Harry was always good at finding the tiny details in things and that was no different when it came to you.
He'd had a hunch for awhile that you were into some things that were a little kinkier than you let on when you first discussed sex with him at the beginning of your relationship.
Things never got too rough nor all the way soft and only soft but Harry could see it in your eyes sometimes, the little glint of submissiveness there that told him everything he needed to know.
There were times when he'd call your name with just an edge of sternness and it was fun to watch how quickly you scrambled over to him, eyes wide, always so eager and ready to listen. Harry would also tell you to do things here and there, help him out with stuff, get him things, and he took note of how you'd always answer with, "Yes, Harry." without any prompting from him.
You did it all on your own and that, perhaps, was the best part. He brought that side out of you and he was very curious as to how far you'd be willing to go.
You were quite a shy girl, however, especially when he knew how to get you flustered and wouldn't back down and he was almost about to test his theory when you had taken it upon yourself to do exactly that by accident one day.
"I think the pasta's ready, H!" you called him down from where he was upstairs, your breath hitching when you found him toweling off his damp hair as he came down the steps.
He was shirtless for only a moment more before coming up to your side to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your cheek, the familiar scent of his shampoo filling your nose.
"Smells delicious, love. I'll set the table." his voice sent a shiver down your spine, despite the steam coming from the pots and pans in front of you.
His voice never failed to do that to you in the year you'd been together so far, not that you minded one bit.
Moments like this were some of the best with Harry, quietly moving around each other in the kitchen before sharing a meal together or being in his arms on the couch, all those sweetly domestic things that put a smile on your face long after the moment had occurred.
And then there were more intimate times where you could feel something different in the air, something like lust and tension and your love for each other mixing, showering like rain over top of both your heads.
That's the way it felt to you now sitting across from Harry, indulging in the creole pasta dish from your mama's trusted recipe. You could feel his eyes on you and you avoided eye contact, knowing you'd melt if you tried to hold his gaze.
Harry was very much about eye contact and it was unnerving sometimes how he felt so comfortable looking people in the eyes, it commanded such respect and attention and that was something you couldn't escape.
Especially not now.
Maybe that's what had you distracted enough to let it slip, your mind slipping into that warm space it always did when he made you feel small and like he was in charge.
"Remind me to thank your mum for this recipe because you make it so well, lovie. Thank you for this."
Harry knew what he was doing, his words were true but he said it in a way that pushed you further into that subby mood.
"She'll appreciate it and thank you, daddy."
You clamped a hand over your mouth the second you realized you'd actually said it out loud, too mortified to know what to do besides stare at your plate and hope he somehow hadn't heard you.
Fuck. How could you let it slip? You weren't even sure he was into stuff like that and the last thing you wanted was for him to think you were weird for it.
