#fine line

"Woah," Harry laughed, wrapping a steadying arm around her waist with their chests now pressed flush together. Swathes of bare skin displayed by the heart-shaped cutouts stations on either side of her waist allowed him to graze his fingertips over the warmth of her.  The candied raspberry liquor on her breath was especially sweet with the way her eyes sparkled up at him. "Hey, you."

"Hey yourself," she giggled, unperturbed by the lack of distance between them, "What are you doing here?" Her eyes momentarily widened as her arms clumsily looped around his neck. "Oh my god, did you come here to dance with us? 'M so sorry, H—we're just getting ready to leave!" 

The silky material that made up her dress in between the sweetheart cutouts fluttered around her thighs as a faint breeze glanced between them. Goosebumps erupted over her skin though her moony eyes didn't so much as flick away from his. 

"'M actually here to take y'home, love. Tara called me, said y'were trying to walk home all by yourself," he explained, tipping his head to the side only for her to mimic the movement without a thought. 

"Tara called you?" she asked, voice suddenly quiet, heels teetering underneath her. "How'd she get your number?" 

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Y'called her from m'phone the last time y'stayed the weekend with me, remember? When y'didn't have service, but y'wanted to see if she'd watered your plants?" 

Harry wasn't prepared for the way she practically went boneless in his arms. Her eyes went from moony to completely dreamy as she gazed up at him, her arms around his neck now shifted to card her fingers through his hair, nails drifting over his scalp. 

"Oh yeah, huh," she smiled, just barely containing a giggle just short of being described as girlish, "We should have a sleepover again soon." 

"Yeah?" Harry prodded, unable to help himself as he raised a single brow, dimples denting his cheeks, "Y'wanna? Y'have a crush on me or something?" 

This time she really did giggle, pitched and sticky sweet, before diving into his neck in a clinging hug. Stumbling some on his own feet, Harry let out a puff of laughter before steadying the both of them, hands warm and heavy on her waist. 

She was going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow. Hopefully she'd had all the fun she wanted tonight to make it worth it. 

Tara, dressed sleek and dark in a velveteen black dress, approached then. Her own eyes were glossy though they held much more clarity than the girl who was currently hanging off of him. 

"Thanks for coming," she smiled, words only a tad slurred and slower than normal, "She's—Yeah, you see. There's no way she can go home by herself." 

Another short breeze skimmed over the pavement, Harry bringing his hand down to his giggly girl's skirt to keep it pinned to the back of her thighs. A quiet hiccup sounded against his neck. 

"No way," Harry agreed, speaking through his smile, "Thanks for calling me. Y'guys all have a way to get home?" 

Tara glanced over her shoulder to the small grouping of the other girls who were half-watching the interaction. Harry was sure there had been an audience from the first moment (Y/N) had stumbled into his arms. 

"Yeah; Gena's boyfriend's picking her up and then the rest of us are sharing an Uber," Tara rattled off, casting her eyes out to the street. "But, you two are good to start home whenever you're ready." 

"Wait," (Y/N) suddenly chirped, pulling her head from where she had burrowed herself away in Harry's neck, "I didn't pack for a sleepover. I don't have any of my stuff, and I can't sleep in my dress."—her eyes abruptly widened, fingers tightening in his hair—"Oh my god, I cannot sleep in my makeup. I can't go home with you, H." 

Tara just managed to stifle a laugh behind pursed lips. "Goodnight, guys. Text me when you make it home—whoever's home you get to," she teased, almost cracking herself into laughter. 

Momentarily distracted, (Y/N) twirled away from Harry, though he made a point to keep his hands on her waist when she almost toppled face-first into the concrete before getting to hug her friend goodbye with coos of how much she loves her and how much fun she had. 

Not long after she sent a tinkling wave to the rest of her friends did she spin again, back into Harry's chest. The lightness she had shared with her friends had fled as soon as she matched his gaze, canting her head with a puffed pout to her lips. 

"Harry," she all but whined about the syllables, "I can't go home with you." 

The pads of his thumbs ran careful, hopefully soothing circles, on the exposed skin framed by the heart cutouts of her dress. "Then, can I come home with you?"

This had been the original plan anyway, but she didn't need to worry about that right now. 

She perked up at the offer, glittery lashes fluttering against her browbone. "You'd have a sleepover at my house?" 

A lopsided smile took over his features. "If you'll let me." 

An eager nod of her head threw her tousled hair over her shoulders before she pulled Harry in for another hug. "Yes, yes, yes," she practically cheered, "Of course, I'll let you." 

"Thank you, love," he murmured, dropping a careful kiss on the line of her jaw just before drawing away from her embrace. "Let's head home then, 'kay? 'S getting a little cold, isn't it?" 

"It is, huh?" she bubbled, taking it upon herself to tuck herself under his arm and right up against his side. "Has it been cold the whole time out here, or have I been too drunk to notice until now? You can be honest, it's okay." 

Harry didn't even try to hold back the burst of laughter that left him at her words. His volunteered arm around her shoulders tightened, leading them away from the small club and towards her home. "I think you've been a little too drunk to notice until now, but 's alright, love. Y'had fun tonight, right?" 

"So much fun," she sighed, steps slowing into lazy stumbles as she reminisced about times only hours earlier. "Those girls are my best friends, it's crazy, you know?" 

The amusement on his features melted into pure affection as he glanced down at her. "'M happy y'had fun—especially with them. Are y'gonna see them again soon?" 

"Maybe, I don't know," she drawled, "I think we made plans, but I really can't remember. There'll probably be something in the group chat tomorrow, maybe." 

"Well, let me know, and I can plan on dropping y'off and picking y'up. That way y'don't have to worry about figuring out how you're getting home or packing to stay at my house, or anything like that." 

She had her eyes trained on him only as he gently steered her out of the way of a murky puddle, the kind that would have no doubt ruined her shoes. Her starry eyes were on him only as she fluttered a blink up at him, just about making Harry forget which street to turn them down to head them down to her apartment. 

"Okay," she sighed, "Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure." 

Did she even know that a pink glitter from her dress had somehow ended up on the tip of her nose? And that it was possibly the sweetest thing he'd ever seen? 

"And promise me you'll be honest." 

One corner of his mouth quirked up. A sly glance was sent her direction from the corner of his eye. 

"Okay. I can be honest." 

She coiled her fist in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself to him—as if there was anywhere he was going to be that wasn't right here. 

"If I ask you to be my boyfriend, would you say yes?" 

In his heart, Harry knew that the right reaction was not to laugh. Not to let his grin stretch wide enough over his lips that his eyes creased, lashes tangled, dimples deepened. That his chest could ache from the lack of air in his lungs. That was far from the right reaction to a question like that, Harry knew that. 

And yet. 

At his side, despite the fact he hadn't slowed his own steps, the girl at his side significantly stalled. She still had her fist tucked into his shirt, his arm around her shoulder, but was not as enthusiastic to keep up with his pace as before. 

Stifling back any more chuckles, Harry looked down to his girl, tightening his arm around her shoulders before he dropped it to her waist. He corralled her in, looping her closer to his side and closing the distance that had opened with her slowed gait. 

"Love, 'm sorry, 'm sorry," he started pleading. Though, he could admit that he may not be the most convincing given the fact that he was saying all of this through an amused grin. "I didn't mean to laugh, I promise." 

"Then why did you? I wasn't trying to be funny, Harry." 

At the sound of her wavering voice, Harry immediately sobered. This wasn't so funny now that she wasn't so much as pouting as she was pursing her lips to keep her chin from wobbling, that her fluttery lashes weren't something cute and flirty, but a technique to keep her tears at bay. The pretty, glossy sheen over her eyes wasn't the stars descending to her irises, but her hurt feelings coming to the surface. 

"Hey," he started, pausing their journey home to tuck her out of the way and into an alcove between two late night restaurants. "Hey, 'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to, really. I wasn't laughing because—like... I don't think the idea of being your boyfriend is funny, I jus' thought your question was funny because...I already thought I was your boyfriend, love." 

That wobbly bottom lip dropped, leaving (Y/N)'s mouth open in awed shock, brows pinched. Glossy eyes remained, though more from the alcohol than the tears that were now wading away. 

"Huh?"

A gentle smile spread over his lips. A hand that had made a home over her waist drifted up to cradle her cheek, the pad of his thumb resting on the height of her cheekbone, the very tip feeling the tickle of her eyelashes. 

"Remember?" he prompted, "I asked you a week ago. With all those roses, and the strawberries in the shape of a heart after dinner? It was Valentine's Day, baby." 

Harry watched the moment that the memory returned to her. He got to see in real time as she relived the moment she had teased him, calling him "lame" as if she didn't have this same glossy sheen over her eyes though it was definitely from tears back then, before covering his face in kisses. 

Does this mean yes? he'd said when he'd had a chance to come up for air. 

What do you think? she'd said back, kiss swollen lips and moony eyes, You did all this just to ask me to be your girlfriend, of course I'm saying yes. 

She'd spent a long weekend at his house then. Tara was on plant duty.

"Oh," she sounded, "Oh, yeah. Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm way drunker than I thought." 

"A little bit," Harry laughed, this time only a puff of air shaped by his smile. "'S alright, baby. No tears, yeah." 

"No tears," she agreed, pliantly nodding, "I'm sorry I got upset—I can't believe I forgot all of that." 

"But y'remember now, right?" 

"I do," she nodded, a sweet smile on her lips, "I really, really do. Best weekend ever." She let out a dreamy sigh only for her features to melt into something sweetly distressed. "I'm going to be really sick in the morning, huh?" 

