Incandescent | H.S

Part Thirty-Two: Rose Rings & Red Wrists

Harry wasn't sure what to expect when he landed back in London later that week. You'd been talking to him while he was away, practically nonstop. You were full of teasing and taunting behavior. That call you'd had where you'd practically turned him on without even trying then denying him was on his mind the whole trip and the whole flight home.

He was so insanely turned on by you, by how dominant you were in nature and the fact that you could both display the aspect of it in your relationship and switch at any time. Giving each other the ropes and having fun.

However, he wanted to pin you to the bed and reprimand you for acting in such a way. He wanted to tame and control you. Make you succumb and scream for him.

As he landed back in London, it was chilly and a weird aerie feeling took a hold of him. You'd given him radio silence all day, aside from a simple text that had him on edge.

Come to mine tonight.

Uh oh... what's my girl up to?

I'll see you then.

Your vague brush off made him clench his jaw, he was so ready to see you and had no idea what was going through that gorgeous head of yours.

He got a driver to take him to your apartment, his nerves were haywire, and his arousal through the roof. He was so excited to see you but how you two left each other and how you'd behaved was something he wasn't sure how to handle. He felt like he was floating, not even sure how he got to your door until he blinked at the worn wood of it.

He raised a fist to knock a few times, clinging to his duffel bag in his other hand as he waited for you to open the door so the two of you could reunite. And hopefully, you'd let him actually fucking come.

But you didn't answer the door.

He frowned, checking the text you'd sent him, thinking maybe you'd told him to meet somewhere else or maybe another time all together but he was where he thought he was meant to be.

He knocked again, shouting out a greeting to you and calling your name. But still nothing. His hand went to the door handle and twisted it, finding it was locked. He grabbed the spare key you had gifted him and let himself in.

He peered into the expanse of your apartment, calling your name again as he stepped inside and closed the door.

"Angel?"

There was no indication that said you were even home. But you had to be- there's no way you'd invite him over and not even be there. With only a dim lamp in the corner of the lounge, everything was stagnant as he looked around the space. He discarded his coat and draped it on the back of the chair in the lounge, placing his duffle bag on the ground and sighing.

When he looked over towards your closed bedroom door, a smile curved his lips. He saw a soft, warm glow from the crack at the bottom and he clicked his tongue and made his way towards it.

He opened it slowly, hearing the creak of it as it widened to reveal the scene within the room.

His fiery little angel, sitting in ethereal soft pink light.

Perched on the edge of the bed with your legs crossed. A bright red bra encasing you with matching panties. God, he just about came on the spot.

"Holy fuck..."

Your expression was dormant, not giving anything away as you tilted your head and cocked a brow at him.

"Hi, baby."

"Hi." He breathed out, closing the door with a click and moving towards you.

You rose to your feet, meeting him where he stood and running your hands along his chest, feeling how fast his heart was racing. You slid your hands underneath his t-shirt and sighed at the smoothness of his bare skin.