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all-things-fic · 5 years ago

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With This Ring

A/N: Thank you to everyone for bearing with my through my severe writing drought. It was a bizarre one. Praise Gucci and Harry Styles for their love of striped t-shirts, dreamy photoshoots and photo booth pictures that we all wish we had actual copies of to slip in the backs of our purses to have some graciously point out in the local shop how handsome our boyfriend is.

If you haven’t cottoned on I’m talking about the Harry photo booth pictures that came for all our throats. Without furher ado, here it is. Wedding!Harry, in Italy. All 12k of it. Flirtatious and every inch the delectable fiancé and husband we all know he’s going to be.

Massive shoutout to my girl @waitingfortwilight for her beta-ing. Spacing is going to be an issue so I apologise in advance!

We can unhit the pause button now. Loads of love xx

***

The way you aimlessly strolled down the winding alleys of Florence, giggling at how your fiance swung your hands gently between the two of you was sickly sweet. You knew you were smug, just as much as he was today. Two days away from the best day of your lives and enjoying the way you took in the build up, together. Harry’s light cream loafers tapped gently against the cobbles beneath your feet as he walked heavy-footed against the incline of the pathway and chewed tightly on his chewing gum. He looked every inch the attractive man, in love and ready to get married, as he was. You revelled in watching him, his side profile and jawline that sometimes would become soft as he’d put his head down while you walked; feeling your eyes admiring him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing the same with you. Returning the favour was the least you could do. The minute he changed the direction you were walking in, you knew he had spotted something. Harry’s entire demeanour since you had arrived in Florence had been slow. Well, slow for him. While there had still been a slight edge to his movements, from excitement and nervousness as the days went by and brought you closer to your big day, he had never once faltered in his activated holiday mode. Slightly dazed from the change, you could feel Harry’s eagerness radiating somewhat boyishly off him. This was only confirmed when he spun around to look at you, motioning that he wanted to take your other hand in his free one. Even behind his sunglasses you knew his eyes were shining, the way the left side of his mouth sloped upwards to give you that toe-curling smirk and continued to showcase the sickeningly attractive dimple that you knew got him out of any form of trouble he found himself in the classroom both as a child and a teenager. “Fancy a go?” he nudged his head back, when you felt his feet beginning to slow. Frowning, you allowed your eyes to take in your surroundings, them moving to look over his head at the photo booth that sat disheveled in the tiny side street encased in the hustle and bustle of two more prominent roads. “Did you know this was here?” your question was flat with a raised eyebrow, already knowing the answer. His lips twitched, loving how sometimes he was just that easy to read and you were just that easy to get a rise out of. The thing with Harry was, he loved a photo booth. One of the first sets of pictures the two of you ever had together were photo booth pictures from Shoreditch House. That group of four pictures still sat stuck, with a really tacky magnet from New Brighton Beach, to the fridge of the Hampstead home.

“Might’ve done.”

The confidence that oozed out of his being warmed you as you watched the way his jaw flexed with each chew of his gum. He raised his eyebrows at you when he didn’t get a response, only for you to pull your hands free from his and walk slightly ahead of him. You admired the old photo booth that held a sign that you knew lit up at night, block capital letters in black font prominent against a white background. “Foto automatica,” you mumbled under your breath, letting your eyes roam over the fake wooden effect, lino-type material that encased the outside, and the curtain - which you could only describe as musky-looking - that covered up the booth area itself. An information sheet sat next to the booth curtain which detailed all the different types of reasons why someone may have their photograph taken there. Harry ran his finger over the first word and spoke, as fluently as possible for a Northern English lad with two glasses of champagne in his system on no food since midday, “Fidanzati.” He took his finger and pointed to himself, “Boyfriend.” “Don’t see one of ‘em around,” you smirked, feeling him pull you against him lightly. Resting against his side, you watched the way Harry pushed his sunglasses up into his hair as a way to get his hair out of his eyes, but to allow him to read the writing easier. You admired how there was slight squint to his eyes from the bright, natural light, compared to shield behind his sunglasses, and the way his mouth moved slightly as he breathily spoke each word that was listed as to the type of person who may occupy the photo booth. “I think the word you’re looking for is fidanzato,” you rubbed your hand gently against his chest and watched the way a small frown fell between his brows. “‘S not on there,” he mumbled, free hand now picking at his bottom lip in thought. “That’s a shame, it’s not for people like us to use after all then,” you tried to break out of under his arm, but suddenly it felt very heavy against your shoulders as he held you to him. You whined when he started to laugh, enjoying the way you were trying to get out of having your picture taken at all costs. Talking deeply, Harry mumbled, “Where’d you think you’re goin’?” Head tilted back, you pouted as you wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at him. Harry, knowing you weren’t about to go anywhere just from the way you had clasped your hands together behind his back, used his hands to push your sunglasses up into your hair. The soft smile that graced his face when his eyes came into contact with yours was one filled with a love that only a man who was about to get married in two days would hold. “Don’t make me have my picture taken, H,” you whispered, feeling your bottom lip protrude slightly more than usual. Your eyes closed when you felt his lips press against your forehead, a soft rumble of a laugh breaking out from his lips. “Come on,” he coaxed, “‘S only two euros a go, think I can stretch to tha’.” His muffled voice caused you lightly slap him on his chest as he continued to chuckle. “‘S not nice,” he frowned, his hand slapping and patting down the pockets of his trousers but coming up short; having forgotten how he had handed his wallet over to you before you had left the villa. “You’re suggesting I’m only worth two euros.” “Never said tha’,” he looked at you, a little bit of uncertainty behind his eyes because where had he put his fucking wallet? “You said that, not me. Won’t be able to stretch to nothin’ ‘f I can’t find m’fuckin’ wallet.” Pulling away from him you unzipped at the front of your Gucci Marmont crossbody bag and held the item he was looking for up in the air, between your fingers. With a small smile, you raised your eyebrows over at him, wanting him to come and take it off you in one way or another. “No wonder you’re confident, got access to m’bank account like tha’,” he joked, as he saw the way your mouth fell at his comment. He reached for you again, feeling the stubbornness hit your body as you planted your legs so he couldn’t easily pull you to him again. “Darlin’-” “I’ve got the power right here,” you responded, shaking the black leather item that jingled slightly from the small amount of change Harry liked to carry when he was in another country. He hummed in agreement, “You have no idea.” Harry stared at you for a while before he broke the silence with a small nudge of his head again towards the photo booth and a, “Come an’ have a picture wi’me.”

“Was thinking of going in by myself-”

He gwaffed at that, causing you to throw his wallet at him full pelt, trying to hide your smile as you watched the way he scrambled to catch it before it fell to the floor. Hand pressed to your lips, you saw the way his eyes were alight when they looked back at you.

Raised eyebrows he asked, “Was that really necessary?”

“You laughed at me-”

“You just said, you didn’t want to have your picture taken. Now you’re shunning your husband-to-be because you want to go in by yourself!”

