#harrie

Interior Sliding Barn Door - 818 poly

Interior Open Barn Door - 814 poly

Barn Door - 1,1k poly

Barn Door Arch - 820 poly

Barn Door Shutter Left & Right - 649 poly

Stable Door Open - 722 poly

Stable Door Closed - 584 poly

Front Door - 1,4k poly

Traditional Window - 620 poly

Display Shelf - 346 poly

Coat Rack - 1,1k poly

Love Chair - 992 poly

Stool - 482 poly

Trim Left & Right - 177 poly

Trim Centre - 48 poly

Timber Truss 2m - 480 poly

Timber Truss 2,5m - 516 poly

Timber Truss 3m - 528 poly

Timber Truss 3,5m - 528 poly

Timber Truss 4m - 528 poly

Fireplace (+resized version) - 963 poly

Pendant Light - 368 poly

Curtain Rod - 32 poly

Curtain Left & Right - 992 poly

Just as you were about to make your way downstairs, an image of your boyfriend found your peripherals. Your head shot around in surprise.

‘What are you doing, honey?’ you shouted as you opened up the small window overlooking your garden, smile on your face. You knew exactly what he was doing.

Last night, you had finished around a week’s work of gardening research. You were determined to have a flourishing haven, full of health blooms, happy plants and floral scented air. So you collected your tools, plant food and stored your brain with all the necessary information on how to prune, deadhead, and water.

Harry was constantly buying you bunches of flowers to decorate your shared home. Flowers which were already flourishing- florists who took the time to arrange the pink roses amongst the mini hydrangeas, with speckles of alstroemeria. Similarly, you loved when he bought you flowers that arrived in bud, taking a few days to blossom into their most pretty form. But you had always talked about making your own arrangements, from flowers that you had grown- maybe even gifting a few bunches to his Mum because you knew how much she always enjoyed flowers.

You had relayed all of your thoughts to Harry. He listened intently, relishing in the fact his girl was finding yet another passion and he was just so excited to see the finished result.

‘Baby, if you’re going to have the garden of your dreams, you best bet I’m going to help!’ he shouted back up you, garden sheers in on hand, other hand holding a branch full of wilted roses.

‘C’mon love, come and join me!—- oh and keep those cute pajamas on, yeah?’ he flirted.

He wasn’t a passive listener, oh no, he made sure to store all of the information from your rambles and use them accordingly.

He was good like that.

So good.

Made you feel funny.

~Butterflies in your tummy~ kinda funny.

You’re not sure he even knows how much it gets to you. How he takes everything you say into account and acts upon it without having to be prompted to. He’s naturally sweet by nature, but extra extra sweet on you. It’s why you’ll probably end up kissing him extra hard later on, give him anything he asks for.

♡

Strike two happened later on in the day. Not as big of a gesture but greatly appreciated nonetheless.

After a morning filled with falling petals and fleeting kisses, both of you decided to take a quick shower together.

‘Come here lovely girl. As much as I love those cute little pajamas, I think I need to get them off you, don’t you think?’ he teased, his hands already tracing the end of your pink tank top.

‘Um, I don’t think so mister!’ giggling as you shooed his hands away, quickly shuffling away to grab the hair mask you were so eager to use- placing it on the side of the bath to make sure everything was in arms reach whilst you showered.

‘Oh, I see, you’re being cruel, that’s it isn’t it, you want to hear me beg? Because you know I will, honey.’ but before he can turn around, he feels two delicate hands sneak around his middle.

He breathes out deeply through his nose as she squeezes around his middle, pressing herself up against his back.

‘Hush, silly boy.’ you laughed, placing the side of your head up against his back, rubbing your face slightly up against the cotton of his t-shirt. ‘I just wanted to make sure I’ve got everything. Besides, I wanted to do… this’, and with that, you slid your hand down towards the bottom of his top, lifting it slightly so you could get your hands on this skin just above his pyjamas bottoms. This is where your pretty, glittery nails came in handy.

Tracing along that line with your nails, a slight scratch. You know exactly how to make him shiver.

You found it a little amusing but mostly sexy how such a big, strong man like himself could be reduced to sighs and shivers just by the feeling of your perfectly manicured fingernails.

Your hands finding the end of his t-shirt now to take it over his head, he had to help of course, you were a little too small to pull it over his head.