"Probably," Harry deigned, unable to bite back his smile, "But I'll make sure y'have water and some medicine, and I'll hold your hair back." 

Starry eyes, sweet smile, fluttery lashes were all trained up at him as Harry held her cheek in his warm palm. Her hand on his chest flexed, right over his beating heart, the pumps surely beating out the syllables of her name. 

"Best boyfriend ever." 

Harry could only manage to press a kiss to the tip of her nose—right over that pink glitter.

—————

Truth be told, I’ve been feeling quite odd for the last few weeks. An incessant stirring in my chest that’s main goal is to keep me on edge. Something I can’t put my finger on, but have a mild inkling of what it could be—what could be causing it. And it’s not something I’d like to admit to myself, let alone aloud. But it’s slowly becoming something I can’t ignore.

Maybe I can get out of the office early today? Drive down to the bar, alone—like the loser I’ve recently become—and find the first willing victim to help resolve my…problem. See if that will quiet the dull throbbing in my head and the restless jittering in my bones. A nice fuck to take my mind off of it all. Because that’s all it will do; take my mind off of it. I’m certain, come the next morning, the ache will return.

I stay awake at night fearing that you’re the only one that can completely silence it all. It was you who ignited these feelings after all.

One month. That’s how long it’s been since that fateful night in the elevator. The one I haven’t stepped foot in since. Luckily, my calves have stopped burning from the stairs now after exclusively using them for so long. One whole month and I still can’t shake the images—the sounds and feelings—from my brain. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten laid since.

I’ve taken notice of prospects, don’t get me wrong. Trying has become my new motto, and it’s all I seem to do these days. Even though none of those attempts to try lead anywhere. I get close sometimes. Buy a pretty girl a drink at the bar, make casual flirtatious comments, even extend an offer back at my place. But the second the word ‘yes’ leaves their lips, all I hear is your moans of the same word. The ones I made you scream over and over in that cramped space. The most unromantic setting in the world has quickly become the most erotic to me in my head.

Damn… Now I’m sitting at half-mast in the middle of the workday. Great.

What am I meant to do when distractions don’t work anymore? What am I meant to do when my number one distraction is sitting in a cubicle not 100 feet away?

One of the reasons my feelings toward this whole fucked up situation are so confusing is because of your lack of reaction.

You come into work everyday like nothing ever happened. Like I didn’t have you screaming beneath me, begging for more. You continue wearing those godforsaken pencil skirts like you have no clue what they do to me. I can still feel the fabric of it under my fingertips as I hiked it over your hips. You sit at your desk, do your work, and seem completely unbothered. You even have the audacity to continue using the elevator. It’s aggravatingly annoying.

Why aren’t you just as wrecked as I am? Riddled with the memories of skin on skin? Why aren’t you barging into my office and begging for more? Was it truly only so memorable for me? Will I ever be able to shake you from my system? Move on?

A thought strikes me.

What if the only reason I’m so stuck on this one encounter is because you’re not? Maybe if I got my answers, cleared the steamy air between us, it would all go away? I could finally be free of it all. The visuals, the sounds, the feelings. All of it; gone. Hopefully that’s the answer, because it’s my last resort.

I find myself leaping up out of my chair without a second thought, unable to spend another single second in the uncomfortable unknown. Words flurry around in my head as I head for my office door, planning out which to use to make my questions come off correctly. You could reject speaking to me all together. But that’d only be if you knew what I needed to speak with you about. I guess I’ll just have to lie.

Familiar sounds of typing and murmurs float through the air as I step out onto the office floor. Light conversations happening all around, work getting done, and yet I’m here on a mission. One no one knows about. One no one can know about.

“Can I see you in my office?” are the first words out of my mouth as soon as I round your cubicle, hushed and secretive, meant just for you. Your eyes flick to my face, surprise evident in your gaze. It’s like I can see the cogs turning in your head, mulling over every possible answer for this random visit from me. It occurs to me that you might think you’re getting fired for what transpired between us, so I add, “I’d like to go over some…reports with you.”

You clear your throat, nodding hesitantly as you push away from your desk to stand. I don’t move an inch as you do, leaving your hip to nearly brush my hand. I pray my shuttering breath wasn’t as loud as it felt, and I damn myself for even reacting like that over something so minuscule.

But it's monumental in relation to how my body has reacted in the past month. And it was only for you. Fuck.

The sound of our footsteps, mine heavy and determined, yours light and weary, are added to the atmospheric sounds around us. I have to hope that no one around can sense the same tension I’m feeling as we travel to my office. And I pray that you can’t feel the burning gaze of my eyes on your backside. It’s distracting—sue me!

When the door to my office closes behind us, you obediently take a seat in one of my guest chairs. As I waltz to my side, I watch as you cross your legs politely. My reaction to it is anything but. The feeling of my cock twitching inside of my pants as your skirt rides up your thighs gives away how I’m truly feeling about it. Luckily, my large desk covers me as I adjust myself when I sit down.

“So, these…reports?” you’re the first one to speak, making all of this too real.

I flounder for a second, realizing that you’re here for a meeting that doesn’t exist. I’m forced to come up with something fast. Something to bide my time until I can bring up the real reason you’re here. So, naturally, I reach into my filing cabinet and grab a random folder full of papers that don’t pertain to anything. But as soon as the papers smack onto my desk, a plan forms in my head.

“I need you to look these over for me.” My palm lays flat against the manila folder, not pushing it toward you an inch. Your eyes flick from my hand to my eyes, a hesitancy in your subtle movements that makes the hair stand up on my arms. My hand leaves the folder for just a second, and you immediately go to reach for it, to bring it closer to yourself. My hand slams down over it, keeping it right where it is. “You need to look these over for me…got it?”

I see it then. The way your lips part slightly, bringing in more air for your shallow breaths. You're getting the hint. Now I just have to hope that you take the bait.

It plays out like a choreographed dance. You lean forward as I lean back. One moment you’re sitting in the chair across from me, and the next, you’re bending at the hips, hovering over my desk. Your eyes haven’t left mine. My eyebrows lift in challenge, hands gripping my chairs arms like it’s a liferaft, and you don’t crack. But you do fold. Eyes casting downward to the nonsense documents below you. I take that as my chance.

I’m out of my chair in the matter of a second, striding around my desk like I’m a man on a mission. And I am. I don’t even check a look back at you to make sure you’re still where I left you. For some reason, deep down, I know you haven’t moved an inch. Not as I reach the front of my office and shut all the blinds. Not as I head for the door and click the lock. Not even as I come right up behind you, hips pressing against your ass—you still don’t move. But your breath hitches, and I know I’ve won.

“Tell me to stop…” I reach down to grab a handful of your hips, feeling like I could black out from the familiarity. You don’t respond, though. You don’t tell me to stop, you don’t push me away—but you don’t tell me to keep going.

I bend over your body, covering you like a sheet until my face is nestled in the crook of your neck. I breathe against your skin there, watching goosebumps rise in the wake. My body churns. But I repeat, “Tell me to stop.”

“D-Don’t stop…” you whisper, breathy and uncontrolled.

And that was all I needed to hear.

I straighten up behind you and give no warning before my hand cracks down on your ass. You yelp, jolting forward from the impact. A rumbling hum growls deep in my chest, my hand smoothing over the fabric of your skirt before gripping your hips with a vice hold in both my hands. I move you for my own viewing pleasure. Pulling you away and tugging you back, mimicking the act of you gliding on and off of my cock. It makes me feel insane.

“God… I’ve missed your body. This fucking ass of yours—shit.” I thrust my hips against said ass, groaning at the feel. “Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me you missed this too.”

My hips have a mind of their own as they continue grinding against your ass, making you squirm against my desk.

“You’re not crazy…” you whisper again, another confession straight to my gut.

“Fuck…” I sigh, watching my bulge glide between you crease of your ass cheeks in that godforsaken pencil skirt. “You know what you wearing these skirts does to me, baby?” I grip your hips tighter for emphasis. You just crane your neck back, peering at me over your shoulder with a small smirk on your lips. Telling me that you know exactly what you’re doing by wearing them. “Oh, you’re cruel…” I laugh lightly, spanking you again to prove my point. “You know I’m gonna have to punish you for that, baby.”

“I know…” Your words are just a breath, teasing me and pulling me deeper and deeper into your spell. I’m hooked. Have been since that first time I took you. Clearly.

I mirror your smirk, though mine is much more dangerous. A promise of my words hidden in the lines of my lips.

And there’s no warning when I slam my hips against yours from behind. The rough motion has your pelvis hitting the edge of my desk with a brutal force, making the whole thing shake. Pencils fall to the floor, papers floating down in their escape, but nothing's broken—yet.

“Have you fucked anyone since me, baby?” I hold my breath as I wait for your answer, selfishly hoping that you say no. Lord knows I couldn’t get it up for anyone else. It might actually wreck me if you say yes.

“N-no,” you finally reply, shaky, like you didn’t want to admit it.

I hum, pleased with your answer. “Good girl… Were you waiting for this? Waiting for my cock to fill you up again?” You nod, but I don’t push for your words this time. I’m too fucking antsy. I need to get my hands on you. Need to feel you beneath my fingertips. Feel your warmth wrapped around my cock.

