Your Harry Fantasies.

Being nestled into Harry’s side was your favourite place to be.

Intoxicated by his smell as you nuzzled your face into his ribs, his arms slung across your shoulders with a palm resting upon your shoulder, his finger drawing soft circles upon your arm. Soothing and relaxing and enough to lull you to a drowsy state that would end up in you falling lax and asleep moments later.
Your favourite room in the house to cuddle in this specified position was the bedroom; a room that held so many memories and so many conversations that had pursued in the early hours of the morning. You had sex more than ever in that room, you cuddled beneath the comforts of the covers more than ever in that room and, when you and Harry had both opted to stay in for the night, it was the place you spent more time than ever in.
Tucked under his arm and fitting nicely into the curves of his body, his body flat on the mattress with his ankles locked with your own, toes cold and brushing over yours on occasion as he shuffled around to get comfortable.
“D’you remember when we used to lay like this in your old apartment? In that tiny, single bed that came with it?” Harry chuckled, his lips pressed against your scalp as he spoke, “we had to lay so close together.”
Your first home.
Brought for you and to house only you; you had no intentions of planning to meet a boy in London and get cosy with him. A cosy and comfy home that was cosy and comfy enough that it lead to him spending more than a week cohabitating in the tiny one-bedroom apartment, fitted with a kitchen and a bathroom with enough space for you.
You’d lived in the small place for only just 8 months before you met Harry in the coffee shop, moving in just months before Christmas in the 2011 and rearranging the décor to how you wanted. With permission from the landlord, you were granted the allowance of painting your walls a white colour, to match the grey-coloured carpet lining both the main floor plan and the bedroom plan, the scheme running through to your bathroom where the tiles were almost the reality version of the term fifty shades of grey, with black accessories with a typical and modernised white ceramic toilet and sink.
Taking one look at the mismatched array of colours – ranging from pinks to blues to purples to bright reds to an brightly and rare looking orange that stole the attention – that came with your apartment during the first time you stepped through the threshold with your own key, you decided it needed a more modern take. To accompany your white walls, you added a hint of green into the room – green lounge cushions sitting upon a grey sofa, a darker green blanket thrown over the back of the sofa cushions and plants that matched the colour scheme running through the living room.
The bedroom followed a similar pattern, only you introduced a little nautical theme into the expanse around you. Your single bed, perched beneath the window and into the corner of the room, was changed from white sheets to sheets that had patterns of anchors and sea memorabilia that had you reminded of the beach. On the shelves sticking out from the pale blue walls, stood little wooden boats and a ceramic lighthouse that you father had brought as a house-warming present, as well as a few photos that matched the theme – beach photos you’d snapped when you visited the beach with friends and family.
It was small, but, it was homely and it suited you.
It fit you perfectly, and, that was all that mattered in your eyes.
“I did say we could go to your house and stay but you decided not too,” you muttered, your finger tracing over the skin around his nipples, smirking when they perked slightly, “said you liked being close to me like that. Because we had an actual reason to be cuddling that close.”
“I loved your little apartment,” Harry smiled, “got a few bumps on my head but it was very cosy and felt homely. My house felt so big for a simple 18-year old who was living alone. I should have opted for a smaller flat at the time.”
“Had our fair share of sleepovers in that apartment, didn’t we?” You hummed, sighing in content as you felt his lips against your hairline, a loving gesture exchanged, “even when we were friends. You came and slept round and we went out for breakfast the next morning.”
“Remember the one time I stayed round, and I was so drunk and hungover that I threw up in your sink?” Harry wondered, a soft giggle leaving your lips as the memory flooded back, “you took care of me and let me sleep in your bed and you took the sofa, and I woke up to a big greasy breakfast and some orange juice, made by you.”
Whenever he went out with Grimmy and the boys, even at 23 and with a belly strong enough to handle liquor, he came home as a stumbling and giggling mess. The 6-foot man letting his inner child out as he depended upon the strength of his fellow drunk mates, hoping they had enough support between the four of them to help him up the steps the front door.
The first time you’d seen him drunk was when you were best friends, and he’d appeared at your apartment front door, banging loudly with his fist and calling out your name in a higher octave that contrasted against his regular and much deeper voice he sported more than not. A tone of song lingering in his voice followed by giggles and ‘ssh’s of whoever had brought him home. Your slipper-clad feet shuffling down the short walk towards your front door, the banging intensifying but subsided as you pulled open the door and let the sight behind the wood come into your tired vision.
A smile coming from Grimmy and Niall as they nudged him forward with a ‘he was asking for you’ leaving their mouths, a smile upon your own tired features as you opened your arms and allowed him into the comfort of your home. His hefty body falling upon your smaller frame and gangly limbs wrapping around your body as he slumped around you, his booted feet giving way as he stumbled.
It was a challenge to settle him and to get him to quieten down so he didn’t wake your neighbours – who happened to be one elderly couple and young parents who had a new baby to look after – promising him some comfort in your bed when he was undressed and sobered down with a couple of pills and some water consumed to water down his alcohol consumption. Pulling off his boots, followed by his socks, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his legs before helping him out of his t-shirt was a tough activity to endue with a man who refused to stay sat still upon the sofa. Whining and moaning that he didn’t feel good and that you were driving him nuts, adding in the ‘you have to take me out to dinner before you undress me’ line to try to lighten the stressed mood you were filling the living room with.
As drunk as he was, he’d stumbled around in your shadow, begging for water and a little something to suffice the hunger in his belly. Following you closely, dressed in nothing but his tight black boxers that sported a bulge you found difficult to ignore. Turning on your heels, with a glass of water in your hand, he’d paled up and the churning in his belly became audible to your ears.
