#Specifically the part where it describes him as having a “perfectly round shiny head”?

[chairarts]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I'm supposed to be working on NecroFantasia but i'm too distracted. Wanderers banner needs to get here already so I can stop anticipating it. Anyway here's a warmup an attempt at a semi realistic style Wanderer, game style and modern twist.

[matildashoney]

Lipstick Stains

Loving You’s The Antidote Extra

MOODBOARD // PREVIEW(S) // TAG LIST // TAGS

WARNING: THIS IS FILTH ABOUT THE BEAUTY PAPER MAGAZINE. 5.4K OF SMUT. LITERALLY NOTHING BUT SEX AND HARRY’S LIPSTICK.

Harry isn’t blind. He can see that your thighs are pressing tighter together, and your fingers are pinching your lip harder than you originally intended. He can see your eyes flicking from his bare chest to his thighs to the daintily coated lips that were painted in your lipstick that he swiped from the bathroom counter that morning and insisted that he used because it was his favourite shade. Harry smirks, his eyes intently on you as he poses with the photographer’s directions.

Harry knew that you couldn’t stay long. He admired the dedication to your art, you inspired him with how much you love what you do, but there was a selfish part of him that admired your dedication to him possibly a bit more. How selfish is it to love that your lover loves you? He could say very, but he wouldn’t pay much mind to it, especially not when you loved it just as much. Harry loves you, but not the love that you could describe so easily. He loves you like, loves you more than there are stars in the sky and words in the dictionary type of love. That’s where the selfishness comes in a bit. He wanted you all to himself all the time, loving you always.

That could be why Harry couldn’t wipe the smirk away from his lips as you stared at him in the outfit, jaw agape, eyes wide from the corner of the room.

“Don’t worry you’ll get a picture, lovie. Don’t have to bother taking one,” Harry Lambert giggles, knocking his elbow against yours and walking towards the array of costumes and makeup laid out against a counter in the corner of the room. Harry’s whole name is printed on a stray sheet of paper, taped to a director’s chair, presumably for when the crew would be touching up his makeup and getting him ready for the next set.

“Hi,” Harry smirks, squeezing your hand on your thigh as you stare at him. He could feel your eyes piercing holes in his skin, specifically where his tattoos are poking through the tiny holes in the fishnets on his thighs. “God, love, you don’t have to stare.”

“You look,” you say quietly, your eyes dragging along his naked torso and the fishnets clinging to his muscular thighs, the tone and definition that their shape gives making your pelvis tighten and your stomach coil warmly.

“Go on,” Harry encourages, gently parting your legs and slotting his hips between your knees, his hands holding your thighs tightly. “Can smell you from here, doll. Might as well drag me to the toilet and fuck me in there with how much you want it.”

“Harry,” you warn, your thumb pressed against his lips to quiet him, the way his lips kiss your fingertip making your legs heat around his hips, “quiet.”

Harry leans his cheek against yours, his lips brushing your ear, his words making the air knock from inside your lungs. “Can feel how wet you are, baby.” His words are a bare drawl, the seductive whisper making your thighs clench around him, the breathy chuckle released from his throat making you want to attach yourself to his lips until they are swollen and bruised. “Have to take pictures of m’thighs. Can’t bruise them with how tight you’re squeezing.”

“Harry, baby, please.” That phrase alone would usually be enough to have Harry leave you alone. His hormones would become almost too much, his belly tightening, and his cock hardening between his thighs, having to take a breath, walk away for a minute to gain his composure and then come back and continue with you. Harry wouldn’t do that today.

“Can do that later,” Harry smirks, kissing your cheek sweetly, the innocence plastered on his features starkly different compared to the words littered from his tongue. “Can’t wait to have this makeup all over you.”

“Harry,” you stern, your fingertips squeezing his on your thigh, his smile enough to tell you that he is fully aware of what he is doing to you, “cut it out.”

“I’m wearin’ your lipstick, by the way,” Harry notes, ignoring your sternness and reaching around you and grabbing your lipstick from the counter, the smell of his sweat and distant cologne making your skin hot. “Took it this morning before you woke up.”

“You’re ignoring me.” Harry simply smiles, shaking his head as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. He is infuriating, but the way every inch of him is begging to be devoured by you is making your brain malfunction in your thoughts. Change the subject, your brain screams, begging for any relief from the filthy ideas that flowed through every thought. “Might have to get a different shade,” you tease, your fingertips teasing the waistband of the fishnets, his lips pursing together as your hand circles around the front, reaching into the stockings and tugging at the hem of the briefs bunched underneath. “Might want to pull these down a little, too, or you’ll give everyone a show of what’s mine.”