Harry was incredulous as he responded, completely amused by the chopping and changing over your decision making.

“Now whos being dramatic, ‘shunning your husband-to-be’,” you mimicked him, watching as he rolled his eyes in a jokey manner and threw his arms out.

Palms now facing you, he held them up in mock defence against his chest. “Go on then,” he nudged his head.

Eyes squinting as they looked back at him, you turned so that your back was facing Harry now and took in the grubby inside of the photo booth before you fully stepped inside. “After you,” he dropped his tone of voice, hand slowly sliding over your back and down to your arse cheek. He tapped it lightly a couple of times, urging you to step forward into the photo booth. “Ladies first an’ all tha’-” With a squeal, you pulled the brown curtain across and stepped into the tiny space, spinning to turn to look at your fiance as you abruptly pulled the curtain to cover his view. You could hear Harry’s boisterous laugh from over the other side of the fabric from your actions. Not long after he spoke, “I’ll just wait here then, shall I?” “No peeking,” you shouted in response through the curtain as you set about unbuttoning the top of your dusky pink chiffon blouse, biting your bottom lip as you looked up at the camera just in time to see the screen turn to the number one and take the first photo of your four. As a smirk danced over your lips, you moved your hair in one swoop over your left shoulder and quickly enjoyed the powerful feeling that guided you to do something so out of the ordinary for you. With the fabric of your blouse now unbuttoned and slack against your chest, your nude lace bra was easily on show, as you keep your eyes down looking at your heaving chest and heard the shutter sound of the photo booth letting you know the second photo had been taken. Looking back up at yourself, you noticed the fely light flush that had graced your skin as you licked your lips and toyed with yourself within the ten second delay before the third picture. How were you going to make this sexy? Closing your eyes, your breathed deeply through your nose and arched your back, reaching for the bra cup of Harry’s favourite boob of yours and pulled the item taut so it sat underneath the part of your anatomy that Harry so many times described as perfect. It was almost like he was there with you as you thought about the many times he would growl playfully against the flesh of your boobs, begging you to let him fuck them between passionate sucks and licks from his unapologetically, filthy mouth. Boob free, nipple hard the camera captured you for a final time just as you pinched your nipple softly between your forefinger and thumb at the thought of him having his way with you so roughly sometime soon - maybe not soon enough - head tilted back gently and bottom lip capture between you top teeth. You lightly sighed, a soft gasp leaving your throat as you cupped and squeezed your boob and slowly lifted your dipped head up to take a look at the four images that were presenting themselves to you. A message written in Italian was displayed next to the images that you couldn’t draw your eyes away from, something about wanting you to confirm that you were happy with the images that you had taken. Shaking your head, you chose not to respond as you quickly sorted out your bra, tucking yourself back inside and letting your shaking fingers - from adrenaline - quickly button you back up again. Coughing lightly and swallowing harshly, you lifted your hand up to accept that you were happy with the pictures and through the glass of the booth sorted out your hair and prayed that the soft glow of your eyes and cheeks wouldn’t give away your naughty antics inside the small place that was only growing hotter to you with each passing second. Standing, you pulled the curtain across to leave the booth. Harry’s eyes snapped on you from where he had been admiring the grungy architecture around you and continued to stand a couple of metres away. You found yourself smiling at him softly, the way he had his arms crossed gently against his slightly rounded stomach, hands beginning to tuck into his armpits. With a soft frown, you wondered why he was so far away since he was last around he was practically breathing down your neck as you slid the curtain closed. Stepping down, out of the booth and onto the cobbles beneath your sandal covered feet, you looked down into the section of the booth where you were to collect your images at the strip of four photographs waiting for you to retrieve. As you did so, you quickly opened up your bag and shoved them lightly into the leather item, eyes turning to the left just in time to see Harry walking towards you with his hands now behind his back. His gaze was mischievous, and slightly suspicious from your rushed actions, as he let his eyes run over you, dropping down to your hands that were quickly trying to blindly zip up your bag as you looked back at him. “What?” you asked, voice a little trembly as you licked your lips and thought about how you needed to reapply your lip balm once he was inside the booth himself. Harry’s right hand swung from behind his back with ease, a two euro coin pinched between his forefinger, middle finger and thumb quite tightly. Your eyes moved to focus on his fingers, his nails impeccably clean even if they had housed nail polish at the beginning of your holiday. Coin glistening in the sun, you dragged your eyes back to his familiar green pair and saw the way they sparkled with his next words. “My turn,” he raised his eyebrows, so slight you almost didn’t catch it, before he breezed by you with a comically delivered, “Squeeze me, squeeze me” as he tried to excuse you so he can get into the booth. Playfully rolling your eyes at the way he has tried to use the variant of ‘excuse me’, you mumbled under your breath, “Don’t give up the day job.”

“Oi, I heard tha’,” he chastised from behind the curtain, his tone amused as you heard him shuffling about with the stool to make it lower so his head wasn’t out of the frame. Your lips quirked at the thought of some joke you would whisper to him later as you sat in his lap on your balcony about how big his head was.

Before you could stop yourself, not that you would anyway, you let your fingers curl around the side of the curtain, light-heartedly threatening to pull it open, as you began to jerk the fabric.

The fabric was abruptly snatched out of your hand, firmly pressed by much larger digits to the side of the photo booth machine to hide any sort of a glimpse you may get of the action behind it. Harry’s voice sounded not long after, “Get out of it.”

Biting your bottom lip, you shook your head as he mocked you by repeating your words of “no peeking” and stepped back from the booth. “Carry on then,” you jibed.

“I will,” he shot back, without missing a beat. Sometimes it annoyed you when we was so on the pulse like this, but your back and forth flirtatious banter was one of the reasons you had kept him around for so long and were planning on making it forever.

Stepping down the small curb, you tilted your head back and took in the slightly rougher surroundings you found yourself in. If you really zoned in you could just about make out the sound of an Italian matriarch chastising her husband with fast paced language that alternated between fluent Italian and English.

Enjoying the bustle around you, you dug into your bag and reached for your lip balm, running your finger easily against your lips and rolling them together as you kept your eyes on the booth. You shook your hand at the way you could see Harry’s feet from underneath the curtain, the light wind somehow managing to rustle his flared grey trousers that he pretty much lived in.

Your mind wandered to his reaction at the photography that was hidden in your bag. Part of you finding some sort of exhilaration within your anxiety at what had happened just moments ago.

Before you could get too lost in your thoughts, you noticed the way his feet, which had previously been wound around the leg of the stool, planted themselves flat to the floor as he stood to his full height.

When Harry opened the curtain of the booth - not before popping his head out from behind the fabric first - he came swinging out with a smile that radiated the look of a naughty school boy once more. He raised his eyebrows at you as he lunged to snatch at his photos, even though you weren’t in any rush to take them from him or to get much closer.

Approaching you, you turned your back to him and smiled to yourself when you saw the way he dangled the photo booth strip of pictures in front of you and presented you with four images of himself in black and white.

