#siem

Aaliyah really doesn’t mind the phrases he uses because it all comes down to a single fact: they are to be wed. And just the reminder of it makes her stomach erupt in butterflies and her fingers spasm with excitement.

Harry does arrive moments later and all Aaliyah can do when he walks into the bright ballroom is stare at him as if it’s her first time meeting him again. Often when they're at lively events and social gatherings, she’s reminded of the first time she actually saw him in that dimly lit library. She’d already been half in love with him due to his compositions, but when she laid eyes on him, it was over for her. She’d thought he was impossibly beautiful then, and she thinks he’s impossibly beautiful now.

His eyes scan the room as they always do when he first enters. He nods politely at a few diplomats, officers, business partners, and acquaintances. And then his eyes meet Aaliyah’s and instead of treating her the same with a curt nod, he smiles faintly, beginning the walk over to her across the room.

She takes him in. From his dark curls to his black suit, his gold cufflinks and pocket watch. It’s all so perfectly styled, so delicate, so precise. One dimple on the side of his cheek, eyes glistening with interest, a hand tucked into his pockets. His freshly shaved face and his strong brows that raise when he realizes what she’s doing. He always knows when she’s watching him, assessing.

Harry stops in front of her and greets her aunt, uncle, and cousin first, before holding his hand out for Aaliyah to take. “Miss Kincaid.” He's teasing her.

Aaliyah’s stomach erupts with flutters again just from the way his lips kiss the back of her hand. As he looks up at her from his slight box, the ends of his soft cravat trail up her wrist. “Mr. Styles.”

“Mind if I steal your niece away?” he asks her aunt. “I’ve a few people I promised I’d introduce her to.”

Her aunt doesn’t refuse and lets Harry place her hand in the crook of his arm and pull her away.

Once they’re far enough, he leans down and murmurs, “You look very pretty tonight, Aaliyah.”

“And you look very handsome.”

The corner of is mouth ticks up. “I gathered that from the way you looked at me.”

“I feel as if I always look at you like that.”

He visibly considers this. “Yes, that’s true.” 

“Is that a new suit?”

“It is. You like it?”

She swallows. “I do.”

Harry gives her a knowing glance. “Do not do that.”

“Do what?”

“Give me that look.”

“You’re giving me the look!”

“Which look am I giving you?”

“That look that says we’re going to be locking ourselves in a private room later.”

Aaliyah hears the smile on his voice. “Ah. That look. Yes, well, the thought did cross my mind, if I must admit. But I’ve only just arrived and it’ll take me some time to actually come to a conclusion about it.”

“It didna take you long to make that decision last time.” She peeks at him innocently. He raises his eyebrows. “In fact, it took just five minutes after the orchestra began that night. In case you were wondering, the orchestra begins in a couple of minutes tonight, so I suggest you make your decision quickly.”

Harry hums. He glances over his shoulder at the crowd of people who are getting ready for their first dance of the night, contemplating. “Already making a move? Not even a dance first, my dearest?”

Aaliyah says, “Havena seen you in four days. I think I can skip a dance or two.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say you’d actually want to skip the first dance.”

“Harry.” She stops, making him turn to her. She knows her eyes are on fire, her face intense. Harry’s own eyes soften at the sight of the likely determination on her face. “Let me be clear. I want you. And aye, it's early and you just arrived but I've missed you." She whispers the last part, almost embarrassed about saying it in public. "And you look...." She takes a breath. Harry's eyes are amused. "Listen. They willna notice that we’re gone. Look at them.”

She’s right; the crowd is brimming with excitement for the first dance. Within seconds, the orchestra begins to play and Aaliyah begins inching towards the exit of the ballroom. She knows this house well. Often, large events are held here. She knows there’s a staircase that leads upstairs to a variety of rooms that will be vacant.

"If I knew you were this eager," Harry says softly, "I would have come sooner." He places a hand on her back, giving her a slight push. “Come on, then.”

She nods, picking up her skirts. She moves quickly out of the room, Harry trailing behind her quickly. She holds his hand tight and they make their way up the staircase.

“Room all the way down,” he whispers in her ear and she nods again. It ends up being a powder room, which is fine. It’ll do.

The lock is barely set in place when Harry’s hands grab her waist and pin her to the door. She absolutely loves it when Harry becomes so urgent for her. She locks her arms behind his head and pushes herself up to meet his kisses with the same desperation, kissing him breathlessly.

“I’ve missed you as well,” he murmurs, kissing down her jaw. Her fingers curl around his hand, tugging. “It’s only been a few days but I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.” He pulls away, holding her face. “I am such an impatient man. I want you to be my wife already. To live with me. Be everywhere I go. In my house, my bed. Most definitely my bed.”

Aaliyah gasps out a laugh. “I thought getting engaged would make these feelings lessen their intensity.”

“No,” Harry says, kissing her throat. His quick fingers work on the buttons of her dress. She feels the fabric loosen until her neckline is open, her shoulders and collarbones now exposed. He attacks those with gentle but firm kisses. ”It’s been worse, my love. At every turn, I hope it is you that’s there, waiting for me.”

“I’m always waiting for you,” she whispers, throwing her head back for him to continue the kisses. He does, her dress slowly inching down. “Harry. Harry.”

“Your husband,” he says quietly. “That is my purpose in life. To be your husband.”

He kisses her mouth again, hard. She begins to work on his clothes, starting with his cravat. She feel the silk drop from her hands once she’s done removing it, working on the buttons on his shirt. Harry helps her by removing his jacket.

