He smirks, “Then do it baby, have your way with me.”Â
It’s just five words, five simple words that throw every atom of your body into a frenzy.Â
in which you’re horny and Harry’s little black lace ensemble for the Met Gala isn’t doing you any favors
“So?” You hear Harry’s voice ask from behind you, “What do you think?”
You turn around with a start, trying not to trip over the giant skirt of your dress as your eyes land on him, dressed head to toe in black. You nearly let out an audible gasp as your eyes rake over him from the pearl earring dangling from his newly pierced ear to his broad tattooed shoulders hardly concealed beneath the sheer fabric of his blouse. Every swirl of ink across his chest and arms is visible, deviously teasing in their contrast to the pale complexion of his skin. Your throat is suddenly dangerously dry as you take in the rings covering each of his fingers and his two-tone fingernails.
“You don’t like it?” He asks, snapping your attention back to him and his now furrowed eyebrows, “Too much?”
“No,” You say quickly, shaking your head to clear your mind of the many unholy thoughts flooding through it the longer you stare at him, “No Harry, god, I love it, you look, exquisite.”
“Exquisite, huh?” He smirks, crossing the room to get a better look at you.
“Absolutely breathtaking darling.” You mock, straightening the bow on his shirt and pressing your lips to his.
He grins against your mouth, pulling away all too quickly and letting his own eyes rake over you from head to toe. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he does so, his smile widening by the second as his eyes flutter from the strapless bustier top to the matching black skirt. It’s nearly large enough to hide the both of you underneath and despite your worries about tripping in your heels or falling out of your carefully secured bustier, Harry has assured you that all will be just fine.
“You’re ready to go?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours and you try not to laugh when you hear the clink of both of your rings smacking together.
“I think so.” You nod, taking in a breath and trying to steady the nerves erupting in your stomach.
“Hey,” He says seriously, letting go of your hands and cupping your cheeks instead, “Don’t be nervous, you look fucking amazing baby, going to steal the whole show.”
“As much as I wish I could believe you, Lady Gaga is going to be there H.” You laugh, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before heading for the door.
He rolls his eyes as he follows you out and you catch yourself checking your makeup for the hundredth time in the mirror. The giant wing of eyeliner you could absolutely never do yourself elongates your eyes in the perfect way but the gorgeous gold glitter across your lids makes them pop in a way you’ve never seen before.
“I promise I didn’t mess up your lipstick sweetheart.” Harry teases, coaxing you out the door.
“Harry, I’m just trying to make sure I’m-“
“You’re perfect, absolutely gorgeous, a goddess Y/N,” He muses, “But you’re going to be a late goddess if we don’t get out the door right now.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes as you allow him to pull you out the door. It’s when you’re walking behind him to the elevators that your eyes scan over the rather visible rippling muscles of his back. He presses the button and tugs you into the elevator behind him. Suddenly his moving lips are all you can focus on other than the delicious swirls of ink across his skin.
“Y/N? Did you hear what I-“
He can’t even finish his question before you’re pushing him up against the back wall of the elevator and pressing your lips to his. He’s a stuttering mess, trying to gasp out words and reminders to not touch his hair or Anthony will kill you but god you couldn’t care less. You want to rip him right out of this pretty little lace number and beg him to fuck you on any conceivable surface he’ll agree to.
The elevator dings, snapping you out of your thoughts and forcing you to pull away from him. His eyes are wild when you do, looking at you in pure shock as you grab his hand and tug him out of the elevator.
“What was that for?” He chuckles, threading his fingers through yours and leading you out to the car waiting for the both of you.
“Not sure,” You shrug teasingly as he opens the car door for you, “Guess that shirt is just, doing it for me.”
He follows closely behind into the back of the car, helping you situate the giant skirt of your ensemble before closing the partition and turning back to you with that award-winning smirk on his face.
“So, what exactly is it, doing for you?” He grins deviously, grabbing you by the hips and dragging you onto his lap.
“Harry, oh my god, we are on our way to the fucking Met Gala-“
“Exactly,” He laughs, “How long do you reckon we have before we get there?”
