HARRY STYLES AU.
Harry is an art student, and Skye is his model in his figure drawing class. You do the math.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: cursing, alcohol use, talks of tainted parent/child relationships, sexual content, body dysmorphia, adult themes. PLEASE...
A/N: Hellooooo, I'm finally back with another chapter. I just want to remind my readers that I am DEAD SERIOUS when I say you MUST be over the age of 18 to read any of my writing. If you're not, PLEASE click the back button and DO NOT read this. This is a story for adults. I can't stress that enough.
This chapter is unedited, surprise surprise. Please vote and comment to keep me motivated to keep writing the story🥰I have thought of some new ideas for it so I am pretty excited. Thank you!! And Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate.
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While Skye had thought Wednesday was going to become one of her favorite days of the week, she was walking into this session with Harry with a bit of apprehension.
After their hookup at his party, it almost seemed as though he was avoiding her, mostly speaking to Zayn and Mitch for the remainder of the evening. She'd tried to keep herself busy by joining in on different conversations with the small group of people, but she would sneak glances in his direction every so often. At one point, his gleaming eyes caught hers, but as soon as she acknowledged him he made it a point to snap his gaze back to one of his friends.
And then when she and Gwen were leaving, Harry gave her a quick side hug and kiss on the cheek, telling her he would text her, so that gave her a little bit of hope. But the only text she had received was on Tuesday night and it was just to confirm their session the next day. Nothing more and nothing less.
She was a bit frustrated as she sat there on his loveseat, completely naked and having no idea what was going through his head. He had offered a quiet greeting when she stepped into his home and even quieter instructions before she got undressed in his studio, but that was really the only speaking they'd done since she had arrived. He also didn't have the incense burning like usual, which was obviously fine, but it usually helped her to relax.
But surprisingly, she wasn't too nervous after he'd told her how to sit because the way she was positioned, with her legs together and tucked up underneath her, he couldn't exactly see her most intimate area.
He stood painting with a stoic posture, but an angry look on his face. His eyebrows were puckered in the center, which was a normal thing when he was concentrating but his nostrils were flared like she had done something wrong, his lips in a tight line.
The truth was, Harry was trying to keep himself from erupting. Erupting into confessions of how much he liked her and how beautiful he thought she was and he knew the second he opened his mouth he could ruin everything by saying too much. It was like she had done some sort of voodoo on him to stun him into silence with the way she rubbed herself against him the night of the party.
When they'd gone back downstairs after their time in his room that night, he couldn't focus on anything but the memory of her heat on his leg. God, he couldn't get over how it had felt like she would scorch his skin through her thin underwear — but he wouldn't have minded being branded by her, that's for sure. When she wasn't looking, he'd stared at her bum, in awe of the fact he was the only one there who knew she had no knickers on beneath her skirt.