“Can’t be too messy,” he warns her.

“I ken,” she whispers, working on his trousers. She pulls his shirt out of them and looks up at him through her lashes. “We willa be messy.”

Harry nods, kissing her neck once more as he gathers her skirts up. “I’ve… I’ve got to put you on the counter.”

“Aye. I canna stand and – ”

She lets him pick her up, settling her on the counter. She leans back across the marble, thanking whoever made this powder room that there’s enough room for a desperate couple to fuck.

Harry tucks his hair behind his ears and gently parts her thighs. At first, he simply leans down and kisses her. One thing she’s learned about Harry is that he can lose himself in kissing her for hours. It’ll seem like he’ll never need to breathe. When she whimpers, Harry pulls away, resting his head on hers, chuckling.

“My lover is too impatient,” he laughs. He presses a finger into her, listening to her sigh with relief. He works on another finger when she starts whining again. “So impatient.”

“Your lover,” she whispers, “hasna seen you in four days.”

“And hasn’t been touched in over two weeks.”

“So you can understand why she’s impatient, aye?”

“Oh, yes I can.” He drinks in her small gasps and groans. Her eyes are shut, eyebrows pushed together with pleasure. He removes his fingers when she lifts her hips to desperately gain some friction.

Harry pushes his cock into her slowly, watching her face change. Her eyes fly open and meet his, her mouth slightly open, several Gaelic swears tumbling out. He smiles. He really can’t help it.

Aaliyah’s hands reach out to grab onto his shirt, tilting her head back against the mirror. She groans softly, the ache inside of her growing as Harry increases his pace, his hands clutching the edges of the counter to keep them both upright.

“When you’re my wife,” he whispers, moving in and out of her, loving the way she cries out, “I’m going to hear your real voice.”

“My…my real voice?” Aaliyah often finds herself speechless during moments like this.

“Yes.” Harry leans down and kisses her hard. “I will find out how you sound when there’s no fear of being heard. You already drive me fucking insane.” With the last word, he rocks his hips harder, driving himself into her. She cries out again and he kisses her to gently silence her, continuing against her mouth, “And I’ve no doubt you’ll make things even worse for me.”

“What if… what if I have a really embarrassing real voice?” she asks, smiling. She tightens her fingers around his shirt. “What if you laugh each time we do this?”

“No, it is not embarrassing. It is the little noises you already make, but louder. I want you loud, my love. Want you to be the only thing I hear.”

At his words, she shudders, tilting her head back again. Her mouth forms Harry’s name, silently repeating it as her eyes flutter shut. “What else?” she whispers. “What else will be different?”

“I’ll be able to touch you whenever I please,” he answers, one hand on her waist now. “Kiss you whenever I please. Have you whenever I please.” He pauses. “In my bed. I do love you something fierce, Aaliyah, but we haven’t made love in a bed in months and quite frankly, my back aches from bending over like this.”

Aaliyah slaps a hand over her mouth to silence her barking laughter. “My back aches too afterwards!”

“I just want to lay you down on a nice bed,” he continues after gently pulling on her wrist to remove her hand from her face. She blinks at him through a pleasure filled haze. “Get you warm. Light a few candles. And banish everyone from the house for several days.”

“That’s the point of a honeymoon, no?”

“Yes, but I’d like to make love to you in my own bed too.”

“Harry,” Aaliyah softly groans. Harry begins to gently rub circles over her clit, making her arch her back. “You feel so good. That all sounds so lovely.” Her breath stutters as the pleasure grows in her lower stomach and she places her hand over her mouth again. “I’m going to–”

“No,” Harry murmurs, flicking her hand away. He leans down and kisses her, moving inside of her quickly, swallowing her groans as eager as he always is. She sobs against him, arms around his neck, eyes squeezed shut. Harry mutters a swear and rests his head against her collar as he gives her a few final thrusts and then releases himself inside of her, blinding hot pleasure coursing through his body.

Afterwards, the only thing audible is their heavy breathing. Both their hearts are beating fast, bodies overheating. When Harry picks his head up from her chest, he kisses her softly, tenderly. “I love you,” he tells her, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. “It’s you.” He runs his thumb over her cupid’s bow and then kisses her again. “Just you. Always you."

He slowly removes himself from inside of her and then cleans himself up while Aaliyah fixes her dress and hair.

It takes her longer to trust her voice, but she repeats it back to him when he’s tying his cravat. “I love you, Harry.” She sighs when he’s overcome with emotion and hugs her tightly. “Must we go back out there?”

Harry kisses her neck softly, nodding. “We must.”

“We can run away.”

“I’d love nothing more than to run away,” he says, stepping back. “You know that.”

She nods. “I do.” Then she frowns. “But I do hate waiting for my cycle to get to a point where we can make love, though.”

Harry hums. “Can’t have kids before we get married, hm?”

“I guess so, but what shall I do on the days I really need you? On those days, the thought of having bairns doesna bother me.”

He smiles, looking at her through the mirror as he washes his hands. “There’s plenty of other things to do, dearest.”

“And not all of them require a bed,” she says brightly.

“But I still would like one.” He puts a hand on his lower back after drying his hands. “It bloody hurts after a while.”

“It does,” she giggles, kissing him one last time before taking a deep breath and unlocking the door. “All right. Let’s finish up this night.”

“Careful, Aaliyah,” he says amusedly, kissing the top of her head. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”

“Well,” she shrugs. “I was bound to be influenced by you somehow. Maybe you’ll be influenced by me and learn to socialize more.”