Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

Fruit Aisle Moans

You throw the last of the tangerines at him.

"I was in the middle of the fruit aisle," you seethe.

He only perks his eyebrows further up and broadens the smile already stretching across his face. He's fucking smug and you can still feel the warm redness burning the top of your ears.

"People heard it, Harry," you hear the bag of crisps crumble as you roughly push them into the cupboard. "They heard your - your noises."

He laughs and it's fucking infuriating. You crumple up the receipt and throw it at him.

"S'not funny!"

"It really is," he argues, calmly smoothing out the receipt from his stool at the bar. "What'd you do? When y'heard me moanin' your name?"

You turn around from where you were shoving cheese into the fridge. Why is he so fucking amused by this? Can't you get thrown in prison for like public indecency? And God, the moaning was indecent. You prop your hand on your hip and shove the celery at him for emphasis.

"Well, after I picked up my mobile out of the apple stand, because I fucking dropped it after I heard your - y'know," you hate how satisfied he looks as you stutter around the story, "heard you. I shut it and left right away."

He coos condescendingly, "Babe, you're so fuckin' ador-"

You throw the celery at him.

"Don't you fuckin' say it," you warn and grab an apple threateningly.

He holds his hands up in surrender. Carefully, he straightens the smile on his face. Somehow he still manages to look terribly satisfied with himself. Hesitantly, you turn to continue putting the apples away when he becomes distracted on his mobile.

"I'm not kiddin', Harry. Don't ever do that again. Imagine I just send you nudes while you're in a meeting' or summat. What would y'think about that? Can't just be -"

"Babes, hurry home. Let's fuck again like we fucked last night," you snap around and see Harry holding up his mobile cheekily. The screen shows the beginning of a voice recording - the same one that had erupted from your mobile earlier. Now, it's moved to the familiar series of moans - most of them just your name.

You dash over to him and, as he sees the plan formulating, he stands up to hold the offensive device high over his head. The smile only grows on his face as you hopelessly jump, using his shoulder for leverage, to attempt to make it stop.

"Turn it off y'dick," you demand, climbing up on the countertop and grabbing his arm to pull him closer. You've just got your fingers on it when he easily trades it to his other hand. You stop your fight and look at him angrily.

"M'goin' to burn that mobile tonight while you're sleepin'," you tell him seriously.

He stuffs it into his back pocket and spreads your legs on the counter so that he can nestle in between them. His palms run up your thighs and he kisses your lips lightly.

"Love gettin' you all flustered," he muses.

You scoff because he certainly didn't need to go to this length for that reaction. He could have just as easily taken his shirt off or done a single press-up in order to get the same reaction. Honestly, it doesn't take much to get you going. Not when it comes to him.

"Whateva', I'm never doin' the shopping again," you sneak your hands under his shirt to run them up his bare chest, "and we're going to need more fruit."