“Suck,” he commands, and you do just that. Your cheeks hollow around the digit, tongue swirling along his skin and eyes rolling back into your head at the thought of him dominating you like this. You can’t stand him, truly, but there’s something about him that makes your cunt weep with desire. You don’t know what it is, but you’re perfectly content carrying on like this until you’re motivated enough to try and find out. 

“Bloody gagging for it, aren’t yeh?” Harry chuckles, his lips curving up into an infuriating smirk. It makes rage boil low in your stomach, mixing with the jolts of pleasure that have your knees buckling against the wall of his dressing room. You shoot him a glare, but Harry’s smirk only widens–he knows that you won’t retaliate, at least not now, when he has complete control over your orgasm.

“‘S the only way t’get yeh to shut up, innit?” Harry asks coyly, his hand tightening a bit around your throat, “Never fuckin’ stop talking–maybe I should just keep my thumb in your mouth all the time.”

You moan at the thought.

“Y’like that? Fuckin’ love m’fingers, don’t yeh?”

“Please,” you mumble around his thumb, your words weak and muffled. Your hands are gripping at his back, trying to find purchase in the material of his suit, and your hips flex forward when his palm grinds harshly against your clit.

“What is it, hmm?” he inquires, and God, you want to slap the smile right from his face, “What d’yeh need, pet?”

“Fuck me,” you whine. He tuts, shaking his head and closing his eyes briefly in mock-disappointment.

“Know y’can do better than that. C’mon, just need a little more from yeh. Then I’ll spread that pretty cunt–,” he grins when you let out a loud whimper, “–and fuck into you so hard y’won’t be able to stand.” 

You’re seething. How dare he? He’s got you pinned against the wall, your knees quaking and your hips bucking towards him instinctively. You’re waiting for him to drop the act and just get in you, but he seems to enjoy the torment. Briefly, you wonder if this is payback for all the times you’d sucked him off and left him high and dry right before he had to go onstage. The fan-filmed videos you’d seen afterwards had made you chuckle into your palms. 

“I swear to God, Styles,” you growl, but you can’t sound as menacing as you’d like, given his thumb is still flicking your clit rapidly. Your voice shakes, and your nails dig into his biceps. You feel a pinch of satisfaction when he groans low in his throat at the pinprick of pain, and your head tilts back against the wall.

Until you feel his hand tighten around your throat, fingers printing purple bruises into the skin, and your eyes go wide. Your gaze locks with his, only to find stormy green eyes, flaring nostrils, and pink lips tucked into a tight scowl.

“‘M not takin’ any lip from yeh tonight, minx. Do as I say.” 

“Or what?” you simper, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist so that you can pull his finger from your mouth, “You gonna spank me?” 

His frown deepens. “Don’t tempt me.”

With that, he slides another digit into you, the action so abrupt that it causes you to yelp out. Harry hisses in panic and shoves two of his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. You moan softly when he begins to pump his arm.

“S’fuckin’ tight, yeah?” he asks, and you whimper in affirmation, “Always feel so bloody good around my cock, y’know that? S’like–,” he lets out a groan when you tug on his hair, “–we fit.”

Your body is heating up quickly, sweat beading at the back of your neck and toes curling in your shoes. No matter how unbearable you find him, you always end up right back here, with you shoved up against the wall of his dressing room and his fingers muffling your cries of ecstasy. It’s predictable at this point–a clockwork of sorts–yet he always manages to make it feel like the first time you fucked.

But that’s just what it is: a fuck. Nothing less, and nothing more.