“I am not sucking you off in the back of a cab no matter how big of a rockstar you think you are-“
“Hey, hey, hey,” He laughs, leaning back and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Who said anything about sucking me off?”
“I think that bulge in your slacks had something to say about it.” You smirk, leaning back into him and pecking the corner of his mouth.
He grins, rolling his eyes as he leans back into you, cupping your face with one hand and sneaking back under your dress with the other. You gasp into his mouth as his finger presses against the center of your panties and you can feel the reverberation of his chest as he chuckles, adding more pressure.
“Yes my love?” He grins cheekily, cutting you off before you can say much else.
You narrow your eyes at him, and he quirks up his eyebrow with that signature smirk plastered on his face, a silent request for you to let him finish what he started. You sigh in frustration, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him back to you. Your lips meet with a smack just as his fingers slip under the fabric of your panties and he hisses into your mouth.
“God you’re soaking princess.” He whispers, his fingers circling your clit before removing themselves from the front of your underwear.
Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact and you see him holding his dripping fingers in front of his mouth, admiring your excitement covering them before pushing them past his lips and hollowing his cheeks, sucking them clean. His eyes roll back in his head before he releases his fingers, puckering his lips back into that smirk you know all too well.
“So sweet, babygirl.” He hums and it takes every ounce of self-control you have left to not jump his bones right here right now.
He shushes you with his mouth, his lips swollen and his tongue tasting like you, equal parts tangy and sweet. There’s an urgency this time, both of you grabbing at each other with an overwhelming desire to consume each other in any way you can. Suddenly his fingers are slipping back past the confines of your panties and in a matter of seconds you’re full to the hilt with his finger pushed into you right up to his ring.
“F-Fuck,” You stutter, gasping against his lips, “Harry-“
“Gotta be quiet for me sweetheart, can you do that?” He whispers, yanking your panties down and making you whine into his shoulder.
You’re biting your lip so hard you’re sure you can taste blood as he curls his fingers and you nearly shriek, your body writhing. You’re squirming against the leather seat as his fingers fuck into you relentlessly, curling against your front wall, his thumb rubbing against your clit in perfect rhythm. Your stomach is coiling in a matter of seconds, your toes trying to curl against the confines of your gold pumps.
Suddenly the car stops and Harry’s head snaps up to look out the window. He withdraws his fingers from you without a word, quickly pushing them past his lips to suck them clean once again before running a hand through his hair to sort it out. He grabs your panties from around your ankles and slides them back over your hips, tugging your dress back down and leaning over to kiss your cheek.
“Keep that pretty mess between your legs, princess.” He whispers with that cheeky smirk on his face, just barely grazing his teeth over your ear as he sits back up and grabs your hand, tugging you out of the car behind him.
You don’t even bother hiding the obvious shock on your face as the words fall past his lips. Your jaw is still nearly on the ground as you follow him down the sidewalk and you’re suddenly swarmed by photographers. It’s time, the part of the Met Gala you’ve been absolutely dreading, the red-well actually pink this year-carpet.
“Just smile and stay close,” Harry nods, squeezing your hand in reassurance, “You look amazing.”
You nod your head more for yourself than him and suck in a deep breath as you take your first steps onto the pink carpet. A switch flips in Harry at the first shutter of a camera and suddenly that gorgeous megawatt smile you know all too well is plastered onto his face as he turns to each group of cameras, his arm wrapped around your waist.
“Harry! Tell us about your next album! Can we be expecting something soon?”
He’s shouted at by countless photographers all trying to get the perfect inside scoop to go with their glamour shot. They’re screaming his name in choruses, asking about his album and how he came to be the youngest co-chair of the Met Gala his first year here. He waves them off, continuing his smiling and posing as he leads you down the carpet until you reach the steps.
“Go on sweetheart,” He grins, gesturing to the stairs, “I got your dress.”
You don’t trust your voice as you take another deep breath trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart in your chest as you take the first step up. Once you’ve ascended the first set of stairs you turn around to meet eyes with Harry who’s already staring, holding up the train of your dress as he follows you up.