“Last pictures of me as free man them, love,” he hummed, letting his arm fall heavily across your chest as he wrapped himself around you from behind and he knew you had a grip of the photos.

You both began to waddle in your walk as he chuckled into your neck, catching a glimpse of your face as you took in the pictures of him. He felt the way your jaw dropped slightly, a little offended even if only joking.

“I’ve had your arse on lockdown long before this weekend, Styles,” you had chosen to correct him with a self-righteous indignation that showed you were absolutely certain, completely unfounded, in how you were totally correct in your knowledge of just how much of a fool he was for you and had been the minute he clapped eyes on you.

“S’tha so?” he jibed, lips twitching against your skin. “Let me see yours.”

“They’re not for now, they’re for later-

You felt the way he frowned against the side of your face, lips a bit pouty before he jarred his neck backwards. He was quick to notice the blush creeping up your chest, neck and cheeks. “What ‘ave you done-”

“Nothing,” you were quick to try and deter his thoughts away, eyes remaining on the photographs of your - let’s get it straight - incredibly fit husband-to-be. His stare was strong against your profile but you refused to look him in the eye, admiring his face and the puppy dog eyes that he had chosen to give to the camera just for you.

From the four you had a clear favourite. For now anyway. You were sure it would change after you had obsessively ogled them more and more as the day went on. The one with his fingers resting gently against his lips, dopey-eyed and with fluffed hair that begged to be tamed instantaneously captivated you as you slowly blinked, drawn in by his vacant stare.

“Alright,” you breathed, giving in and feeling the way Harry halted the both of you.

“Alright?” he questioned.

“You can see ‘em.”

For some reason you blew out a nervous breath, the strip of picture Harry had given you slipping between your index finger and middle finger as you dropped your eyes and opened your bag to pull out your strip of photos.

“Promise not to laugh.”

“You’re being silly,” he started, hand sliding into the dip where your neck and shoulder met. His clammy palm gave him away, his thumb stroking the back of your neck as he stayed still with his chest against your back. “No reason for me to laugh, you’re bloody wonderful.”

“‘M not very good at being sexy-”

He scoffed, dropping his lips to the back of your neck, “Think tha’s up to m’to decide, don’t you?”

Lifting the images up, you didn’t give him a chance to glance at them before they were pressed to the bare skin of your chest. You dropped your head back against his shoulder, as he turned his face into yours and pressed his lips to your cheek again.

“Give ‘em to me,” he whispered, gruffly. “Go on, doll.”

His voice warmed you as his hands slid lower and squeezed your hips. From your periphery you could just about make out how he licked his lips as he saw you peel the photos, quite literally, away from your blazing skin that held a light film of sweat.

Nostrils flared, Harry’s mouth parted slightly at the visuals you slowly revealed to him. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how you had your thumb strategically covering the last image. Reaching forward he tugged at the top of the photostrip, fighting his smile when he felt you tug back just once.

“Stop bein’ difficult,” he begged with deep command.

Your thumb finally gave way, letting him take hold of the photos for himself. He stayed close to you as he did so, his chest heaving heavily into your back as he breathed out, “You naughty girl. That’s indecent exposure that is-”

“I was behind a curtain, calm down.”

You watched the way he kept his eyes down onto the images, his thumb stroking over each of them separately. Glancing at him over your shoulder, his eyes admired you in a tender way, lifting his gaze to look over at you when you said, “They’re for tomorrow night.”

“Why?” he questioned, tilting his head slightly as you turned around in his hold and cuddled close to him.

“Don’t know.”

You felt yourself getting coy with the man who was about to become your husband in less than seventy-two hours. You knew it was entirely unnecessary but somehow underneath the warm sunshine, the alcohol within your veins had now ebbed away compared to the minutes prior, leaving you with the liquid confidence that gave you the conviction to freely do anything you could ever wish to do.

“Maybe if you needed to-” you choked, cutting yourself off.

Bringing you close to him, he let his lips rest against your temple as he spoke, “You took a dirty picture for me in case I wanted to ‘ave a wank the night before our wedding, ‘s tha’ wha’ you’re tryin’ to tell me?”

You hummed, closing your eyes at the feel of his warm breath against your skin as he groused, “You’re gon’a be m’wife-” the lower register tone he had adopted caused you to melt into him. “‘M gonna shag you so good on Sunday.”

“Just Sunday?” you teased.

“Fo’ the rest of m’life-“

“Sounds better,” you lightly hummed, lips curling into the softest smile as he nudged his mouth closer to yours and melded your lips with his. “Like ‘em?”

“Love ‘em, can’t wait for ‘em to get a bit rough around the edges and creased from the way I’ll desperately grab for ‘em all the time when ‘m on the road.”

*** Your wedding party was small, the way you both wanted it. The fact only became more apparent at the wedding rehearsal and drinks that evening. It didn’t take anything away from the atmosphere that was woven with a type of love and happiness that was sickly sweet but every bit welcomed.

Sat in the gardens that accompanied the beautiful villa that you had chosen to hold your wedding, you were a state of relaxed that caused you to softly smile at nothing. You delicately stroked the stem of your champagne flute as you lifted your hand to shield your eyes from the sun, which was dipping behind the trees, to gently look over at Harry.

His hair moved lightly in the evening breeze, arms folded over his chest in his relaxed stance as he conversed with his oldest friends. He looked every inch as gorgeous today as he did the day you first met him. Probably more so now, if you were being truly honest with yourself.

His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned, more so than you would like it to be, but you were sure that he’d lost a few buttons since the night had begun so it was hardly his fault. That’s what he’d say anyway, blaming it on the Chianti Classico that Florence was known for. The pair of grey Prada trousers he had chosen to wear worked in his favour, and showed off the gym regime he had undertaken to get himself into the shape he currently was in for your wedding.

Lightly shivering in the early Italy evening, you felt a bit exposed in your Michael Lo Sordo silk crepe de chine gown. A half filled flute of champagne occupied your right hand as you walked over to the other side of the dinner table to your soon-to-be husband within the alfresco dining area that had been created for you on the grounds of your wedding venue.

Harry stood, with an amused expression over his features, as he watched two of his closest friends pissing about by grappling each other as if they were still six years old and animatedly reenacting wrestling they had watched on Saturday morning television.

Jack had Jonny in a firm headlock by the time you had made yourself known, almost being taken out when Jonny lost his footing as you approached the group and he tried to stand himself to full height.

Harry whistled harshly, “Lads, calm it down will yer-”

“Wish I hadn’t brought this over with me, it’s getting in the way, “ you whispered more so to yourself, as you hated only having the one arm planted around his waist, as he drew you to him and away from his friends.

He busied himself brushing your hair over your shoulders, enjoying watching you close your eyes as you felt the fluttering of strands fall down your exposed back.

“Neck it then,” he smirked, left side of his mouth rising as you looked at him with wide eyes now that you’d opened them.

“Harry Styles,” you chastised, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t give me tha’”, he pulled you closer to him.