“Getting selfish, now, are we, m’love? Not very like you.”

“That’s when you were my boyfriend,” you justify, your chin leaning against his chest, his fingertips running through your hair as his stare meets yours. “You’re my fiancé, now, which means my rights to being selfish upped a bit.”

“Upped a bit, hm? How much?”

“Upped enough,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly and reaching for his lips. He leans down, his lips moulding against yours innocently and lovingly, the hint of lust tasted beneath the touch. Harry pecks your lips once, twice, three times more before pulling away, squeezing your hips and kissing your hair before nodding towards where the photographer is calling for him. “Don’t take the makeup off before you come home.”

“Oh,” Harry hums with a smile, squinting at you suggestively as he begins to walk towards the selection of suits and costumes for the next shoot. His fishnets and briefs were the only clothing on his figure, and as much as you loved the bareness of him, the throbbing issue between his thighs wouldn’t appreciate the openness to everyone around him. That was for your eyes only. “Few more hours.”

“Good,” you nod, beginning to gather your breath and your thoughts. “Have to go home and get work done, but you’ll have me waiting for you when you get home.”

Harry stutters on his breath as your fingertip drags down his chest, his tongue poking between his lips as you gently nudge him from between your legs, tightening your thighs together, your body tense as you stand on your feet, telling him everything you are thinking without saying a word. “That a promise, then?”

“More than a promise,” you smirk, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips attach to yours delicately, a whimper leaving your mouth inconspicuously as he slowly draws himself away. His stomach is taut beneath your fingertips, the muscles tense and tight to try and avoid melting into you. “Have to go or you might wind up getting dragged into that bathroom.”

“Might want to go home before you make your pants all wet,” Harry chuckles, kissing your temple gently, his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you nudge your fingers into his hip, warning him to be careful of his words. “Make sure you leave them off.”

“Harry,” you murmur into his chest, your voice barely audible to his ears, his lips curved into a widest smirk as he kisses your hair, “you have to be a bit more specific.” Harry’s arms held you tightly against his chest, his hands embracing the warmth on your skin that surely radiated between your thighs.

That’s where Harry wanted to be.

“All of it.”

Harry holds your cheeks softly, kissing your lips deeply, his lipstick – your colour – staining your skin. He mumbles a rounded time that he would be home, the quiet three words of love that you adore hearing, kissing your temple swiftly before walking towards where Harry Lambert stood with his arms crossed and a fingertip poking at his lips, carefully deciding on the outfit for the next cut.

“Love you,” Harry shouts, his olive eyes darkened with lust and a smile painted on his lips to mask the desire. He winks, nodding his head as you blush and begin walking towards the exit with a security guard.

“Love you, too,” you retort, your tone squeaky and unsteady as you try to gather your emotions, the blue suit adorning his figure one of your favourites that have ever been on him. Harry can look perfect in anything. He is well aware of the effect that he has on you. “Text me when you’re on your way home.”

“You got it, baby.”

“Not another kiss,” Harry Lambert sterns to Harry, shaking his head and holding out the loafers that he would pair with the trousers. Harry faux frowns, smirking as the stylist flattens the creases in the suit and perfects every detail. “Can’t mess up your makeup, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t have looked more perfect, with every detail, and you wanted nothing more than to take him home with you. His voice echoed through the studio as you walked away, his favourite colours and authors spewed from his perfectly painted lips, a mutter of his favourite florals mentioned in the midst.

Harry’s favourite flowers are daisies. That you knew. There was a part of you, though, that thought about the night his face was tucked heavenly between your thighs, his lips devouring you, his words barely audible beneath your moans, You’re my favourite flower. His face, glistening and swollen with kisses and shiny with sweat, moved from his favourite spot, Got the prettiest flower and smell the sweetest.

His subtlty is rarely noted in private, opting to tell you what he means, exactly when he means it. His mouth has gotten filthier over the years, particularly when a diamond ring made the transition from a hidden drawer to your finger. His words circled your brain, making it nearly impossible for you to drive home without squeezing your thighs together for pressure. Can feel how wet you are, baby, echoes in your mind, the way you could feel the heat in your thighs as you struggled to make your way home.

