Pure Seduction

Sometimes you wake up before his alarm. It’s still very early, so everything is still very quiet and the light is very dim, and Harry is still enjoying his last precious moments of sleep. You raise up on your elbow and watch him breathe, watch his eyelids flutter as he dreams, and you can never resist pressing little kisses to his shoulder and his cheek and his arm, tracing the length of his spine with your fingertips.
When he wakes up and finds you already awake, he always gives you a sleepy smile and pulls you close, whispering into your hair that you make it harder for him to get out of bed. Sometimes you walk your fingers carefully down his belly, tracing the line of coarse little hairs that lead into his low slung boxers, and tell him that you can make it a little harder for him, if that’s what he wants. Other times, you just giggle and push on his shoulder and tell him to stop being such a bum.
This is one of those times; prying his fingers from around your waist and rolling out of his arms, telling him to go shower before he’s late.
“But kitten…” he whines, eyes small and sleepy and imploring you, and he knows how much his gravelly morning voice can affect you, knows how much you secretly adore being called his kitten. You narrow your eyes at his dirty tricks.
“Don’t start this morning. I don’t wanna hear you complaining later about getting your ass handed to you for being late, again.” Harry sighs and presses his face into the pillow next to you, sagging his weight into the mattress.
“I don’t wanna,” he mumbles, voice muffled and petulant like a kid. “They’re gonna make me work.” Behind the childishness is a genuine resistance, that part of him that doesn’t want to leave this house, this room, this bed with you and go back to being Harry StylesTM. Some mornings it’s very hard for him to put on the mask and face the whole, terrifying world with it, and your heart aches for him. You always wish you could shield him from everything, but sometimes all you can do is be there for him, a calm and stable presence in his life.
You run your fingers through his sleep flattened hair, massage his scalp lightly and give him a soft kiss to his temple. It relaxes him, makes his fingers search for yours and squeeze when he finds them, pull them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.
“I love you.” It’s spoken right against your skin, breathed right into your hand where he had rubbed his thumb over your finger a month ago and told you he’d be putting a ring there soon, and your mouth stretches into a fond smile.
“I love you too.” Harry lifts his head enough to lean toward you in a silent request for a kiss, and you happily oblige, despite the morning breath. One kiss turns into two kisses, then three, and four, and five, until his tongue is feeling out your bottom lip and he’s dragging you half underneath him by one strong arm around your waist. “Hey, hey,” you protest, despite how much you want to suck on his tongue and invite him between your legs. “You’re supposed to be getting up.” You realize your blunder when Harry’s lips quirk into a lopsided smirk.
“I am definitely getting ‘up’, love.” And he proves his point when he slides a leg in between yours to press himself against you, and sure enough, it’s impossible to miss the hard swell of his morning erection against your thigh. You bite your lip and turn your head away from his next oncoming kiss but it does nothing to deter him; he only drags his lips over your cheek and down to your neck, hand sliding under your shirt, and though you stifle your moan you can’t help the way your fingernails dig into the skin on his back. You are a grown woman and you know you should be able to field your boyfriend’s advances, especially when you know it’s really for his own good, but he sucks on your earlobe, voice slow and impossibly deep as he calls you 'kitten’ once more, and you feel yourself starting to slip under the heady power of his influence.
Thankfully, that’s when his second emergency alarm goes off, loud and squealing from the blinking clock on his nightstand, and it jars you back into reality. Harry curses, climbing off you to turn the damn thing off, and when he turns back to you you’ve already sat up and turned on the lamp.
“Harry, no,” you shake your head at him when he reaches for you again, and he groans and flops onto his back, arms spread wide and almost smacking you. “You’re really, actually going to be late now if you don’t get up.” You watch as he struggles himself up to sitting, legs dangling over the edge of the bed and back muscles bunched under his tanned skin. You can feel the reluctance radiating off him in waves, and you scoot up against his back, kissing his warm skin and feeling him immediately lean back against you. “You can do it, you know,” you assure him quietly, rubbing his arms with sure strokes before you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him, resting your cheek against his. “I have total faith in you. You’ve got this.” He breathes out through his nose, a long exhale, and then nods.
“Yeah.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses it again. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” You kiss his ear and lean back to rub his shoulders. “How about I make that fancy coffee from Brazil that you like so much?” Harry smiles softly at you from over his shoulder.
“I could use a cup of that, babe.”
“Okay. I’ll do that, you shower.”
When you come back, nursing the cup of hot liquid that you hope is up to his standard, you’re just in time to hear the shower cut off in the bathroom. You set his mug down on the dresser, since you know that’s where he’ll head anyway once he comes out, and then you climb back into bed, trying to find any lingering warmth. As Harry putters around in the bathroom, you peruse your phone and feel yourself slowly growing sleepy again, so it’s with tired eyes that you see Harry emerge from the bathroom, damp and scowling down at his phone.