“We’re in a very expensive place-” “Don’t I know it,” he widened his eyes as he spoke before he eyed you. You looked at him for the shortest amount of time before you knocked back the rest of your champagne and held the glass above the top of his head to prove there was none left, before letting him deposit it off to the side for you.

With your second hand now free, you let it join your first, wrapping around Harry’s back. You clasped your hands together against his shirt and tilted your head back looking up at him. He sighed, dreamily, letting his eyes fall over your sun kissed face that was lightly dusted with freckles.

“Worth it, aren’t I?”

“Every penny,” he responded, pecking your lips quickly. “You’re gonna be my wife in two days time,” the tone he’d opted for was light, breath fanning gently over your lips as he hovered close to you. He was never going to get tired of counting down the days, or saying those words.

You giggled at his obvious observation, “Is that right?”

Nodding, he hummed, “Not planning on running off wi’the best man, are ya?”

“Not my type. First usher, on the other hand, ‘s a bit alright isn’t he?”

He pursed his lips, trying to fight his smile at your goading. With a shake of his head, Harry responded, “‘s enough outta you-”

Letting your lips break out into a smile, you heard Harry continue, “Stop eyeing up all m’mates.” He looked up from you and back to his friends, feeling your eyes stay on him. Voice a bit louder he added, “Don’t get too close to Jack, he’s already stolen someone from me before-”

Harry laughed as he cut himself off, dodging the flying napkin that had been thrown at him by his friend, batting it away with his forearm and letting it hit the cobbled stone beneath his feet. “Oi, don’t make me change my mind about forgiving you.”

“It was over ten years ago! I know you’re one to hold a grudge, but come the fuck on!”

“I’m nothing if I’m not consistent,” Harry jibed in return, pulling you closer to him as you pressed your forehead against his jawline and enjoyed the way he rocked the two of you where you stood.

Inhaling deeply you took in his worn in cologne and thought about the afternoon that two of you had shared in the middle of Florence. Sliding your hands down his back, you gently cupped at his bum cheeks through the grey trousers, smile deepening when you felt him clench against your hands.

In the back pocket of his trousers, sitting over his right bum cheek, you felt something inside that was folded into a small-ish square. Light frown on your face, you pulled away to look at Harry. “Is that-”

“The topless photos of my soon-to-be wife,” he started, keeping his eyes looking forward onto the party of family and friends. “Might be. Depends who's asking.”

“You’re terrible-”

“‘M in love, is wha’ I am,” he paused. “But now you know what the reason is if I disappear off to the loo and take too long to come back to you.”

“Maybe opt for a posh wank, wouldn’t want to make a mess of the expensive bathrooms here.”

The dirty snicker that reverberated through him caused you to press yourself closer, “That’s exactly the reason to not have a posh wank. Leave ‘em something to remember me by.”

“And here I was thinking you had impeccable manners.”

The smirk he gave you as he looked down at you caused you to shift thanks to the warmth you felt within you core. “You know I fuckin’ do, say please and thank you at all the righ’ parts for you, don’t I sweetheart?”

***

You weren’t nervous. You knew he was.

You knew the minute he’d turned, braved a glance at you over his shoulder and saw the dreamy sigh heave its way through his chest. You knew the minute his clammy and trembling hand cupped yours as your Dad passed you over to him.

You knew, by the way he stumbled over his vows. Licking his lips and clearing his throat before he started the same sentence he had stumbled over previously and delivered it how he wanted to in the first place. With a sense of confidence that expressed just how sure he was of himself in that moment, how sure he was of your relationship and the life you were about to start building together as husband and wife.

You were so sure of yourself. He could see in the way you smiled at him, the way you squeezed his hand in yours when he had tripped up on the delivery of his vows. The way you cupped the back of his neck when he broke the kiss, not wanting to break away just yet as you rested against him and heard him whisper to you, “We did it, bab. Me and you.”

“Me and you,” you had whispered back. Enjoying the intimate moment that you were sharing regardless of the fifty or so sets of eyes upon you while you did.

“I’m like a duck,” you broke the soft silence between the two of you as you caught a moment to yourselves. Those four words cut into the thoughts of both yourself and Harry from earlier that afternoon. He stood over the other side of the hallway and watched you with your glass of fizz. Looking down at his shoes, his right hand occupied your bouquet of fresh flowers, his left with a champagne flute of orange juice only.

He was amused, lips twitching slightly as he furrowed his brow and blinked slowly. “Why a duck?”

“Cool and calm on the surface, but you best believe underneath the water I am kicking like a mad woman.”

“Lucky for me, or you, I’m into crazy.”

Walking over to him, you reached for the bouquet in his hand and lightly tapped it against the sleeve of his navy suit. He always had a bleeding answer for everything, didn’t he?

“Steady on, steady, eh, eh up, hey,” he rambled, as you hit him another two times as he tried to dodge your blows.

“Stuck with me now, ‘s not like you have a choice,” you rolled your eyes, looking down at your bouquet to see if you had caused much damage. Luckily your fresh flowers looked intact, as you sipped at your champagne again.

“Made m’choice,” he drawled, sauntering over to you after you’d paced back over to your original standing place. “‘M very ‘appy wi’my choice. Punched above m’weight, did well for m’self.”

You felt you lips pull into the shyest of smiles as you smoothed your hands over the lapels of his dark blue suit. Fingers stroked at the velvet accent that adorned the collar, liking the way it felt against your fingertips.

“I did alright, I s’pose,” you looked up under your eyelashes at him, watching the way he raised his eyebrows at you before shaking his head.

The two of you stayed silent as he let his gaze look over your face, eyes dropping down to take in your dress as he pushed his body away from yours to see all of you. He whistled lowly, eyes raking up your body before meeting your eyes again. “Talk me through everythin’-”

“Do you not think we should go and make ourselves known to our guests?”

“Fuck no,” he hummed, plainly, “‘m enjoying m’wife. They can fuckin’ wait. Let ‘em enjoy the free bar I’ve forked out for-”

“That’s the only reason you paid for it, to distract the guests.”

“Caught me, but it’s working in’it. No-one’s coming looking for us just yet.”

You laughed down your nose at the abruptness of his voice, his hand cupping around your waist, thumb stroking over the lace of your dress.

“When I went for my last fitting,” you started, enjoying the way he dropped his eyes again to look at your left hand which was playing with the cufflinks of his shirt. “I was told by Monique herself that my dress was a signature silhouette, embellished with decadent embroidery and a luxurious fabric palette that included duchess satin and mosaic lace to create an air of royalty, depth and dimension. Creating an overall effect that is enchanting and a celebration of romance.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled at you as you finished what you were saying, a humour induced quirk to his eyebrow, his lips pulled into a tight line before he spluttered out his laugh.

“Excuse you,” you raised your eyebrows at him, shoving his right shoulder to lightly create some distance between the two of you because of his rudeness. “I thought you of all people would love to hear that sort of drivel. You’re supposed to agree with that sort of thing, not laugh!”