My fingers reach for the zipper of your skirt, deciding I want it off this time. I want to see all of you. I drag it down slowly, the sound of it mixing with your labored breaths. Once it’s undone, I push the waistband of it down past your hips until it’s pooled on the floor around your heels. My gaze drags up from there, those black stilettos making your legs look like they go on for miles. Sheer black tights encase you, and my fingertip drags along the stitching on the back. Up, up, and up… Leading me right where you want me.

I cup your heat with my whole hand, gripping it like it’s mine—because it is.

“God, you’re warm. Can only imagine the mess you’ve made of yourself already.” I slap your pussy, watching you jolt. I smile to myself, fully taking in the scene of you spread out like this for me. But I need more.

Before you can protest, my hands fist into the sheer material of your tights and pull. Ripping them right down the middle and finally giving me access to your ass. Of course, I spank it. The bare flesh turning red right before my eyes. My fingers hook into the tiny scrap of fabric you call panties, groaning at the sight of it nestled between your cheeks, and tug it to the side. Finally, getting the view I’ve been quite literally dreaming about for a month. Can’t even count how many times I had to rub one out in the shower before coming into work just from the memory.

And there it is, in all of its glory.

Your perfect, beautifully pink pussy on display just for me. It glistens in the fluorescent lighting, giving away how turned on you are. My cock strains against my slacks, begging to bury itself deep inside. But I can’t just yet. I need this to last. Who knows when I’ll get you like this again.

I smooth my hand down from your ass cheek in between your legs, cupping your heat once again, only this time, you’re completely bare. My middle finger gets enveloped by your folds, nestled in your slit like a hug. I slowly rock my hand back and forth over your entire sex, feeling you shiver beneath my touch.

“Has your pussy missed me? Been aching for me?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, breathless and needy. It makes something in me settle, knowing I can still get you like this. A mess in my hands.

“Bet this pretty, little cunt missed feeling full.” All you can do is whine in response, especially since my fingers are now dragging up and down between your folds. Your wetness coats my digits with every swipe. I lean down over you again until my breath hits your ear. “This pussy—“ I drag my fingers down to your entrance, “—is mine.”

The final word is emphasized with my two fingers ramming inside of you. I don’t wait for you to adjust. I don’t even wait for you to swallow your gasp back in. My fingers work skillfully and quick, fucking into you at a relentless pace. You scream out when the twist of them brushes against that spongy muscle deep inside, but you quickly slap a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t want anyone to hear you, baby? Don’t want them to know how good I make you feel?” I slow my fingers, letting the twist and curl of them do most of the work. You shake your head, whining against your palm. It shouldn’t anger me that you want to keep quiet, it’s you being sensible so we don’t both lose our jobs. But I want to hear you. Want to hear those pretty noises you make when I’m making you feel so good, making you lose your mind. It’s a battle in my head, but I don’t want to push your boundaries on this. So, I settle for hearing your muffled cries.

I drag my fingers out of your hole slowly, letting you feel every bit of pleasure before I take it all away. You whine and wriggle around, begging for my fingers again. I’ve got to be honest, the sight of your hips moving, seeking me out—your pussy dripping and clenching in a plea—almost makes me fold. But I stand my ground.

I reach forward and twist your hair around my hand, yanking your head up from the desk. “You wanna keep quiet, baby? Cause I know a good way of shutting you up…” Your dark gaze connects with mine, your panting breaths spurring me on. I lift one eyebrow in question, and all you can do is nod.

I yank on your hair again. “Up,” I demand, pulling you up to stand straight. I do a once over of you like this. Standing before me in a rustled blouse, ripped pantyhose and crooked panties. You look like the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen. “On your knees, baby.”

You hesitate for a second, questioning the seriousness of my instructions. I make my request solid when I tug your head backward with my grip still on your head. “I said on your knees.”

Finally, you sink down, sitting back on your heels below me. I can’t help but moan at the sight of you like this. “Unbutton your top.”

This time, you follow without question, working the buttons of your top undone until it flows open, giving me a glimpse of your breasts. I can already see how hard your nipples are through the thin cups, pebbled and needy just for me. I can’t wait to make those titties bounce while you ride my dick again.

“Tell me, baby… Do you like sucking dick?” You look thrown off by question, momentarily stunned by the bluntness. “Don’t worry, baby… You’re gonna love sucking mine.”

I keep your head in place with my hand still tangled in your hair, but my other hand starts working at my belt and pants. I’m a little frenzied, already halfway gone just from the sight of your anticipation. So much so that I don’t even push my pants down all the way. Just enough to let my cock spill out, hard and aching for that pretty mouth of yours.

“See what you do to me? Been rock hard since the last time.” And that’s not an overexaggeration. “Now, open that mouth of yours and let me fuck it.”

I watch you swallow hard, imagining the feel of that exact action when my cock is deep in your throat. But then your lips are popping open, wide and ready to pleasure me however I want. Your tongue hangs out eagerly for a taste. I hold my length in my free hand, pumping it a few times while just staring at you. I step just a fraction closer, enough to let me place the tip of my cock on your tongue. I tap it against it, letting you get used to the weight and girth before slowly pushing in.

Your lips mold around me, stretched and tight. I groan—loudly—at the feel. The warmth and wetness of your mouth is almost as good as your pussy. “Fuck, baby… Suck me tighter.”

You hollow out your cheeks, suctioning me in with a grip I choke on a breath over. And then it’s game over for both of us.

I tighten my grip on your hair and force you forward, forcing my cock deeper down your throat. You gag and choke around me, eyes already watering, but I keep you there, relishing in the tightening muscle milking me. When your eyes go wide, I give you some grace, pulling you off completely so you can suck in a sharp breath. A string of saliva connects your lips to my tip, and it’s a mesmerizing sight. I wipe below your eyes with my free hand, catching the tears before they can spill.

“Ready, baby?” I ask, voice husky and low. “Cause that was just the warm up. Open.”

You take a deep breath before opening your mouth again, and I don’t even wait to slide my cock deep inside. The warmth of you surrounds me once again making me moan, head titling back in pleasure. Even more so when your tongue swirls around me. “Fuck…”

I keep your head still as my hips start to move. With every roll of my hips, the tip of my dick hits deep in the base of your throat. You almost take all of me down. Your eyes never stray from mine as I fuck your mouth, wide and glassy. I smirk down at you between groans, my final warning before letting loose.

I thrust into your mouth with more force, hearing you gurgle and gag around me every time I hit your reflex. Your throat tightens, clenching around me perfectly. Fuck, you’re a sight like this. Mouth full and stretched with my cock between your lips. Eyes watery and wide as you moan around me. Your hands land on my thighs, digging into my slacks to ground yourself. I growl, my hips moving faster and faster. The sounds you make are insane. The wet sounds of your saliva, the choking when I slip too deep, and your moans—god, your moans.

“Think you can take me deeper?” I question, stilling my hips so you can have a second to breathe. And when you nod, all bets are off.

I let you take the lead this time, sitting up a little higher on your knees. You grip onto my thighs tighter as you slowly take me deeper and deeper. I can’t help the shaky moans that leave me as I watch, eyes still connected with mine. I feel my tip go past the curve of your throat and down into your esophagus. You swallow and I nearly come right then and there. And with just a few more steadying, sharp breaths through your nose, you guide me down the rest of the way. Until the tip of your nose is buried in the hair at my navel.

“Holy f-fuck…” I gasp, shaking from the pleasure of just this. I slowly tilt your chin up, not enough to make you uncomfortable in this position, but just enough to see your throat. And there it is. The bulge of my cock deep down under your skin. I am completely ruined for anyone else. Tears slip out of your eyes as you repeatedly gag, and that’s when I pull you off.

You rest back on your heels, sucking in a sharp breath and coughing harshly. I’m still stuck in my daze, watching you try to compose yourself. I fist my cock, pumping myself at the sight of you. Wiping under your eyes, cleaning up the saliva from your chin, and taking in unsteady breaths. You have no idea the effect you have on me. Once you’ve finally composed yourself enough, you notice me stroking myself. You try to lean forward and take me back into your mouth, but I halt you.

“No… You’re just gonna watch.” My hand works a little bit faster, brushing over my tip to spread my pre-cum over myself. “Take your shirt off.” You listen without any question, shrugging your open blouse off and letting it fall to the floor behind you. Sitting there with your hands in your lap, just your bra and panties. So fucking sexy. “Take your bra off, too. Wanna see you, baby. Wanna see those tits.”

You smile shyly—odd, since you shamelessly had my dick down your throat not a minute ago—but comply. Reaching behind yourself, you unclasp your bra and let it fall. Your breasts pour out, a beautiful sight. I groan, tightening my grip on myself. You reposition the way you're sitting to get a little more comfortable, but the movement just makes your tits jiggle and bounce.

“Fuck,” I curse, pumping myself faster. My muscles grow tight as more moans spill from my lips. Your eyes are trained on my hand, watching me stroke myself, listening intently to my low sounds of pleasure.

You think I don’t notice, but I do. You think your hand slowly slipping between your clenched thighs can fly under the radar, but it can’t. I groan, low and deep in my throat as I watch you slowly start to touch yourself. “Let me watch…” I murmur.

And you obey.

You lean back onto your free hand and let your legs spread for me. I moan, watching you move your panties to the side and expose yourself to me again. Your pussy is still red and wet from when I pounded it with my fingers earlier, and that just goes straight to my dick. I squeeze the base of my dick to try and get a grip on myself, but as soon as your fingers slip in between your folds, I don’t even try to restrain myself anymore.