‘You’re going to kill me, y’know’ he says, turning around in your arms, leaning forward to gift a little kiss on the end of your nose.

‘I know’ you beamed back, giving him a silly, toothy grin.

‘Right, enough of this little game you’re playing’, and with that, he dragged your top over your head followed by grabbing your hips to spin you around to pull your bottoms down too.

Disoriented with his quick movements, a little squeal leaves you when you feel his lips kiss your right bum cheek.

‘Harry!!!’

‘Got a cute little bum haven’t you, darling?’, casually stating as he rises to his feet, ushering you into to shower first. Following right behind you, eager to get you covered in warm water droplets.

You both took great pleasure in lathering the other in sweet smelling bubbles and seeing it rinse off both of your bodies.

You were sure you had the better end of the deal though, getting to see the soap run all the way from his hair, through the middle of his chest to somewhere much naughtier.

He would beg to differ however. He was utterly in love with everything about you. What could be better than seeing your skin all wet, hard nipples peaking through the bubbles that are coating your breasts? Yeah, he wins.

‘Let me give you a little head massage, yeah?’, lathering a handful of the lilac scented hair mask over the ends of your hair. He didn’t give you time to respond, he knew you’d love a massage, you loved any sort of touch he gave you.

‘I want to be partly responsible for how pretty your hair looks later on’, he croons, letting his fingers swirl against your scalp.

God, he was good. First it was him gardening and now he’s giving you an impromptu massage. It doesn’t help he accompanies each perfect action with teasing phrases to rile you up in just the right way.

♡

You ought to have predicted strike three really. But having it catch you by surprise made it even better.

How dare he just stand there, sipping on a cup of tea, light gray joggers hanging low on his hips.

He managed to evade you after you finished your shower. Both using your own separate dressing rooms to put on loungewear as you both had the afternoon free- planning on using that time to spend the time together, unbothered by the outside world.

Was he doing this on purpose?

You don’t suppose it matters really. He’s in for it now.

You march right over to him, grabbing his cup of tea. He allowed you to lift it from his hand and place it on the counter. A slight smirk on his lips, he had thought this might happen. You were such a little tease during your shower- rubbing him all over, making a little show of rinsing yourself off.

Lacing your fingers together, you pulled him from the kitchen, letting him trail behind you.

‘Sit’ you demanded as you reached your living room, guiding him towards the sofa.

He, of course, did as he was told.

He met your eyes, reaching his hand out, pulling your standing body in between his spread legs. Other hand pressing into the curve of your back, so his lips could meet your clothed lower stomach.

‘Not fair, Harry’, you pouted, a sigh leaving your lips, head falling back, your hands weaving their way through the damp strands of his freshly-washed hair.

‘What’s not fair, pretty girl?’ he says, muted by continuing kisses.

‘You’re going to make me melt’ you whined, head rolling forward, your hands pulling on his hair to tilt his head back.

‘Melt? Well we wouldn’t want that would we?

‘Why not?’ you raised your eyebrow

‘Well, then we couldn’t do this could we?’

He manoeuvred you with cocky confidence, allowing you to fall on top of him, your breasts pressing so close to his face, thighs spreading over his, pressing you as close as he possibly can.

‘I think my girl needs to be taken care of, doesn’t she? Too pretty for your own good.’ pushing your hair away from your shoulders, mouth meeting the top of your clothed breast, you couldn’t help but give a slight wiggle to your hips.

‘You know, I was planning to be the one in charge right now’ you gasped.

‘You still can be baby, just tell me what you want, I’ll give you anything.’

But it’s a split second to inhale before his lips are back on hers like that little break (minuscule really) was too much time for their lips to be apart.

The minute she let out a pant, Harry took the opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth - greedy, indulgent, and you would think he’d been a man withheld from physical affection for years.

The room felt like it was closing in around them—small, private, dangerously close . 

The air was thick with heat and the weight of everything they weren’t supposed to be doing. 

Harry’s body pressed against hers, solid and overpowering, completely consuming. 

He wasn’t just close—he was everywhere.

Something she’d imagined for so long, how he would feel, what it would be like to be in the exact situation, and it didn’t seem real that the man of her dreams was kissing her like it was his dying wish.

It lets her know that she hadn’t imagined the sexual tension in the past, over the last year or so.

YN had convinced herself that it was in her imagination because she was pining after him slightly, not that it was actually there.