Freshly shaven, scrubbed, and plyed with coffee, Harry wanders around the spacious bedroom getting himself ready for the day. You put your phone down and watch him from your spot curled up on the bed with the covers tucked up to your chest, admiring his form with little shame as he buckles his watch and runs palmfuls of expensive products through his damp hair. He hasn’t put his shirt on yet and you almost sigh over him, at all the muscle he’s put on over the past year and all the tattoos and all the little ways that he moves that drive you just a little bit crazy. There’s still a lingering tingle between your thighs from his earlier attentions, and it isn’t as if it’s easy to miss the distinct outline of his cock in his boxers before he wiggles into his black jeans. And of course, he keeps glancing at you, catching your eye and giving you that playful little smile that makes your heart beat faster. If you hadn’t worked so hard to get him to get ready on time you would’ve pounced without a thought. You did work hard on it though, and he has to get going soon, so you have to rein yourself in even though you’d love to open your arms and tell him to come finish what he had started earlier.
“Will you be gone all day again?” You ask him, and his eyes find yours in the mirror once more as he buckles his belt.
“Shouldn’t be.” He raises his brow at you. “But you know how they can be.” You make a knowing sound, even as you eye the deep V lines on his hips, wishing they weren’t about to be covered up by his shirt. “You really need to stop that, baby.”
“Stop what?”
“Ogling me. Like I’m a piece of meat.” You can’t help laughing.
“As if you don’t do the same thing to me all the time!” Harry shrugs one shoulder as he fastens up the button right below the center of his chest and leans closer to the mirror to find and rid himself of any imperfections.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Just is.” You roll your eyes at him.
“Sure, Styles.”
“It is,” he insists in that mockingly serious tone of his, a scowl on his face that’s betrayed by the affectionate teasing in his eyes. “You’ve got some nerve looking at me like that anyway, seeing as you’re the one who’s booted me out of bed.” He turns and saunters over to the bed, looking over you with a bit of heat in his eyes.
“Only because you have to work…” Your voice has grown thin under his gaze, and you squirm a little bit. You know that your breasts are straining against the fabric of your top because he stares unabashedly at them as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed close to you.
“You’ve also got some nerve looking like that when I don’t have time to do anything about it.” Harry’s words make you shiver, and then your eyes slip closed when his fingers forge a hot trail down one arm.
“When you come home.” You hear him sigh.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” You don’t have to tell him that there’s never any truth to that when he says it, that you miss him so intensely the moment he leaves you every time. He knows it, you can see it in the tightness around his eyes, that subtle wince that tells you without speaking 'I know, it hurts me too, forgive me for having to leave again’. Neither of you bring up that giant, suffocating elephant in the room, you only reach for each other to say goodbye.
Harry leans over you and presses a kiss to your lips, his mouth soft and warm and minty.
“Go back to sleep while I’m gone.” You nod, gripping his hand when he strokes your cheek.
“I will.” He kisses your forehead and lingers, gazing down at you while you stroke his fingers.
“You look so beautiful right now….” He trails off, eyes taking in every inch of you with a scrutiny that’s even more intense than usual. You watch him take a breath through his nose and hold it, and then: “Oh, fuck it all to hell.” You don’t get a chance to ask what’s going on before he uses one hand to grip the covers and fling them off you in one swipe. You gasp at the sudden onslaught of cool morning air, but then Harry makes quick work of your panties, and you giggle as they fly through the air somewhere over his shoulder.
“Harry!”
“I don’t care, I don’t care. I don’t bloody care.” He comes to settle between your legs, kissing the breath out of you and swallowing down your ragged moans. You can’t find it in yourself to be truly bothered as his weight bores into you and his jean covered thigh rubs so deliciously against your core. You drag your hands down his toned back, fingertips digging into bunching muscles and the shallow indents just above the waist of his pants, and he pulls back on a gasp as he arches his spine.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, followed quickly by your name when you slip your hands right under the waistband of his boxers and squeeze his ass. His response is immediate, a sudden thrust right against your core; if he’d been inside you he would have driven himself right to the hilt and the thought makes you clench and reach up to suck on his lips again.
Panting into your mouth, Harry wastes no more time in getting rid of the remaining barriers between you. With one hand he wrestles with his zipper until he can push his pants down enough for him to pull his leaking cock free, and he presses his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut as he thumbs the head and gives himself a couple of strokes in hopes of easing some of the ache.
“Don’t do that, look at me,” you coo at him breathlessly, pushing his hair back and holding it in your fist at the back of his head as his dark eyes open and find yours again.
“You drive me so fucking mental,” he tells you, his voice nothing but a rough rasp that makes your toes flex, and the way he catches your bottom lip between his teeth makes your thighs tremble on either side of him. You tug a little harder on his hair, relishing in the way his body tenses and he sucks his breath in through his teeth. Harry’s fingers dip into you suddenly, curling ruthlessly until you let out a sharp moan, and you spread your legs wider in invitation. “So wet,” he whispers, almost in awe and you draw him down for a deep and tongue filled kiss.
“All for you.”
