Polite//l.s

Twenty Seven

Saturday could not get here soon enough.

I really needed to talk with Harry about what he may or may not have actually meant to say to me.

He could have been just walking through Paris one day and heard someone say it.

Casually walking through Paris, who the fuck casually walks through Paris?

Rich people, that's who.

I let out a sigh of relief when I realized that Harry could have actually just heard it and picked up on it. He had said he was fluent in six languages, but French may not be one of them.

Zayn had told me I needed to stop obsessing over it, that I 'needed to find my fucking chill' but I just can't. I've been thinking about those four words ever since he said them to me last week. Zayn actually said I should be thankful and if Harry actually starts calling me 'Daddy' I owe him 10 bucks.

Noon rolled around slowly, and at 12:02 there was a knock at my door.

I swung it open to reveal Harry, wrapped in a long coat and a scarf, "Sorry I'm late," he rushed out, "Father always says I'm not good with punctuality." He hung his coat and scarf on the hooks by the door, and I tried to ignore the high-end brands of the two. His coats were probably worth more money than I'll ever see.

"Hey Harry," I started, my voice sounding strange, "That thing that you mumbled to me, yeah, I translated it,"

Harry stopped by the door and dropped his arms to his sides, "Do you not want to?"

I choked on air, "No, I mean- D-Did you really mean to say that?" I let out in between coughs.

"Of course I did," he moved closer to me so he could look up at me, "I-I want you to," he paused, leaving a blank spot in the sentence, "my mouth, Daddy,"

"Oh my fucking God," I ran a hand down my face, "I owe Zayn ten dollars,"

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Harry retracted from me and let his arms wrap around himself, "I was just looking stuff up online one day and found that, figured it'd be something I was good at,"

"Harry, as much as I would love love love love to do that, you've never done anything like that and it's a bit much. I don't want you to hurt yourself," I brought him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him to replace his own.

"No. I wouldn't choke." He spoke against my neck, "I don't have a gag reflex,"

I choked again, literally choked. "Why's that?" He of course couldn't have had sucked dick before? I couldn't imagine Harry, little innocent Harry doing something so dirty. Well, here he was, asking for it.

"When we were younger, father would make us stick our fingers down our throats if we ate more than we should've," his hot breathe fanned across my pulse point as he moved his head to look up at me.

"Harry," I started, but he placed a kiss on my jaw, interrupting me.

"I'd really like it, but if you don't want to, we can go out to dinner or something," he took a step back and folded his hands behind him.

I was about to reply, but the door swung open, Zayn stepping over the threshold. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?" He raised his eyebrows as he noticed my flustered expression. Harry seemed to remain his self as he turned to face Zayn.

"No, we're just deciding what to do today," He smiled, "We might be going to dinner,"

"Any other plans?" Zayn asked, taking a water bottle from the fridge and taking a drink.