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Every Friday night that Harry wasn't away on tour or filming a movie somewhere in America, you would make sure to turn it into a date night. Sometimes it meant going out for dinner, or to a concert or a party one of you had been invited to, but others it simply meant staying in cooking, finding a movie to watch and eating in front of the TV before ending up cuddling each other.
"What about Don't Worry Darling? Have you heard about that one?," he casually asked, smirking a bit.
He was chopping some pepper for your 'taco night', and you were sitting on the countertop while you watched him work, yours legs swinging a bit. He was in charge of the cooking while you would be the one doing the dishes later. That was how you had decided to split the tasks. When it came to you two, Harry was by far the better cook, and you didn't mind at all cleaning after him, so you called that teamwork.
You instantly tilted your head back and laughed, "It's not even on theatres yet, you narcissistic."
He chuckled, and then jokingly clicked his tongue, pretending to be annoyed. "You're right. We might have to wait a bit longer before we can watch it at home."
"Any other movie suggestions or should I pick this time?"
"Didn't we watch Dune because of you last week?," he frowned, looking up from the countertop. Once he was finished chopping, he put the vegetables on the pan, ready to cook them.
You shrugged at his words, "So? What's exactly your point?"
"My point is that... I'm the one picking the film today," he chuckled, and cleaned his hands on the cloth that was tugged on his jeans and hung from his waist, before playfully squeezing your nose between his index and middle finger, a gesture that made you smile right away.
"But why?," you whined, "You always enjoy the ones I suggest."
"I do," he nodded, "Don't you like mine?"
You stayed silent for a bit, just a few seconds, but were enough to make him feel offended. "Hey!"
His childish tone made you giggle. "I do, I do like them, I promise!'" you quickly replied, "It's just that... they're romcoms most of the time."
"How is that a problem?," he frowned his eyebrows and lips, too focused on not burning the food in front of him to make eye contact with you.
"I'm looking for a bit of action today."
"Oh, sweetheart...," he chuckled again, his features relaxing while a smirk grew on his face, "If that's what you want, then watching a film's not the answer."
You suffocated a laugh, smacking his arm. You then dramatically rolled your eyes, "Is sex all you have in mind, Styles?"
"It is when you're in front of me with your legs spread open. I mean..., can you blame me?," he turned the stove off, leaving the cloth on the countertop, before walking the two steps that kept him away from you. He rested both his hands on your knees, positioning himself between your legs.
Your faces were now at the same height, your noses brushing together as your eyes were fixed on his lips. You instantly bit your lower one, moving your hands to pass them around his shoulders and keep him glued to you.
"So..., we're not eating dinner tonight, are we?," you softly spoke.
He smiled, "Are you really that hungry?"
"I am..., but now I'm not sure tacos are exactly what I'm craving."
His hands moved up your thighs and under your t-shirt. Or should you say his t-shirt? At that point, all your stay-at-home looks were made of clothes stolen from his wardrobe.
When Harry reached your braless chest, he cupped your boobs in his hands and gently squeezed them. You instinctively closed your eyes, your lips parting and your head falling slightly to the side. He leaned into your ear and whispered: "Then I hope it's me you want because I need you so bad, love."