And before you knew, he was hunched into your sink, spilling up the concoction of tequila and vodka and whatever other cocktail and alcohol drink he’d consumed through the evening.
“That was disgusting,” you murmured softly, propping yourself up and shifting your weight upon your elbow, “my drain smelt for weeks after that.”
“In my defence,” Harry started, before you pressed a finger to his lips.
“Don’t try and blame someone else,” you warned, “I’d rather you puked over my kitchen floor or in the toilet, and not in my kitchen sink where I was my plates and cutlery and cups and mugs.”
“Should’a told me tha’ then,” Harry smirked teasingly, his lips pressed against your finger as the words rolled off of his tongue, “I could have sworn, in my drunk state, you pushed me towards the sink to make sure I didn’t vomit over anything.”
“Oh, please. That was the first time you’ve ever been drunk around me. We were just friends at the time, need I remind you,” you warned, “kept repeating every second how incredible I was and how lucky you were. Little did you know back then that we’d be here today,” you drawled out, softening your voice as the sentence came to an end.
You pulled you hand up from between you both, your diamond engagement ring catching under the lamp emitting light from behind the cream shade blocking the harsh lightbulb from damaging your eyes. A smile on your lips as you straightened your arm at it’s full length, allowing you both to watch it glisten.
“Knew from the moment I met you that I’d put a ring on it,” he smiled, head turning so his face was mere centimetres from yours, his nose brushing your cheek, “what is it that Beyoncé sung? If you like it, then, you should have put a ring on it? Following her wise words.”
“I never thought you out to be a Beyoncé guy,” you grinned, pulling your hand back to your body beneath the duvet.
“We may be engaged, but, there are quite a few things you don’t know quite yet,” he teased, poking your nose with his finger and breathing out a chuckle for between his lips, “no, m’joking. You know too much about me, I think.”
“My duty as your almost wife-to-be is to know everything about you, and, I feel I accomplished that before our first year anniversary,” you grinned, hoisting a leg over his waist and pushing up on the duvet, “remember when we had late night talks and we would tell one another our deepest secrets?”
A smile lifted up Harry’s cheeks, sporting his famous dimple upon his cheek as his palms cupped your hips, hooking beneath the hem of the shirt you’d taken to wearing through the night.
“I remember one of those conversations very clearly,” Harry winked, “you confided in me and told me you were a virgin, and, I told you when I lost my virginity and you didn’t speak to me for days. You were so jealous,” he chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound leaving his throat.
“You thought we were going to break up though,” you muttered, “that was funny.”
“Didn’t happen though, did it? I shacked you up and we had the best sex, didn’t we? Popped that cherry o’ yours,” he smirked, “we’ve been at it like rabbits ever since.”
“D’you remember when I told you, in the first few months of our relationship, about me wanting to give you blowjobs and handjobs since the moment we met?” You flushed, your cheeks painting with a dark pink as heat rushed to your face, “when we were friends, all I could think of was just pleasing you and wanking you off.”
“Get to do it whenever you want now,” he stated, before taking his bottom lip between his teeth and raising his eyebrows cheekily, “quite like when I wake up to you sucking me off. Like you did this mornin’. Really made my day start great. When it happens, I know, I just know, that my dad is going to be the best.”
“It’s just a blowjob, you wanker,” you laughed, “not a bloody miracle.”
“Don’t know who you’re callin’ a wanker, Gorgeous. You do most o’ that now,” he mumbled, amusedly with a snicker following his words, muttering beneath his breath, your eyes widening as your arms reached forward to cup his cheeks in your hands, “true though, innit?”
The blush on your cheeks and the pat to his own was enough to tell you your response.
He no longer had to use his hand to relieve the tension in his balls because he had you around him, who could do so much more than jerk him off and be done with.
“Remember the first ever handjob you gave me?”
* *
January, 2013.
“Harry?”
You hummed softly, one eye opening and adjusting to the light peaking through the curtains of your bedroom, an arm brushing over the empty side of your single bed, as you roused up and took a look around the room.
His suede boots were still by the bedroom door, his jeans still hung over the back of the chair in front of your vanity and his t-shirt was still in a heap on the floor beside your bed. He was still in your apartment, hidden away somewhere, and you could only imagine he was cooking you both a nice breakfast to share before he left.
Savouring and revelling in seeing you for just a couple more hours before he was torn from your attention and slung into the recording studio to finish off the rest of the song they’d been working on, ready to be put forward for the album as a finished product.
As you kicked the thick duvet covering your body with its warmth and sat upright on the mattress, you were attentive to the sounds coming from the bathroom next door to your bedroom, just a step to the side once you’d left the room. Your ears perking up to the sound of running water coming through the thin walls, drowning out the sound of what you could make out as moans, that could be heard getting too intense after a few seconds.
You pressed your feet to the carpet of your bedroom, making your way towards the door as you wrapped your hand around the handle and pulled it open, letting the cool air from the main room of your apartment flush around your exposed skin. Goosebumps forming on your arms and legs as you stepped out and proceeded to the door of the bathroom, the moans turning into groans under the running water becoming louder the closer you got to the room.
“Harry? Are you okay?”
No response, just a moan.
“Harry?”
No response, just a groan.
With a push to the door, and a hand around the knob, you found the lock on the inside of the room unused and allowing you to step inside, the room engulfed with steam as you looked ahead. His darkened silhouette visible behind the steamed glass, droplets of water trickling down the door to the shower cubicle and forming vertical stripes.
