One Direction Preferences✔️

Baby You're Perfect • Harry

You tug at the hem of your dress. The too-tight black fabric hugs your every curve in all the right ways, but it is also shorter than you remembered. Looking around you, you know this wasn't the place you should be. The sweaty bodies, thumping music, and flowing alcohol definitely are not your scene anymore. But here you are. You sweep your eyes across the crowded dance floor, not spotting him until you shifted your gaze upwards. He was there, leaning against the railing, no doubt doing the same thing you yourself are doing. As if on cue, your eyes meet his. He smirks slightly, nodding his head and shifting his eyes toward the staircase that leads up to where he stands. You take his cue and make your way through the crowd. You simply smile at the security guard at the bottom of your stairs as he steps aside to let you up. Your ascent up the stairs feels like it takes half of a lifetime. There's a nagging in the back of your head that tries to persuade you that you're making a terrible decision. But those thoughts vanish completely when Harry offers his hand to you as you reach the top step. The two of you don't say a word to each other as you weave through the people and various couches and ottomans littered in the lofted area. You follow Harry through a dark curtain, sectioning off a small section of the upstairs from prying eyes of those down below. Within seconds, your body is pinned against the wall, Harry hungrily running his hands up and down your body. "You know," you say breathlessly, "I don't think my boyfriend would be too keen to know where you hand is right now." A soft chuckle leaves Harry's lips before he attaches them to your neck, sucking at the supple skin. A small sigh escapes your mouth as he draws back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm pretty sure he won't be too keen on that mark I've just left, either." You bring your fingers up to the spot; a tenderness forming that wasn't there before. You know it's going to leave a mark that your normal concealer won't be able to cover. You bring your hands up to run your fingers through his hair. Your lips find his in a heated frenzy. Within moments you and Harry are sprawled on the plush couch in the centre of the space, his large hands pushing the skirt of your dress up over your hips as you grind your hips down on his lap. A low growl emits from his throat as you smack his hands away. "Now, now, Styles. You need to keep those hands to yourself." You remove yourself from his lap, taking long strides over to the mini bar. "Christ, woman. What the hell are you doing to me?" You smirk at him over the rim of the glass of alcohol your just mixed. "I don't know what you're talking about." Harry shifts uncomfortably on the couch, undoubtedly trying to ease the tightness in his pants. "This is getting outta hand, love. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. You're just so damn sexy." You saunter back over to the couch, taking a seat in his lap. You run finger along his jawline, gripping his chin in your fingers and bringing your lips to his ear. "You're pretty perfect yourself, baby."