts thrusting upwards, meeting your movements, but it feels so heavenly you sometimes forget to move as bliss takes over you.

He sits up, mouth covering your nipple, nibbling on it, twirling it with his tongue as you try your best to keep moving your hips, but it’s such a sensory overload, you’re not that good at it. As if he could sense it too, he flips you back onto the mattress and pulls out of you, the empty feeling making you cry out in discomfort immediately. 

“Roll onto your stomach, baby,” he says, squeezing your hips. 

He moves back just enough to give you room and you obediently roll onto your stomach. The mattress dips under his knees as he comes kneeling above you, one of his hands sliding slowly down your spine. He lowers himself and you gasp when you feel his cock wedge between your asscheeks, teasingly moving some. 

“So fucking pretty. My wife spread out for me.” It feels like he is talking to himself, not you, like he needs to say it out loud to believe it. 

“Just for you,” you say, glancing at him over your shoulder, earning another grunt from him as he leans forward, biting the shell of your ear as he moves his cock from your ass to between your slick folds. With ease, he slips right back inside you, but he doesn’t move. Desperate for more, you try to wiggle against him, but he pins you to the mattress with his hips.

“Tell me, who is fucking you this good?” he asks, his nose brushing against your ear.

“You,” comes your answer as a whine.

“Mm. But who am I?” He is still unmoving, driving you crazy with filling you up but not giving you more. 

“My husband!” you moan, face twisting from the unbearable need. “My husband is fucking me so good!”

He exhales sharply and finally starts moving, fast and hard, his hips smack against your ass with each thrust. You’re seeing stars, breathing is getting harder, but the pain is so fucking good, so delicious. One of his hands grabs you by the hair, rough and almost animalistic, he tugs on it so your neck cranes, scalp burning, but it’s just so. Fucking. Good. 

He leans down and kisses you, though it ends up a little all over the place since he is moving relentlessly, your throat is twisted in an unnatural angle, but you’d break your neck if it meant he’d keep fucking you into oblivion. 

With one hand he spreads your legs more and pulls your hips up a little to give him better access to your throbbing pussy. His tip hits the right spot and the build-up of your climax fastens.

“Harry!” you gasp, face twisting from everything you’re feeling at once, his cock hitting you so deep over and over again, your nearing orgasm, the thought of Harry being the one to give all of this to you. 

“Come on, let me feel you come for me,” he urges, quickening his thrusts, even though you didn’t think that’s possible. He is hammering you into the mattress and out of this world. 

“Fuck, I–I can’t–Harry…” 

His name is a plea and in a way it tips you over the edge. Your orgasm bursts between your legs and spreads across your body in waves, you twist and wiggle underneath him, gasping for air or repeating his name over and over again. You’re riding out the last waves when his climax takes over him. 

His thrusts fall out of rhythm, he weighs down on you more and After each thrusts he stays inside you a little longer, right until he stops moving. 

You’re a mess. Sweaty, out of breath, tired, but you haven’t felt this good in probably… forever. Several minutes pass before Harry rolls off you, lying on his back, chest still rising and falling heavier than usually, eyes closed. You tuck your arms under your head and turn it to the side, watching his profile. 

His eyes flutter open and he turns towards you. His face is so much softer now, the dominance and tension is gone, the smile that tugs on his lips feels so warm and loving, it almost makes you dizzy. 

He rolls to his side, gently tangling his fingers in your hair as he kisses your forehead and when you lift your head he presses his lips against yours. 

It’s slow, tender and so sweet, opposite of the way he just fucked you, but it’s such a delicious mix. 

“What now?” you ask against his lips. 

“Now… we take a shower and I feed you and preferably do another round.”

“You know what I meant,” you smile at him sheepishly. 

“We’re married,” he states. “And we are obviously open to fully conquering this marriage.” He looks at me with questioning eyes and you nod. “We can… do whatever we want.”

“I want you.” It comes out before you could stop the words, but it’s the truth. You want him, all of him, even if you probably shouldn’t.

A faint smile plays on his lips. 

“And I want you. That’s a good start, if you ask me.”

You can’t help but laugh and he grins as well before stealing another kiss. “Come on, I want to fuck you in the shower too,” he announces sitting up and climbing out of the bed like he didn’t just fuck your brain out minutes ago. You sit up and look at him as he stands by the bed in all of his naked glory, his cock already hardening again and just one thing keeps echoing in your mind.

That’s your husband.

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