A smile carved onto your lips, devilish with the thought at the back of your mind, as you pulled up your t-shirt and dropped it to the floor, shuffling out of your sleep shorts with your knickers following close behind, leaving the cotton in a heap on the fluffy rug.
You’d been together for almost 9 months so it was no shock to you see Harry in the nude; you’d seen one another naked before, sharing an odd bath together in his extravagant bathroom after a night out for dinner where you’d congregated with his friends and let them interrogate you, asking you questions about Harry when he popped to the toilet and seeing just how perfect you were for him. A bath that had you both nude and bare in front of one another – something that was considered scary during the first time he’d seen you without clothes, turning to intimate the many more times it happened.
A warm bath and delightfully scented candles to start the night and a warm cuddle tucked into onto his jumpers to end the night, chatting about anything that came to mind.
3 months into your relationship with Harry and you were saying I love you to one another.
But, 6 months into your relationship with Harry and you were sharing a bed and wrestling between the sheets to demand dominance upon one another.
He took your virginity in the sweetest way possible, proving his love to you in a way you’d never felt love before – you’d been with a man before, of course, but it never went as far as to having sex or sharing acts of love under the comfort of candle-light.
Harry made your first time as special as he could; treating you to a nice dinner in a restaurant of your choosing, letting you doll yourself up and hoping he met your standards in the dressing sense. Turning up on your doorstep in a suit that was all black, a crisp and white shirt hidden beneath his blazer, you were sure he was going to pull all the stop for you that night.
After an expensive dinner and a few kisses on the way home in the taxi, sweet-tasting and wine-coated lips pressed against one another, you were back in his home before you knew it. Hickies being left on your neck and bite marks being left on Harry’s, tight squeezes to your hips being given as you pulled Harry closer, his fingers roaming around your back for the zipper of your tight-to-the-curves dress adorning your body.
With underwear clad bodies, he ordered for you to stay in the living room, calling back as a promise as he jogged up the stairs with a smirk on his face.
He’d made the bedroom look comforting, homely and sweet with candles that had a scent that made you lull into a relaxing state, your face illuminated by the number of candles surrounding you. Set on every countertop, each bedside table on either side of his bed, and a few lining the carpet to guide you a path towards the mattress. His figure laid flat out, naked and glistening beneath the light of the room, a smile on his lips as he watched you cautiously make your way to join him.
The night pursued on with loving touches beneath the candlelight, soft kisses being pressed and promises leaving his lips as he hovered above you; promises that if it got too much then he would stop, that if you didn’t want to go further than intimate kisses to your body then he would stop, that if you felt uncomfortable and unready to go further with him that he would stop and cuddle you close, a second promise filled with sincerity – he didn’t mind if you changed your mind. You were important to him and he hated the thought of rushing you to the point he wanted you at.
Joining him in the shower was nothing intimidating.
Silently pulling the door to the cubicle open, you were stunned at the sight ahead of you.
Joining him in the shower whilst he had his hand wrapped around his cock was nothing but intimidating.
He was stood with his muscled and chiselled back facing the door, clueless of your presence behind him, his bum clenched and his knees only slightly bent to support his weight. His thighs were shaking slightly, his arm working at a quicker pace to get him to release quicker – so he could come back to bed and cuddle before he had to properly dress and leave to go home to freshen up properly – his breathing becoming more rapid and gulps sounding from his throat. As you gently stepped behind him, the pads of your feet careful stepping onto the floor that was puddled with luke-warm water, careful enough not to give him any indication to your presence being there with him in the close proximity of your shower.
It was enough to send a fuzz around your body, a tingle settling at the little nubbin of nerves between your thighs.
“F’you needed to get off, you could have asked me” you stated, a yelp leaving his mouth as he looked over his shoulder, his fringe almost blocking his vision, “s’this all about? Did you wake up with a boner or somethin’?”
His hand stayed grasped upon his shaft, too embarrassed to make any movement, as you slid you hand around his bare waist.
“Could’a woken me up, Harry. I’m your girlfriend. Nothing new,” you smiled, pressing open mouth kisses to his sweet-tasting skin coating his shoulder, “I’m meant to help you when you have these problems.”
“Didn’t wan’a wake you,” he whispered raspily, gulping nervously, “felt wrong to ask you, if m’bein’ honest wi’ you.”
You tickled your fingers over the underside of the small pudge on his tummy, the skin soft and warm but tense as he tried his best to hold the knot on place.
“We’ve been together for nearly 9 months, Harry. It’s time we relieved that sexual tension we have between us,” you whispered against his shoulder, his hand loosening around his shaft and dropping to his side, reaching behind him as his fingers brushed over the skin of your outer thigh, “don’t even deny it either. It’s there. I’ve seen you look at me when we’re naked cuddling.”
A chuckle left his mouth.
“You are very gorgeous,” Harry whispered, “you do look stunning without clothes on,” he paused for a while, letting the warm water rush down his body, “and I do always get this fire in my belly when I see how beautiful you look. Just have t’ hold you close and get some loving in.”
“You’re just the typical boyfriend goals, aren’t you?” You giggled softly, pressing your cheek against the part of his back that was located between his shoulder blades, “always know how to make a girl feel special and loved, hm?”
“You’re very special and loved to me, you know tha’,” Harry cooed, soft and sweet, dropping his head to his chest as he watched your fingers to with the hair of his pubic bone, “don’t have t’ do this for me, love.”
“I wan’a do it, Harry. I’ve never done it before,” you whispered against his skin, “9 months into our relationship and all we’ve done is sex. I wan’a do more for you, Harry. Jus’ let me do it this once, please?”
