Harry Styles Blurbs (Reader Insert)

Caught

A/N: There is no part 2 to this! 

The dingy metal door falls against the brick wall with a loud thud as you two stumble out of the pub and into the alleyway. It shuts just as loudly a few seconds later and for a moment all that you two can hear is the sound of the night air in London whooshing away. The alleyway is dark for the most part, a flickering dim yellow streetlight a few feet away is situated so that Harry is partly illuminated by it.

"What're we-"

"Come here!" you command, blindly reaching forward and seizing him by the lapels of his shirt to clumsily tug him towards you.

Your back hits the brick wall behind you as you fumble with your feet, head following with a thunk and Harry hisses immediately.

"Careful! Christ, c'mere, are yeh okay?" he rasps as one of his big hands slides up behind your head and rubs your scalp soothingly, his eyes flicker over the top of your head in a squinted stare.

"M'fine, Harry, " you whine back to him, tugging him closer as you wrap your arms around his waist.

Harry grunts in reply a few seconds later after a thorough examination of your head before turning his gaze towards your face. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair is flying messily from the static of being pressed up against the bricks, but your eyes are what make him pause. They're wild, bright, and he's enamored by the gleam in them. He wonders if it's the darkness or the fact that he's watched you toss back a handful of drinks tonight, but he can't find the drunken haze in your eyes that usually appears when you've had one too many. You're biting your lip harshly and his eyes fall down to them, thumb reaching up and smoothing out your bottom lip.

"Time t'go home, pet?" He inquires in a quiet voice, rubbing his knuckles across your cheek gently as he peers at you.

"No.. no, m'not done yet," you declare with a shake of your head and a determined furrow of your brows.

Harry can't help but smirk at you, it wasn't often that he got to see you let loose and relax. It wasn't often that you drank as much as you had tonight, but when it did happen he couldn't help but admire you. You get pouty, and stubborn, but most especially you get extremely affectionate. He leans forward and presses a smacking kiss to the spot next to your nose which scrunches up a delayed moment later.

"Think yeh are, love. How many 've yeh had?" He challenges with a quirk of his brow, of course he knows the answer but he's curious to see what you remember.

You trail your hands up his chest, pressing your finger tips into the exposed skin where buttons should be buttoned considering how cold it is outside before you answer, "Not tha' many."

He watches in interest as you trail your fingers delicately over his collarbones, eyes tracing the paths they make before your hands wander up to his neck and pull on the short hair that's there at the nape of it.

He hums and leans closer to you, one arm propping against the brick wall and enclosing you to the spot while the other rests on your hip firmly in case you stumble again. He's willing to indulge you, let you feel and kiss and cuddle as much as you want before you whine about your head or your feet and then he'll whisk you home.

You lean up on your tip toes, pressing a delicate kiss to his jaw, then another and another as you trace it's chiseled length. He lets out a gentle whimper when your lips fall at the spot under his ear and his grip on your waist tightens.

You pull back a bit, breathe harsh as you blink at him. His eyes are closed and he's towering over you, as close as he can be without crushing you to the wall.