His Territory | Harry Styles

Boss And Heartache.

A/N: This chapter gets a bit steamy if ya get my drift *insert wink here*

Are you ready?

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Inconsolable:(adjective)

(of a person or their grief) not able to be comforted or alleviated. "his widow, Jane, was inconsolable" -synonyms:heartbroken, broken-hearted, unable to be comforted, unable to be consoled, grief-stricken, prostrate with grief, beside oneself with grief, devastated, wretched, sick at heart, desolate, despairing, distraught, comfortless; miserable, unhappy, sad; literary heartsick, dolorous. "normally stoic in the face of adversity, Tom was inconsolable."

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Joe

This is fucked up.

"Explain this!" He's so angry, I can only watch as Mr Style walks around my room with fire in his eyes. "Explain it, Joe! Because I fucking don't know!" 

I feel scared. 

Because neither of us remembers anything from that night, but because of the way he's acting. His voice is no longer husky or sexy, it's deep and loud and when he yells, I feel the vibrations in my bones. 

"Mr Styles, Sir please ca-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down! I'm losing my shit here!" His eyes move across my chest, "I didn't do this to you, I swear it. I'd remember something like this."

I don't get him, how can one second he be so calm and begging me to fucking stay? then the next second he's all angry. Is he on his man periods or something?

"So what? You're saying it's my fault!?" He shrugs, now I'm angry. Actually, I'm beyond angry. "Fuck, Harry! I was tattooed! I have these things on my stomach and-" I pause mid-sentence when I see the way he's looking at me. His lips twitch upwards into a smirk which takes over his face. "You think this is funny? You think this is some sick joke? because I'm not laughing!"

Mr Styles takes a step towards me, my body reacts and immediately steps backwards but my back hits a wall. He stands in front of me, I drop head down and eyes looking at the perfect carpet beneath me.

But I feel his fingers touch my chin, "Tell me, Joe, if everytime we touch, do you get this kind of rush?" He gently applies pressure under my chin and forces it upwards so that I make eye contact with him. "You feel it too, don't you?" 

I can't lie.

But I do, "No, Mr Styles."

"You don't feel anything at all?" His fingers now glide from my chin across my cheek bone, he grasps both cheeks in his big hands. "You don't feel it?" 

I shake my head, unable to find my voice. 

He pushes against me, trapping me between him and the wall. "What about the tattoos? How do you explain them?"

"I don't know sir, I-"

Mr Styles leans his head closer to mine until I feel his warm breath fanning across my lips and face, "Let me show you what I feel,"

"H-how?" 

Fuck this is so hot!

He inhales and opens his mouth as he moves his hands from my cheeks and to my bare sides. Then, to my surprise he starts singing, "I'm sorry if I say, I need ya." Mr Styles eyes never leave mine as he continues, "But I don't care I'm not scared of l-love, cause when I'm not with you, I'm weaker," I feel his fingertips moving across my butterfly tattoos, "Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong?"