“Fuck, yeah, baby… Touch yourself.” I watch you slowly rub your clit, wishing it was my fingers playing with that bud instead. I can’t take my eyes off your pussy, it’s physically impossible. The way your folds spread as your fingers speed up, your clit swelling with sensitivity—it’s intoxicating. I slowly sink down onto my knees in front of you, getting a closer view of the show. You moan lowly, leaning back farther onto your elbows as your fingers grow frantic. I don’t even notice the speed in which I’m stroking myself until the sound of my strangled grunts hits my ears. I let myself fall forward, trapping you beneath me with one hand next to your head. “You’re close. I can tell… Does touching myself get you off, baby?”

“Yes— Yes!” you whine, back arching toward me. Your fingers keep swirling yourself, pressing down harder.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy… Spread your lips. Let me see that tight hole, baby.”

You stop rubbing yourself for just a second so I can get a glimpse of your entrance, leaking down toward your ass and clenching around nothing. My mouth waters at the sight, growing overly impatient to be inside of you. My hand works faster and faster over myself until I’m breathless and panting above you. The daze of pleasure creeps up on me slowly, hearing your moans filter through my ears as you rub yourself again.

“I’m gonna—fuck! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum all over your pussy.” My balls tighten as my teeth dig into my bottom lip. You squirm beneath me, trying to catch up. My eyes can’t choose a place to look. Your face, twinged with pleasure, needy and wrecked. Your tits, bouncing with each jerk of your hips. Or your pussy, spread and wet, just for me. The moment you pull your lips apart to rub deeper, I bust.

“Oh— G-God, fuck,” I moan, hips jerking my length into my hand as I come undone. Ribbons of white shooting out, painting itself all over your pussy. Coated in it. Such a mess. You shriek a moan and I’m back in the moment.

My fingers move without any thought, pushing your hand out of the way and swiping through your folds to collect my cum.

And then I’m ramming it deep inside your cunt.

I watch my fingers dive deep into you, my mess squelching along your walls. You thrash against the floor, overstimulated by all the sensations. So what do I do? I kick it up a notch.

I lower myself until I’m practically laying on my stomach, the perfect vantage point. Leaning in, I flick my tongue over your sensitive clit, making you scream. I smile into your cunt as you toss your arm over your mouth and bite down like a gag. My fingers curl toward your g-spot, my lips suck your bud into my mouth, and my hand reaches up to palm your breast. Every place you could get pleasure from, I’m stimulating it.

One pinch of your nipple, one swirl of my tongue, and one more long press deep inside of you, and you’re coming undone. Your hips writhe against my face and I accept it, letting you coat me in our mixed juices. I slowly pull my fingers out and hear you whine, making up for it by placing a kiss to your throbbing clit. That makes you jolt. But then I’m kissing my way up your body. Your pelvis, your hips, your stomach, your ribs, your sternum, your breasts, your collarbones, your neck, your jaw, and finally your lips.

Your arms wrap around my neck as you deepen the kiss, seeking out the taste of yourself on my tongue. I groan into your mouth, scooping my arms underneath you and helping you sit up. I pull back from your mouth to instead place two softer kisses against each of your cheeks.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…” you breathe, soft and still a bit shaky.

I scoop you up in my arms and stand on my wobbly legs, carrying you over to my desk. Setting you down on the edge of it, I take a small step back just to admire you. Completely bare for me and absolutely beautiful. I can’t help but lean in for a firm kiss. You smile against my lips and it makes my heart lurch. It’s almost too soft, having to remind myself that that isn’t what this is.

No matter what my traitorous brain is telling me.

So, instead, I think with my dick.

I take both of your thighs from around my waist and lift them up and over my shoulders. It stretches your muscles tight, making you lean back onto your elbows on the desk, sending more shit onto the floor. I stare down at your body instead of your face, deeming that the easiest option to avoid that heavy feeling again. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the fullness of your thighs, and the pinkness of your cunt. It’s a sight I’d happily choose to stare at for the rest of my life.

Well, shit. That didn’t work.

“What’re you doing?” you speak, questioning my frozen gaze, laughter evident in your voice.

“Nothin’… You’re just absolutely gorgeous,” my voice is low, quiet, and I mean every fucking word.

“Shut up,” you laugh, a light in your eyes.

“Oh? Getting mouthy on me now, are you?” I tease. “You know what mouthy girls get?”

I grab the base of my cock and use my hold to drag my tip through your drenched folds. You gasp, but try to hide the reaction. It just makes me smirk.

“What do they get?” you egg me on, already needy and breathless again.

And my restraint snaps.

I spear myself into you, bottoming out in the first stroke. You choke on a moan, back already arching up into the air. Masterpiece.

“They get fucked.”

Your short laugh gets cut off by a whining noise when my hips start to move me inside of you. Rolling and thrusting, giving no chance for a breath. My hands move from your waist to your ass, lifting it off the desk and gripping both cheeks. I watch as your tits bounce with every thrust, transfixed. I already know I’m not gonna last. Especially when you’re reaching up to palm yourself.

I slam into you harder, making the desk shake in tandem with your legs. The sound of our skin slapping together is like music to my ears.

“God, you take me so well, baby…” I groan, watching the scene between us. The ease in which my cock slips in and out of your heat, like it was made to fit here. “So fucking tight. So perfect.”

“Fuck! Right there!” you yell, and I listen, always when it’s said in that tone.

I continue hitting you deep inside, not straying from the spot that made you scream. You start to squirm against the desk, desperate for more. So, I drag one of my hands back to your front and let it slip between your legs, rubbing slow strokes over your clit. Your pussy clenches around me and I know you’re close.

“Gonna come, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?” I taunt, hips picking up speed as my own pleasure chases me down.

“Y-yes…” Your back arches, hips grind, and eyes nearly roll back.

“Good. Cause I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby, I’ll be dripping from you for the next week.”

I start to grunt as it becomes a struggle not to lose my tempo, pleasure taking over. But I need to make sure you cum first. I rub your clit faster, watching as your hips lift and writhe against my thrusts.

“Come for me… Let me watch you.”

Your eyes slowly blink open and connect with mine, jaw slack with whimpers escaping you. And with one more thrust, you’re done for. Silent screams, convulsing muscles, and your cunt squeezing the hell out of me. I have to brace my hands on the desk beside your hips as my pleasure slaps me in the face. Strangled moans leave my lips as my hips stutter, my cock pulsing inside of you as I fill you to the brim. Your pussy continues to clench around me, beckoning me to stay forever and milking me dry.

Once I’ve come back to earth, I grab onto your shoulders and lift your back up off the desk. You’re like a ragdoll at this point. You look like you just got a good fucking—which you did. Slowly, your arms come to circle around my neck. I hum in contentment, a bad sign.

I lean in and brush my lips against your neck, feeling you shiver in my hold. My lips ghost a path up to your ear. “You’re mine now…”

“I already was,” you whisper back.

Fuck.

*BEEP*

“Mr. Styles, I have a Mr. Winters on line 3 for you.”

At first, a large breath puffed from your lungs, and your lips subconsciously pursed as a man stopped at the opening of your aisle. A feeling of annoyance-though you know you had no right to feel this way towards someone for simply taking up the seat they paid for-surged within. That is, until you saw what this man looked like. Once your mind was able to piece together that, yes, this man felt like an intruder of sorts at this very moment-again, you knew it was irrational, but that didn't take the feeling away whatsoever-, but as your eyes wandered from his grey, worn denim up to the shirt covering his torse, you realized that maybe this man wouldn't be so much of a threat afterall. With a scruff that lined the length of his jaw and upper lip and a pair of sunglasses now sitting on top of his brunette head, your eyes plucked away, probably staring for an inappropriate amount of time, before you came to the realization that this man was incredibly attractive.

Suddenly, you weren't really mad anymore. Politely, he smiled as he slung his backpack off his shoulders and placed it underneath what you assumed to be his assigned seat-aka, the aisle seat in the same row as you. His rapidly moving chest made it evident that he had run the entire length of the airport until he ended up in this exact spot. You wondered if he was always someone who runs a bit late for everything-not that that was relevant to the situation at hand. Merely an observation and a curious one at that. It wasn't a crime to gnaw at the idea of who this man could be to the outside world. As he sat himself in the aisle seat, with only a middle seat separating the two of you, you already knew you were in for a quite enthralling trip. You smiled back even more politely, but quickly removed your gaze from his, feeling as if you knew your eyes would linger even more than they had should you allow them that type of freedom to do so. But your eyes would soon betray you the moment the stranger slung his blue colored jacket off of his upper body, leaving him in a thin, cream colored shirt that looked tattered, but in a cool, vintage sort of way. Tattoos decorated his tan arms-you found your eyes tracing over the ones that you could make out, without it being too obvious that you were, to put it simply, checking him out. Just when you thought he couldn't get any more appealing to your eye, the stranger bent down to hold his luggage in both arms, forcing his biceps to bulge out from the confines of the hemmed sleeves on his shirt. Hold on; It gets worse--then, he lifts the luggage into the upper compartment, causing the cotton hem of his shirt to rise, which gives a peek at the black ink decorating his lower abdomen. They seemed to be some sort of floral artistry to the ink stain, but you didn't dare allow your eyes to linger, because a). You weren't sure you would be able to break your eye contact on the needle-poked art once your gaze was fixated, and b). If you were caught staring - which you very much would've - that would mean you had to sit on a several-hour flight next to a man who caught you checking him out. Quickly, you turn your head in the complete opposite direction, looking out at the black tarmac from the window that felt like a prized possession at the time. Now, it felt like something even better than a prize - a treasure, if you will, or an escape. “Hey.”