Your fingertips edged closer to the base of his shaft, a throaty gulp leaving his throat as his squeezed his eye shut.
He’d been so used to using his hand that he hadn’t felt the contact of another for a while.
“A’right,” he whispered, raspily, “a’right.”
“Promise you, this’ll feel so much better than using your hand,” you whispered softly, your lips pressed against the skin of his back, feeling his muscles clench beneath your plump flesh catching sight of his toes curling as best as they could against the tiled floor, “gon’a make you cum so much, Harry. It’ll be your best orgasm.”
“My best orgasm was when we did it the other weekend,” he whispered, “against my kitchen counter. Second time we ever had sex and you were so up for it,” he chuckled dryly, “got to cum all over your bum because we had no condom.”
“Showed your pull-out game was strong as these arms,” you whispered, nipping your teeth at the skin of his bicep.
Eliciting a groan from between his lips, you snuggled beneath his arm and gave yourself a better position to reach down for his cock, twitching by itself as it demanded to be touched. Leaking from the slit located at his spongy head and dribbling down his veins and dropping from the curve of his balls, onto the floor and washing away down the drain with the excess water. Your hand wrapped around his shaft, giving him a gentle squeeze as he let out a hefty and guttural hiss.
“Fuck.”
A smirk lifted up your cheeks as you felt his hips jolt forward ever so lightly, meeting your wrist jerks as you tilted your head up to watch his face contort with pleasure.
“Feel good, hm?” You hummed softly, earning a nod in response, “I told you, Harry. I told you.”
“Gon’a have to ask you for more,” he grinned down at you, his green eyes almost completely disappearing around his his dilating pupils, lust-filled and widened with pleasure, “it feels so good, m’tellin’ you.”
Before he knew it, his cheeky morning wank to relieve his morning wood was being taken over by you, close to coming to an end as he felt his belly tense and his thighs begin to shake, yet again. Whimpers becoming more frequent between his lips, emitting from the bottom of his gut and coming out as grunts every so often, his mouth gaping open as his head rolled back on the ball of his neck, eyes squeezed shut as his fingernails dug into your skin. His grip on your shoulder bringing you closer to his skin, trapping you in his hold as he held you close to his side.
The fire in his stomach erupted, flames taking up his entirety as he saw white.
“There we go,” you cooed, squeezing and jerking your wrist through his orgasm, his murmurs turning into calls of your name, cheek resting against your head as he felt himself spurt out from his slit, veins pulsing in your grip, “there we go. All done,” you whispered sweetly.
A comfortable and companionable silence swallowed you both, his arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as he gathered his breathing to an even pace. Wheezes and soft hums being heard beneath the running water falling from the shower faucet above you both.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “you’re so amazing, I love you, thank you.”
* *
“That was such an incredible handjob,” Harry chuckled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and tugging them from his face, “that was the best handjob I think I’ve ever received, in my life. And you know how many women I’ve been with.”
A scoff left your mouth.
“Don’t go there, you dickhead. You know that makes me insecure,” you sighed, your palms resting upon his abdominals, tense but soft under your touch, “you’ve been with women that are so much better than me, Harry. Looks wise and job wise.”
“None of them had that bond we had, Gorgeous,” he cooed, “I feel attracted to you in both looks wise and personality wise, alright? Wouldn’t have put this,” he pointed to your ring finger, the diamond encrusting circle shaped metal wrapped around your digit, “on your finger if I didn’t love all of you and much more.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled, a grin on your lips as you let out a giggle, shoving his chest, “you have to love me. You’re my fiancé, so, you have to love me.”
“Don’t be silly, Gorgeous,” he smirked, his palms flat out on your thighs, his fingers bending and grazing upon your skin, “I love so much about you. You know that. I’ve loved you for years. Everythin’ about you, eh?”
“Do not reference your own song, Harry. That’s stupid,” you sighed, an eyebrow raised as a small smirk toying on your lips, “I love you.”
A smile played at Harry’s lips as he trailed his hands up your sides, settling his fingers at your waist as he squeezed them softly in his palms. A sweet gesture he found had you weak at the knees and falling into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist as you set your cheek against his chest.
“I love you too,” he whispered, his fingers patting your flesh, “come gi’me a proper hug,” he cooed, coaxing your upper body down upon his chest, “I really do love you, Gorgeous. Love you, so, so, so much.”
Your hands raked up his bare chest, brushing over his four nipples and setting softly at his shoulders as you pushed your wrists behind his head. Your chest came into contact with his bare chest, as he tightened his arms around your body, nuzzling his face into your shoulder and sighing, filled with happiness and contentment, against your neck.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say those words,” you whispered, “I love you too, by the way.”
“Do you remember when you gave me a blowie in this bed?” Harry chuckled, “you woke me up and it felt so good.”
“Of course I remember,” you stated quietly, “it was this mornin’.”
“Not this mornin’, you donut,” Harry chuckled, his breath coming out in puffs against the dip in your neck where your collarbone met your neckline, “remember when we woke up after our second anniversary? We had a big night out the night before, didn’t we?”
“Oh, my god, we did,” you laughed, “you wanted to go full out with a party and we invited everyone we knew to celebrate.”
“Grimmy came, James came, Jeff flew all the way from America with Glenne,” Harry smiled, “my family came down from Cheshire, your family popped by for a while and Gemma came. It was so much fun. I got you totally bladdered. Puked all over my lap in the taxi, d’you remember tha’?”
And against your neck, you could feel him smirk, causing your head to rise from it’s position on his shoulder.