She thought she had been looking into it too much when she often glanced over at Harry to find him already looking at her.

At how when they were brushing past each other, Harry would lightly put his hand on her lower back or squeeze her hip gently, or that the pet names were just terms of endearment even if he didn’t say them to their other friends.

YN’s fingers are knotted tightly into his curls, something she’d always imagined as he’s ducked down to meet her lips, keeping her right where she was and right where he wants her.

When Harry pulls back but their noses are still brushing, his chest is heaving, and his forehead is against hers.

He swallows harshly and shakes his head, eyelids fluttering shut as he tries to gather himself, “I-fuck, honey. You have to tell me to stop. Please, tell me.”

For a second she thought it might be regret, that maybe he’d come to his senses.

YN’s heart seizes, insecurity creeping through as she lightly tugs at his hair until he blinks his eyes open, his pupils are blown, his lips are pink and puffy from her own, “Do you want to stop?”

Harry lets out this laugh that his voice cracks on, breathless and heavy, “No, the last thing I want to do is stop. Fuck I want you so bad and I-I shouldn’t. I’ve never felt like this.”

“Like what?” YN presses, her voice soft and curious, her fingertips moving to comb through his hair - if she was only going to be able to touch him for a short amount of time, she was going to make sure to do it as much as possible.

“You make me feel out of control,” Harry admits as he nudges their lips together, softer this time and not for long but it was like he’d went too long and needed to feel it again.

YN tries to figure out how to respond but he’s still talking.

“You’re drivin’ me insane and you don’t even realize it. You never have. I’ve always had good self-control.. I keep shit in check. I’m good at that. But with you?” He laughs under his breath, edgy and wrecked, “With you it’s like none of that matters. I try to pull away, I swear I do, but the second I see you, the second you look at me like that—I’m fucked. I can’t reel it in. I can’t.”

YN tries not to let those words get engraved into her brain because she has too much self-doubt to trust that he’s not just saying these things because he’s clearly aroused, clearly making bad decisions, and what is said in the heat of the moment isn’t something that she should take to heart.

But shit, it fuels her ego.

Harry’s made her feel so desirable, so wanted in these few minutes in a way that no one has ever made her feel, not even her partners prior to Ben, and it is invigorating, new.

“Please,” YN can’t find anything else to say but she was willing to beg, she wasn’t above it because this could be the only time this happens, and she can’t risk passing it up.

Harry’s gaze locked with hers, something wild and unreadable flashing in his eyes, “You’re sure?”

YN nods, hands moving from his hair down the side of his jaw, “Is it not obvious? How much I want this too?”

He sucked in a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he tried to steady himself, his voice came out thick and cloying like the petname he kept calling her, “Tell me again. Humor me, honey.”

YN shakes her head, lips wobbly as she feels random emotion prick behind her eyes, there was so much going on, her brain couldn’t keep up nor did she want it to.

She’d always been the good girl. 

The one who thought things through, made lists, weighed consequence but for once—just once, she wanted to live without second-guessing every damn decision. 

Even if this was a bad one. 

“Please, Harry. I just -” YN voice goes higher pitch, she must look as frantic as she feels because he’s honed in again, alert and noticing the wet film that was starting to film over her eyes.

“You’re gon’na kill me,” Harry laughs with a fondness she hasn’t heard before, not even towards his own girlfriend.

There’s some weight behind his words that YN’s choosing to ignore because she’s not had one sip of alcohol but she was starting to feel drunk.

And not in a light, bubbly way - this was heavy, dizzying, like her head couldn’t quite keep up with her body like she was already too far gone.

The heat hadn’t faded, hadn’t fizzled—it was slower now, syrupy, dragging and simmering under her skin like molasses.

Because as soon as YN rolls her hips forward, right towards where he’s hard, his hands come to hips and press her back into the wall with a roughness that makes her physically throb .

She never had anyone take what they want, manhandle her, and let her not make every call.

"Not yet," Harry chastises, fingertips pressing into her skin.

She wants to point out that they shouldn't take that long.

She doesn't know if anyone would check on them, or if any of them where even sober enough to know that they've gone missing for an extended amount of time.

YN lets this low whine from her throat, a noise she's sure she's never made before, and lets out a huff of air - frustration because she could feel how wet she was, there was arousal that wasn't just pooling in the pit of her tummy but raging, a fire that needed extinguished.