Getting inside and situated seemingly took forever, your cat traipsing behind you as her paws lightly bounce against the wooden flooring, the cool air flowing through the open windows, your hands moving around the kitchen to prepare dinner and have the evening prepared for when he came home in a few short hours. His silk robe is tucked tightly on your figure, tied at the waist and protecting your body from the chill that breezed through your home, your toes occasionally covered by tiny paws and orange fur.

Harry will not leave your brain. His stature, his clothing, his body. His features, his makeup, his lips. All of Harry is imprinted in your mind, making your stomach twinge with desire and your core hot against your skin. All that you could want right now is Harry fully in you and on you, smothering you with his body and taking you to where only he knows.

His cock could be felt in you, your memory replaying the sensations that you make you orgasm every time, the way he fills you so fully, so deeply, making your thighs shake. He is everything that you could have wanted, that you could have needed. He is everything.

Hearing Jenny’s ringtone brings your attention to reality, your fingertips flicking off the burner and covering the meal for Harry’s arrival home, your eyes scanning over her message to respond and convey the thoughts in your brain. All of your thoughts are wrapped around Harry, his thighs, the fishnets, the perfectly painted pink lips that you wanted on yours, and the way he could make you feel.

On the couch, Tigger is settled by your feet, turned over and purring lightly in her snooze, unbothered by the dinging by your phone and the flipping of the novel’s pages. Jenny’s response takes much too long, your mind giving up the wait and opening your phone to check the message. Her responses to messages like that usually came within minutes and waiting nearly twenty for a reasonable response was making you impatient.

Harry’s text is what comes as a surprise, a smirk can be heard in his message.

Hope you listened to what I said earlier. Be home soon. Love you. x

Harry is well aware that all you are going to think about until he is home is him. He intends to have it that way.

Nearly an hour passes trying to distract yourself.

Having no concentration or ability to comprehend the words you’re reading, you give up, setting the novel on the end table and making your way into your bedroom, turning on the lights and padding into the bathroom to get ready for bed for the night. Turning the water on in the sink, the sputters of the faucet make your skin prickle with bumps, your arms holding the robe tighter to your chest for warmth.

Making your fingers bare, you set your rings in the delicate bowl on the counter, your engagement ring glimmering beneath the lights on the mirror. Harry’s entrance downstairs makes your ears perk, his voice making your heart beat faster, your knees locking in their position as you stare into the mirror, bringing your hair away from your face, your hairbrush combing through it gently, doing everything to stall and wait for Harry to make his way into the bedroom.

“Daddy is about to do some very suggestive things to Mummy, you have to stay out here,” Harry hums, gently setting Tigger outside the bedroom and closing the door. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, his lips curved into a bright smile, the lipstick staining his plump flesh, his eyeshadow smudged beneath his eyelashes. Harry looks delicious. “Hello, m’love.”

“Hi.” Harry walks to you, tucking his arms around your waist, his lips attaching to the nape of your neck, suckling on the sweet spot that makes a home there. His lips are warm against your cool skin, his hands moving from your hips to the shoulder of the silk, gently sliding it down your chest and exposing your shoulder and collarbone to his mouth.

Harry nudges you around in his hold, the appearance of his smeared lipstick across your skin enough to make his cock pulsate between his thighs. He loves seeing his mark on your skin. Call him selfish for it, but there is nothing like seeing your love absolutely ruined by you. His lips path along your neck, gently suckling on the skin and leaving a stain in every kiss. His smirk widens across his features as your hands grab his cheeks, moving his mouth to yours and bruising his lips in a kiss. “Look at that,” Harry hums delectably, his fingertips tracing your naked shoulder and the curve of your breast from the exposed skin of his robe. “My stubborn girl listened to me. Guessing you don’t have any panties on either.”

“Maybe,” you say, choking on a moan as your breath melts against his, “Can I take your makeup off? Let me do it.”

“Whatever you want, angel,” Harry smiles, tugging lightly on the bow, his body settled on the covered toilet, frowning when your hands grab the ribbon and tie the bow tighter before having it fall apart. “Have some fun with it, doll. Take it off.” Harry’s hands set on your bare thighs, his thumbs drawing along the florals and the constellations mindlessly as you take the rounds and delicately rub them across his skin.

“You’re staring.”