His voice--how was his voice that level of attractive and coarse, paired with everything else he had going on in the physical appearance department? Slowly, you turned your head in his direction again. “How’re you liking that book? I heard it's a good one.”

He was now sitting comfortably in his assigned seat with a seatbelt strapped across his low waist and eyes that looked at you curiously. His head nodded in the direction of your lap. Your eyes following suit–that’s when you recall the novel that you had only gotten so far as to read the back cover of. “Oh”, you said softly, your fingers running across the colorful hard cover. “I haven’t even opened it yet, to be honest.” The stranger nodded with an amused smile, “Saving it just for this?” You nodded back with a simple, soft “exactly" and a nod. You hated the way your words were coming up timid and almost scared. You weren’t scared, nervous-yes, but not scared. Intimidated would be a better word for it. “I’m Harry”, the stranger, now known as Harry, outstretched his hand to you in greeting. Your eyes followed the vein that ran from his tattooed forearm all the way up to his middle finger. “Y/N”, you spoke, again, much too soft as you reached your hand out and met the skin of his palm. Harry seemed pleased with that as he nodded. “That suits you.” His eyes were pointed and paired with a smirk as he watched your straight-lined lips form into a grin, making him feel a sense of pride and cockiness that wasn't anything too heady. “Nice to meet you, Harry.” Harry was usually cool, calm, and collected around women he thought were attractive, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sent a tiny, sinful shock to his groin that even he couldn’t hide the power it held over him as his top row of teeth ever so slightly sank into his lower lip. “Likewise”, he said with a friendly smile, yet it held something else to it that you weren't able to distinguish at the time.

Under his powerful gaze, you turned your face to point downwards and finally crack open that book. Meanwhile, Harry kept his form straight, but his eyes were very much trained on your side profile. He was seemingly captivated by you despite your interaction not stretching further than plane entertainment subjects and government names. Yet something was torturously addicting about the way your black flared cotton pants pressed against your rounded thighs; the way your hair fell in wisps as it framed your facial features wasn’t helping fight his recent dependency on you either. He found himself searching for excuses in his head on how to continue the conversation. “So, Rome.” Your head perked up at his voice. “Rome?” “That’s where this plane is going, right? I hope so.” You chuckled, “Oh. Yeah Rome. I’m going to visit a friend.” Harry nodded, though his mind began to spiral on who this friend was and why on earth he felt a tinge of jealousy towards the fact that you were traveling across the country to visit them. They must’ve been special to you–Harry found himself wanting to be that special, too. “Boyfriend or girlfriend. But not like.. that I mean-” Harry’s tongue twisted in his mouth as he tried to extricate his words that, the moment they left his mouth, he knew sounded too prying of your romantic life. Not that he wasn’t interested, because he very much was-but you didn’t need to know that. “It’s fine. Just a friend from college.”, you smiled as Harry bailed on trying to find proper wording and instead settled into a nod and friendly smile. “What about you? Visiting a boyfriend or girlfriend… you know a friend or-”, your hand revolved in a circle to hint at your implication, which played off of Harry’s double entendre.

Harry smirked, “Family and friends, actually. No boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment.” The conversation transitions through the basic stages of forming a new acquaintanceship. Favorite movies, TV shows, music artists, foods, colors - you name it, Harry and you cover it all over the next couple of hours that passed in a blink too quickly in your opinion. “Look, all I’m saying is blue is a much better color than green.” “Okay, but how? Green is so versatile and blue is just.. Blue.” “That doesn’t even make sense”, Harry says, amused with a shake of his head.

“Funny coming from someone who is wearing a blue shirt at this very second”, Harry points a finger that prods into the side of your clothed arm. It’s shockingly annoying how just that simple poke could send a warmth and set of tingles up the back of your neck. “I didn’t say I hate the color blue. It’s just not green.” “Oh, yeah, yeah. Totally. I absolutely get it now. You’re absolutely right, green is superior to blue. I can’t believe I never saw it before. Thanks so much for opening my eyes to the truth.” Sarcastically, Harry looked at you with big eyes and an upturned corner smile, then his hand fell to your thigh as he patted it, except a pat would imply a quick tap and then loss of contact, which was the opposite of his hand that was still lying on your warm upper thigh, moments later.

Your eyes followed his ringed hand that remained- something that just meeting acquaintances wouldn’t normally do, regardless of how much they got along. And you and Harry were getting on quite well, even better than that. You cleared your throat as your eyes moved up to his for a brief moment before he flinched his hand away. As if nothing unusual happened from his point of view - though his cheeks were already turning red from his lingering accidental touch-Harry combed his hand through the hair that sat on the top of his head as an excuse to utilize the hand that was once pressed down onto the warmth of your thigh. Simultaneously, you both pulled your eyes from each other. Harry opted to look at the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him, and you chose to focus on the setting sun that had hued the sky a pink and orange tone. Then,by the grace of god, the flight attendant began making her rounds and quickly made her stop at your aisle that served you and Harry. “Can I buy you a drink? I know it’s shitty airplane booze, but..”, his sentence tapered off with a shrug of his shoulders and you couldn’t tell if this was a situation like a man coming up to you at a bar, saying “come here often”, and then purchasing your drink of choice in the hopes of getting under the waistband of your jeans later, or if this was a simple offer that didn’t go anything above kindness to a just met stranger. Your mind already seemed smitten, encouraging you to believe that, despite mentally telling yourself that it was most likely friendly. “Sure”, you nodded as nonchalantly as you could. Harry’s gaze lingered on yours longer than normal, and you could’ve sworn you saw his pupils move from your eyes downward in the direction of your chest. Your breath began to quicken at the silly thought as it entered your head. Shortly after, you and Harry were comfortable in your now dimly lit row. A plastic cup containing red wine was safely tucked in your hand, and a glass of some sort of IPA was tucked away in his. “You know what my favorite part about overnight flights is?” You raised your eyebrows in amusement, “What’s that?” “These blankets”, he said with way too much excitement in his voice as he pulled the cheap fleece from the plastic cover that had been passed down by a flight attendant at the same time as the alcohol. “Really?”, you chuckled and watched as Harry draped the blanket over his front, sadly making his prominently muscular thighs disappear from view. Harry caught on to your dissatisfaction with what he found enthused him. “You’re telling me you don’t love these?" You shrug at the way Harry’s eyes seemed like they would pop out of his head in disbelief. He looked quite cute. “They’re fine, I guess, but also kind of scratchy, don’t you think?” “Great, I'm sat in a row with a crazy person.” “Hey!”, your arm flew, lightly smacking what you assumed was Harry’s abdomen-you nearly groaned out loud at the hardened muscle that your hand collided with that probably didn't even feel like a speck of dust on his skin. “When’s the last time you actually used one of these?” Harry questioned as if there was no way on god’s green earth that you just insulted his favorite advantage to an overnight flight through the sky.

This made you think. It had actually been a while since you last took an overnight flight that resulted in you being dependent on one of these things. This realization caused your hands to become curious as they reached for the plastic-covered blanket from the pocket in the back of the seat in front of you. Harry watched in amusement as you busted open the package and laid the blanket across your lap with palms soothing along the texture. “So..”, Harry asked expectantly, making you chuckle. “It’s.. better than I remembered, I guess.” “Told you!” “But!-”, you interrupted Harry before he could continue on and explain how he was correct and you were not- he seemed like the type to play something up in the most non-serious way ever. “-It’s still not a highlight of the flight.” “Then what is? What’s been your favorite part of this flight so far?”, Harry’s voice became tinted with a sort of hoarseness that you weren’t sure was because he was in dire need of liquid in his throat or something else entirely; something much much more off subject, yet the thoughts had been swirling around your brain since you saw his shirt raise and the skin just above his low waisted jeans peak out to the world. You escaped your zoned thoughts and focused on Harry’s expression. A smirk adorned in a single dimple on the side his lips were pulled up towards, his god chiseled arms crossed in front of him. “The company isn’t too bad, I suppose”, you fluttered eyelashes above your doe eyes that attempted to match the message that you hoped came across. Thankfully, Harry caught on to your obvious flirting, making his teeth dig into the skin of his cheek and his smirk look almost arrogant from your point of view. You thought it made him look even more sexually appealing, which you hadn’t thought possible unless he were to be fully unclothed, of course… “Glad I can be of service.” Harry’s voice was warm as his eyes held yours in confidence, nearly making you feel the urge to crawl under your seat and have a fit of giggles and flailing of your hands. You had a little crush on him; there was absolutely no denying it now. Even more importantly, due to his gaze, lingering touches, and continuation of conversation, you felt that Harry was on the same page-which you’d be correct in thinking. You were thankful for the chatting between you both tapering off when it did. This way, you could properly dive into your brain and curate daydreams of you and him in both innocent and… lewd situations. Eventually, your eyes gave way to the exhaustion of air travel as you rested them without fully falling asleep. Meanwhile, your head played out some of these little fantasies. One scenario in particular, you were finding yourself replaying over and over. It involved Harry and the palm of his hand spread wide along the length of your neck. In your mind, his breath was heavy and panting as he pressed just the right amount of pressure across your windpipe, with his other hand around your waist, holding your body down as he fucked into your whining form. You’d moan out a common “right there”, triggering him to move his cock in and out of your creaming hole even harder in order to hit the spot you were proclaiming was giving you an immense amount of pleasure. Meanwhile, in the reality of the airplane, Harry noted the way you began to squirm in the seat next to him. Shifting your leg to have crossed over the right and then the left, adjusting where your arms were from across your chest to down in your lap. You hadn’t been this mobile the entire flight, which had him intrigued. He watched as you subconsciously dug your top front teeth into the plumpness of your lower lip–his cock quite liked that sight as it twitched underneath the cloth of his pants.