“Doing great, baby.” He chuckles, cracking a genuine smile as you laugh to yourself and turn back around to finish climbing up.
He comes up the last few steps behind you and carefully drops your train, perfectly arranging it to flow behind you. He offers you his arm as he comes to stand back beside you and you roll your eyes as you cheesily hook your arm through his allowing him to lead you inside.
The actual event of the grand Met Gala is a blur thanks to the presence of tequila and champagne. You can briefly remember the dinner before things went sideways and Harry was on Alessandro Michele’s shoulders screaming along to Cher and tipsily introducing people on stage as part of his co-chair responsibilities.
However, no matter how tipsy you seem to get, one thing is clear as ever in your mind, your panties are soaking. Every time you steal a glance of him in that little lacy number you catch yourself squeezing your thighs together in defiance of the tingling ever present in your core. If you were anywhere but the fucking Met Gala you’d grab him by the earring and tug him into the nearest bathroom stall in a heartbeat.
Perhaps if he wasn’t being so coy about the whole situation you wouldn’t be as painfully wound up as you are, but the countless cocky smirks and grazing hands coming just close enough to your inner thigh to make you shiver under the table have made the never ending night nearly unbearable. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making you frenzied and hypersensitive, driving you all the way to the edge before tugging you right back in.
You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his hand on your shoulder. You turn around with a start to see his glossy eyes as he walks around to steal the seat across from you.
“Jesus, scared me half to death, H.” You scold, heaving out a sigh of relief.
“What are you so jumpy for?” He laughs, running a hand through his now sweaty hair to get it off his forehead.
“Nothing, I’m just,” You stutter, trying to come up with a formidable excuse, “Tired.”
“Tired are you?” He smirks deviously, standing back up from his chair, “That’s too bad, I was gonna ask if you wanted to get out of here.”
“We’re at the Met Gala and you want to get out of here?” You scoff, allowing him to take your hand and pull you to your feet.
“Eh, why not, getting a bit stuffy in here now don’t you think?” He shrugs.
“You are unbelievable.” You laugh, shaking your head as he chuckles and leads the two of you back to the front.
He’s a grinning giggly mess as he leads you both out to the car, opening the door for you and following you inside the backseat. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol clearly coursing through his veins or just the high from the event as a whole but whatever it is that’s making him smile like that, you hope it doesn’t wear off for a while.
You’re hardly in the car for two minutes before he’s rolling up the partition and grabbing your right thigh to pull you on top of him, straddling his lap.
“Harry!” You squeal, laughing as your dress swallows the two of you and he struggles to sort it out, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to kiss you for fuck’s sake.” He huffs, giving up on your dress and grabbing your face with both hands instead.
You’re both laughing as he presses his lips to yours, nearly sighing in relief as his right hand releases its grip on your cheek and moves to cup your chest instead. You gasp into his mouth at the immediate contact after lusting after him all night and he cracks a smile, meeting your eyes.
“Thirsty?” He teases, “I think there’s some champagne in the-“
“Oh, shut up Styles.” You laugh, cutting him off and pressing your mouth to his.
He chuckles, pulling you impossibly closer with his right hand that has somehow snaked its way under your dress and is gripping your ass with pure disparity. You would give just about anything for this car to arrive at his apartment in the next two seconds so he could slam you against the bed and have his way with you. You can tell his hands are itching to roam your bare skin just as yours are nearly spastic in their restraint to take his pants off.
The last five minutes of the car ride are almost excruciating. Your lips might as well be superglued together as he helps you hoist up the skirt of your dress in order to properly straddle his thigh, nothing between the two of you but his ridiculously high waisted pants and your nearly drenched pair of panties. He’s a grunting, moaning mess as you roll your hips against him, your hands tangled in his hair and your tits nearly on full display in your dangerously lowcut bustier.
It’s when the car finally rolls to a stop that you both pull away from each other, a single string of saliva connecting the two of you as your eyes meet. You wipe the spit away as you slide off of him, throwing the door open before the driver even as a chance to get out of the car.