“You kept buying me drinks,” you snorted, “it’s your fault I ruined your Gucci pants.”
A scoff left his mouth, his plump lips turning into a bigger smirk, teeth showing behind his pink flesh.
“Next,” he whispered, “they were simple jeans from Next. You instantly thought they were Gucci as soon as you’d thrown up on them. If I remember rightly, you stated ‘Oh no. Your Gucci pants are no longer Gucci. They’re pukey’ and you found it hilarious because you thought it rhymed.”
“Why have we gone from talking about giving you a blowjob to me being sick over your Next jeans?” You wondered, “I don’t need to remind myself of that traumatic time.”
“S’funny,” he snickered, “but, that blowjob you woke me up with. Wow.”
* *
May, 2014.
You’d woken up feeling cheeky.
Where some people turned to greasy fry-ups and orange juice, followed by headache tablets and reruns of old telly programmes, you turned to something a little more suited to your style. Staying in bed, content with the comfort your bed was giving you – comfort that greasy food would give to someone else – with the curtains closed and darkness swallowing you up and preventing your eyes from aching at the presence of the blinding light of the atmosphere outside. You made no effort to move, apart from getting up to use the toilet as well as to remove the bile climbing up your throat, forming a nauseous feeling in your gut that needed going. Sleeping the day away, hoping that when you woke up from a nap, you’d feel the motivation to stand up and exit the room you’d been festering in for a little less than 24 hours.
Now that Harry had entered your life and taken up a portion of your life, you’d changed how you went about your hangovers and handled every hangover within the last 2 years in the same way; for a few moments once you’d woken, you’d do lots of revelling in the gorgeous sight of a sleeping Harry before you poked him awake and demanding he wrapped himself up with latex and sufficed and met your sexual needs.
With an aching head but sore eyes being cured by the stunning stature of your sleeping boyfriend, you rolled onto your front and resumed to keep your eyes locked upon his gaped lips and wheezes leaving between the space parted by his flesh. His chest heaving up and down with each breath he took to fill his lungs, an arm bent behind his head with everything on show, his toes poking out from the end of the bed where he’d bunched the duvet up around his neck through the night to stop the cold air of the bedroom from getting to his exposed skin.
He looked divine, and you felt selfish in coming to the idea of waking him up when he needed to sleep off the beer and vodka and Pina Coladas he’d insisted on trying the night before.
Hoisting the duvet up with your arm, careful enough not to pull the duvet from off of his figure, you ducked your head beneath the cover and disappeared. Completely swallowed by the comforter as you tried your best to shuffle closer to his body, careful enough not to jog his thigh as you put your weight onto one hand or kick his ankle as you removed your legs from beneath you. You took your chance to take in every inch of his bottom half, now he was stagnant and stationery and stilled, giving no movement whatsoever as he sept peacefully; you could see every hair on his thigh, every freckle decorating his skin, you could see the bold and newly-inked lines of his fern tattoos upon his prominent V, and you could see every inch of skin that you adored peppering kisses upon.
He was bare.
Hung limp yet rather largely, his cock settled and perched where his thighs met in a nice little arrangement, his entire being oblivious to the attention he was about to receive. You licked your lips devilishly between the smirk painting your lips, reaching forward with nimble fingers as you hesitantly gave him a soft stroke.
A whimper and the sound of him swallowing behind heard by your perked up ears, but no sudden movement or anything mumbles of a ‘good morning’ leaving his lips to indicate he was awake.
You continued, the weight of your head resting on your elbow as you laid upon your front, your hand wrapping around his shaft to prep him for the moisture of your lips. A craving in your belly to suck and swallow, feeling his hot orgasm spurt down your throat and hit you with a taste you’d never experienced before. Beneath your softly curled fingers, a weak hold upon him, you could feel him begin to pulse – throbbing, more like.
Just how you liked to have him.
He was no stranger to telling you how good your hands really were, comparing them to his own and complimenting your dainty digits, praising you at how you had him throbbing and pulsing under your touch and popping veins along his shaft that were made completely visible as the blood rushed to his muscle.
Speaking fondly about how perfectly they wrapped around his girth, how delicately they tugged at him and jerked him until he was spurting uncontrollably. He was always telling you, after he caught his breath and dressed more appropriately in his boxers, how he enjoyed the feeling of your hand more than he enjoyed his own hand giving him pleasure – and he was never short in telling you over the phone how he’d tugged one out to the thought of you, adding in that he was more prone to using his hand when he had been away from you for long periods.
Harry began to stir under your touch, a twitch being played in your hands as a yawn sounded from his mouth, disguising a whimper behind it.
You found it an appropriate time, now he was erect in your hand and waiting for something a little better than the friction of your grip, to begin introducing your tongue into the action.
Flattening your wet muscle out and straining your neck, you advanced closer to the cock you were so used to having inside of you and bringing you to a euphoric state that had your eyes rolling back. A smell that was intoxicating, surprisingly to its location, and you were sure he spent extra time scrubbing his skin to ensure he was properly freshened and smelling strongly of his shower gel. As soon as your tongue touched his leaking slit, there was no turning back.
Captivated.
Wanting more.
And, craving.
Licking from the base of his shaft to his head, wrapping your lips around his tip and flicking your tongue over the sensitive slit ready to leak into your mouth, he began squirming. His legs began to move and coughs and moans seemed to become more frequent from his throat, almost as if he was clearing his passage to speak greatly about what a perfect way it was to wake up. The duvet began to lift over your head, the bright light of the morning illuminating your face as you were greeted with a smirking Harry who sported tired eyes and pillow-messed hair that resembled just how it looked after you’d tugged and raked your fingers through his strands.