You knew getting yourself worked up and wet on a flight as you thought of the man sitting next to you wasn’t moral, yet you couldn’t stop yourself. Just the imagery in your head made a very noticeable amount of wetness gather in your cunt that you didn’t need to touch to know it existed. Your head swam with more visions-this new acquaintance fucking you in the shower with his strong arm holding your leg around his waist, or his mouth on your pussy making the most obscene noises. You hadn’t even noticed your teeth causing your bottom lip to bleed ever so slightly or the way whines seeped through your teeth. This was Harry’s last straw. At first, he was hesitant. He wasn’t frequently-or ever-entertaining the thought of sneaking a hand under a fresh and extremely attractive acquaintance's blanket and offering to, well, assist if you will. Yet there was something about the way your teeth dug into your lip as a small grin covered your mouth that was begging for him to have his mouth pressed against.

Your lashes would flutter ever so often above your closed lids, something he knew would make you look like the embodiment of innocence, even though it appeared whatever you were thinking about was entirely the opposite of innocent. Meanwhile, you continued to indulge in whatever visions of you and your new acquaintance decided to flutter into your brain. However, your visions ceased when you felt a touch-so featherlight, you could've convinced yourself it was made up if you tried hard enough or something you could’ve blamed on a mosquito or a random itch set off by a layer of dead skin so microscopic that you never saw it fall from your skin. Except it was neither of those things. You shifted your body, assuming that maybe the blanket caught on a particular spot on your clothes or something along those lines of pure accident. That is, until the touch began to move, tracing the expanse on the side of your thigh. Your eyes shot open, panic naturally coming over your features as you looked around. However, it wasn’t a phantom; it was Harry smiling at you with a darkness tinged into his pupils that you could somehow still make out despite the plane's main cabin lights being dimmed for the next several hours. Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, especially when, once caught, Harry didn’t pull his hand away or act as if he was doing anything out of the ordinary. You know, the standard putting your hand on the thigh of the person sharing the row of seats with you on an extremely long flight, that just so happens to be someone Harry finds an insane amount of attraction to in both physical and mental capacities.

It took you several seconds of analyzing Harry to come to terms with the fact that he was doing this on purpose. It wasn’t an accidental touch of casual circumstances–this felt very, severely intentional. With his eyes boring into yours, his hand slid just a tad bit further so his warm palm was resting on the top of your thigh, fully pressed several inches above your knee or so. It was him asking for consent-verifying that this taboo act was something that was okay, before he made any other move. Your gaze softened as you seemed to grasp what was happening here. Something deeply frowned upon to the public eye, yet teasingly erotic and tempting all the same. Your head swayed in and out, up and around, as you searched for strangling glances or straight-up stares from the other attendees on the flight. Thankfully, the coast was clear. Everyone seemed to be tucked away in their makeshift bed for the night with eye covers on or preoccupied with their devices that glowed against their face. Once confirmed, your eyes moved back to Harry’s, and a slight smile spread along your lips as you gave a slow nod. At that, Harry-much like you-did a quick take in of his surroundings before removing his seatbelt from around his waist and scooting to the middle seat–finding the expanse that had been separating the two of you for the entirety of the flight being something that needed to disappear immediately. “Is this okay?” His accented voice was whispered directly into the side of your neck as his hand came back to cling to the top of your thigh. His method of acquiring consent was a pleasurable breath of fresh air, making a smile on your lips stretch even wider as you nodded an agreed “Yeah”, that was meant for only him to hear. “Just relax, okay?” you nodded, lulling your head to one side, giving into gravity, and closing your eyes as Harry’s hand gave your thigh a squeeze.

For a moment, the most he did was gently move his thumb back and forth across the fabric of your pants resting over your body. It felt polite, maybe even hesitant in a way-as if he hadn’t done something like this before. Your eyes fluttered open, Harry’s meeting your gaze instantly as you muttered something so desperate and borderline begging.

“Please” He smirked, “Impatient thing you are” his low voice was so tauntingly full of rasp that it made you clench your thighs together. He chuckled darkly as he nuzzled the tip of his nose into your hair and placed a brief kiss on the top of your head. Here is where it gets interesting. A shaky breath fanned in front of your face at the first feeling of Harry’s hand drifting towards your inner thigh. His enlarged palm felt as if it were burning a hole through your skin as he gripped the softness of your inner thigh in his hand and let out a primal groan that was as quiet as he could muster given the circumstances. “Fucking perfect”, he whispered in your ear as he continued his gripping assault on the squishy meat of your inner thigh. His fingers just barely graze your clothed core as if you were the softest fabric that he wanted to be gentle with, yet appreciate all at once. But when he did it with intention and purpose–his hand cupping your sex over your clothes had your hand instinctively reaching upwards. In a usual scenario, you’d find your hand drifting to lay on the top of your stomach or twist and pinch at your pert nipples, but obviously, this situation didn’t allow for that sort of thing. The best you could do was bring your hand up to your mouth and gently press your front teeth into the side of your pointer finger. The sight alone made another groan rumble through Harry’s chest.

“The things I would do to you if we weren't on a plane right now.” He didn’t give you much time to bask in the sensuality of his words before his hand moved in a spider-like fashion to the top of your pants. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for giving in and wearing a pair of joggers as opposed to jeans, which would’ve made this situation a lot harder. Though you were sure Harry would've found a way to further his mission regardless. “Can I touch you?” His voice was confident, yet needy as your eyelids fluttered open to briefly stare at him. You nodded with a fucked-out, relaxed expression. Something that made Harry smirk as his hand snuck beneath the top layer of fabric that separated his hand from your thin panties. You let out a wince, gnawing deeper into your finger as he pressed into your cloth-covered cunt. “Poor thing, you must’ve been having some good mental images to be this drenched.” His taunting only intensified your need for him –thankfully, he must’ve been able to read your mind as he began moving his pointer and middle fingers in a circular motion directly over your clit. You whined, but it was much too loud for the current predicament, resulting in Harry stopping his hand movement altogether. He breathed a “shhh” in your ear, which was soothing and also served as a reminder that getting caught was not an option. "Keep quiet or I stop", he whispered with the picture-perfect combination of possessive and relaxed. You obeyed, making Harry's hand pick up where it left off. A gratified sigh left your lips, along with a hiss of air. “Yeah, right there?” he mumbled in your ear, sending you nodding frantically alongside a “fuck” as his hand seemed to be applying more and more pressure with each graze of his fingertips. The immense amount of friction his fingers were able to create over your panties had your body subconsciously leaning back and to the side, moving further into Harry until your shoulder was directly leaning on him for support to keep yourself afloat. "Yeah relax. Just like that", he breathed in your ear as his fingers teasingly moved along the side seam of your panties that belonged to the specific piece of cloth that covered your cunt. "Can I slip these to the side? Feel how wet you are?", his voice lingered with a remnant of husk in your ear. "Mhm", you hummed at his teasing movements that didn't hesitate once given the full consenting package. Harry's middle finger dipped below the fabric, a singular digit gliding slowly, teasingly along your slit that was already leaking with an amount of arousal that you felt was borderline embarrassing.

He groaned quietly as your hips dared to squirm under his ministrations, yet remained still in fear he would stop - the very last thing you wanted him to do. For a beat, his finger merely glided along your slick lower lips, avoiding the very sensitive blossoming bud he knew lay beyond the barrier of skin, yet teasingly avoided. "Harry", you breathe his name quietly for the first time, nearly making him give in to touch you where you wanted. However, his mission to milk this sexual interaction as much as possible weighed much more heavily in his decision. "Hmm?", his voice was an erotic hum behind smirking lips and eyes that peered down at you. He monitored the way your eyes twitched behind your closed lids each time he dragged his finger upward, moving tantalizingly slow in the direction of your puffy clit, yet not reaching the destination just yet. "I want it." Harry smirked, "Want what?" You let out a whine, forcing Harry to stop his teasing and instead cup your bare sex completely in the palm of his hand. "Keep. Quiet.", he spoke straight in your ear; you nodded quickly for way longer than needed, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. "Sorry, please don't stop." "Thought so", he smirked just before dipping two of his fingers beyond the threshold of your slit and onto your absolutely drenched core that felt as if it would explode just from his minor touch. You sucked in a breath, making sure to keep quiet in the process. "Good job, keep quiet." The rough command of his voice had your legs shaking, not to mention the way one of his single finger tips dragged upwards from your wet hole to your clit. Your teeth dug desperately deep into your bottom lip, trying to suppress the noises you were so needily accustomed to making during sexual encounters that go above and beyond your expectations-and Harry can tell. It gets him off even more—makes his cock that much harder as he watches you struggle underneath his circular movements that have made way to your clit. So needy and so, so warm under his touch, he can't help but imagine what it would feel like on his tongue whilst flicking it back and forward as your juices spilled down the corners of his mouth. At this moment, he wishes he weren't locked in this steel cage of transportation so he could properly give you what you oh so clearly deserved.

A right and proper fucking would do him some good, and to have you being the one he'd be thrusting himself in and out of would make it that much more ideal.