Harry stepped back slightly, but his gaze stayed fixed on her. 

His smile was sharp, fond and teasing, and his voice was full of something too intimate to name, “You’re sweet—sweet as honey. Wouldn’t have guessed you were a spoiled little brat underneath it all. So tell me, you spoiled thing… what do you want?”

YN blinked, her mind fuzzy and trying to keep up. 

She wasn’t used to this—talking during sex. 

Teasing. 

That line between humor and heat. 

It short-circuited her anxiety and left her floundering.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, panicking just a little, “I don’t wanna be spoiled—”

Harry's smile falters when he realizes that she doesn't know he's just prodding at her to get a reaction, and he steps forward once again, voice soft and reassuring, "Don't, I like this version of you. Do you want to tell me what you want or do you want me to decide?"

Not thinking sounds great at the moment actually.

“You,” She breathed, the answer instinctual, without a single beat of doubt,“You.”

Harry’s gaze grew molten again, he moves closer once again, mouth ghosting over her lips before they're pressing against the edge of her jaw.

She naturally tilts her head to the side, head lolling back as his hand came up to cup her throat—not tight, but firm enough to make her feel it, to ground her in the moment.

"I need to see you," Harry rumbles as he sucks at her pulse point, careless, and hopefully, not with enough pressure to leave a lasting mark but she couldn't be assed to chide him, only rooting her fingers into his hair deeper to keep him as close as possible, "Fuckin' struck me dumb yesterday. You know your tits are pretty, flashin' 'em to me because they're perfect."

And it wasn't true, YN didn't show him because she thinks they're anything great.

YN doesn't realize that she's shaking her head in disagreement until Harry pulls his lips away from her neck, and YN hand's move from his locks down to his shoulders, broad and straight.

"Why are you shaking your head at me?" Harry raises an eyebrow, his hands are smoothing down her sides, over the big tee-shirt (it was the one Harry had given her the day prior and she hadn't returned it though she should of, she knew she should of when she walked out wearing it today, and Lauren stared her down but didn't say anything).

"You don't need to butter me up to -"

“Stop talking.” His voice was firm now.

Serious.

The shift was immediate.

His jaw ticked, lips set in a tight line, “Take your top off.”

Her breath hitched.

Not from fear.

But from the gravity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes.

“You’re not going to talk down ‘bout yourself around me,” He continued, quieter now but no less direct, “I know he tore you down. Said things that stuck. But none of that shit’s true. I’m not buttering you up—I don’t need to. I don’t know how you don’t see how fuckin’ gorgeous you are—inside and out but I’m going to show you.”

YN’s chest ached with the weight of it all—his words, his sincerity, his frustration on her behalf.

And despite her instinct to shrink away, to hide, to keep that armor tightly wrapped around herself… she didn’t hesitate.

She pulled the shirt over her head.

Her skin prickled in the sudden air, left in nothing but her bikini top and the jean shorts tugged over the bottoms.

Harry steps forward, quiet as night between them, and he reaches around her to untie the knot of her bikini at the base of her neck.

Before moving down to undo the knot right underneath her shoulder blades, and just like that, the garment slips from her body and onto the ground.

Her instant reaction is to cover herself but she didn’t have the chance.

Harry was on her.

"Fuckin' hell," Harry grunts as he ducks down, hands greedy as they cup her tits, perfect sized handfuls, and he's rushed to bring his mouth to meet where he's massaging at her, "You don't even know what you do to me. Look at this pair, you're god damn blind if you can see any flaw in 'em.'

And yet, beneath the pleasure, something darker stirred, something bitter and hollow.

Because this? 

This reverence, this hunger, this unshakable desire—this was not what she had with Ben.

It's not until right now she truly realized how fucked up it was that he talked so negatively about her body.

Led her to believe that she had all these issues that she couldn't change but when she pointed out these things were inherently her and she can't change how her body looks, he had been disgustingly genuine when he said, "That's not true. Boob jobs exist for a reason."

Before him, she hadn’t loved her body, but she hadn’t hated it either.

She thought her boobs were cute - small, but round. 

Her nipples were puffy, sure, but they were hers. 

Nothing about her ever felt like a problem until someone told her it was.

And yet that same man would sulk for hours if she didn’t tell him how good his haircut looked.

If she didn’t fawn over the way his biceps popped in a new gym shirt.

