larry smut

reduce me to a pleading cry (break the skin and tantalize)

although harry is the boss it's still very much sub harry :)

~✰~

"Fucking shit!" Harry curses as his pen fumbles out of his fingers for the third time in the last couple of hours. He doesn't seem to have much control of his limbs or mouth as he struggles through the last few hours at the office for the day.

It's not as though things are tough at work. He runs a well oiled machine. An absolute picture of efficiency in the fashion industry. Everyone wants a piece of Styles and Styles, which means they want a piece of Harry, and as he bends to pick up the pen in the center of the floor of his large, spacious office, he isn't sure if he has much left to give.

As usual, his ever present and loyal assistant is immediately at the door. "Everything okay, boss?"

"Yes Liam, just dropped something." Harry grits out, so out of character to his normal laid back demeanor.

Liam looks skeptical, as he probably should be. "Are you sure you don't need help with anything?"

"Just a little peace and quiet, can you make that happen?"

"Sure thing, boss. But don't forget that Gemma is due to call any minute with those numbers you need for tomorrow's meeting." Liam replies a little slower, a little quieter. Harry nods, and the room is silent once again. Gemma will call. She is nothing if not punctual, and she is as anxious to get their new children's fashion line off the ground as he is. He's tempted to just tell Liam to take the information himself, but he knows that Gemma would realise something is up. They have built this company from the ground up, they are partners, and best friends. She needs him to be on his toes, the ruthless business man, the guy in the office so that she can let her creative juices flow, and travel when they need to be at two places at once. No, he can't just stop taking her calls.

He stands to stretch his legs and stare out of the massive picture window behind his desk. He used to love this window when he first moved into the newly built building. He had commissioned the design himself. He felt that it made everything look bigger, but on days like today, it just makes him feels small and very much alone.

As promised the phone rings a few short minutes later. "Hey Harry, I don't have a lot of time, but I wanted to run these numbers by you really quick okay?" Gemma rambles on. It only takes a few hums, and a little play back of her words for her to be satisfied that he is listening, and she is off again to do God knows what, with God knows who. He sometimes wonders what it would be like if he traveled all over the world, and she was stuck in this office all day.

He scowls at himself because he is not ready to blame his sister because he is the business end of this company, and she is the creative director. And what is happening inside his head at the moment is certainly not her fault. He resigns himself to not getting anything more done for the day, and shrugs on his coat. He doesn't look back to see if he has forgotten anything in the office, because there is barely anything there anyway. Just a desk, a phone, and a computer. And the window. He dismisses Liam as well, anyone that really needs him would have his cell anyway, and makes his way down the twelve floors to the outside world and another empty space that is his flat. No one talks to him on the way out, the security barely even acknowledge he is there.

Harry's problem is that he does need help, he needs someone to take this feeling of being wound so tight that he is about to snap, and slowly unravel him until he is loose, and able to think straight once again. He needs to feel hands on his neck, and to feel like someone else is calling the shots, making him feel safe with just their touch, their voice. He needs so much, and he cannot keep going on feeling like this, brushing off his employees, leaving work early. Swearing over a dropped pen.