“Thank you so much for the ride.” Harry puffs out, trying to catch his breath as he hands the driver two hundred dollar bills and closes the door behind the two of you.
He turns back to you as soon as the driver starts to pull away, his hands immediately cupping your cheeks and you have to fight off the smile threatening to make your cheeks hurt as you pull away from him, threading your fingers through his.
“Come on, H. Let’s get upstairs first.” You giggle, tugging him behind you but he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, nearly tripping on the train of your dress as he kisses up the back of your neck.
“Don’t know if I can wait that long.” He breathes, his voice just the right amount of raspy to make your knees go weak.
As soon as the two of you cross the threshold, you’re a flurry of limbs and stupidly expensive clothing. He unzips the skirt of your dress and you quickly step out of it, reconnecting your lips as quick as possible as you push him back towards his bedroom. You nearly trip on a pair of his shoes in the doorway as you shuffle around blindly before he pushes you onto the bed and his hands find the zipper of his pants.
You can’t even describe the noise that squeaks out of your mouth as his pants fall in a heap at his ankles and he’s left standing in front of you in nothing but that black lace body suit? You can see the blush creeping on his cheeks as he tries to cover himself, but you’re completely enamored by the sight of him, all of him, completely nude, only concealed by a thin veil of lace. Some switch inside you flips as you continue gnawing on your bottom lip, your eyes raking over him from head to toe.
He kneels on the edge of the bed, crawling on all fours to get to you but you find yourself sitting up and pushing him against the mattress instead. Your lips find his instantly as your hands grab each of his forearms and pin him against the bed. He gasps in surprise, a startled whimper escaping his mouth as you sit yourself on top of him, already painfully hard and hypersensitive.
You pull away from him and nearly moan over the sight of him sprawled out underneath you, his irises blown out and his lips so pretty pink and perfectly swollen from your rough kissing. His chest is heaving underneath you, his eyes wild and his hair already fully wrecked.
“Ties,” You pant out, letting your hands roam his body over the thin layer of lace separating you from his skin, “Where do you keep them?”
“Um, in the closet, I’ll get them-“
“Don’t you move a muscle.” You instruct, carefully climbing off him and retreating to his closet.
You come back with the necessary supplies to make the image in your head a reality and he’s nervously sitting up on his elbows, his hands resting perfectly on his slender waist. Just the sight of him is making your mouth water as you cross the room to him and he gulps, meeting your eyes.
“Do you trust me?” You ask seriously, cupping his left cheek with your hand.
“Of course.” He says nervously, his eyes searching yours for any indication of what you’re planning.
“Good,” You smile, climbing back onto the bed and straddling him once again, “If you want me to stop, just say so.”
“Shhhh,” You laugh, assuring him with a kiss, “Remember when we talked about, spicing it up?”
His eyes go wide before settling back down, his hips twitching underneath you as he recounts the conversation the two of you had earlier this week. You know that although he’d never admit it, he’s just as excited and wound up as you are.
“If that’s what you want,” He smirks, “Then do it baby, have your way with me.”
It’s just five words, five simple words that throw every atom of your body into a frenzy. Suddenly you’re reaching for his discarded ties at the foot of the bed and climbing back on top of him with all of them laid out on his chest. His eyes are wide with anticipation as you grab the three silk ties and get to work on roping his hands to the headboard. However, you change courses at the last second, instead deciding to tie his hands together over his head with one tie, leaving the other two. His eyes are trained on you as you knot the fabric around his hands, wincing slightly as you pull it taut.
“Easy babe, easy,” He laughs, “I never pull it that tight on you.”
“You really do talk too much, you know that?” You smirk, deciding quickly what to do with the second silk tie.
He opens his mouth to speak again and you surprise even yourself as you pull the silk tie taut between your hands and shove it in his mouth, silencing him. He nearly chokes in surprise as you tie it off, effectively gagging him.
