* THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT*
Please refer to the list of possible triggers and kinks.
Harry Styles. Twenty-Five. Green eyes. One hundred and ninety-six pounds. Six foot even or one hundred and eighty-seven centimetres. Born to...
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This is part one of a triple. Enjoy! Kisses :)x
Earlier that night
I should start taking 'expect the unexpected' with more than a grain of salt, because I never expected Harry to bring me up to his room, allowing me to sleep there instead of a guest room or even the couch. I even offered to take one of the others so he doesn't feel put out, but he insisted.
I've come to learn that arguing with Harry is like arguing with a brick wall. So, I let Harry lead me up to the second floor where his bedroom is.
Which is where I stand now, watching as Harry looks through his dresser drawers to find something for me to wear. He ends up handing me a pair of black boxer briefs and an oversized lilac jumper that looks as if it'll fall to my knees. Not that I mind. He turns to give me my privacy, only turning around to take my dirty clothes from my outstretched hand and place them in the hamper for the maid to wash tomorrow. A maid that I have yet to meet. Now that I think about it, I've never seen any workers. It's possible that I've just missed them.
Once I'm standing near the mirror in nothing but Harry's clothes, I bring my forearm up to my face and lightly inhale just to see if the jumper smells like Harry. It does. Rich, musky tobacco and fresh vanilla. I'm swimming in it.
"Alright, are you ready for bed?" Harry questions, his voice breaking through the silence and distracting me from my thoughts. Although my mind doesn't quieten at all, instead my thoughts run rampant as I notice that Harry hasn't changed. His hair is still tied back into a bun and his rings are nowhere to be found. Still don't know how I feel about that, his hands almost look naked in a way. I've grown used to seeing the gaudy rings every time I see him.
"Hey, you alright?" He asks whenever I fail to answer him, moving to place a hand up against my forehead. "You don't have a fever or anything," He grumbles, eyes wandering over every inch of my face before eventually settling on my eyes. His hands are on my waist, the touch light and subtle. I still have yet to answer him, just taking my lower lip between my teeth as I watch his eyes. There's genuine worry lingering in them and I can't pinpoint why. Is it because I have yet to give him an answer? Is it because I'm wounded? Or is there a reason that my mind isn't comprehending?
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry," I breathe out once my brain finally decides to function. The sweater Harry has given me creates sweater paws, the excess fabric bunching up at my wrists and covering my hands. "I'm going to go to bed now, are you coming as well or..." I drown off, gesturing back to the bed. Will I even get an answer? Or will he skirt around the question?
Harry just gives a shake of his head, offering me a small smile and one shit explanation.
"Just gonna spend some time with the boys. Promise we won't be too loud," The sides of his lips quirk up and even in just the small light that the moon provides, I can see his dimple digging into his cheek.