“Mornin’,” he strained, his voice dry and raspy, filled with sleep, “definitely a good mornin’, need I say.”
With a swift move of his arm, he rid the duvet from both of you, letting it fall to the floor in a heap as he gave himself a better view at watching your head bob up and down upon his erect cock, a tired grin on his lips as he reached towards you. Gathering your hair up in his tight fist and holding it back into a ponytail to keep it from catching in your mouth.
“S’a nice feelin’, y’know? Wakin’ up to your girlfriend sucking you off,” Harry chuckled, jaw slack and his lips forming a O shape shortly after, “god, where’d you learn such amazing skills, huh? Been practisin’ on stuff, hm?”
You choked, gagging and retching around him as his hips thrust up, your eyes beginning to water at the corners.
“Sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t have to wake me up like this. F’you were feelin’ horny, I could’a fucked you all through the mornin’.”
Retrieving what you struggled to handle in your mouth, you wrapped your hand around his girth again and proceeded to jerk the muscle left behind. Grunts beginning to leave his mouth as he pushed himself up on his elbows, swallowing thickly as he tried to keep the fire in his belly at bay.
He was close.
Being tired, woken suddenly from the feeling of pleasure flushing through his veins, he hadn’t yet found self-control to contain himself. Unable to hold on for much longer, he was sure this would be the quickest he’d ever came in his sexual life.
“M’gon’a cum,” he panicked nervously, “fuck. Oh god, m’so close.”
His hand became detached from your hair, both of his palms being brought to his face as his back arched off of the mattress, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and seeing white as he let himself go. Shooting spurts down your throat, oblivious to the fact you were swallowing what he was releasing, white and salty-tasting liquid being produced as the result of the pleasure.
“Fuck,” he shook, the word coming out toiled and strained against his dry throat, “oh god, that was good. Thank you f’ wakin’ me up like tha’.”
You pulled off of his cock with a pop, hollowed cheeks regaining their regular position against your cheekbones and refraining to go back to their hollowed look.
“You’re welcome, Harry,” you grinned, patting his belly softly, “good mornin’, by the way.”
* *
“Jus’ thinkin’ about it gets me hard,” Harry chuckled, your figure back up in it’s sitting stature, resting back against his bent knees, “you’re sat right in the line of fire, too.”
You gave him a swift eye roll, your fingers lacing with his as you held them tightly in your palms.
“Don’t get any ideas. M’gettin’ tired,” you mumbled, “enjoyin’ this time with you though. Don’t get to do this often, do we?”
“We don’t,” he smiled softly, his short strands of hair sticking up in every direction possible, “getting in as much time as we can before I’m torn away again,” he sighed.
“Hey, this is your job,” you cooed, “I’m not complainin’, Peaches.”
“Jus’ wish, now that we’re on a break, that I had more time with you. I’ve spent a good few years on tour without you, and now I have the chance to spend every night and day with you,” he sighed, “but now I’m off doing promo for something completely different.”
“Your new career path, eh?” You grinned down at him, “you’re not only a superstar on the stage, but, you’re going to be a superstar on the big screen, too. And I’m so proud of you.”
A blush formed on his cheeks, painting his skin with a pink colour that almost and very nearly matched the shade of his lips.
“You’re makin’ me blush,” he murmured, “let’s stop talkin’ about this. It reminds me that I’m leaving on Monday and I don’t want to put a downer on how nice and sweet this nice is going. Let’s get back to talking about handjobs and blowies, hm?”
“A’right,” you hummed, your eyes catching his green ones as you wracked your brain for memories the both of you would remember from the years, “do you remember when we were in LA? And we were sat in your living room with Glenne and Jeff? You were all watching the Packer’s game and I had absolutely no interest in it, whatsoever.”
“Ah, yes,” Harry chuckled, “you tortured me, Jeff and Glenne caught us, and then, we ended up fucking in the bathroom when I went to freshen up,” he laughed, bringing your hands to his lips and pressing kisses to the backs of your palms.
“You looked so pained trying not to yell out,” you smirked, “I love it when I get you all submissive like that.”
“S’not fun, you know? You know I’ve got a loud, manly shout when I cum,” he sighed, “just wanted to shout out and yelp. I was sure I was going to burst in your hand.”
“You did though,” you whispered, “all over my hand before we had bathroom sex.”
“Made a mess of the counter, didn’t we?” He hummed against your hands, nudging his nose against your knuckles, “LA sex always seems to be better than London sex, doesn’t it?”
* *
August, 2014.
“He clearly made the wrong pass!” Jeff cried out, his palm stretched out towards the TV and he groaned loudly at a pass played across the field, “he should have thrown it far and hoped someone from the Packers caught it,” Jeff hissed, “not pass it to the closest man because he was open.”
“Jeff, calm down,” Glenne laughed softly from beside him, her hand squeezing at his knee as he frowned, “men, honestly,” she directed towards you, a smirk on your lips, “they get frustrated over the tiniest of things.”
“This isn’t a tiny thing, Glenne,” Jeff groaned into his hands, “this is massive. It’s their first game and they need to give themselves a good start or else they’ll be taken the piss out of,” he explained, “we need them to win to prove to those that we’re not some kind of shit team.”
“He has a point,” Harry stated, “we lost pretty much every game last season so we need to step up or else we’ll be shat upon the entire time.”
He tugged the blanket further around you both, his arm tucked over your shoulder as he held you to his side, your head resting against his shoulder whilst his Packer’s beanie sat cosily upon your head; he’d insisted you wore it because he was wearing his Packers jersey, with the name Styles written across the back, and you would be frowned upon if you weren’t showing support.