He blinked, laughing fading into a soft smile. With this dreamy tone, he said, “Now tell me why you really chose it.”

Scrunching your nose up at him, you sighed, “Two reasons. Cause I knew you’d sigh the way you did when you saw me in it at the end of the altar and,” you paused. “Cause it made me look the slimmest I’ve looked in ages.”

“How’d I know it would come back to weight,” he hummed, leaning forward to peck your lips. “‘M floored, d’ya kno’ tha’? Don’t know how I’m keeping my hands to m’self, really, don’t know how I’m doin’ it.”

“You act like you didn’t have a strict work regime in the lead up to this day, don’t talk to me about weight-”

“You know tha’ was to help build up my stamina more than anything else,” he pulled you closer to him, hands spreading out across your lower back.

“God knows y’needed it,” you tapped him on the chest in a playfully patronising fashion.

“Nothing like a supportive wife, let me tell ya,” he shook his head as it dropped down. You quickly picked it up with both your hands and pulled his lips to yours. He hummed as you kissed him, “Tha’s more like it.”

“Easily pleased.”

“When it comes to kissing you? Abso-fucking-lutely,” he hummed, cupping your jaw with his own hand and deepening the kiss.

***

You swivelled your hips as you dropped down into the white Alfa Romeo Giulia, the heat of the Italian sun graced your skin and left you with the kind of Mediterranean bliss that relaxed your body. Or maybe that was because you had just become a married woman.

“Out done yourself, Jeff mate,” you heard Harry shout as he hunched his body slightly, getting ready to close your passenger door while he nodded his head to the boot of the car which housed empty cans of different UK beer suppliers, tied on with string and hung out of the back of boot alongside a ‘Just Married’ sign. You shook your head with a laugh, placing your bouquet into your lap and debated whether you should wear your seatbelt or not as Harry made sure you were comfy before shutting the car door.

He turned his back to you, eyes on his friends and family as he smiled and blew kisses to them, not missing the way his Mum rolled her eyes at his theatrics.

You leaned your forearm along the top of the door, resting your chin against your skin and smiled as you watched Harry. The way he glowed, and had done all day, was still as mesmerising now in the very late afternoon as it was the minute you first saw him at the end of the aisle.

He stood there, waving and blowing kisses some more - for what felt like an eternity - causing you to shake your head.

“Your wife is waiting,” you teased with a slight command, watching the way he slowly turned his head to look at you. He eyed you for a while, enjoying the demanding expression you had chosen to wear.

“Alright,” he stressed, voice high pitched, tilting his head as he kept eye contact. Knowing that it would kill the illusion, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hide away the smile that you hadn’t been able to take off your lips since the minute you had become Mrs Styles.

“I’m bloody comin’, didn’t realise you were this impatient, wouldn’t have married yer ‘f I had!” he joked, walking around the back of the car, your friends and family laughing resoundingly at him.

You didn’t see the way Harry raised his eyebrows at Jeff as he spoke louder so the crowd of guests could hear his response to your comment. He heavily dropped down into the car seat next to you, the gold and silver of the necklaces around his neck bouncing against his golden chest and sunkissed chest hair from underneath the white dress shirt.

You reached for your bouquet, hitting him lightly on the top of the chest this time, as he fought the smile against his lips from the way he had riled you. “It’s not some fan gathering y’know,” you answered back, rolling your eyes.

Harry, wearing a bemused expression, leaned over the centre console of the car, his arm wrapping around the back of your seat as he did so. Now closer to you, he softly stroked at the underside of your chin, tilting your lips up to his. “I’m basking, darling,” he purred, eyes moving over your face, enjoying the way your lips lopsidedly smiled back at him.

“Well, bask with me,” you whispered in return, rolling your lips into your mouth and smoothing out what was left of your nude lipstick.

Humming from the back of his throat, you enjoyed the way his lips enveloped yours and welcomed his tongue into your mouth even if you did think it was a bit much in front of your loved ones.

“Plenty of time for tha’”, he stressed, leaving a series of sponging pecks against your lips, that had yor giggling and him smiling against the corner of your mouth. “‘M trying to kiss m’wife, ‘f that’s quite alrigh’?” he joked against your cheek, again loudly to try and silence the hollering from your wedding party.

A loud wolf-whistle broke up the laughter, someone shouting something like “get a room if you’re gonna neck on”, as you tilted your head back on your neck with a loud laugh of your own. “Can’t get a minutes peace ‘ere wi’these lot,” he tutted, nudging his nose gently against your skin before leaning back in his seat to fiddle around with the keys that Jeff had left in the ignition having pulled the car around to the front of the building moments earlier for you both.

Letting his eyes drop to your lap, he saw the way you gently held the stems of your bouquet of flowers. Fingering gently at the light peach petals of the roses he looked up at you, “Aren’t you meant to throw this?”

“Who’s gonna catch it? Other day you said Michal wasn’t good enough.”

“Can a guy not joke about when he’s a bit pissed?”

You watched the way some of the wedding party starting to turn to go inside, Gemma smiling lovingly up at Michal as she wrapped her arm across her middle and turned her gaze back over to both you and her brother. Looking back at Harry for a quick glance, you paused before shouting, “Gemma, catch!”

The brunette raised her head at the mention of her name, turning to see the way you hauled your flowers into the air. Having already passed comment earlier on in they day about how beautiful they looked, you knew there was no way she would let them fall to the cobbled stone. You were right in your thoughts as she quickly shot across the driveway and just caught the flowers before they hit the deck. Raising them in the air, she pumped them towards the sky a couple of times, before laughing loudly and shouting, “Love you!”

Returning the sentiment, you heard Harry shout after you, “Good luck with that, Michal.”

“Oi you bugger,” Gemma responded, as Harry fired up the engine, obnoxiously revving it causing you to lightly frown over at him.

“Sorry Gem, can’t hear yer,” he cupped gently against his ear with his left hand, your eyes falling to the glistening of his plain, platinum band underneath the sunshine.

“Stop, be nice,” your soft voice caught his attention over the sound of the engine. His gentle gaze looked at you, reaching over and cupping your face with hand. His thumb softly stroked at your chin, his eyes dropping to your lips as you repeated your words telling him to change his teasing attitude towards Gemma.

“Thought you were on my team now,” he asked, watching you breathe around a laugh and prepare yourself to respond as he brought his wedding ring up to your line of vision.

Before you had a chance to speak, a member of your wedding party cut through your moment, “H, we’ve got a free bar going to waste inside so if would ya could just kindly piss off, we could go and enjoy it!”

“Bastards,” he muttered under his breath. “Getting kicked out of m’own wedding.”

“Our wedding,” you corrected him. “Stop giving it the big ‘un and take me to bed already.”

You saw the way he smirked, leaning over to kiss you again, “What wifey wants, wifey gets.”

***

Harry was determined the minute he pulled the car to a halt outside the secluded house that epitomized everything Italian. His strides were confident as he walked around the sports car, rounded the bonnet and swiftly opened your passenger door.