“And? I like staring,” Harry hums with a smile, evidently thinking about something much more intense than simply staring as you gently take the painted beauty away from his skin.

“You should stop,” you warn, doubly warning at his fingertips inching dangerously close to the heat gathered between your thighs, a thick dampness collected at your core from his voice and touch.

“What d’you reckon I do, then? Want me to keep m’eyes closed?” Harry asks with faux innocence, his hand tight on your thigh as his fingertips move closer to where he wants. He has been daydreaming of tasting you all day, especially once you left and he knew how much you wanted him. “Can think of a few things to do with m’eyes closed.”

“Harry,” you stern, your fingertips gripping tightly onto his shoulder as his fingertips graze across your heat, the slickness collected on the skin of your thighs making him on want to get on his knees, right then. “Harry, I reckon you –”

“How good do you think this lipstick will look smeared across your skin right,” he smiles devilishly, his fingertips gently dipping between your folds and collecting the juice that wet your skin, his fingers laid heavenly on his tongue tasting you, sucking you on his skin before continuing, “there.”

“Could depend on if you’re making that a promise or a threat,” you breathe, your fingertips tossing the cotton rounds onto the counter and taking a look at his beautiful and sexy yet destroyed appearance. Tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck, a wide smirk pulls at the corners of his lips as you murmur, “This must be what I look like after you fuck me, huh.”

“Like what?”

“Mascara all smeared, lipstick everywhere, eyes kinda glossy. That’s what I must look like after you give it to me good.”

“Have to assume that would be true, angel,” Harry breathes, his eyes coloured with lust, his fingertips on his thighs beginning to inch their way back to your heat. “Have a feeling you’ll look like this in a few hours.”

“Quite sure of yourself there,” you stutter, trying desperately to collect your thoughts and your voice as his fingertips inch closer to where you need him. “Harry.”

“How long do you think it’ll last if I leave my lipstick all along here?” Harry hums, his hand moving away from your thigh, gently untying the knot on your – his – robe and letting the silk fall apart, his mouth sponging kisses amongst your stomach and attention closely on your hips, the paint staining your skin, his fingertips teasing at your heat as your hands grasp onto his shoulders. “Couldn’t even bother to wear underwear? It’s like you knew what was gon’a happen.”

“Harry,” you moan, your head knocking against your neck, as his fingers gently coax and thrust into your core, perfectly pulsing at the sponginess of your warmth how he knows you love, your fingertips scratching at his scalp as your hips nearly straddle his thigh, your knees on either side and spread for him to have. “Harry, baby.”

“That’s right,” Harry smirks, suckling a mark into your belly, his fingertips gently drawing patterns into you as your thighs shiver. “Know just how you like it. Know that you like when I tell you how much I love how you taste, how you feel, how you make my cock warm. Know all that, don’t I? I do.”

Harry’s fingers are coaxing in and out, your walls squeezing his fingertips as he sponges across your walls, every thrust nearing the sweetest spot that will make you come undone over his hands, his mouth watering at the idea of tasting you so sweetly, patiently waiting all day for his favourite treat.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you whisper, your core squeezing around him as your stomach clenches, your orgasm rolling through your body, your vision white, your hands shaking as your climax over his fingertips.

“Mhm,” Harry hums happily, his fingers laying on his tongue as he tasted every ounce of you on his skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he soaks in the sweet. “Know you’re not even close to being done with how much you wanted it today, but that was a treat for me and my hard work.”

“That was a treat for you,” you repeat in astonishment, the filthiness of his words making your cheeks blush. He could be your lover for all of your life, and you would never be accustomed to hearing him speak so openly about wanting you that way.

“Always is,” Harry reminds, gently massaging the muscle in your thigh that is tensed, your knees tight around his leg, “You’re like the best treat there is, that’s why I can’t wait to get my mouth on you all the time.” His mouth continues to lightly lay kisses on your belly, humming in contentment as your fingers scratch through his scalp, gently massaging his skin as his arms wrap around your waist. Harry moves back, admiring the stained marks of his lips on your skin, his makeup melted onto you from the balm and the interruption in taking it away. “Oh no, it looks like I got some of that expensive balm on you. Guess we have to take a shower and clean you up.”