But this would do for now. Not like he had a choice. "Fuck", you whimpered so quietly as you dug your teeth still in your teeth. Harry, who is quite literally pressed against the edge of your shoulder hardly hears it. "You're doing so fucking good", he husks in your ear with a voice that could only be described as a roughness comparable to sandpaper. His lips pressed to your neck for a moment-a much too short moment, but again, either of you were unfortunately left with the option of having to be sneaky over giving into the greedy needs of lust. His two fingers that were still tantalizingly revolving around your swollen bud at a slow pace hit every single nerve within you as your hips begin to grind forward on nothing at all. Desperation very clearly getting the best of you, which made Harry let out a quiet, dark chuckle. Your cunt is-quite literally-pulsing around air as Harry picks up his ministrations, now utilizing an insane amount of power and pressure as he presses down harder and moves his fingers quicker.

"You're so fucking wet, i'd be shocked if everyone can't hear how much you're dripping right now." And you know he's right. As his fingers got more pleasingly and aggressively pleasurable, you could feel wetness continuing to run along your cunt. The faint noise of your arousal is insanely audible as four of his fingers begin furiously rubbing against your pussy with a flat hand. You'd fear everyone on the plane could hear it, that is, if you even bothered to care, because at this very moment, you couldn't care less. "Hear how good I make you feel?", Harry grits with his lips brushing your earlobe as his hand remains relentless, rubbing your clit back and forth with an insane amount of force that has you gripping the armrests of your seat. You chant a low hummed 'mmmm' sound over and over that has a pride-filled smile latching onto Harry's smirk. "'M gonna cum—oh, fuck", Your swear at the end comes out at a much louder volume as Harry dips one of his fingers inside of your pussy, which he has a hunch is the prettiest shade of pink he could ever fathom. Remaining true to his promise, his hand ceases all movement, instead hovering over your pussy that is still desperately clenching as it begs to be touched until it's devouring an explosive release. "No, no, no. I'm sorry", you say with a flushed face and hair that now sticks to your hairline. Harry wants to keep a stern face and show that he's disappointed in you, but the way you immediately apologize at the pause of his hand has him snickering into the crook of your neck. Severally amused by your desperation to come by the touch of his digits and palm. "If you're sorry, then stop doing it", he says through near clenched teeth, his mouth running along the skin of your neck with each word he says. You nod-frantic and begging. Harry decides he will allow that as an appropriate enough answer. Harshly, his hand comes down against your pussy three times in a gentle slap until his finger dips inside of you again, relentlessly fucking into you at an angle that has your hips stuttering and toes curling inside of your shoes. "Want another?"

"Obviously", you breathily reply and let out a whine that is quiet and approving according to Harry's standards. "Got a mouth on you, huh? Bet that mouth can do all sorts of things." Though he would usually prefer to drag this interaction out further and edge you until your legs were shaking and your clit was near numbness, he knew the close confines of the plan wouldn't allow him to tease you in the way he truly wanted, should either of you be tucked away in his flat and stripped entirely of clothing. Harry's second finger joins his first, twisting the combined digits even deeper up inside you, making you sit up a little straighter with tightly closed eyes as you grip the armrests until you're sure there are moon-shaped marks permanently sketched into the faux leather. Instinctually, you spread your legs wider, making Harry bite his lip as he looked down at you, utterly flushed and consumed. His fingers pump and pump and pump inside of you until eventually curling upwards, fingertips rubbing along the soft patch inside of you that has stars blurring underneath your closed eyes. "Make a mess on my fingers. C'mon." Harry's words are half demand and half groan as he speaks them into your hair that's lazily tousled around your face. You didn't think it was possible for the euphoric waves of pleasure to get any better, but then you feel his palm bumping into your clit with every upward thrust of his fingers inside you, making you grip even harder with your tooth on the skin of your finger as it, no doubt, peels layers of skin off your bottom lip. "Please don't stop", you beg, letting out silent gasps with an open mouth for him, and Harry keeps that promise, never slowing down or speeding up. Keeping him exactly where you need him. The time span is short between this teetering on the edge feeling and your orgasm punching you in the face. You knew you couldn't keep quiet even if your life depended on it - you didn't trust yourself. Instead, you pressed your palm to your mouth to create a barrier of sound as your hips desperately moved along with Harry's fingers and palm.

Riding out your orgasm in utter silence was one of the harder challenges you'd been handed, yet you were forced to do so whether you wanted to or not. Not that you were complaining, especially when the experience was happening in a taboo fashion, paired with an extremely attractive man. Eventually, your breathing settled as the pleasure dwindled from intense to a bearable, quaint hum. A warm chuckle resounded from a slightly higher elevation. Your eyes moved upwards to find Harry staring down at you, concentrated, amused, and utterly infatuated by you. "What?", you asked with a face that quickly felt a wave of warmth. "You're really going to ask me what's amusing me right now?" His accent is much thicker when whispered directly into the top of your head, strands of your hair gently tickling the apple of his cheeks. Your smile grew wider, though your teeth were still concealed as your gaze moved down to your lap. Somehow finding the cheap fabric of the blanket that covered your and his sins was awfully distracting.

"Was that okay?" His voice breathed into the side of your head this time, eerily close to the shell of your ear. "Yeah. More than okay if I'm being honest", you chuckled, moving your gaze back up to his sultry pupils. The final straw in the interaction between you and this new acquaintance was his eyes grazing your face as if he were being fed by the way your nose sat on your face and the shape of your lips and eyes. His top teeth dug into his lower lip, as if he were fighting a temptation. Unluckily for both of you, a flight attendant seemed to be making the rounds as the lights slightly grew brighter and brighter, until they reached their default setting. You sat up straight, as did Harry. And then your time together seemed to morph into you ensuring your carry-on was filled with everything you'd packed in preparation, including that book you had good intentions of diving into, yet something, or rather someone, seemed to occupy that attention instead. It wasn't long until the plane had come to a pressured landing, thus enabling each of the riders to exit the plane efficiently with a bag in hand. "Hey." Your neck jerked up from your previous position of peering down at your phone at the sound of his voice. "It was uh-nice to meet you. Definitely a unique trip on my end." You let out a breathy chuckle through your nose and nodded. "For me as well, for sure. Thank you?" "You're welcome?", Harry pinched his eyes, mimicking your question-marked tone. You followed behind Harry through the slender aisle until your shoes met the rubber ground of the jetway. It was silent, but nothing uncomfortable as you walked in parallel with him until the insanely atrocious fluorescent lighting of the airport came closer and closer. "Maybe I'll see you in another life or something?" Harry looked at you as he placed his over-the-ear headphones on the top of his head, one ear already being covered by the ear cup. You felt only a smidge of disappointment that it didn't seem as though Harry would type his number in your phone or request yours, but what were the odds of anything other than what had already occurred happening between you both when you barely knew each other? "Yeah, we'll see. Safe travels," you waved him off, and as did he, as his back turned to you and walked with an easy-going swagger down the main hall of the airport. ______________ The cab to the hotel was fueled by dissociation at its absolute worst. You could hardly focus on anything, not even the gorgeous surroundings painted outside the window of the moving vehicle. Everything was a blur-and all because of this stranger on the plane.

It was a casual, temporary interaction- a transaction if you will-yet it was stuck like a wad of gum with the imprint of a shoe decorating its pink hue as it was stamped against dark pavement. Eventually, your much-overpriced Uber dropped you off in the hotel that you'd only had the pleasure of viewing via your phone screen. Now, with it sat in your physical vision-the rose bushes, European balconies lined with iron wrought railing; your thoughts were pulled away from the man from the plane. Your room boasted a well-kept, beautiful garden view that you were anxious to get an eyeful of as you pressed your designated floor's button. Impatiently, your foot tapped on the ground as your hand rested on the handle of your rolling luggage. And when that glorious 'ding' of a noise resounded, your feet moved quicker than your brain could, not even processing the person who just so happened to be aiming to walk into the elevator at the same time you were practically speed walking out. "I'm so sorry-oh my god", you said mortified-embarassed even-by your lack of spatial awareness at the time. However, that humiliation soon subsided once you got a proper look at the shoulder you'd not so kindly ran into. "Are you following me now?" The voice was familiar-a little too familiar. Familiar enough that you could've sworn you'd heard it maybe an hour ago…in the airport…or whispering filthy things in your ear. Your brain doesn't fully register the voice, only when your eyes lay on his smirking figure, who's leaning on the wall with arms crossed in front of his chest, do you properly take him in with wide-eyed disbelief.

"When I said maybe I'll see you around, I didn't quite have this in mind", Harry spoke, amused and much too smooth for the amount of shock you were in right now. "What are the odds?", you breathe, trying your best to mimic his tone that's oh so cool, calm, and collected; everything that you are absolutely not at the moment. "Are you staying in this hotel too?" A playfully boyish grin smothered that obscenely rouge pout of his as he nodded. "Must be fate, I guess."

Back and forth. Forth to back. On and on and on about things he could quite frankly not care less about. God, these meetings seemed never-ending, Harry huffed. He brushed his fingers through his cropped hair that still held the small remains of the once tight, long, bouncy curls. They would have just got in his way now, he thought, rubbing his forehead in an attempt at dissolving the headache forming. To no avail.

He sighed, moving spreadsheets across tabs as he prepared for another gruelling hour-long meeting with people who he had no patience for. He believed that his office was solely chosen to hold some of the most difficult people on planet Earth, whether it be due to their lateness, (and lack of care for), rudeness, laziness...the list went on. It deeply frustrated him, and he wondered what he had done to deserve these excuse for colleagues.