You weren’t a fan of sport.
You could handle the odd football game back in the UK, when Harry would lounge on a Sunday and catch the new Man United game being shown on a sports channel, but you couldn’t handle the American idea of football – it was a more complicated game of rugby to you, mixing in the terms of football that you knew of.
“Does it matter?” You hummed, three pairs of eyes falling upon your figure, “what?”
“Of course it matters,” Jeff sighed, “if we win this game today, we have a pretty good chance at showing other supporters we’re not some crap team that can’t win for shit,” he stated in addendum, reaching down beside his ankles and pulling up the bottle of beer from the carpet, “we’re already doing great. If we keep this up, we could win and have a chance to progress further into this league.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
You weren’t interested, so therefore you didn’t care. You weren’t an avid supporter like Harry; you didn’t collect shirts and jerseys and hoodies – although you were no stranger to wearing his logo-printed hoodies when it got cold – nor did you know anything of the players and what their names were. Let alone matching the names you did know to the faces flitting across the screen.
You tolerated the game because of Harry.
You tolerated the company of Jeff and Glenne because of Harry.
He was in his element whenever a game was scheduled to play on TV, a beer in his hand as he dressed in everything necessary for the American tradition; the cheese hat would be down by his feet, his legs would be clad in grey tracksuit bottoms, his Packers jersey would swallow his upper body and he’d tuck his feet into the socks his mother had brought for him once she became knowledgeable of his support.
It was a look only you and a handful of his close friends had seen more than once, a look that was kept hidden from the fans and only legible for you to tear off of his body after the post-game adrenaline coursed his veins.
“Harry, I don’t understand,” you muttered, dropping your nose to his shoulder and pouting your lips against his sleeve, “Harry?”
His eyes stayed trained upon the TV, his bottom lip being taken between as his teeth as his orbs widened at the almost possible chance of one of the Packer’s players to score. A sigh elicited from your lips as you pulled your head back from his body and looked briefly across to Jeff and Glenne; bodies entwined on the sofa of Harry’s living room, as close as they could get in the large seat.
You were sure Jeff explained the game to her, whispering tactics and what was happening in her ear.

And you wanted Harry to do that.
“Harry?” You hummed, bringing your attention to him, his lips wrapping around the rim at the top of the neck of the beer bottle in his hands, “Harry, I’m confused.”
“S’nearly finished with the first half now,” Harry mumbled after gulping down the liquid between his cheeks, “you don’t have to watch much longer. You can go and keep busy watching something else upstairs or sleeping here with me.”
“I jus’ wan’a know what’s happening,” you sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and nudging your nose against his jawline, “Glenne knows what’s happening. Jeff’s tellin’ her stuff. Why can’t you tell me stuff?”
“Because you don’t like sports, love.”
“Because I know nothing about it,” you sighed, puffing a breath against his cheeks, “you don’t tell me anythin’. You expect me to sit here with a beanie on,” you reached up and tugged it from your head, “supporting a team who play a game I know nothin’ about.”
“They just have a ball that they pass between the players on their team, trying to avoid a tackle on their way to their end goal,” Harry explained, his eyes widening as he leant forward, “c’mon! That’s a proper point score.”
Jeff laughed from his seat and shuffled upon his seat as Glenne reached forward for the glass of wine you’d poured for her after she’d turned down a bottle of beer. Settling you down with the idea of sharing the bottle with her every so often to drown out the boring feeling you’d felt, you’d consumed two glasses and still felt the conventional boredom sense you felt everytime.
You shuffled down upon the sofa, feet pressed to the carpet and knees bent as your head rolled to the side and settled at the curve of his waist, your head almost disappearing beneath the blanket and swallowing you up in it’s comfort. Your fingers tickled at his belly, hooking beneath the hem of his jersey and covering your hand to the wandering eyes of Glenne, who couldn’t help but keep the smirk off of her face.
His belly tensed as he held his breath, gulping softly as his grip around the beer bottle tightened.
To him, he thought you were messing around.
But, you weren’t.
You wanted attention. You wanted his focus mainly upon you, with casual flicks to the screen as his ears stayed pert to the sounds of the commentary on the game but his eyes stayed locked upon you.
With two glasses of wine consumed in your body, you felt naughty without an inkling of care in your body that you had company. As long as you kept your movements to the minimum and Harry kept his vocal chords to almost silence, you wouldn’t have problems.
“M’not doin’ this now,” he murmured, his face turning to yours for a brief moment, enough time for you to catch his raised and stern eyebrows but dilated pupils almost engulfing his green orbs, “just a few more hours and then we can do what we want.”
You looked down to where the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms were visible, a smirk toying on your lips as you hooked your fingers beneath the material, grinning to yourself internally when you felt him completely commando beneath the cotton.
“No boxers, hm? We have guests,” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear you but quiet enough to be drowned out by the cheers on the TV, “that’s naughty, Harry. So, so, so naughty. And dirty, too.”
“I was in a rush this mornin’,” Harry murmured, your fingers brushing over his pubic bone and catching in the course hair that was thick and almost darkened completely, forming a carpet over his skin, “forgot to stick ‘em on after my shower.”
You snickered softly beneath your breath, your fingertips coming into contact with the base of his shaft.
“Don’t,” he strained, “don’t start something like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not in the mood to spunk right now,” you heard him grunt out, shuffling in his seat as he tried his hardest to keep his brain focused on the TV, “we have company,” he added in a hushed tone.