Harry takes your silent nod as an agreement, gently moving you away and walking around the toilet to turn the water on, the sputtering against the tile echoing around the room. His fingertips move at the buttons on his waist, unzipping his trousers and slinging them over the tub to be set in the laundry bin. His hand reaches for yours, tugging you into his chest and crashing his lips onto yours. His flesh is soft, swollen from the kisses and bitten lips and rubbing the lipstick. His fingertips delicately pull the silk robe away from your body, laying it somewhere behind you, his mouth only away from yours to toss his printed shirt onto the tile. His movements are soft in contrast to the roughness of the kiss, the neediness and lust and desire felt through every languid taste of his tongue and moan echoed between your locked lips.

“Your choice if you want me to fuck you in here or on the bed,” Harry murmurs against your lips, his hands squeezing your hips, carefully taking a step towards the streaming glass. “Want you to know though, that if it were up to me, m’choice would be to stay in here.”

“Get in the shower,” you sigh, breathing out a loud breath and shaking your head, your hand held tightly in his as you make your way under the water, the steam shading the glass. “You, Harry Styles, are a pain in my ass.”

“Am I? Haven’t tried that one with you,” Harry smirks, his fingertips trailing across your naked body, your curves perfectly fit in his hands, his lips marking your neck and jaw with his colour.

“Off limits,” you warn against his mouth, your eyes narrowing at him as his stare reaches yours, his fingers nudged into your bum, your chest flushed against him under the warm water.

“That’s fine,” Harry hums, his mouth hot against yours. “Get everything else. ‘m more than happy.” Harry could feel his cock hardening between his thighs, uncomfortably moving against his skin, his belly aching to be warm inside of you. “Gon’a let me have you, baby? Need it so bad.”

“Can feel it,” you whisper, your fingers brushing through his hair and blocking the stray strands from falling in his eyes. “Got your lipstick all over me,” you murmur against his cheek, your lips dangerously close to his, “Now, I want something else all over me.”

“Want to act all innocent in front of everyone but as soon as we come home, you’re all over me, wanting me. If only everyone knew how you actually are, hm? Probably wouldn’t even believe me.” Harry’s voice is rasped and thick with lust, his body manoeuvring around the tight space and turning you in his arms, his chest against your back, his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck as he leaves a chaste kiss. “Bet you came home early because your thighs were starting to tense up like they do when you really want me. Is that it, baby? You want me.”

“Want you,” you smirk, rolling your head back against his shoulder, kissing from the cut of his jaw to the corner of his lips, your nails scratching along his arms as his hands trace along your skin, squeezing your thighs playfully. “Need you.”

Harry sucks in a breath, his hands releasing his grip on your thighs, his palm splayed flat against your spine and pushing you lightly to lean over the marble seat. “You wanted to complain about how much I was spending to get a seat in the shower and now look at you, holding onto it for dear life, ready for me to spank you. Don’t think I ever want to hear a complaint out of your pretty mouth again.” His hand rubs your bum soothingly, his fingers bare of his rings, his palm smacking against your skin wetly, the burning sensation making your body vibrate. “Good, you’re so good.”

His eyes are wide as you turn around, your body pressed against the tiled walls, the steam surrounding you and the man hovering over your lips. His mouth is warm, tasting every inch that he can. His lips are bruised with the roughness of your kisses, the way his flesh is swollen with the remnants of your favourite lipstick. He nudges your thigh with his knee, your toes on the marbled seat, your knee locked, his hand roughly pumping his cock to ready himself for you. “Good t’know this seat was the best purchase of m’life.”

“Think it might be second best,” you breathe, your teeth grazing his earlobe as his chuckle sweats against your skin, nudging his nose into your neck and teasing his cock at your heat, giggling breathlessly as bumps prickle at your skin, a sucked in breath echoing in his ear. “My ring better be the best.”

“Gon’a make you m’wife,” Harry smirks, slowly pushing his cock in your core, your warmth swallowing him, his stomach taut and his muscles tense as he stills, your teeth biting into his shoulder, adjusting to his girth, the burning stretch making you moan in his ear. Harry swears that an orgasm could come simply from that moan, the whimper he knows so well, the sound he loves. He takes your thigh and holds you tight around his waist, your knee locked between his, surely going to give as once he begins to knock himself against you. “Got that pretty ring on your finger that cost an arm and a leg, that you fought me about it, bu’ it means that ‘m the one that can fuck you and love you every day for the rest of m’life. Best fuckin’ purchase.”