You whine and whimper at him as he removes his fingers from you, not before giving your clit a few slippery swipes that make you cry out his name, and then the hot blunt head of him rests against where you’re throbbing for him. He sinks into you a few inches, even just that much stretching you enough to scratch your fingernails down his arms and causing Harry to let out a sound very near a growl when your muscles clamp down onto him. Chest heaving, tongue laving down the side of your neck, he quickly grips both of your wrists, removes your hands from himself and pins them to bed beside your head. It’s certainly not the first time he’s made a show of dominance like this, and as always his grip is firm yet loose enough for you to maneuver out of it should you want to. But you don’t want to; he’s driving you crazy, his hot skin and breath and the masculine scent of him underneath his cologne, his cock pressing into you just enough to make you crave all of him, and you want to submit to his whims.
So you tilt your head to the side and moan wantonly when he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, let your hands go limp and press deeper into the mattress under the weight he bores into them, lock your legs around his waist tightly when his hips flex and he finally fills you completely. Harry’s thrusts are immediately fast and almost bruising, enough to push you upwards on the bed were you not pinned by him, and the friction is making fireworks explode under your skin.
Harry grunts and moans in your ear as he drives himself in and out of you, his palms growing clammy around your wrists. You writhe underneath him every time he fills you, and you tell him how much you love it when he fucks you hard like this, love his long, thick cock and the way it feels like he’s in your belly.
“Yeah?” He pulls back enough to fix you with a gaze full of lust, thrusting roughly into you once more and holding himself there. It leaves you breathless and straining in his hold. “You feel me in your stomach, baby?” Again, another hard thrust into you, making you cry out. “You feel that?” He loves your dirty talk, can feel it in the way he shakes above you, cock throbbing inside you.
“Yes! Yes, God, Harry, don’t stop, please!” His fingers slot between yours and you hold on tight to him as he ruts into you, your hips bucking up to meet him as your climax builds within you. You beg him to kiss you and he obliges, groaning into your mouth as you tighten around him. “Harry, don’t stop,” you pant again when he presses wet frantic kisses down your neck and chest. “Fuck me, fuck me, I’m so close-” your voice breaks when his mouth closes over your nipple and sucks hard right through your shirt. It sends a rush of electricity right down to your core, and you dig your heels into the backs of Harry’s thighs.
You’re teetering right on the edge of orgasm, his thrusts alone not giving quite enough pressure on your swollen clit to finish you off, but your lover is as intuitive as ever, releasing one of your hands to push his own between you.
“C'mon, c'mon, cum for me, kitten,” he coaxes you, his voice dangerously low as his thumb settles right over your clit and rubs in practiced patterns, giving a pleased moan when your voice rises in pitch and volume, his indication that you’re about to do as he commanded. “Cum on my cock, I know how much you want to.” Harry’s honeyed but filthy words drive you over the edge, combined with the deep, steady thrusts of his cock and the smooth circles he draws around your clit. Your back arches as you moan out your pleasure with abandon, chanting his name on gasping breaths and gripping onto him tightly. He fucks you through it, not letting up on your clit until your body goes slack underneath him.
“Harry…” You fight not to be completely limp and useless while he chases his own orgasm, using the hand he’d let go of to stroke along his sweaty skin and tweak one of his nipples, and you feel his stomach muscles tighten in anticipation.
“Almost,” he groans as his thrusts grow uneven, his body knocking into yours, and then his fingers squeeze yours so tightly that it hurts, but you don’t care. You only care about the pleasure-stricken look on his face and the hot, slick rush of his cum spilling into you, the way his breath stutters out of him as his body trembles. After a couple of strong and sloppy thrusts, he utterly collapses on top of you, puffing hot and clammy breath onto your skin.
You stroke your fingers through his sweaty hair, eyes shut as you drift through a wonderful post-sex haze. You lay there like that long enough for Harry to soften inside of you until he almost slips completely free of you, neither of you speaking, just touching each other, existing together while still connected. Harry finally moves to roll off of you, lying on his back with a deep, satisfied sigh as he tucks himself back into his underwear.
“Well,” he begins on a sigh. “I’m fucked.” It makes you burst out laughing, and you turn to your side to face him, seeing him already looking at you with a dopey smile borne of telling a bad joke coupled with having very good sex.
“When do you think they’re gonna call and yell at you?” Harry lazily lifts his wrist to peer at his watch.
“'Bout ten minutes, tops.”
“Hmm.” You look him over, at his now wrinkled and sweaty clothes, ruined hair and swollen lips, biting your lip as you trace a red mark on his neck left by your mouth or your fingernails, you can’t quite tell. “Oops.” Harry laughs this time, turning to his side to face you as well.
“Yeah. Oops.” He doesn’t seem to be caring very much, not when he wraps his arm around you and pulls you in close to give you warm, loving kisses that make you never, ever want to leave his arms.
He does get a call pretty soon after that, but Harry does a very convincing sick voice and manages to persuade them to give him the morning off. He still has to show up later, and you can hear the displeased voice on the other line giving him a stern talking to, but Harry just wiggles his eyebrows at you and tickles your sides until he’s apologized profusely enough to management to be allowed to hang up and toss his phone behind him.
“I need another shower.” He tells you without a trace of innocence as he fixes you with hooded eyes and rests his hand on your thigh, fingertips stroking the inside where it’s grown sticky from your earlier activities. You grin at him, already feeling your desire for him rising again.
“I could use one myself.”

Notes

~~~syn rze~~