“You’re hard by the touch of my finger. You wan’a spunk,” you retorted truthfully, beneath your breath as you tried to keep the conversation at bay, for your ears and Harry’s ears only, “all you have to do is bite your lip and let me work my magic.”
Your fingers curled around his shaft, poking at his balls accidentally and suddenly, a groan leaving his mouth as he tried his best to disguise it as a cough, catching the attention of Jeff who was attentive to the sound. As Harry dismissed his look of concern with a smile and a mumble of ‘m’fine’, he returned back to the TV and brought the bottle of beer in his hands to his lips, taking one final gulp and emptying the content inside the brown glass, leaving you and Harry free from his wandering eyes and his budding imagination, piecing together what you were doing beneath the blanket. Your fingers stayed curled around him, no movements being felt, no caresses or strokes or jerks of your hand ending in his muscle pulsing and throbbing and begging wordlessly for more than just a grip.
You squeezed.
That always got his motor running.
Clenching tightly around his base, stopping the blood pulsing through his veins and letting the remaining blood in his cock throb and flow right to his spongy and red-tipped head. A smirk lifting up your cheeks as he settled back comfortably on the sofa and sunk down a little lower, bunching up the blanket around his crotch and passing off his actions as if he was cold and needed more warmth – leaving Glenne and Jeff oblivious to your hand wrapping around his cock beneath the fluffed material
His head rolled to the side, his cheek pressed to the top of your head as his eyes found every control possible to stay looking forward, every ounce of him wanting to roll them back and let his sock-clad toes curl up, a moan – well, a shout – rolling off his tongue; something that he voiced more openly when you were alone and in the comfort of a bed where he could muffle his sounds if he got too raucous.
“One more touch, and m’gon’a scream,” he muttered through his clenched teeth, “literally. You’re gon’a get so punished later on, love. When we’re all alone, I’m gon’a fuck you so hard. Gon’a spank that arse o’ yours and we’re gon’a get rough.”
“Hmm,” you hummed, the only viable and trustworthy response you could mutter back without bringing awareness to the both of you, “mm-hm.”
You began to jerk him.
Soft tugs and squeezes being given to him, his perception of your previous handjobs going out the window as he tried to busy his mind with not yelling out and grunting and moaning and attracting scrutiny and crude remarks for the couple sat opposite.
The grip on his beer bottle tightened, his knuckles turning white as you began to rub more and more of his cock, his thighs beginning to tremble and quiver swiftly beneath your forearm, the hand slung over your shoulders gripping onto your body as he pulled you closer to his body.
“Harry?”
“You okay, Harry?”
Both Jeff and Glenne were seconds away from rising from their seats, their voices being heard at the same time as they caught the sight; Jeff’s eyes catching the sight before Glenne, nudging her to give him her thoughts on what was happening.
What he hadn’t realised was, that while he was busy occupying his mind of not letting out his regular and deep groans and moans to let you know specifically that he was loving your touch, his eyes had squeezed shut and his jaw had become rigid and tense and his jawline was prominent from between his skin.
“M’fine,” he whispered, “jus’ feelin’ a bit sick. Too many beers on an empty stomach.”
Jeff laughed softly.
“You never could handle your alcohol,” Jeff stated in humour, “f’you are gon’a be sick, go to the toilet, yeah? I have a weak stomach.”
Harry gave him a weakened smile, gulping softly as he felt himself twitch in his tracksuit bottoms, a spurt leaving his slit and dampening the material of his trousers, pre-cum dribbling down your hand.
“Cum f’ me, Harry. I know you wan’a,” you cooed softly, “you can do it.”
And with a kiss to his neck and a breath of warm air flushing over his skin, you watched his knuckles pale around the beer bottle and you were surprised the glass didn’t shatter in his hand, resulting in a trip to the emergency room and stitches to set his skin back together. His bottom lip was taken between his teeth, almost drawing blood from the flesh as he continued to gulp back moans and swallow his groans. The knot in his stomach doubling in intensity as you continued to milk his cock dry.
“Guys, we’re gon’a go,” Glenne stated, standing to her feet, interrupting Harry’s orgasm and making your eyes dart over to their figures, “if you wanted to have some time together, you could have just said,” she smirked.

“Honestly, Harry. As much as you try and stay quiet, you still manage to be loud,” Jeff smirked, “was it a nice orgasm? I hope so.”
“Piss off,” Harry hissed amusedly, a smirk on his lips as your hand retracted from his waistline and disappeared beneath the blanket, “you don’t have t’ go.”
“No, no. We’ll let you relieve that sexual tension,” Glenne promised, “we’ll see you soon. Tell you about the last half of the game,” she winked.
* *
His eyes began to droop as the feeling of tiredness overwhelmed his body, eyelids heavy and almost shutting like attracting magnets, and, his breathing slowly decreasing to a slower pace as your body fell to the mattress beside his fatigued figure, immediately getting comfier beneath the duvet. Your eyes stinging at the bright light coming from the lamp, your arm reaching over his figure and tugging on the tiny chain hanging from beneath the lamp shade, shutting off the electricity and drowning the bedroom into darkness.
The conversations had come to an end when the both of you had felt drained of memories – smut memories, if you were to be precise and to the point – your voices becoming more sleep-filled, his Manchester-accent beginning to take over his words and he began to slur his sentences.
His body nestled into your side as close as he could, a whisper leaving his mouth before his eyes properly shut and sleep took over his toned physique.
“I love you,” he mumbled, yawning shortly after into your shoulder, “I really, really love you. M’so glad m’marryin’ you.”

Notes