Harry thrusts heavenly against you, his fingers grasping your waist, his lips bruising your neck in messy kisses. His cock fills you deeply, your walls tight against him, squeezing him, drawing his moans into your skin and his hands to falter in shakiness. He swivels his pelvis, one thrust making your arms squeeze around his shoulders and your jaw to open, pleasured whimpers drawn into his memory, his thumb making his way from your hip to your clit, tracing patterns over the sensitive nerves settled between your thighs, his hand forcing your thigh to say tucked around his waist. His cock throbs inside your heat, his tip sponging against the sweetest spot, your eyes shut as white blurs your vision.

“Feel you around me,” Harry grunts, relentlessly smashing his hips against yours, his thumb on the nerves between your thighs. “Have to cum, baby. Need you to.”

“Harry,” you moan, your fingertips tightening around his curls, his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly, one thrust moving you to orgasm, your moans and whimpers echoing in his ears. Harry stills beneath you, the warmth of your release bringing him to his climax, his orgasm milked into you and rolling down your thighs. “You still have makeup on.”

“Looks like you didn’t do your job very well, then,” Harry winks, kissing your cheek lightly, his thumbs massaging your tense muscles, his cock continuing to warm inside of you. His eyes travel along your skin, his belly warming at the mixture of love bites and lipstick stains scattered across your skin. “All of m’makeup didn’t come off you either, pet. Guess you’re just as dirty as me, now. Have to take a real shower, maybe.”

“Need you, again,” you whisper desperately, manoeuvring your body around his as his cock moves out of your heat. Quickly turning the water down, reaching for the towel outside the door, you tuck the cotton around your figure, nodding your head towards your bedroom door and taking his hand in yours.

“Again, hm? Is that right?” Harry swiftly yanks the towel from around your torso, throwing the material behind him and wrapping his arm around your waist, your back against his chest. “This makeup really did something to you, doll, didn’t it? Made you feel things.”

“Harry, I am not in the mood to be teased,” you stern, halting your movements and turning to stare into his eyes, his smirk turning the corners of his mouth in a way that you could kiss. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Not sure what you mean. ‘m simply admiring m’missus who wants me to fuck her until she can’t walk straight, all because I wore her lipstick.”

“More than that, but whatever you want to believe.”

Harry’s lips assault yours with a smile, the kiss etched in his satisfaction. He squeezes your hips, encouraging you to move into your bedroom, your wet hair damp and messily splayed against your forehead. His cock twitches between his thighs, the way your nails scratch along his skin making his mind run wild. His eyes stare at you as you settle onto your mattress, your body tucked beneath the duvet that you impulsively bought online and insisted that you needed, the lowly dimmed lights radiating your beauty. Harry admired you this way, the way you were so perfectly you, perfectly his.

His mouth quirks into a smile as you spread your legs for him, his body settled between your thighs. He grabs your wrists, holding them tightly above your head, his lips hovering over yours as he murmurs, “M’perfect girl, I’m going to ruin you.”

“Asking you nicely to,” you smile innocently, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks, knowing perfectly well what you are doing to him. His mouth attaches to yours, kissing you deeply and taking your breath away. His hips grind against yours, a moan echoed on your swollen flesh as your heels nudge into his bum, his cock dangerously close to your core.

Quick vibrations interrupt.

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry groans, releasing your wrists and moving away, slipping onto the ground and walking towards the dresser near the door, a murmured apology to you leaving his lips. “’ello.”

Harry Lambert’s voice echoes through the speaker, talking about the magazine shoot for the day and the way the photographs of the outfits and the makeup began looking upon his departure. One question is murmured, Harry’s smirk and upper body turning to stare at you as he nods, a wink making your skin flush.

“Oh, yeah, ‘m sure she liked it,” Harry chuckles, pinching his lip, taking a deep breath to continue. “Might even be one that we hang around the house.” He pauses, waiting for Harry Lambert to continue and end their conversation sooner than his stylist might have hoped. “Have to ask her for y’a. ‘m going to have dinner with her, actually. I’ll talk to you, tomorrow.”

Harry ends the call swiftly, turning his phone upside down on the counter. His eyebrows are furrowed together in confusion as you pout, his feet carrying him towards you and his body moving over yours, tugging the duvet over his torso, his chest flush against yours, his nose tucking against your shoulder as he lays tiny kisses along your skin. “Tell me why you’re pouting.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you as much as you want, my love,” Harry smirks, his lips dragging along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Have my lipstick stains all over your skin. Make you know you’re mine.”