The Way I Feel Inside | h.s.

10

Bee's POV:

"There's no way that show is not completely sold out." I walked on wobbly legs through the kitchen with Harry trailing behind me, both of us in towels. I felt a little bit drunk from the two orgasms I had just experienced within the last half hour, my mind and body so relaxed and loose.

Harry chuckled behind me as he followed me up the steps to my bedroom. The room was bright with sunlight as I walked in, and I glanced outside to see the bright green of the trees swaying in the breeze over neighboring buildings. There were just a few puffy white clouds in the blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful day.

"Are you forgetting who the star of the show is, darling?" he eyed me as he casually removed his towel from his hips to place it around his shoulders, lifting up one side to rough through his damp hair.

I ran my gaze down his torso before landing them on his relaxed dick, and tucked my lips into my mouth for a moment before reaching toward my vanity and tossing him his boxer briefs. "Are you forgetting that you don't want me to objectify you by seeing you as 'Harry Styles, The Celebrity'?" I added a bit of drama to the end of my sentence to tease him a bit when he caught his underwear, then turned to my closet to find something to wear. 

I knew he could easily get me into the show, but I was trying to make a point that I wasn't using him or expecting anything. Hooking up helped both of us relax a bit, but that didn't mean I couldn't ruin it just as easily. I hated seeing the concern on his face earlier as he was deciding whether or not to have sex with me. Then, that look in his eyes when he pleaded for me to pay attention to him was enough for me to temporarily shove away the part of my brain that was still completely starstruck by him.

He became visible out of the corner of my eye as he approached my vanity to grab his pants. "Yeah, about that... I don't think it would be completely fair of me to actually expect you to act like this whole situation is normal," he said, pulling on his pants as I took out a pair of black joggers.

I cocked a brow at him as I dropped my towel to the floor and pulled my joggers on. "So we fuck once, go down on each other, and now you don't care if I fangirl over you?"

He rolled his eyes as he picked up his top, pulling it on over his head and arms, then placed his hands on his hips. I fought a smile - he looked like a mom. "No, smartass. I just mean that if any other boozed up lad tackled you to the ground in the street and then asked you to take them home with you in your car, you probably would've used that pink pepper spray of yours and told him to bugger off." He took his hands off his hips and looked at himself in the vanity mirror as he tied up the bow on the neck of his top. "But it was me. We can't realistically ignore that."

I watched him as he focused on himself in the mirror while he tied up his top, which was extra shiny in the bright room. His hair was still damp, curling at the ends by his face and at the back of his neck. He glanced over to me as he started tucking the delicate fabric into his velvet pants. A smile crept across his lips and he took a few steps toward me. "You know, I don't mind you staring at me so much now."

His green eyes were shining a bright emerald against the turquoise of his shirt as he spoke to me, and because of his words, I didn't bother looking away. "Why's that?" I asked as he stood right in front of me. My head tilted up to keep eye contact.

He searched my eyes for a moment, then brought his gaze to my lips before tracing down to my breasts. He placed just his fingertip on my right nipple, tracing it across the silver bar going through the center of it. His eyes flicked back up to mine. "Before, you stared at me like I was a rare animal in an exhibit," he spoke lowly. His fingertip traced through the valley between my breasts before landing on my left nipple, touching it the same way he touched the right one. "Now, you stare at me like you love me," he smiled down at me.