He's not usually like this. Harry knows he is normally the kindest he can be, and does his best to treat everyone with respect and love. It comes naturally to him, but with these people, it feels so forced it physically pains him. These people have no respect to give, let alone receive.

He rubbed his eyes and clicked on to the day's third meeting with an exaggerated release of air. He plastered a broad smile as he noticed his face appearing on the bottom right corner of the screen, as around 6 others surrounded him on the top bar.

"Hey, everyone." He forced out in the most joyous tone he possibly could, waving briefly before preparing his notes at his side.

"Harry, thanks for joining us. We thought you wouldn't make it on here." The director of the project snorted smugly.

Harry looked puzzled. "I'm sorry?"

The director, whose name was Keith, Harry recalled, laughed abruptly. "Well, uh...you are 15 minutes late."

Harry paused. He looked at the glaring faces on the screen before him, awkwardly rubbing their necks or looking elsewhere. Shit.

"Oh, I-I'm so sorry- I must have had the time as 2.45, not 2.30. My apologies, everyone." He mustered, through gritted teeth. He swore on his life the email said 2.45, making a mental note to check this.

"Oh, well it did. Last minute change 'cause I've got to meet with someone at 3.30. Personal business, hoped you'd understand."

Fucking dick. After all he's been doing today, he's meant to check an email, what, every five mnutes just because Keith The Prick wants to conduct some "Personal business" instead of doing his job? Bullshit.

Harry paused for a moment, nodding to pretend he was offering respect. "Of course. Terribly sor-" He was abruptly cut off by the sound of singing coming from another room. It was you.

You were singing at the top of your lungs, some song from The 1975, Harry realised. Any other time, this would make his day, now he's too frustrated to like it. The noise was overpowering whatever he needed to say, and the music was blasting from your Amazon Alexa. Harry closed his eyes, trying to retain composure.

"One moment, sorry." He muted himself promptly.

He yelled your name, leavig no attempt to care for how loud he was being, he was muted after all. "I'm on a call!" The music ceased, and he heard a muffled sorry from the other room.

You instantly paused your movements, not wanting upset your boyfriend further. He was probably having a busy day, you thought, collecting the washing and separating it into its piles. You'd chat to him in 15, maybe that would make him feel better.

He resumed the call, sighing and hoping to get this over with as soon as physically possible.

When it ended, Harry clicked that red phone button as fast as his fingers could move, not wanting to lose momentum and quickly moving to the next task. He glanced over his notes from the meeting and opened a Word document, getting straight to typing.

Suddenly, his office door swung open as you came in, all smiles. "Harry! Sorry for the singing! You know I love that song. You know they're playing Reading this year? I wonder if we could go, I never got to go when my exams finished, ugh it was so horrible seeing all my friends go without me! Anywho, we could probably do that payment plan they offer, wouldn't that be great?" You beamed, laying out your stack of hoodies on the small sofa adjacent to his desk.

"Sounds great." he quipped, eyes still fixed on the screen. He really did not have time for this conversation after today, and felt an impending sense of guilt in his stomach for doing so, but sometimes you're allowed to be in a mood. He wished you would leave soon to avoid any issues.

You frowned briefly, shrugging off his tone. It couldn't be anything you've done, after all.

"Doesn't it just! I love camping, but it's okay if you dont we could even book one of those VIP tents! That would be wicked, imagine that! Hopefully it wouldn't be too hot, I mean look at the weather last year for that festival! It was on the news given how bloody hot it was! I don't know if I could handle that, but I'm sure we'd be all good f we just prepared right. Oh, and I'd need to get merch..." Your voice spun round in is head, drawing his mind away from the task at hand. This was going to be very difficult. His frustration was only building more and more and he could feel his headache worsening by the minute.

"Have you seen the video of them at Glastonbury? My god, they looked amazing, especially that lead singer, isn't he just so cool! That rockstar life must be so crazy, I mean imagine you never had a normal job like you're stuck in an office and INSTEAD you just toured and toured-"

"God, I hate it when you can't stop rambling! Can't you see I'm trying to work?" Harry spun around in his chair out of nowhere, cutting you off immediately. His eyes were harsh and cold, his fists clenched by his sides, sitting on the armrests. His eyes bore into your soul, stopping you in your tracks in a way you hadn't even experienced before. He'd never said anything like that to you.

Your jaw sat agape, unsure how to form words.

His, also, loosened, eyes widening as he took into account what he'd said.

"Sweetheart, I didn't mea-"

You ended his sentence for him. "No, that's okay. I'll get out of your way." You took a deep breath, turning around, getting ready to close the door behind you.

"No, it's not okay, please-" He stood up sharply and put his hand between the gap in the door.

"Don't. Drop it. Please don't follow me, Harry." You don't face him as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You hadn't meant to upset him, but now he's upset you.

He stopped short, dropping his hand and taking a step back. Shit.

He ran his hands through his hair, collecting his thoughts at an incredibly fast rate. How could be have just said that? What a horrible, unkind thing to say to you, his beautiful, loving girl, who he would never let anything bad happen to? The guilt settled in his chest and stomach, a completely uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling.

But he loves it when you talk. He could listen to you talk all day. About anything you liked. He knows he already has spent days doing so, and he hopes to do so endlessly. What if this damages your freedom to feel like you can do so? He gulped, the anxiety of his words settling in further and further.

Despite this, you told him not to follow you. He knows he should respect your wishes, though it pains him to do so. Meeting you halfway, he let you leave, and turned on his Out Of Office.

A gear switched in Harry's brain, causing him to hastily push all of his work to the side, and get set on fixing this.

He preheated the oven, preparing ingredients on the countertop and putting on an apron.

His brows furrowed as he studied the instructions for your favourite dessert, ring-brandished fingers pressing into the pages as he analysed every word with precision.

After some time, it was ready. Laid out neatly on the kitchen side as neatly as he possibly could, a singular silver spoon sat readily beside the food. Just the one. He knew this should only be only meant for you.

He stepped back and took in the display. Something was missing.

He scanned the room for a notepad and pen, locating a floral to do list. Harry's handwriting wasn't always the best, but he made a very strong attempt at perfecting this. He planted it softly next to the spoon.

'Please never stop talking. I love to hear your voice. I love YOU. -H'

It wasn't enough, but it was all he thought to be acceptable for the moment. He left the scene, deciding to sit on the balcony until you returned.

Your keys clicked into the door and you shrugged off your jacket with a silent sadness. You had certainly calmed down, but unpleasant thoughts still lingered in the back of your mind.

What if you did talk too much? Were you that much of a burden to him? Maybe he deserved some peace and quiet. Maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight, let him have that. It was unfair, if you were overbearing, one voice said. It overpowered any other in your head that was set on defending you.

You hooked your tote bag in its usual place, next to Harry's David Hockney one, and made your way slowly to the kitchen to make a much needed cup of tea. You decided you'd only make one before you even entered the room.

The dessert was laid out before you, and your eyes didn't allow your brain time to register it. You simply travelled straight towards it, exhaustion and hunger taking over.

You glanced at the scene, catching sight of the note beside the tiny spoon. As you read over it, your vision blurred yet again. A brief sense of relief washed over you.

This was until you began to look around the room and allow yourself to search for any sight of sound of Harry. What if he had left for the night? You weren't sure if you wanted to be alone tonight. But maybe that's what he wanted.

You finished making your tea and picked up your dessert, stepping lightly towards the balcony for some fresh air. And that's where he was.

Harry was standing, leaning against the balcony rail and gazing into the London skyline. His breath was shallow and short, his fingers tapped uneasily on the glass in front of him. When he heard the door open behind him, he shot up from his slumped position.

You set your tea and bowl down on the small table beside you, noticing how he was watching your every move.

You straightened up, looking at him briefly before you both opened your mouth to speak.

"Thank you-"

"I'm sorry-"

You both paused, letting out a short, genuine laugh. Harry smiled softly.

"I'm sorry." He took a single step towards you. "I would never in a million years have meant that. I need you to know that." He stopped for reassurance, tilting his head towards you. You nodded softly.

"I could never hate anything about you. Especially not that. I could talk to you and listen to you talk all day, all year, for the rest of my life. Nothing should come between that. Nothing else should come first. You should always come first. You always come first." He rubbed his eyes, reflecting on his shame.

He doesn't then reopen his eyes to look at you, so you begin to take careful steps towards him, so softly he can't hear you. But then he felt your arms snake around his neck, pulling him into you.

"We say stupid things when we're angry." You muttered into the side of his neck as he responds by hooking his arms around your sides. "Doesn't make it okay, but we're not perfect."

"You're perfect, though." He added, leaning his head into yours.

"Far from it." You laughed.

He sighed, releasing you to plant a kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry. I will never do something like that again. You'd never deserve that, and I don't expect you to forgive-"

His sentence is left unfinished as you took him in a kiss.

"Let that be the only way you shut me up." You pointed at him sternly. He nods, dazed.

"I love you." Harry said softly, gazing at you through his eyelashes.

"I love you too." You replied with a smile, running your fingers through the back of his hair.

And here, you thought,

We'll be alright.

HELLOOOO this is officially my first Harry fic hooray!!! I've come such a long way from reading duplicity at the ripe age of 13...Thank you to @whoopsieismelldaisies for this amazing prompt! I'll most likely edit this later to lengthen it or sonething, I literally wrote this in a whole day lol i really hope I did it justice :) plz be sure to like, reblog and follow, and let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for any/all fics!

lots of love,