It had always felt so unbalanced—how much space she was expected to make for his ego.

But Harry wasn’t giving her time to spiral right now.

 He was dragging her out of it with his mouth and his hands and the way he touched her like she was a piece of art. 

Wet and hungry, his lips wrapped around her nipple, tongue circling before he sucked, gentle at first, then rougher, like he couldn’t help himself. 

His other hand kneaded her free breast, thumb brushing over the peak with careful, almost reverent attention.

The sensation ripped through her like a current and her back arched away from the wall as a startled gasp escaped her mouth, “Har—”

She didn’t get the rest out. 

He scraped his teeth over the sensitive peak, the dull bite making her moan, pleasure flaring where pain flickered.

 It was better than anything she thought she’d like. 

Harry doesn’t break rhythm, hunching his broad shoulders to get lower, curling into her chest, and her hand comes to the back of his neck to keep him there.

He’s sloppy with it but not in an unexperienced way, in a very precise way.

The way he laps at her, leaving her skin wet with his spit so he can pull back, blow air on it before latching back with his teeth nipping the thin skin around it.

It was obscene, and though YN always guessed that Harry would be good in bed - well, she didn’t expect this.

She was stuck in an in-between hell because she never wanted him to stop but the ache between her thighs was getting unmanageable, it felt like she was going to combust.

After a long moment, teasing, biting, licking - he finally pulls back to admire his work, cupping both and running his thumbs over her hard, damp peaks with a sense of accomplishment on his face, “See how puffy they are now? S’perfect size to find in my hand and they’re prettier the puffier they get.”

YN taken aback by how sincere he is, how he can’t take his eyes off of her, and when she looks back on this moment - it’s like time didn’t exist, that there was no lake house around them, and there was definitely no significant others just outside at the firepit, oblivious.

YN’s mouth is dry, probably from panting like there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill her lungs, and it feels difficult to find her voice.

“Harry, I can’t,” YN begins and when Harry’s eyes quickly pop up to her face, expression going concerned, she realizes it sounds like she wants to stop which is the last fucking thing she wants so she continues even if it’s more of a babble, “Feels like m’on fire, I need t’come, please-”

Harry inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening with restraint, eyes dark. 

Harry pulls back up to kiss her quiet, his thumbs still rolling at her nipples, squeezing the weight of her tits in his palm, “Gon’na show me where else you’re pretty?”

YN nods slowly, but it’s not without a wave of insecurity that crawls up her spine and settles heavy on her chest. 

No one’s seen her like this in so long. 

She hadn’t had many partners before Ben, and now she’s realizing just how deep his criticisms carved into her self-worth. 

He always had something to say—some way to make her feel wrong in her own skin.

Her mind jumps to how he didn’t like to eat her out because her folds were full, tucked everything neatly inside, and even when she was aroused (which wasn’t often with Ben, well, never), her clit didn’t even peak out then, and he said it was ‘too hard’ to get her off because of that.

It wasn’t just the hurtful words, looking back, there was no kind way to put what he told her.

He had said it with annoyance that YN ever even asked why he doesn’t do that and she stopped asking questions after that because it typically ended in some time of hurtful turn back on her.

Harry has a flash of anger cross his face, it was remarkable how much he knew without her even saying anything, “What? What could he possible have fucking said to you?”

“It’s not important-”

“No, it is because I’m going to fuckin’ prove it wrong,” Harry insists, there was no argument.

And YN almost laughs, because how could this be happening?

 How could she be here, half-naked, pinned between a wall and Harry Styles’ chest, being told her body deserves to be worshipped?

YN curls her bottom lip, “He didn’t, it’s dumb, he doesn’t like - I can’t say it.”

“Please?” Harry sweetens up a bit, his lips soft against her cheekbone, “I only want to know so I can make you see how pretty you are.”

“He said it’s too hard to do anything for me because of how it looks, because it’s all… tucked in. It’s stupid,” YN tries to brush it off.

Harry blinks.

Then—he laughs.

A short, disbelieving snort that’s almost kind before realization sets in and turns it bitter.

“He didn’t make you come?” Harry asks, incredulous. “Like, ever?”

YN’s eyes drop.

Her voice shrinks “I don’t think it’s all him. I just… I stopped trying.”

Harry is silent, watching her like he’s waiting for the punchline but it doesn’t come.

It’s not a joke.