He hovered over you in a way that you found attractive, protective and comfortingly domineering, causing you to seductively smile up at him, and under your own admittance flutter your eyelashes in a way that would’ve usually made your roll your eyes. “Are you going to carry me over the threshold?”

“Are you joking?” his facial expression was incredulous.

Scrunching your nose at him, you shook your head and let it fall back against the headrest. “I’ve taken my shoes off now, don’t think I’d be able to get them back on even if I tried. Could you grab them for me as well?”

“Anything else?”

“Maybe that shag you’ve been dangling over my head since the minute we landed-”

“The shag I’ve been dangling over your head?” his voice rose a couple of octaves as he prolonged his words, eyes getting wider each time, causing your smile to deepen.

Both of you looked at each other for a while in silence before Harry turned to peer down into the car footwell. Leaning down, he grabbed at your high heeled sandals and scrutinised them for a short while.

His eyes ran over the sparkling shoe, and for the shortest time, the male within him wondered how much they’d cost. “Do they do these in my size?”

“Now, that’s something I’d like to see. You’re like bambi when your feet are on the ground so heaven knows how four inches would treat you.”

“Four inches treats you quite well,” he let his attempt of sexual innuendo hang in the air. You eyed him, peering through hooded eyes at his pleased face, staying silent as he added, “And the rest.”

“You do talk some shit at times,” you giggled, watching the way he frowned over at you, not amused by your comeback.

“That’s you not getting a piggyback then,” he raised to his full height, fiddling with the waistband of his trousers and smirked at the way your hand reached up and curled around his open shirt. Tugging lightly, he enjoyed the way you pulled him down to you with a soft purse of your lips, “What?”

“Please,” you whined in a whisper.

“Alright,” he sighed, shaking his head due to the way you threw your hands up into the air and clapped quickly at how he had given in. Once you’d revelled in your win for long enough, you wound your arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him to you.

“Love you-”

“You bloody better do,” he pecked your lips, before he softly murmured the same words back to you. “If I pull my back out doing this, I swear-” he trailed off as he shook his head and thought about how he was going to scoop his arm underneath the mountains of lace. Sure, Monique Ihullier had managed to sell you a story about romance but it wasn’t going to be very romantic when one of you ended up breaking your necks thanks to the reams of fabric that you found yourself tangled in together.

You laughed as you felt him slide his hand underneath what he thought was all the fabric that belong to your dress, for the second time. “Still don’t think you’ve got it all, H.”

You bit your bottom lip when he muttered under his breath, “Bollocks to this, why is there so much fuckin’ fabric.”

“Sifts out the wheat amongst the chaff in terms of husband material,” you deadpanned.

“Not another kind of fuckin’ material,” he responded, smiling when he lifted you and you knocked your head back with a loud laugh. “Jesus, darlin’ don’t make this anymore of a challenge fo’ me. Be good to me.”

Humming, you raised your head to meet his eyes that were smiling at you. He jostled you in his hold as he stepped backwards, after landing a weak kick that somehow still managed to close the car door, making sure his grip was tight enough as he slightly panicked when he realised he’d forgotten the shoes.

“I’ve got ‘em,” you didn’t even need him to confirm the alarm behind his stare. Maybe if he had been concentrating hard enough he would’ve felt the way the item was lightly bouncing against the back of his suit jacket.

The way he visibly relaxed, made you fall closer to him and cling a bit tighter to try and make it as easy for him as possible. Before Harry turned his body so that he was facing the house, you glanced over his shoulder at the quaint farmhouse built with a warm terracotta brick standing before you with a porch that housed ivy and warm lantern lights.

“Whatever you do, do not let go of my neck,” Harry warned, tone of voice tight, as he turned the both of you with one smooth motion. Instead you clung tighter to him, lightly scratching at his skin and enjoying the satisfied groan that Harry emitted from your ministrations.

As the door came into view, you sighed at the situation you found yourself in. The setting screamed Italian hideaway, barely a sound around the two of you, baring Harry’s breathing mixing with yours as you pressed your head close to his and peppered barely there kisses along his jaw.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get the keys out m’jacket pocket? Left one.” he breathed, turning his head to the side to nudge you to look at him.

“Hope so,” you lightly laughed, smoothing your hand over his cheek.

“Me too, otherwise ‘m gonna have to put you down and really don’t want to do that until I see our bed.”

“Really didn’t think this one through-”

“No, you didn’t,” he shot back, closing his eyes and thanking the gods above when he planted his feet firmly against the floor and felt the way your hand managed to reach the keys with ease.

“We have lift off,” you smiled, holding the keys in front of his face. Without responding, Harry bent his knees slightly and, around a small squeak, you pushed the key into the lock and opened the door.

Harry quickly stepped his way over the threshold, relishing the way you fell against him and smiled against his neck. “Can I put you down now?” he whispered.

“Thought you were taking me to bed? All mouth and no trousers-”

You laughed as you felt him lift you higher against his body, goaded by your words, hands now with a more sturdy grip against your body. Fingers dipping into the skin of your legs, you noticed the way he started to sweat lightly at his temples from the extra weight, and emitted a strangled breath that made you breathe a little deeper than normal.

He walked through the single level abode with ease and as your body fell against the bed, you felt it relax despite the pools of fabric that awkwardly bunched against your legs. Harry followed you, hovering over where you lay, deeply humming when you kept his lips to yours. “Let me get the lights, wanna see you properly.”

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered, “Crawl up me.”

Pushing up, Harry moved a small amount as he held his body above yours and basked in the way that your eyes stayed on him from where you lay. The warm lighting from the bedside table illuminated Harry’s slightly flushed face, and the indentations of his dimples that were beginning to form as he fought his smile.

“Getting a good eyeful, Mrs Styles,” he spoke, eyes dropping down to catch the way you blinked sultrily. His hands rested next to your head on the pillow, thumbs swiping softly at your temples, “Have you got your legs open for me under this dress?”

With a silent nod up at him, you noticed the way he breathed heavily through his nose and asked, “‘Ave you? Gonna help me get inside, doll.”

Your slightly trembling hands met his much more confident ones as they bunched up at the fabric around your legs, helping to make it bundle around your waist. “You hold it there for me,” he gruffly requested, a small smile gracing his lips as he noted the way you gripped at the lace harder as his eyes scanned your body.

The cool evening air ran over your much warmer skin when Harry successfully freed your leg. He raised his eyebrows up at you in his triumph, hand soothing against your soft, tanned skin before coming to a halt. “‘S tha’ what I think it is?”

“What d’ya think it is?” you spoke hushed, feeling the way your chest heaved against the top of your dress and you saw the way his eyes dropped down, before he looked back at you.

“It’s definitely a garter.”

“Is it-”

The groan that left Harry’s lips as he dropped his forehead against your sternum was almost animalistic, and he used his free hand to gather up as much of the other side of your skirt that he could muster in one go. He made his way so effortlessly down your body, your hands slipping against the top of his suit jacket as he slid down to get a good look at your thighs.

