𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

"Are there stories behind these?" I ask, my index finger tracing the ink on the back of Harry's hands.

His long fingers stretch and flex between my shorter ones, knuckles and callused skin brushing against mine.

"Not really," he replies. His eyes are shut, his face turned toward me like a flower toward the summer sun. "Sometimes they have meaning," he says after a few moments. "Sometimes it's about a time in my life they represent."

The clock beside the bed glows red, reminding me I need to get up for work soon. But with a long, lean, warm body beside me, and Cody still fast asleep, it's much harder than I'd ever imagined.

I turn his hand in mine, studying all the artwork that dots his knuckles, the backs of his hands, his wrist — my fingers trailing up his forearm. "And I suppose this is full of deep, thought-provoking meaning," I joke, pointing to the pin-up girl, all legs and tits, inked up the length of his inner arm.

Harry's arm ripples beneath my touch as I scrape my nails over the art. "You don't like her?"

"Was she a girlfriend?" Harry shakes his head. "Then I like her."

I let his hand fall, turning to run my hands over the stag head on his chest. "This one?" I ask, staring into the eyes of the huge animal. "What's he for?"

His hand closes over mine, halting its movement across his collarbone. "He's about pain. Courage. Strength. A lot of things."

"What things?"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "That mouth will get you in trouble, you know."

Smirking, I slide my hand down his stomach. "You weren't complaining about my mouth a moment ago."

His lower abdominals tighten, and he grins as his fingers wrap around my wrist gently. With a gentle tug he pulls me atop him, fingers skimming up my ribs.

"I love that mouth, that's why."

I slide the curve of my lips along his, the hair that borders his top lip ticking my skin. Heat pools between my legs as his hand, strong and warm, cups the back of my head, holding me close. As much as his touches drive me crazy, it's that feeling of being held, being possessed, of knowing I'm safe and cared for, that turns me on more than anything else.

Due in no small part to some pretty heavy coercion, he's relaxed somewhat about Cody being in the next room. Harry realizes now that the kid sleeps like the dead and can't get around the apartment without making noise like a wounded elephant. With full understanding of this, Harry cups his hand over my breast, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over my nipple. I thank God he gets it.

Deepening the kiss, I push my hands through his hair, my nails scraping down the short hair at the back. I'm rewarded with what sounds like a purr from him, and my body sings as he pushes his hips against mine.

"Love me," I whisper into his ear.

"You know I do," he replies, and then my alarm goes off.

We both sigh, our bodies melting into one another. Harry's hands slide from my ass to my back, and he holds me tightly, his body relaxing beneath me.

The buzzer continues to ring as he hugs me tightly. "Real life, huh?"

Lifting my head, I kiss his throat, followed by his mouth I'm so goddamn fond of. "Looks like it."

He kisses me back. "Fun while it lasted."

"Cody," I call through the apartment. "You ready?"

I toss my sunglasses into my handbag along with my Chapstick. "Keys, phone, purse…purse, purse, purse—ah! Purse." I toss the comforter over the sheets quickly and kick a pair of shoes beneath the bed. "Code?"