Harry Styles One Shots

Implications - Part 2

You're rushed onto the desk with your mouth firmly and greedily still attached to Harry's. Your legs are clinging to his waist as his hands smoothly caress from your back to your thighs, indenting his fingers into your leg. His tongue is desperately tasting yours, circling and flicking in a way you've learnt to be well-practiced over the past few weeks.

His left hand slips between your legs underneath your skirt, teasingly rubbing over the damp seat of your knickers. He groans into your mouth at the immediate wetness, his grip on your thigh only getting tighter.

"You really," You pant against him as you hold his lips to yours with a firm grip on his curls, "couldn't wait, aye?"

Harry's mouth slides with wet kisses to the bend under your jaw, his finger against your clit rubbing harder over your underwear. "Your fucking fault." He growls, pulling at your earlobe with his teeth. "You wore the shortest fucking skirt," he pulls at the waist of your knickers, "and that top."

You giggle mischievously, because even though a tiny amount of thought had gone into what you were wearing today, you were certainly glad for this outcome. "I'm not sorry."

"Nah, I know you're fuckin' not."

You gracefully lift off the table with one hand as he removes you of your pants, pressing one last hard kiss to your mouth with a pull of your lips, before he drops to his knees between your legs. Your eyes widen, and if you thought your breathing was heavy before, it was nothing compared to what it is now. Harry grabs your waist to slide you closer to the edge of the desk, before his hands glide back down your thighs to spread your legs wider at the knee. Your hands reach behind you, palms flat against the wooden top to steady yourself, watching as his kisses start a trail from the inside of your left thigh and all the way up to your dripping folds, until you can feel his hot breath whispering against your wet lips.

An, "Oh fuck," tumbles from your lips at the mere tingle his breathing causes you, but that's nothing compared to the desperate whimper you squeak when his tongue licks a stripe over your folds.

It's like the whole world around the two of you has evaporated all of a sudden, and it's just the two of you and his desk trapped in this heavenly bubble of thick and paradisiacal air. You don't care for the locked classroom door, you don't care for the fact that there's probably still students wandering the halls just the other side of said locked door, and you don't care for the noises coming out your mouth.

All you care about is the fact that your hot as shit university law professor currently has his head between your legs.

Harry's hands take a grip where your legs bend slightly at the top, before licking another stripe, this one firm and purposeful as it pushes between your heat. Your moan is dirty; straight out of the back of your throat. Your head rolls back on your neck, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue begins tracing delicate circles around your clit.

Your hands slip backwards to grip the back edge of the desk, and he somehow manages to coax your legs to rest over his shoulders in amongst your blissful unawareness. His tongue pushes all the way into your core, and you're taking a harder grip on the table. You're shamelessly groaning from his work, his tongue licking up and down between your folds at a much faster pace now.

Harry alternates between this and dipping in and out of you occasionally, fucking you with his thick tongue. You're a mess - bravely peeling one hand from the desk to push through his beautiful curls, tugging on them just a little as silent encouragement. He obliges, one hand stroking around your front and slipping underneath your skirt to rub at your clit with his thumb while his tongue laps around your sensitive hole.

"God, Harry," you whine, the burn in the pit of your stomach slowly working it's way towards your core.

You can feel the cocky bastard smirk against your hot lips, his thumb's pacing growing slower until his tongue catches your clit, and you're left a squealing puddle above him as your orgasm takes hold of you.