"Can I?" Harry asks softer now, sobering from his disbelief, his fingertips tuck into the waistband of her jean shorts and tug as a request, "I know you'll be so pretty for me."

YN has a million reasons to say 'no'.

But she can't find one that she wants to say because she wants to say 'yes'.

"Yes," YN agrees with rapt attention on him as he kneels in front of her, glancing up at her from underneath his eyelashes, and it's the most breathtaking scene she never knew she needed to see.

His hands run up from her ankles past her calves, knees, and thighs before he's popping the button on her jean shorts.

Glancing up one more time to check to which she gives him a nervous but sure smile and nod that he has full permission to do it.

Harry curls his fingers into the material, hooking the string of her bikini bottoms as well.

He's tugging them down, down, down until he helps her step out of them so she doesn't trip, carelessly tossing them to the side as he goads her into spreading her thighs a bit more.

YN is waiting on bated breath but even though it shouldn't be shocking, it still is when he uses one of his big hands to hook under her thigh and throw over his shoulder like it's nothing, giving him more room to work, and effectively burying his face between her legs.

She was pinned up against the wall, putting some of her weight on Harry.

She’s barely had time to process what’s happening before she moans—loud.

Because he’s not fumbling. 

He’s not hesitant. 

He parts her folds with his fingers, presses his nose against her mound, and licks—slow, purposeful, and right on her clit.

"Harry," YN mewls in pleasure, she can't believe she ever bought Ben's story of 'too hard to work with'.

"S'not hard to miss your cute little clit," Harry thumbs over her folds, collecting the slick over the pad of his thumb, "Did I find it, honey?"

YN lets her head fall back, lips parted, breath caught somewhere in her chest.

“More,” She pleads, “Want more.”

"Spoiled rotten," Harry almost croons, he moves his thumb over her bud, rolling it underneath with firm, direct motions that have her thighs want to twitch shut, "How could anyone say anything negative about her? She's pretty as anything, you know that? S'like the biggest tease, hiding everything from me."

YN never looked at it that way, she tried not to think about it much but her ego was being fed more than it ever had before.

Harry bullies his way back in, no more talking as his free hand comes up to grip her hip, keeping her pressed back against the wall as she tries to roll into it.

His hand that was spreading her moves to tease at her entrance, just tracing, and starting to press the tip of his finger in when it's too much.

His tongue was persistent- filthy as he would lick from her hole up to the crest, he nips at her hood, pulls it back, knows exactly what the fuck he's doing.

"Oh, I feel you pulsing, sweetheart," Harry hums happily, barely pulling back, and the hand on his hip moves to her backside, squeezing her backside hard and pulling her into his motions which was all she needs to start to quiver.

Hips erratic as she bites the back of her hand to keep quiet but he can still hear the moans as stars burst behind her eyelids - truly the best orgasm she's ever had.

“Look at that,” Harry sounds like he’s in awe and fuck, she feels powerful, “Holy fuck, look at you.”

And his mouth is back on her until she rides it out, even afterwards he’s lapping at her like he has to get every last drop of her arousal on his tongue.

She’s not used to coming from someone else, that intensely, so she squeaks when the overstimulation starts, and Harry pulls back.

YN’s fuzzy in a way she can’t ever remember being, it’s like she’s tipsy or just smoked enough to get a bit of a high, floaty.

Harry doesn’t instantly stand, instead he does something oddly intimate and sweet, he noses at her thigh, resting his forehead against it there, and his hands are just massaging her backside, and he says, “That was incredible.”

“You didn’t even get off yet,” YN giggles but it’s airy, breathless as her hearts still trying to slow, her hand coming back down to push through his hair.

“Don’t have to get off to enjoy it, I don’t need anything, honey,” Harry tells her but everything about his body says elsewise, how wound tight he seems, the way his cheeks are pink, and his eyes were more pupil than anything else.

“I want to see you now,” YN insists as she encourage shim to stand.

It was her turn to touch him because she hadn’t really gotten the opportunity yet.

She wanted her hands, her mouth on every inch of him, and when she reverses the roles and pushes him back against the sink, lips finding the curve of his throat, her hand coming to thumb at his nipple.

Harry lets out this low, rumbling moan that will permanently be etched in her mind.

But then there’s footsteps, up the wooden staircase, and reality sinks back - Harry and her eyes both get wide.

Jesus.