“I thought you liked to hear me,” He mumbles against the fabric, “Always telling me to-“
“Not tonight,” You grin, cutting him off, “Tonight, I want to hear you whimper.”
He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and his hips instinctively bucking up into nothing, straining for any kind of contact he can get. He shuts his eyes with a grimace, puffing out a few breaths before they peel back open and you’re nearly taken with just how fucked out he looks already.
“Just one more thing.” You smile, grabbing the last silk tie and covering his eyes, knotting it loosely.
His breathing is quickening by the second the longer he’s deprived of his senses. His hands are twitching, repeatedly balling into fists and flattening back out in some effort to feel in control. You lean down to him, sponging your lips against his neck and he shudders, his breath getting caught in his throat. You rut your hips against him just once to test the waters and the strangled noise that erupts from his throat makes your stomach flip in the best way.
“Y/N, please-“He begs.
“Shhhh,” You scold once again, “Whimpers only please.”
You can’t see his eyes but you’re sure he’s rolling them just as you climb off of him and cup him in your hand right over the thin lace of his ensemble. He sucks in a sharp breath, a small whine escaping his lips as his hips buck up into your hand, craving more contact. The fabric stretched dangerously thin over his hardening cock is soaked in precum, nearly plastered to him. The sight of him writhing in his pretty little lace ensemble is enough to get off to alone. The body suit might as well be a piece of finely handcrafted lingerie the way it exposes his now hard nipples and hardly fits around his throbbing cock.
“You want me to take this off?” You ask as innocently as you can in the sweetest voice you can muster, twirling one of the ends of the bow around his collar around your finger.
“Mhm, mhm,” He hums desperately, “Please.”
You bite your lip to stifle your quickened breath as the begging words slip from his gagged mouth and climb down the bed to unbutton his body suit. You undo the three black buttons that match the ones down his back perfectly and he nearly whimpers in relief as you tug the sweaty, sticking fabric away from him and after unbuttoning the back and untying his collar, over his head. He sighs out in relief as his cock smacks against his stomach, his head nearly purple and leaking precum down his shaft.
“Better handsome?” You ask sweetly, stripping out of your bustier and swinging your leg back over his waist.
He nods aggressively, making sure you can see, his hands still twitching in their confines above his head. You almost laugh at just how wound up he is, nearly shaking from anticipation of you finally sinking down onto him but surely he’s going to have to wait a bit longer for that.
You lower yourself onto him but definitely not in the way he’s begging you to. You tease your entrance with him, making him gasp for air and writhe beneath your touch before you’re sliding yourself up and down his shaft. He’s immediately quivering, his hands thrashing against their confines and the sweetest strangled noises erupting from his throat.
“Y/N! Please! Enough, enough, please!” He begs, choking around the gag still situated in his mouth, his hips bucking up into you craving more friction.
You lean forward and slide the blindfold off his eyes, relishing in his blown-out irises and the wild look in his gaze. His eyes squeeze shut as you drag yourself along him again and he bites down on the gag in his mouth, whining in the back of his throat. You cup his cheek in your hand, running your thumb over his flushed skin making his eyes flutter open. He looks so pretty like this, his wide doe eyes and swollen pink lips fighting against the black silk in his mouth, his chest heaving and his body squirming trying to lean into your touch. You lock eyes with him as you grind down onto him and nearly moan out when his eyes roll back in his head in the most delicious way.
“Fuck!” He whimpers against his gag, squeezing his eyes closed once again, “Cum, I’m gonna cum!”
You cease your movements immediately wanting to drag this out as long as you can muster and he cries out, single tears spilling over as he desperately tries to rut himself against you. You wipe the droplets away and lean down to sponge kisses all over his face and down his neck. You lick stripes up his chest, running over his nipples and making him shiver when you blow cool air over them. He’s restless, his legs curling up and straightening back out again, his thighs flexing, chest heaving, small nearly inaudible whimpers pouring from his mouth as he sits teetering on the edge of his orgasm.
“Is my handsome man doing alright?” You ask carefully, knowing full well that his ego would never let him tap out this easily.