“Baby,” he whimpered. “What are you doing to me, ‘s comin’ off wi’my teeth tha’ is.”

“Do it-”

“‘M gonna,” he nosed against your thigh, a shiver rumbling through you at the way his teeth grazed gently against your skin and curled around the silk and elastic that graced your left thigh.

His wet and warm breath flowing over you, caused you to clawed at the fabric in search of his head, only failing and causing some of the dress to curtain over Harry in the process. He wasn’t phased as he continued on his pursuit to get the item down your leg. Eyes closed, you enjoyed the tickle of the fabric as he nudged it down to the top of your calf and pulled it off the rest of the way with his nimble fingers.

Item within his grasp, Harry allowed it fall against the linen bedspread beneath you both and nosed his way back up your skin, slowly worshipping you with open mouthed kisses back up your body. “Stop teasing me,” you whined, hands scampering across the mounds of fabric.

Harry’s gruff response sounded far away as you began to focus on the way he cupped at the back of your thighs, “Wha? Like you’ve been doing all weekend, eh?”

“That’s different.”

Muffled, he chuckled against your inner thigh, you tried to fight the shake of your legs as Harry clung to you and slid across your panties without a protest. “How so? Tell me-”

As you started to argue, Harry licked hungrily against your slick core in one motion. His nose buried itself deep into the top of your mound as he instantly sucked at you with a desire that you hadn’t felt in the longest time. A thirst needing to be quenched.

“No, no, no. At least let me see,” you whimpered, followed by a whispered and begged mantra of, “let me see, let me see, H. God-”

Against your want, more fabric curtained over the top of Harry as the heat created between your thighs almost became unbearable. Almost. Your hands twisted into the sheets beneath you, while his pushed at the backs of your thighs, creating a makeshift tent against your wedding dress to allow him a chance of making it out of this alive.

But if not, what a way to go, eh?

His mouth circled around your clit, as you breathed heavily, gasps catching between each breath you took. He turned his head, burying his tongue and nose deeper against you, making sure he ate you everywhere.

“Talk to me,” he mumbled, voice barely audible as you felt the tease of his fingers against your folds and his heavy pants, screaming at him to take proper respite.

Your head tipped back due to the slight pressure of his finger tips, slowly feeling your walls give way to him, sinking deeper as you wriggled down against his hand. His lips slanted upwards, lopsidedly, from your eagerness as he bit his bottom lip and moaned softly at the view of your glistening lips.

The gust of cool air from the way Harry abruptly pulled himself from under your gown, you peered at him as he came into view, reaching for him as tried to move the skirt of your dress up and around your waist once more.

Cheeks pink, the mixture of Harry’s sweat and your taste, lined his lips as he messily found your mouth. His hand rested against the inside of your thigh as he blindly found you again and wasted no time in sinking his fingers back inside of you.

Middle finger and third finger rocked gently inside you, curling gently as they got closer to the start of your entrance before sliding back into your wetness to tap tauntingly against to that spongy centre aching to be teased. His mouth hovered over your lips as you forced him away from your to breath, letting your eyes drop down to enjoy the tautness of his suit jacket against his flexed arm.

“Fuck me, ‘m sweating,” he confessed, his eyes dropped down to your face as he saw the way you dipped your head into the pillow beneath you once more. “You like it like this?”

His question caused you to loll your head in his direction, blissed out face barely able to make out his concentrated expression as he watched you closely. You swallowed hard, nodding in an almost numb-like state. “Tease me,” you whined, grasping at his neck and pulling him to rest heavier upon you.

“Yea’?” he faintly hummed as he dropped his forehead against you. “Like this?”

“Mmm,” you nodded against his head, as you dug your nails into his neck, taking advantage of the leverage and the way it allowed him to curl his fingers inside, just the way you liked it. “Slower-”

“Doll,” he gasped, feeling your slickness over his fingers. “Want me fuck you-”

“Tease me,” you whimpered. “Yes.”

“Come on my fingers,” he requested faintly. “Go on, do it.”

Back arched, an almost pained breath escaped you as you reached down and felt the movement of his hand beneath yours. “‘S me,” he chuckled, “‘m not stoppin’, go on.”

Eyes glazed, you felt the way your legs began to shake as he slowly dragged his curled fingers in you, as much as he could beneath your hand. Hand pressed firmly against you, he felt the way you opened wider for him and applied pressure to the back of his hand as you needed just a little bit more. “Am I not doin’ it right?” he asked, knowing the answer to his question as you allowed your eyes to roll back into your head.

“Tha’s it, soak me,” he deeply growled as you let yourself fall under the warmth in the pit of your stomach, not fighting the way it was about to make you shake. “Give it me, all of it-”

“Yes, fuck,” you moaned wetly, body stiff before it fell slack against the bed. Legs, once wide open, slipped almost shut as Harry’s wet fingers stayed tightly curled against you.

Heavy breathing filled the space between the both of you as you rubbed your thumb over the top of his hand, feeling the way your arousal coated his fingers. “Need you out of this dress,” he mouthed against your lips, as you panted and enjoyed the dead weight of his body next to yours.

Clambering off you, Harry toed his way out of his shoes and pulled his jacket away from his body, before laying it over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. His shirt, which was barely buttoned to begin with, followed not long after being whipped carelessly across the room.

He eyed you from the end of the bed, watching the way you blinked down at him and laid content. His hand cupped to his hardening erection through his trousers, a stifled groan leaving his lips as he made light work of unbuttoning the waist and kicking them away.

Hands tugging at yours, Harry pulled you up to him. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” he whispered, “It’ll be worth it.”

You weren’t in doubt, but the blissful feeling that oozed through your body had you in a dreamy state that could easily pull you under. “Help me get you out of this,” he asked, hands blindly feeling the buttons as you fell against him.

He struggled against the dainty clasps, breathing deepening ever so slightly when you reached for his underwear and pulled down the waistband to let them pool at his feet. The backs of your fingers stroked at his lower abdomen as you took in his waiting cock that was in need of some serious attention.

You giggled, looking up at him when you felt him growl with annoyance at the final buttons of your dress that just wouldn’t play ball. Mouth against his jawline, you cheekily asked with a slight nip of your teeth, “Are you aching for me?”

“‘S nearly off, darlin’,” he choked. “Play along. Help me.”

Looking at him from underneath your eyelashes, you undid the last buttons and felt the way the dress became slack against your body. Silently breathing each other in, you removed your arms from the lace and let the front of the dress fall away from you braless boobs. Harry swallowed harshly, tugging at your waist as his hand curled around your warm and soft skin.

Without a word, he dipped down and let his mouth lap at your nipples. Hands, which had been itching to glide through his hair, quickly curled against the brown strands and tugged with pleasure. You stepped back, feet tangling in the dress that you had left at your feet as he helped to slowly lay you back down and tugged gently at the only remaining clothing item between the two of you.