“Mhm.” He nods, clenching his teeth over the gag in his mouth.
You hardly give him a second to regain his composure before you reach behind yourself and grab him in your hand, making him lurch. He’s drenched and throbbing, soaked in precum and the wetness from between your thighs. You stroke him gently, not wanting to push him over the edge too quickly. He jolts as soon as your thumb traces over his head, his back arching off the bed and his eyes rolling back once again as he nearly chokes on the throaty moan that escapes his lips.
“Doing so good,” You coo, continuing your painfully slow assault, “Listening to me.”
He nods, shaking his head vigorously and you decide to take to the knot on the side of the silk tie gagging him. You unknot the fabric and toss it behind you, immediately leaning forward to seal your lips to his. He moans against your lips as you take him in your hand once again, but this time you’ve done just about as much teasing as even you can take.
You sink down onto him and the garbled mess of strangled noises that erupt from both of your mouths is enough to push you over the edge right here and now. He jolts with every movement you make, his hands thrashing against his restraints and his hips trying desperately to fuck up into you.
“Bleeding hell, I can’t,” He wheezes out, his chest heaving, “God I’m gonna cum, please let me, let me cum.”
You nearly cave in on yourself as his words make a shudder wrack through your body all the way to your toes. You’re desperately holding yourself up with your hands planted on his chest, whines and whimpers falling past your lips just as much as his own. He’s so thick and warm and the way he’s looking at you already supremely fucked out before he’s even orgasmed is more than plenty to rush you over the precipice to your own ecstasy.
“Please,” He says and you assume he’s begging to cum until your eyes flutter back open and he says it again, holding his tied hands out to you, “Wanna touch you.”
You untie him with haste, your skin suddenly aflame waiting for his hands to roam every inch of you. His hands are nearly shaking as he separates them, balling them in fists and straightening them back out again a few times before grabbing you by the hips and lifting you off of him. You’re stunned to the max, expecting anything but this as he lays you back against the mattress roughly, his fingers immediately tweaking your nipples before his head ducks down to take them in his mouth. You gasp in surprise, your back arching off the bed underneath you as his lips move further south by the second and suddenly he’s eye level with your entrance, his hands still cupping your chest.
“You think that was cute, huh?” He smirks, the soft fucked out little boy you were staring at moments ago nowhere to be found, “You think it’s cute making daddy beg, huh?”
Your stomach does a flip in the most delightful way and you feel your thighs clenching together just from the darkening shift in his tone of voice. He picks up on it immediately, his hands grabbing your thighs crudely and spreading them apart, pinning you wide open to the bed. You whimper at the cold air flooding your warmth and he grins deviously as he finally leans down and takes your sensitive bud into his mouth.
You gasp in pleasure, your hands immediately gripping the sheets beneath you, your thighs threatening to clamp closed around his head, but you know he has you right where he wants you. He licks a stripe right up your center, his eyes rolling back in his head as he groans in appreciation, lapping up the arousal spilling down your inner thighs.
“Harry!” You squeak, trying to shove him away, “Harry, stop, I’m gonna cum!”
“Good,” He smirks, licking his glistening swollen lips, “How about I make you cum three times for every time you denied me? That sound fair, sweetheart?”
You can hardly whimper in response, your entire body locking up and threatening to push over the edge at just the suggestion of him making you cum six times.
“Ahem,” He says, clearing his throat, “I said, does that sound fair, sweetheart?”
You nod your head, your hands shaking in their iron tight grip on the sheets, “Yes, yes that sounds fair.”
He leans back over you, roughly grabbing your jaw in his hand and making your breath catch in your throat. His eyes are locked onto yours, a dangerously dark shade of emerald as he furrows his eyebrows and squeezes your cheeks harder.
“Yes, what?” He asks sternly, his words calculated and making your thighs clench.
“Yes, daddy.” You correct yourself, jolting in surprise when he holds your mouth open after you’re done talking and opens his own mouth letting one single drop of spit drip off his tongue and onto yours.
“Atta girl,” He grins deviously, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Now get on your knees.”
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