The two of you were barely able to hold a kiss, as he hung above you, anticipation the first feel of him entering you lingering in the air. You tilted your head back, as you saw him drop his eyes to see himself guide his aching cock to your wet and ready entrance.

“Harry, what are you doing?” you ask, as he taped himself gently against you swallow from arousal private parts.

From under his brow, he looked up, holding your eye contact with a quiet confidence. “Shagging m’wife.”

His first thrust was measured. Deliberately deep and drawn out as he slowly took you for the first few moments. Your legs lifted, curling around his back, wanting to feel the power of his thighs and arse as he rocked heavily into you, slapping skin reverberating throughout the room.

It wasn’t long before he picked up the pace, hand underneath your hips to keep them tilted, just the way you liked it. His breath ragged against your ear, his muffled filth had you moaning quietly in his ear. “And then ‘m just going to keep fucking you, and fucking you, and fucking you-” he paused, teeth gritted, “Taking pictures of these tits, my tits, an’ keepin’ ‘em from me like tha.’”

You pushed your chest up towards him, his forehead resting against your sternum again as he blabbed around his shortness of breath. “‘S not how it works, ‘s mine.”

“‘S yours,” you whined against his mouth when he kissed his way back to you, his skin so beautifully painted with flush that highlighted his exertion.

You swept his damp tendrils away from his forehead, as his face contorted with a passion you had missed seeing. His fingers clung to you, pulling you tightly up towards him as he became heavy with his thrusts. You know he was close as he when became rough around the edges; when he started talking about how much he was going to come.

“‘S going to be loads,” he gritted out, tailing off into a guttural moan that had you moaning beneath him from the sheer manliness of his confession.

“‘S dripping out,” you whined, playing along like he had asked of you moments ago, gripping him to you as he heavily pressed his torso to yours and rolled his hips weakly into you a couple of more times, almost making sure that his release stayed inside of you.

He rolled you with him, both on your sides and willed you to press your clammy forehead into his neck. You sucked against the skin on his collarbone, lapping at the saltiness of his skin and desperately trying to catch your breath.

“‘S a good fuck,” he murmered, nosing along your hairline, warm breath at the shell of your ear. “‘S a good fuck,” he repeated, weaker and more so for himself than for you.

*** You yawned around a light laugh at how silly the two of you were being.

Harry pulled on his wedding suit trousers and you slipped back into your wedding dress. The clock behind you read almost 2am, but he seemed determined to drive the two of you to some place else, desperately trying to hold onto your wedding night.

“Need your help, H,” you broke his concentration of buttoning up the front of his trousers. Eyes shooting up, he admired what he could see of your bare back in your wedding dress and the way you held the front against your bare chest.

“‘M comin’,” he mumbled as he walked around from his side of the bed, over to where you stood in front of the free standing mirror of your room. His hands fumbled with the zip that sat at the bottom of the dress, zipping it up as high as he could before he started on the buttons. He lightly smiled when he saw your hand come up before you, your perfectly soft and manicured fingers helping him finish up the buttons.

As he got closer to the top, he dropped a kiss to the bare skin at the nape of your neck, before it got covered by the lace of the dress, “Thanks for helpin’ me, darlin’.”

You busied yourself brushing your hair over your left shoulder, watching Harry through the mirror as he offered you his suit jacket to either drape over yourself or wear properly. You chose to push your arms through the sleeves, enjoying the way it smelled of him and engulfed you into a familiar comfort.

Harry groaned as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his shoes on, his eyes watched you softly as you pushed up the sleeves of his suit jacket that was too big. With a yawn, he dropped his head down to tie the laces of his patent dress shoes.

Walking closer to him, you played with the hair on the back of his head, offering him comforting scratches to his scalp as he kept it facing downwards, “You sure you’re okay to drive?” “I’m fine,” he lifted his head. “Promise,” he mumbled as your hand ran over his face and he pressed a quick peck to the inside of your hand. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I’ll put these on in the car,” you raised your heels that hung on your middle and forefinger by their ankle strap. He eyed them before he looked at you.

“How you getting to the car in bare foot?”

“You’ll just have to carry your wife, won’t you?”

“Not again, not a chance-”

You pushed him out the door of your suite muttering, “I don’t ask for much.”

“You don’t half!”

Squinting your eyes again, you decided to let him off this time and opted for walking to the car like a normal person. He opened your door for you once more, helping your gather all the fabric around your legs, to stop it getting caught inside the car door.

Quickly joining you, Harry wasted no time in starting the engine and rolling out of the driveway and onto the Italian roads. He reached for your hand as he drove, making sure he kept his undivided attention on the other drivers around him but every so often wiggling his fingers that were laced in-between yours.

“Where are you taking us?” you asked, smiling at his dimly lit profile and watching the way he enjoyed your inquisitive nature.

“S’ not far now, you’ll soon see-”

You didn’t ask another question, enjoying the italian night around you and the lack of cars on the road. The way the architecture looked even prettier in the evening under the warm glow of lanterns and yellow spotlights.

The minute the side street came into view, with a familiar setting that had graced your eyes just two - well, three days now - prior, you couldn’t help but lightly shake your head. Harry dropped the gears of the car and took caution around the slightly smaller streets, his speed almost slowing you to a halt as he crawled the car down the cobbles.

Taking a left, you turned your eyes to look at him as he slowed the car and put on the handbrake. You watched him silently as he messed with a couple of dials on the dashboard, turning the engine off and dropping his head back against his headrest.

Feeling your eyes on his, he lolled his head to the side to look at you and smiled sleepily over at you. “‘M getting my photo booth pic of us together, even if it kills me.”

You scoffed your laugh, as he blinked slowly at you with his creased shirt and hair that reminded you of the second round of sweaty shagging that the two of you had managed to draw out of the other before driving here.

“Humour your husband,” he softly pleaded.

With a slight frown, you reached for his cheek and softly thumbed the corner of how downturned lips. “Didn’t bring any cash out with me-”

Harry didn’t take his eyes off yours, but you gradually saw the way they got lighter as they twinkled underneath the lamps of the street you found yourself sat in. His hand fiddled between the two of you, the sound of coins jangling filling the space and causing you to drop your stare down into the car console.

Glancing back up at him, you loved just how pleased he looked with himself at how he had stocked the coin tray in the car with as many two euro coins he was able to jam into such a small space.

“You’re looking mighty pleased with yourself-”

“‘S cause I am,” he smugly responded. “Guess how many pictures are in there?” You shrugged at his question, knowing no doubt he knew the answer. “Loads, ‘s how many.”

“Really have got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”

“Think I do alrigh’ for m’self, yeah-”

Leaning forward you shut him up the best way you knew how, by languidly kissing him and letting him take the lead he wanted after you had initiated. He slowed the use of his tongue, dragging his lips gently against your as he whispered, “Wha’ ‘bout if I get m’tits out this time, what’dya to tha’, darlin’?”

“You’re a married man, Mr Styles,” you started, “Can’t be seen doing things like that now, can you?”

“‘S wha’ the curtains for, you should know-”

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